I was right. Marcus had to restrain himself from pumping his fist in triumph. I wonder if this is how Janus feels all the time.
“I should have known I couldn’t hide it,” Giforte said. “I should have offered my resignation the day you took command.”
“Now, that would have been a disaster,” Marcus said. “It is the Last Duke, then?”
Giforte nodded, looking resigned. “He. . it was my wife, to begin with. You’ve met my daughter. My wife never really recovered from the birth. Our local surgeons threw up their hands, so I wrote to doctors from Hamvelt, the best there are. One man said he could help, but the price he asked. .” He shook his head. “I borrowed from a moneylender, but it was all for nothing. My Gwendolyn died before the doctor even arrived, and he refused to refund his fee. I was broken and penniless. I would have killed myself, if not for Abigail.”
“And then Orlanko offered to help with the debt,” Marcus guessed.
Giforte nodded. “I was too desperate to care what strings were attached. It wasn’t long before he started making. . requests. Certain investigations he wanted stopped, suspects he wanted released without further questions. Your family. . that was one of the first.”
“You didn’t know about it beforehand?” Marcus said. “You weren’t involved?”
The vice captain drew himself up. “Of course not! You. .” He paused, and sagged again. “You have no reason to believe me, of course. But I’m not a murderer. I would never have done anything like that, whatever Orlanko told me. All he wanted was. . no questions.” Giforte shook his head. “When I heard you had been named as captain, I came close to panic. None of the other captains ever paid much attention, but you. .”
Marcus exhaled slowly and leaned back in the squeaky old chair. “I went looking.” Though I might not have, if not for Adam Ionkovo.
Giforte straightened up again. “Sir. I will draft my letter of resignation immediately. If the Minister of Justice wishes to offer charges, I am at his disposal.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Sir?”
“I’ve been reading up on you,” Marcus said. “Your tenure with the Armsmen has been excellent. I don’t think there’s anyone else I would want for the post.”
“But. .” Giforte swallowed. “What about Orlanko? He holds my debts. If he comes calling, and I don’t obey-”
“The Minister of Justice will handle your debts,” Marcus said. They hadn’t discussed any such thing, but he was certain Janus would come up with a good solution. This is too good a man to lose. “And I don’t think the Last Duke will be a problem for much longer. In confidence, I can tell you that the new queen is not a friend of his.”
“She’s going to unseat him? The Last Duke?” Giforte shook his head. “That’s going to mean plenty of trouble. He’s had three decades to dig in.”
“That’s why I need you,” Marcus said. “We’ve got to get the Armsmen back together and providing some kind of order. And I suspect the Minister of Justice may have need of me, so a lot of that work is going to fall on you. I trust you’ll be up to it.”
Slowly, Giforte saluted, fighting a smile. “Sir. Absolutely, sir.”
“Good. You’d better get to it.”
And once this is over, Marcus thought, as Giforte saluted again and departed, once the Last Duke has fallen, I’m going to dig through the Cobweb until I find the truth. And then he’s going to pay for it.
WINTER
The sun was lighting the eastern horizon by the time Winter returned to the fortress, at least half-drunk and feeling more maudlin than ever. She’d fallen in with a mixed band of Docksiders and University students, who were passing several bottles of middling-to-awful wine around a circle and debating the significance of the fact that the deputies had been summoned to the Sworn Cathedral. One faction held this to be a bad sign, indicating that the queen intended to continue Orlanko’s policy of accommodation of the Sworn Church. Another group thought that it was a deliberate gesture in the opposite direction, a statement that the business of the Vordanai state was to be placed above the rights of Elysium and foreigners in general. Winter hadn’t taken a side, and limited her participation to a couple of swallows whenever a bottle went past. They hadn’t resolved the issue by the time she took her leave, and she suspected they’d be there until everyone involved had fallen out into a drunken stupor.
A mix of exhaustion and alcohol had Winter on the verge of that herself, and her steps were heavy as she dragged herself through the Vendre’s courtyard and back to the big, half-open doors. She carried a sealed bottle in one hand, a present for Jane, who hadn’t gotten the opportunity to get out and enjoy herself. The only question, Winter thought muzzily, was whether she would manage to deliver it before she collapsed into some corner. The chamber Jane had taken over had a bed, she seemed to recall. That would be. . convenient.
She was vaguely aware of passing Leatherback guards, at the main doors and again on the stairs, but they all let her through with a wave. Winter answered with a cheery lift of her bottle, trudging up to the floor where the old prison staff had had their quarters and where Jane had made her own accommodations. At the top of the steps, she took a moment to compose herself, standing where a cool breeze came in by a gun slit and trying to shake the muzziness from her head.
Maybe I should just go to bed, and find Jane in the morning. She wasn’t that drunk, but alcohol had formed a dangerous cocktail with the aftermath of too many nights without sleep and the loneliness of being by herself in the midst of the citywide revel. She felt fragile, on edge, and suspected the sight of Jane might bring her to tears. I’ll feel better in the morning.
Good sense warred for a moment with sentimentality, but sentimentality gained the upper hand. Winter shook her head, feeling the world reel slightly. I’ll just see how she’s doing. Jane’s been up all night, too. She might need someone to. . talk to.
The door to Jane’s room stood a few inches open, but there was no sound of conversation from inside. The council had apparently departed. Hell, Winter thought suddenly. She’s probably asleep by now. I’ll just poke my head in and check on her.
Wood creaked, and Winter froze, just beside the doorway. Something scraped against the floor, as though someone had pushed a chair. Listening closely, below the fading roar of the now-exhausted crowd outside, she could make out soft, quiet sounds. Quick breaths, the rustle of cloth, a faint sigh.
Jane?
She ought to have turned around, then and there. Every instinct Winter had was telling her to go back the way she’d come, to write the whole thing off as a drunken, maudlin fantasy. She fought them all and eased forward, setting the wine bottle on the floor so gently it didn’t even make a click. The gap between door and doorframe was only a few inches away, and Winter leaned toward it, hardly daring to breathe.
Someone gasped. Jane said, very quietly, “Don’t.”
“It’s been”-pause-“weeks. Seeing you every day”-pause-“and every night, I. .”
This was Abby’s voice. Winter finally got her eye against the crack in the door. She saw Jane, leaning on the big council table, her red hair damp and spiky with sweat. Abby was pressed up against her, arms wrapped around her waist. Her lips brushed a delicate trail of kisses from Jane’s collarbone up into the hollow of her neck. Jane leaned her head back, like an animal offering its throat in submission, and her hands clenched the edge of the tabletop.
“I told you,” Jane said weakly. “We can’t. I can’t.”