Hal was passing the temple on her way to the academy when a flood of harmony spilled out onto the street. She stopped, cocking her head on one side, and listened to the melodies soar and diminish. Women's high, throaty voices worked in counterpoint above the men's deeper notes.
It was a hymn to the Emperor ─ the human manifestation of the divine ─ his praises set to music by templar composers. Hal smirked, thinking of his majesty Diodiné, third of that name. The Emperor was a slight, stooping man renowned for his quick wits and short temper. Not an obvious vessel for divine authority. But as to question that authority was heresy, she chose to keep her doubts to herself, and enjoyed the singing as it reached its climax before it drifted away into silence.
The high priest intoned a few muffled words to mark the end of the ceremony, doors were thrown open wide, and worshippers streamed out between wide sandstone columns accompanied by the heady scent of incense. She slouched against the temple wall, wrestling with an uncomfortable sense of guilt as she observed them. Since becoming a duellist, Hal had not stepped foot inside the temple, just as she had never returned to the court.
A small group of worshippers had collected on the temple stairs ─ she noticed one of Marc's friends, a senator, amongst them. His face was tense, etched with worry. A merchant stood with his back to her, arguing with the man. She recognised Léac's broad shoulders, his legs set apart at a confident stance. He rocked back and forth on his heels, hands clasped firmly behind his back. As the conversation grew heated, the senator paled, and she felt her own blood race. Evidently their discussion had more to do with the worldly than the spiritual.
A pang of remorse struck Hal like a blow. She had goaded Léac's daughter in the library, almost accusing her of cowardice. But Meracad was this dangerous man's only child and she had every reason to be afraid. He intimidated everyone, even senators.
Léac's head snapped round and he glared up the temple steps. Meracad was descending, accompanied by a portly blonde girl ─ probably her maid. Hal sank back further into the shadows, sucking in her breath, almost flattening herself behind a column. When Meracad reached her father and the senator she dropped into a graceful curtsey. Léac uttered a few sharp, angry words but Hal could not catch them.
She noticed Meracad's already slight frame shrink even further, the maid giving her mistress's hand a covert squeeze of support. Then they all turned to go.
Against her better instincts, Hal released herself from the shade, following them as they moved through the crowd away from the forum in the direction of the merchant's district. She would be late for training again, but she didn't care.
A street hawker set down his cart of votive relics right in front of her, blocking her path. She gave him an angry shove and wound onwards through the mill of citizens, but she had already lost them. They were too far away, heading down a distant boulevard.
Hal stopped, kicking at a loose cobble in frustration. It skittered free of the road and bounced beneath the feet of passers-by. Meracad had almost disappeared from view. But as she turned a corner, she looked back straight through the crowd as if searching for someone.
Hal stood, rooted, ignoring the bumping and jostling, the heat and noise, her gaze fixed on Meracad's face. The girl scanned the crowd with troubled eyes, but then her maid slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her away and out of sight.
Hal turned slowly and trudged back in the direction of the duelling academy. Had Meracad seen her? She doubted it. The throngs of people had been densely-packed. Who had she been looking for? Was there some young man in the city who had caught her attention? Perhaps Meracad had not been entirely truthful, that day in the library. Perhaps she had been protecting herself ─ or someone else. Her father was too powerful, she had claimed. He demanded her absolute respect, her obedience. She had implied that she had no choice but to do as she was told, even in the question of her own marriage. And Hal had just witnessed her search the crowd ─ evidently for someone she knew, and her father, presumably, didn't. A feeling not unlike jealousy dogged Hal's heels as she headed for Beric and the academy.
***
"Hal! You've a visitor."
Resting her sword on the ground, Hal wiped the sweat from her eyes. "Who is it?"
A toothy grin laid claim to the cadet's freckled face. "A pretty one."
"Pretty?" Confused, Hal wrinkled her brow into a frown. Finn shook his head. "You'd better go, Hal." He threw her an indulgent smile.
She followed the boy to the top of the stairs. It took her several moments to recognise the woman who was standing with her back to the hall. Long, straw-coloured hair cascaded down her bare shoulders and she wore a sleeveless, pale blue dress. She turned around and smiled.
