“And wishful to see the backs of me and my army, is that what you are saying, Beatrice? Is this what you have seen in your dreams, that I will turn away when I and my army have won the victory that allows the citizens of Lutetia to overthrow their hated prince?”
She opened her hands, palms up. “Is this how you interpret my remarks, General? Can we ever see the truth when desire blinds us? Or do we call it truth because it is what we wish to see? If you try to enter the city, the citizens of Lutetia will resist. What you do now is up to you.”
Judging by the crease of his forehead and the blade of his narrowed eyes, General Camjiata was not well pleased to be told to go fishing or go hang by a ragtag assembly of disorganized civilians whom his soldiers could easily crush. That the young woman he had groomed as his protégé had absconded to speak for them could not sit well either. But his was not a lightning temperament; he could swallow his temper and consider all the implications before he acted.
I muttered, “You would have done better to marry Bee when you had the chance, General.”
He murmured in reply. “Well, Cat, so I see you have cherished a cunning plan deep against your heart all this time. I admit, I am impressed. I did not expect this.”
He leaned forward, one hand on the reins and the other on his sword’s hilt. At his back his soldiers shifted their arms. When victorious men see resistance from the defeated, they can become mean and impatient.
“I do have one question for the citizens of Lutetia. I have a report that cold mages were allowed to enter the city.”
“The old mansa of Two Gourds House is dead, my lord general,” said Bee. “The elders of the Assembly deemed it proper for his people to return him to his mage House so offerings can be made and songs sung over his body.”
“It was not just one old man’s corpse, but a whole troop of living ones. When folk claim to have rebelled against the old order, and yet assist the cold mages who have for so long worked hand in glove with the princes and lords to oppress them, I wonder if they are still only puppets acting in the service of my enemies.”
“Do you think to bully us, General? Do you mean to stand ankle-deep in the blood of our men and women while you proclaim a legal code meant to bring justice and peace? If that is the war you intend to fight, then know you can kill us but never truly defeat us.” Her voice dropped to a more intimate tone. “You know what manner of person I am, General. Do not make an enemy of me. We can still be allies.”
He tipped back the edge of his tricornered hat as in mocking salute. “I see you learned from the Expeditioners how to take advantage of a conflict between two greater swords to allow the small knife its killing thrust. This has truly been a piece of drama worthy of you, Beatrice.”
“My thanks,” she replied with a mockingly pretty courtesy.
He raised his voice. “Citizens of Lutetia, let those of you who can hear my words repeat them to the many too far away to hear. Remember that I am a man who listens. When your revolution discovers itself in internal strife, as it inevitably will, you need only send a messenger. I shall be pleased to help you settle your city in a more orderly fashion. But on this night, obedient to your request, we will withdraw.”
“What about Andevai?” I demanded as he reined his horse around. Grabbing his reins, I tugged him to a halt.
He raised a hand dismissively. “Why, Cat, I am marching on Rome to make her into what she ought to be. The offer we discussed remains open.”
“You said you would help me find him!”
“I expect I am not the only one looking for your cold mage.” As horns sounded the call for an orderly march, he bent close. “Drake is yours, Cat. I commend him to you. If you can find him, for I expect he has already left the field.”
“Noble Ba’al! You goaded Drake to this point, didn’t you? You used him and now you’re discarding him. That’s why you never stopped Drake and me from all our fighting in public. You plan to blame Drake’s death on me, as my personal vengeance. His fire mages will turn their loyalty to you, never guessing you schemed his downfall all along.”
“Surely you guessed I never trusted James Drake. As for you, Cat, I give loyalty where I receive it in return. You have made it clear your loyalties lie elsewhere.”
I held his gaze with my own. “I could run you through right now.”
He leaned so close I could have kissed his cheek as I might have my own father’s. “But you won’t. Not today.”
He eased the reins out of my grip and rode away into the embrace of his army and his imperial dream.
I dismounted and ran forward as Bee hopped down off the table.
“Dearest!” she exclaimed, grabbing my hands. “I was so worried about you and Rory. Are you coming back now?”
I crushed her against me out of relief, but also so I could speak directly into her ear. “Was Vai one of the mages who fled into the city?”
“No. I’m sorry, Cat. I spoke myself to the mansa of Four Moons House, who was carried in among the wounded. He was with the Romans but got through the lines. He is very bitter about losing Andevai, for there was a strutting and unpleasant young mage with him who seemed unsuitably pleased that Andevai has gone missing. Then a young mansa named Viridor claimed that after the storm, Andevai rode away to find Lord Marius. It’s all so confused. Dearest… oh, Cat.”
“He’s still alive,” I said stubbornly.
“We’ll find him.”
As Camjiata’s army withdrew to set up camp, men and women armed with muskets, axes, and looted swords settled in to guard the barricades through the night. Brennan and Kehinde shook my hand, and Rory’s, too, for after all, they had spent a lot more time with Rory even than I had.
“Brennan and I will remain for another month at least,” said Kehinde. “We’ll be assisting the locals as they draw up a charter for the governance of Lutetia. You can find us if you need us.”
“May Fortune smile on you in your search,” added Brennan.
Bee led the way with a lantern. We ventured through the shattered remains of the grand encampment that days ago had been the scene of so much life. A scorched vendor’s cart lay tipped over, wheels broken. A dog nosed through the ashy remains of rounds of cheese. The shine of my candle’s flame surprised a scurry of rats swarming a corpse, burrowing in through eyes and mouth. Thin children knelt beside a soldier, tugging a ring and a watch from the body.
Lights rose and fell as might tiny fire boats atop waves, marking the paths of men and women who also searched. We discovered a half-conscious man with a crushed foot and torn scalp. This nameless soldier Rory and I hauled awkwardly between us as he slipped in and out of awareness, calling for his mother. He was a Lutetian, no taller than me, and very young. I could not bear to leave him, and I was grateful when we found an old man driving a cart with wounded men in it bound for Red Mount. We sat on the tailgate and bumped along, helping the man gather in more wounded until the wagon was full.
On the Cena Road, men with lanterns were pulling corpses off the road to allow traffic through. Bee tied her shawl over her mouth and nose. “Doesn’t the stench trouble you, Cat?”
“I don’t have the leisure to be troubled.” I hopped off the wagon and hailed an older man with an avuncular face. “What happened here, Uncle?”
“The Tarrant lord Marius and his troop made their last stand, is what happened. Too bad, for he fought well.”
“Is the lord dead?”
“How should I know, lass? I heard he was chopped to pieces, and I heard he was wounded and carried off by the Iberians. This is no place for lasses on a night when men are drunk with blood and victory.”
“I’m looking for my husband.”
He sighed. “May the Three Mothers aid you in your search, then. Good fortune.”