“Taniel Two-shot to see Lindet,” he said.
The big city man at the door looked like a whorehouse bouncer. His eyes were even glued to the notebook in one hand, and he said without looking up, “You’ll wait like the rest of the riff-raff. Back of the line.”
Taniel glanced over his shoulder. He was not waiting for several hours to attend an urgent summons. “I’m with the Tristan Ghost Irregulars,” he said. “We’ve been summoned by the Lady Chancellor.”
“So has everyone else.”
“Look, I was told…”
“I don’t care what you’ve been told,” the man said, finally looking up. “If I have to tell you to the back of the line once more I will knock in all those pretty white teeth of yours.”
Taniel felt a spike of anger in his belly and stepped forward. “You want to try that?” he asked quietly.
“Boy, I will… “ the man said, grabbing Taniel’s lapels.
A voice cut him off. “Devan, are you talking back to my friends?”
Ben Styke appeared out of the crowd. He’d removed his armor, and now wore a yellow cavalry jacket, the stars of a colonel pinned proudly to one lapel, three lances pinned to the other. He wore a necklace on a silver chain, with a heavy skull hanging from the end, a lance through one empty eye socket. Even out of his armor he seemed unbelievably big, not a quarter shy of seven feet tall with arms that could choke a swamp dragon.
Devan made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and removed his hands from Taniel’s jacket. “They have to wait in line just like everyone else. The Lady Chancellor’s orders.”
Styke put one hand on Devan’s shoulder, squeezing until he elicited a gasp. “Lindet sent me out into that stinking swamp to find them. You think I’d put up with that shit if it wasn’t important?”
They were ushered inside without further argument and soon found themselves in the chapel vestibule. The thick church doors managed to suppress the noise of the outside crowd to a low hum, and the inside was pleasantly devoid of the jostling crowds. A few small groups, no larger than a dozen in each, conferred quietly throughout the chapel. Taniel could hear their nervous titter as he entered and saw their expectant glances toward the front of the room.
Styke marched Taniel and Ka-poel up to where the altar had been replaced by a wide, wooden desk. It was covered in maps, messages, and papers, not unlike the desk of Taniel’s father back home.
Lindet was a woman with soft, round features and blond hair a few shades lighter than Styke’s. She looked up, and Taniel was immediately taken by her eyes. They were blue like the sky on a clear sunny day, and had the fire of ambition in them that he saw in young officers ready to prove themselves by charging into the face of enemy grapeshot. There was a flicker of interest as her gaze passed over him, pausing on Ka-poel, and then moving on to Styke. Taniel was shocked at how young she was – twenty-three or twenty-four, perhaps. She was not tall, nor particularly striking, and she might be mistaken for a mild-mannered librarian if you came across her in the street. But her eyes…
This was the Fatrastan governor who’d spearheaded the revolution against Kez?
“Lindet,” Styke said, interrupting the narrow-faced man whispering in Lindet’s ear.
Lindet held up one finger, waiting until the messenger had finished, then dismissed him with a wave. He fled to a smaller desk in the corner of the room. “Styke.” She spat the name, glancing at Taniel and his companions as if they were supplies being delivered on her doorstep. “You bring me the Tristan Ghost Irregulars?”
“That’s us, ma’am,” Taniel said.
Lindet pursed her lips. “Who’s the Palo?”
“Local girl,” Taniel answered. “She’s my guide and spotter.” Ka-poel crossed her arms, scowling at him. He did his best to ignore her.
“And you’re Two-shot?” Lindet asked. Her eyes bore into him, studying him as thoroughly as he might inspect his rifle before a fight.
It was a rhetorical question, but he answered anyway. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ve heard good things about you,” she said, without any of the warmth that usually accompanied such a statement. “If I had a hundred of you, the war would be long over. But I don’t. Tell me, do you think your father would support an Adran alliance with Fatrasta against the Kez?”
Taniel was immediately taken aback by the question. “I wouldn’t presume to speak for him. But it’s uh, probably not a good time. He’s focused on domestic issues.”
“I see.” She leaned forward slightly, her study of Taniel’s face intensifying, before tilting her head slightly as if to look over her shoulder. The narrow-faced man quickly rushed to her side. “I’ve made my decision,” she told him. “Get me Petrov and je Stoy. And those fools over there. They’ll want to know as well.”
What decision? Taniel shot a worried glance at Ka-poel, but the girl seemed pensive, all her attention on Lindet like a mongoose watching a snake. Styke stood with his hands clasped behind his back, looking mildly interested in the proceedings as the messenger slipped out through the back of the church.
“If you don’t mind me asking, ma’am,” Taniel said, “you summoned us here in an emergency. Do you have an assignment for us?”
“Patience, Two-shot,” Lindet said. “You’ll have killing to do before the week is out. But circumstances have changed since I sent Styke to look for you.”
Styke perked up. “What’s changed? Do we have more reinforcements?”
“No,” Lindet said. “That’s the problem. We’ve got barely three thousand fighters here. They range from skirmishers to infantry to suicidal madmen.” She flicked an annoyed glance at Styke, who grinned back at her. “We have a single Privileged of our own, who can’t hope to match the four the Kez have sent.”
“Three,” Taniel said. “I killed one.”
“Three the Kez have sent.” Lindet made a note and continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I like Planth. It’s well protected inside the Tristan Basin, fairly inaccessible to the Kez armies but with a good enough highway that I can send messengers in and out at speed. My original plan, when I heard the Kez had sent an army, was to defend the city so it would remain my seat of power.” She paused, pursed her lips, and continued, “I was going to have the Ghost Irregulars lead four hundred skirmishers to harry the Kez flank as they approached the city. Our infantry to meet theirs in open battle, and our cavalry to hit their other flank. But that won’t work any more.”
“We don’t have enough men?” Taniel guessed.
“We don’t have enough men,” Lindet confirmed.
“What about the reinforcements from Redstone?” Styke asked.
“They’re not coming,” Lindet replied, her voice dripping with acid. “They claim they have their own problems, and if Redstone isn’t under considerable duress when I arrive, I’ll drag the garrison commander in front of a firing squad. Without help from Redstone, we can’t hope to hold out here.”
“What, may I ask, is our next step, ma’am?” Taniel asked.
The narrow-faced messenger appeared from the back of the church, leading a small procession of administrators dressed in fine suits and top hats. They bowed and scraped before Lindet, though the expression on her face said she’d rather they not, and once a few more of individuals had joined them Lindet answered Taniel’s question.
“We’re retreating,” she announced.
“You mean like I said you should have a week ago?” Styke asked.
There was an audible silence following the remark. Someone swallowed loudly. Taniel got the distinct impression that not many people got away with talking back to Lindet.
“Yes,” she finally said. “Exactly like that.”