"Meracad!"
"You remembered." Meracad's brown eyes betrayed her relief. The smile vanished. "You said I'd know where to find you."
"I didn't mean..." Hal immediately regretted opening her mouth.
"You didn't mean what?" Meracad studied her. "That I should come here? That's a pity. I must have misunderstood." She moved towards the steps.
"No. Wait." Without thinking, Hal reached out and put a hand to the girl's shoulder. Her skin was soft, kissed warm by the sun. "I mean ─ I didn't want you to take such a risk." She leaned over the balcony and peered downwards through open doors onto the street. No one was there. She was aware of the kicking of her pulse.
"Strange." Meracad's eyes posed a challenge. "When I met you in the library I had the impression you believed freedom was worth any risk."
For once in her life, Hal was at a loss for words. A smile graced the corners of Meracad's mouth for a few moments and then disappeared.
"Why did you come here?" Hal asked at last.
"To prove you wrong. I'm not afraid."
"I can see that." She knew that she ought to tell Meracad to leave. She had witnessed Léac's angry treatment of his daughter outside the temple that very morning. If he knew that Meracad had paid an unaccompanied visit to the academy, she could be forbidden from ever leaving his house again. But then another memory hovered on the fringes of her consciousness. She remembered Meracad peering earnestly amongst the crowds of people that morning: looking for someone, searching.
"Would you like to see the academy?" The words were out before she could stop them.
Meracad paused, searching Hal's face. "Yes," she said at last. "I would like that very much."
Hal led her through the hall amongst pairs of duellists and novices. More than once she put out her arm to stop the merchant's daughter from being swept along with them as the young men worked their furious way around the room, lunging and slicing at one another.
"Who are they?" Meracad yelled above the din.
"Some of them are aristocrats with too much time on their hands," Hal called back. "Others will join the Emperor's elite forces. And then there are the professional duellists, like myself. We make our living entertaining the crowds in the arena."
A space had cleared ahead and Hal spotted Finn resting against the wall, a sly smile stretched across his face.
"Finn, this is Meracad. She was at Marc Remigius's party."
Finn shook Meracad's hand. "Hal is normally rather coy about the company she keeps," he observed, winking at the duellist. "I cannot, for the life of me, imagine why."
"But we're not..."
Before Meracad had a chance to continue, Hal cut in hurriedly. "We use rapiers as a rule." She threw Finn a warning glance. He grinned and backed away. "They are light, dynamic ─ the spectators love them. Here," she passed one to Meracad. "You see? Like a feather."
Meracad turned the sword around, holding it to the light. "Well, maybe not quite a feather but it certainly weighs less than I had imagined."
"Here," Hal indicated a dark cross etched into the wall. "Try aiming for it. Lunge with your whole body. Like this." She stood, legs spread apart, right arm held at length and leaned towards the cross. Meracad repeated the action but came shy of the mark.
"You need to straighten your arm a little." The duellist stood behind the girl and took her forearm, gently stretching it out. She noticed Meracad's long, slender neck, the light downy hairs upon it, the way her entire body shivered at her touch.
Meracad brought the sword to the centre of the cross.
"Congratulations!" Finn said. "We'll make a duellist of you, too."
"I doubt it, Sir." Meracad shook her head, laughing.
"Perhaps you would like to watch a duel, Meracad?" The trainer asked, his green eyes now cast with irony. "I'm sure Hal will be eager to oblige."
"I'm sure Finn relishes the opportunity to demonstrate his own prowess," Hal muttered in irritation.
"I would love to watch." Meracad turned to Hal.
The duellist's heart gave an unexpected leap. She took the rapier from Meracad's hands and levelled it at Finn. "Best of three hits, Finn?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
They took up defensive positions, circling warily before engaging in a frantic rain of blows that led them around the entire chamber. Meracad's presence made Hal nervous, edgy, impulsive. She carved wild arcs from the air with her sword, span and dropped, then rose, thrusting out her blade, aware of the girl's intent gaze. Was Meracad impressed by her skill and agility, she wondered, or did the girl think it ridiculous of a court brat to play at duelling? Hal stole a look across the hall, searching Meracad out amongst the sea of duellists as they clashed and swayed and parted. She caught the girl's gaze for a brief moment, held it, noting the anxious, fraught appeal in Meracad's eyes.
