“They are bleaker,” the pontifex snapped. “Vhalnich is no common enemy. He has the Thousand Names at his disposal. Now that you and your men have been driven from the city, there is nothing left to stop him from becoming another Demon King. Your failure runs deep, Orlanko.”
Orlanko’s fists clenched. Someday, Your Eminence. Someday you will pay a heavy price for every slight. He kept his tone calm.
“I am taking steps to retrieve the situation as we speak. By morning, I will be at Midvale-”
“Do whatever you think best,” the pontifex said. He sounded dangerously dismissive.
“Your Eminence,” Orlanko said, “I hope you understand that, in spite of our setbacks, we’re still very close to achieving our goal. We can break this rabble, and once we have Raesinia in hand, everything will be under control.”
“So you have always assured me,” the pontifex said. “I am losing confidence in you, Vordanai. I will not allow another kingdom of darkness to be established on these shores, do you understand? So by all means, get matters in hand. Because, if you do not, I will be forced to take. . other steps.”
“I-” Orlanko began.
“He’s gone,” the blind girl said.
We’re so close, the duke thought. All these years, I’ve worked for this, and we’re so close. If not for Danton and Vhalnich, it would have gone smoothly. Now there would be fighting and bloodshed, but there was no helping that. I will not let that pious old fool ruin everything I’ve built, either.
The sun was just peeking over the horizon when the carriage and its accompanying wagons rattled off the Midvale Road and up a gentle slope to a high, grassy hill. From here Orlanko could see the town of Midvale a few miles off, a prosperous, tidy-looking community of a few hundred shingled houses. Closer to was the regular grid of long, low barracks that comprised the Royal Army camp. Midvale was the permanent camp of the Eighth and Tenth Infantry regiments, as well as the Osthead Cuirassiers. They formed a second town of seven thousand souls-not counting wives, servants, whores, and other hangers-on-that had grown up alongside the first, more uniformly laid out but not nearly so clean.
Another carriage was pulled up in the grassy parade ground, which by its luxuriant growth of weeds had not seen a great deal of parading recently. A squadron of cuirassiers was deployed around it, resplendent in polished steel breastplates and plumed helmets. A pair of them rode alongside Orlanko’s carriage as it pulled in, and the Concordat troops spread themselves out among the cavalry.
In the center of the ring was Count Torahn, dismounted and standing by a folding table covered in maps. With him were several other officers Orlanko didn’t recognize. The Concordat kept files on every military man of any consequence, but Orlanko didn’t concern himself with any not likely to turn up at court. It probably didn’t matter. The Midvale garrison was not considered a promising post in the army, and thus the men assigned to command it were likely to be nonentities.
He waited to get down until one of his men had placed the stepladder so he could descend without an undignified jump. Torahn and the military men looked at him coldly, as though he were something slimy that insisted on worming its way across the lawn instead of rotting quietly under a rock. And, in truth, Orlanko felt uncomfortable, here in the open, under the eyes of these big, haughty men with their gleaming spurs. He had always preferred to employ the small, quick, and clever. But desperate times demand desperate measures, I suppose.
“Your Grace,” Count Torahn said. “I am pleased to see you unharmed. When we got no news from the palace, we feared the worst.”
“Not the worst, thankfully, but bad enough,” Orlanko said. “The city is in open rebellion, thanks to the traitor Vhalnich.”
The colonels made noises of consternation, but Torahn cut them off with a gesture.
“The queen?” he said.
“A prisoner,” Orlanko said. “She will be well treated, I think. The rebels claim to fight in her name. They need her to awe the common people.”
Torahn frowned. “I hope they don’t think to hold her hostage.”
“I have a hard time believing any Vordanai would do such a thing,” Orlanko said. “Rebels or not.”
“True.” Torahn glared at the three colonels. “In spite of my orders, it appears that preparations here have not yet been completed. It will be a day or two before we’re ready to march, I’m told.”
“The sooner the better,” Orlanko said. “Every moment the rebels have to dig in works against us.”
An icy look passed between Orlanko and the Minister of War. It was uncertain who ought to be giving the orders-as a duke, Orlanko had the advantage of rank, but the Ministry of War took precedence over Information, especially in a situation like this one. For the moment, neither chose to make an issue of it.
Orlanko turned to the three colonels. “Gentlemen. I have written a short statement, which I would like your officers to read to the men.” He took a sheet of folded paper from his pocket and tossed it on the table. “In addition, I want to make sure every man in your regiments is impressed with both the importance of this operation and its legitimacy. Whatever their claims, the rebels have imprisoned our queen and taken illegal possession of the seat of Her Majesty’s government. I want no wavering or vacillation when the time comes to confront the traitors!”
All three saluted and barked out assurances of their loyalty, but Orlanko was no longer listening.
If we can recapture Raesinia, he thought, and clear Ohnlei of traitors, then we can reestablish order in the city. He would need to apply the whip with a firm hand, especially in the seditious districts south of the river and by the University. The mob thinks it has nothing to fear from Concordat. It must be taught otherwise. He wondered what had happened to Andreas, and hoped he hadn’t been killed. His talent for bloodshed would be useful in the days to come.
Most of all, though, it all had to happen soon. Too long, and the Borels might start to wonder if their loans would be repaid. Too long, and the Pontifex of the Black would act, and what form that action would take Orlanko hardly dared to imagine. Time, time, all I need is time. A few days, a few weeks, and the rebellion would be crushed. The queen would be taught proper obedience.
And Janus bet Vhalnich will be dying a slow, painful death.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
WINTER
Eight fresh bodies hung in front of the cathedral, roped by the neck and suspended from the rooftop crenellations. Four of them were Borelgai, three men still in their long fur capes and a woman in the shredded remains of an elegant dress. The other four, two men and two women, wore the drab clothes of Vordanai commoners. More Concordat, Winter supposed. The city seethed against the minions of the Last Duke, and more people were imprisoned as Concordat agents every day, on increasingly flimsy pretexts.
Armed men flanked the main entrance in the sashes of the Patriot Guard, Greens on the left and Reds on the right, regarding each other with mutually hostile stares. Winter, wrapped in the plain black sash of a deputy, was admitted after only a cursory inspection.
Inside, shouts and occasional bursts of violent applause indicated the Deputies-General was already in session. The entrance hall was crowded, deputies in their sashes mixing with spectators and supplicants. More Patriot Guards lined the walls, and another pair-one Green and one Red, of course-guarded the double doors leading into the great hall itself. Winter threaded her way through the crowd and, under the cover of a particularly loud burst of shouting, pushed the doors open and slipped inside.