“I think I understand that, sir.”
“Also,” Janus said, lowering his voice slightly, “there’s the matter of replacement.”
“Sir?”
“Casualties among the volunteers will be easy to replace.” He waved a hand at the crowds. “A call from the queen would no doubt produce a groundswell of support. Whereas well-trained, reliable troops are in very short supply. It seemed prudent to preserve the Colonials, as much as it was practicable.”
There was a long pause. Marcus looked away from Janus’ face, following his gaze down to the passing lines of volunteers. One company, marching with a slightly larger gap ahead and behind than usual, was just passing in front of the reviewing stand. Marcus recognized the slim figure of Lieutenant Ihernglass in the lead, and though the soldiers behind him wore trousers instead of skirts, there was no concealing their true identity. A mutter ran through the gathered officers, and the crowds on either side of the road fell silent for a moment as they passed.
Then the queen, rising from her seat, offered the female soldiers a wave. Cheers rose again, louder than before, and the company marched on.
“Then,” Marcus said, “you don’t think this is over?”
“It’s a long way from over, Colonel. This may only be the beginning. Given time, we may be able to bring the army and the nobles into line, but. .” Janus sat back in his chair, eyes hooded. “Don’t forget the matter of our prisoner.”
Marcus winced. The Guardhouse had been critically undermanned since the fall of the Vendre, a skeleton of a skeleton crew, and no one had even noticed that Adam Ionkovo was gone until long after it had happened. Gone, from inside a locked cell, with no evidence of violence.
“One of the guards is missing as well,” Marcus said. “It’s quite possible that Ionkovo or his allies got to him, and now he’s either gone to ground or been disposed of.”
“It’s possible,” Janus said. “But I doubt it. Ionkovo let himself be captured because he knew he could escape. My guess is he was the one who shot Danton, and he pulled the same disappearing act there.”
“Then you think he’s one of them. The ignahta.” The Elysian word felt alien on Marcus’ tongue. “Like Jen.”
Janus nodded. “That is the true face of our enemy, Captain. Don’t forget it.”
Marcus shook his head, but said nothing. The enemy that he cared about was still out there. Orlanko. The duke had fled north after the defeat, to meet with his Borelgai allies. He’ll tell me the truth about what he did to my family. Even if I have to choke it out of him.
“You intend to press the issue?” Marcus asked, after a moment.
“I have no choice.” Janus tapped a finger on the arm of his chair. “Even if I have to lead an army to the gates of Elysium itself.”
WINTER
Marcus had given Winter’s company a hall in the former barracks of the imprisoned Noreldrai Grays, now that the Ministry of War was gradually being reopened for its proper function. It was considerably more luxurious accommodations than they’d enjoyed before the battle, or even back at Jane’s building in the Docks. The girls had to bunk four to a room, but they were big rooms with proper beds, glass windows, and clean linen. Winter, somewhat to her embarrassment, had the suite that had belonged to the mercenary captain, which was closer to a nobleman’s apartments than a soldier’s barracks.
It was the morning after the great victory celebration, and the hall outside was quiet. After the parade, the volunteers had returned to their chaotic encampment at Ohnlei, and a great crowd of citizens had accompanied them. At the queen’s order, the cellars of the palace had been thrown open and barrel after barrel of wine rolled out for the grateful, thirsty crowds. Vendors from the city sold food, with special discounts for anyone wearing a black armband, and enthusiastic entrepreneurs hawked keepsakes, souvenirs, and celebratory woodcuts. One image in particular was everywhere-an artist’s impression of the queen’s surrender, with Raesinia bowing her head in submission to the triumphant Deputies-General while her guards and officers looked on, aghast. Until the small hours of the morning, Winter heard cheers and shouts of “One eagle and the Deputies-General!”
She’d posted sentries around the hall, as before, to protect her soldiers’ notional virtue, but they were to keep people out, not in. Small groups of girls kept slipping away to join the fun, and while Winter was certain some of them were going to do things they might regret in the morning, she didn’t feel she had the moral standing to try to stop them.
For herself, she’d stayed in the great bed with Jane. Any carnal desire could be satisfied out there, she was sure, for at best a nominal fee, but it held no attraction for Winter.
She awoke, naked and warm under the sheets, with Jane clinging to her arm like a limpet. Winter kissed her on the forehead, and Jane’s brilliant green eyes flickered open. She let out a low groan.
“I am not getting out of bed today,” Jane said. “And neither should you.”
“I have to,” Winter said. “And so do you. They’re coming back from the hospital today, remember?”
Winter rolled out of bed, went to the basin to wash, and started buckling herself into her uniform. She caught a raised eyebrow and a lewd look from Jane as she did so, and gave an exaggerated sigh.
“What?” Jane pulled on her own trousers, trying to look innocent.
At the outer door of their apartment, Winter could hear shouts of happiness and cheering from outside. They must have arrived. As she reached for the latch, Jane caught her sleeve.
“What am I supposed to say to her?” Her eyes were glued to the inlaid woodwork, refusing to meet Winter’s.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, ‘Sorry about leaving you to die, glad you didn’t!’ That sort of thing?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Winter said, putting an arm around Jane’s shoulder. “You know that, and so does she. So does everyone out there.”
“I was the one who got them into this in the first place,” Jane said. “It’s my responsibility.”
“You know that’s not true, either. You told me yourself it was their idea.”
“I know.”
Winter moved her hand to the back of Jane’s head, pulled her down, and kissed her thoroughly. When they finally broke apart, Jane let out a long breath.
“I love you,” she said.
Winter smiled, cheeks only a little pink. “Likewise. Now, I think we have work to do.”
The newly released patients were gathered in the barracks’ small dining room, along with the girls who were sufficiently clearheaded to leave their beds. The half dozen bandage-wearing wounded were led by Abby, who had a strip of clean white linen wound around her skull but seemed otherwise unhurt.
These were the lightly injured, of course. There were more who were still under the surgeon’s care. After the horrors of the hospital and the bone saw had taken their toll, some few of those would return, and some of them would do so on crutches or with an empty sleeve pinned up. And then, of course, there were those who had never returned from the battlefield at all. For a moment, looking at the happy, laughing girls, Winter felt a flash of anger and was tempted to remind them of what they’d lost.
The thought passed quickly. They knew. Of course they knew. It was in every embrace, every shared glance. They were happy to see Abby and the others in part because they all knew who hadn’t come back. Winter remembered the Seventh Company, cheering for her after she’d brought them out of d’Vries’ horrible mistake at the Battle of the Road. At the time, she’d thought it ghoulish to cheer, dwelling on all the men she hadn’t been able to save. But a proper soldier’s attitude was the other way around, and somehow, over the course of the past week, these girls had become proper soldiers.