A searing stab of pain drew her back into the moment. Finn had lowered his blade. Hal looked down to watch a thin line of red streak her sleeve. She dropped her sword and tried to pull her left arm into view.
Finn inspected the wound, the pressure of his fingers causing her to wince. "You'll live," he said at last. "It's little more than a graze. That should teach you not to show off so much."
"I wasn't showing off!" she protested.
"Please, Hal! All that energy you were wasting. On the circle you'd be finished in minutes. Well, perhaps you had your reasons." He cast Meracad a sly look.
"Get me a bandage,' Hal snarled.
Finn grinned at Meracad and sought for dressings and ointment in a cupboard. "I must go now," he said. "I have to speak to Beric before I leave for the evening. Could you help her?" He handed Meracad a roll of cloth and a cork-stoppered clay bottle.
"I'll try. It was a pleasure to meet you, Finn."
"The pleasure was mine." With a low, ironic bow he headed for Beric's office.
"Curse it!" Hal threw herself down on the floor, still vainly tugging on her own shoulder as she attempted to examine her arm. "You don't have to, you know. I'll manage."
"It's rather difficult to do it with one hand. Here," Meracad put some of the ointment onto a dressing, parted the torn linen of Hal's shirt and dabbed at the cut. Hal winced again as the salve worked its way inside the wound.
"You're risking a great deal in coming here," she whispered through gritted teeth.
"Oh, I believe the risk to be worth it." Meracad caught her gaze and held it as she wrapped the bandage around Hal's arm. She was so close now. Her breath brushed against Hal's neck, her fingers working away with a light, nimble delicacy. Closing her eyes, Hal leant her head against the wall.
"I'll be duelling in a few days." The words tumbled from Hal's lips before she could hold them back. "Perhaps you might persuade your father to let you attend." Fool, you shouldn't be doing this.
Meracad's fingers froze for a moment and then continued, less steadily this time. "You know he wouldn't let me."
Something snapped inside Hal. The energy, the madness, the excitement which had welled within her burst. She realised how exhausted she now was, and how much she would like to be lying face down on her bench in her cramped little room, her head buried in her arms. Well, at least the girl had more sense than she did. Of course it had been an absurd suggestion. She grimaced in embarrassment.
"But that doesn't mean I won't come."
Had she imagined that? Meracad had placed her lips to Hal's ear, whispering. Hal raised her head with a struggle, staring at the girl, searching her face. Was she mocking?
"All done." Meracad tied the bandages with an inexpert knot. She climbed to her feet.
Trembling, Hal rose. "Thank you. I'll show you out."
The room was almost empty of duellists and cadets. Hal followed Meracad through the hall, admiring the girl's easy grace, the blue gauze of her dress rippling as she walked. When they reached the top of the stairs Meracad turned, and Hal noticed that gold flecked the girl's brown irises. The air hung between them, still and heavy.
"I may not win." Desperate to break the silence, Hal scrabbled around for words. "My opponent comes from the Easterners, our rival academy. They are..."
"I have faith in you." Meracad's lips flickered upwards into the ghost of a smile. Then without another word, she headed down the steps, her shoes clipping on the wood and then upon the cobbles of the street. Hal leant over the balustrade once more as far as she dared, glimpsing the hem of Meracad's blue dress as it slipped around the door frame before disappearing.
She drew herself back, turned, and found herself staring into Beric's sneering face. "I have faith in you," he jeered. "Well, thank the spirits someone does. Who is she, anyway?"
"Meracad – she's the daughter of some merchant – Salius Léac."
"Léac, Léac" Beric repeated the name a couple of times, rolling it across his tongue. He cleared his throat as if to speak and then stopped.
"What?" Hal asked, irritated.
"Nothing." He looked at her intently. For once, he seemed at a loss for words.