Retribution Falls - Chris Wooding [159]
The sword always knew his will. He might go down in a hail of bullets, but the author of his misery would go down with him. And all of Vardia would know how Duke Grephen died at the hands of an insignificant little freebooter, who had outwitted him at the last.
“Kill him,” said Grephen to the executioner.
The executioner raised the cutlass. Frey closed his eyes.
Ready …
The blade quivered, and he fancied he heard the harmonic singing of the daemon within.
Ready …
And then a loud voice cried: “STOP!”
Chapter Thirty-five
THE SUSPICIONS OF KEDMUND DRAVE—FREY SAYS HIS PIECE—THE STICKY MATTER OF PROOF—DEATH IN THE COURTYARD
he voice that had halted the execution belonged to Kedmund Drave, the most feared of the Century Knights, whom Frey had last seen lying on a landing pad in Tarlock Cove after he emptied a shotgun into Drave’s chest. His molded crimson armor showed no signs of the encounter as he swept across the courtyard toward Duke Grephen, his thick black cape swaying around him.
To either side were Samandra Bree and Colden Grudge. Frey recognized them from their ferrotypes. Samandra was as beautiful as her picture, wearing the outfit she was famous for: battered coat and boots, loose hide trousers, a tricorn hat perched on her head. Grudge, in contrast, looked like something half ape. Shaggy-haired and bristle-faced, he was a hulking mass of dirty armor barely contained inside the folds of a hooded cloak. His autocannon clanked against his back. It was a gun bigger than most men could even carry, let alone fire.
“What exactly is going on here?” Drave demanded, striding up to the Duke. They could scarcely have been more different: the soft, spoiled aristocrat in his neatly pressed uniform and the iron-hard figure of the Knight, his silver-gray hair shorn close to his scalp and his cheek and neck horribly scarred.
Grephen collected himself, overcame the physical intimidation, and attempted to assert his ducal authority. “These men are pirates,” he said. “They have been condemned to death. I wasn’t aware there was any law forbidding a duke to deal with pirates inside his own duchy. As you can see, I have a judge here to ensure everything is legal.”
Drave stared at the old judge, who began to look nervous.
“I see,” Drave said slowly. “I imagine the trial has been thorough and fair.”
Grephen bristled. “Remember who you’re talking to, sir. You may have the Archduke’s authority, but even the Archduke knows to respect his dukes.”
“I’m not in the business of respect,” Drave snarled. He turned to the judge. “There has been a trial, I assume?”
The judge looked shiftily at Grephen and swallowed. “I was brought here to oversee the executions. The Duke assured me that their guilt was not in question.”
“You’ve obtained confessions, then?” Drave asked Grephen.
Frey grinned. There wouldn’t have been time to make up and sign another confession after he’d ruined the last one.
“They were caught red-handed in an act of piracy,” Grephen declared, flushing angrily. “There was no need for a confession or a trial. I exercised my ducal authority, as is my right. Besides, they admitted it.”
“Bollocks we did!” Malvery yelled from the cage. “He’s lying!”
“You shut up!” growled Colden Grudge, pointing a meaty finger at the doctor.
“We’re innocent!” Pinn cried, joining in happily. For a while his faith in a last-second intervention had wavered, but now here it was, and all was right with the world again.
Drave turned his gaze to Trinica. “Trinica Dracken. You caught these men?”
“Yes.”
“You know what crimes they are wanted for?”
“I do.”
“And you were hired to catch them by the Duke?”
“I was.”
“Then he must know what crimes they are wanted for.”
Trinica looked at Grephen, her black eyes emotionless.
“I’d assume so,” she said.
Drave turned on Grephen. “Given that, Duke Grephen, why did you see fit to execute these prisoners yourself instead of delivering them to the Archduke