Django Wexler - The Shadow Throne

“Crushed?” Marcus said. The president winced but nodded. Marcus shrugged. “I’m not surprised. As a military man, I could have told you that taking an untrained militia into the field against heavy cavalry was foolish in the extreme. I imagine they broke at the first charge of the cuirassiers.”

“So it would seem,” the president said. “Captain, I hope you can see our dilemma. It is our charge to protect the people of this country, this city, against the foreigners who would usurp the throne and impose their taxes and religion on us. Those most capable of doing this are obviously the officers of Her Majesty’s Royal Army. And yet-”

“You don’t trust us,” Marcus said.

“I would rather say-”

“Say what you mean. I don’t fault you, because you’re right. When it comes down to it, I suspect most officers would obey an order from the Minister of War over one from a self-appointed ‘assembly’ holding the queen hostage.”

Someone stood up on the right side of the bleachers. “Her Majesty is not a hostage!”

“Is she free to leave, then?” Marcus said.

“She will be,” the deputy said, “once our new constitution is written and the status of the deputies is confirmed. But ‘hostage’ implies that we might bring her harm, and I for one would resign from this assembly if that were even suggested!”

“That’s how we can get rid of you, then!” said a voice from the left, followed by chuckles and shouts of disapproval.

“The status of the queen,” the president cut in, “has yet to be determined. But I remind you that she sanctioned the deputies, voluntarily ceding power to the representatives of the people-”

“You can explain that to the colonels of those regiments, then,” Marcus said. “I’m sure the Last Duke won’t mind.”

More laughter. The Guards slammed their muskets for quiet.

“And what about you, Captain d’Ivoire?” said the president, once the tumult had calmed. “Where do your loyalties lie?”

“With the queen and the nation, of course,” Marcus said. “And the men under my command.”

“That’s a nicely elliptical response.”

“Look,” Marcus said. “We all know that’s not the question you brought me here to answer. Why don’t you come out and ask it?”

The president snorted. “As you wish. The suggestion has been put to this assembly that there is an officer of exceptional ability in the city, and that we ought to place our defense in his hands.”

“And?”

“You served with him, I understand. In your opinion, is he all he is said to be?”

“That, and more,” Marcus said. “I haven’t read everything that’s been written on the Khandarai campaign, but what I’ve seen in the papers if anything understates the case. Anyone who was there could tell you.”

“People who were there are hard to come by,” the president said dryly. “So you think he would be up to the task?”

“I would be willing to try it, under him,” Marcus said. “And that’s more than I can say for anyone else.”

“But the more important question, Captain, is can we trust him?” The president waved toward the main doors. “He is. . a hero. Beloved of the people. Will he accept the authority of the deputies? Or would he be another Orlanko, and seize power for himself?”

“I believe he is loyal to his queen and his country.”

“That’s not good enough!” said a deputy from the right.

“If he serves only the queen,” said one from the left, “she might have the power to overturn everything we’ve accomplished-”

“Gentlemen!” Marcus said. “Could I ask you to open those doors?”

The Guardsmen looked at the president, who looked at Marcus for a long moment, then nodded. Two Guardsmen by the main doors pulled them open, and the sound of the crowd outside redoubled.

“You claim to represent the people,” Marcus said, shouting to be heard over the noise. “Well, there they are! I think they’ve made their wishes clear.” He looked up at the president. “Unless one of you would like to go out there and explain it to them?”

The president’s sunken eyes met Marcus’. His lips tightened until they were white.

“It seems,” he said, “that we have no choice.”

“Vhalnich!” The roar of the crowd crashed through the cathedral like ocean waves. “Vhal-nich, Vhal-nich, Vhal-nich!”

“No,” Marcus said. “I don’t think you do.”

On the way back to the Vendre, the Patriot Guard walked behind him, an escort instead of a prisoner detail. It was a subtle difference, but one that Marcus could appreciate. They left in the same roundabout manner they’d arrived, so as not to get bogged down, but Marcus could hear the cheers of the crowd as the good news was announced.

The look the president had given him before sending him off had been pure poison, though. I’ll have to tell Janus to watch out for that one.

The Guards at the Vendre had gotten the news, too, and they stood aside as Marcus entered. Some of them even saluted inexpertly as he passed. He went directly to the third floor of the tower, where a large room directly underneath the queen’s had been given over to the Vendre’s second most important prisoner.

The guard by the door unlocked it and stepped formally out of the way. Marcus put his hand on the latch, hesitated, then knocked.

“Come in,” Janus said.

Marcus opened the door. The cell was much like his own, though larger and slightly better furnished. Janus was sitting at a round table with a stack of letters. He signed the page under his hand with a flourish, set his pen aside, and sprinkled the ink with fine sand from a dish. Only then did he look up and favor Marcus with one of his there-and-gone-again smiles.

“Ah, Captain. It’s good to see you.”

“And you, sir.”

Marcus felt as though it had been ages since he’d laid eyes on the colonel, but Janus behaved as though he’d stepped out of the room only moments earlier. He, also, was clean-shaven and in a fresh uniform, not the fancy courtier’s getup but the plain blue field uniform of an army colonel. The silver eagles on his shoulders gleamed.

Janus put his letter carefully on top of the others. “You’re here, I assume, to tell me that the deputies have decided to put me in charge of the city’s defense?”

Marcus felt his mouth hang open for a moment. He closed it, firmly. “Someone’s already told you, sir?”

“Not at all. The guards are very careful when they speak to me.”

“Then-” Marcus gritted his teeth. “Don’t tell me this was part of the plan all along.”

Janus looked up at him, surprised. After a moment, he laughed. “Oh no, Captain. No, only simple logic. After the arrests, there were only two logical courses for the deputies to take, and one of them was to put me in charge.”

“What was the other?”

“To have me executed, obviously. But if they were going to do that, they’d hardly send you to bring the news.” He tidied the edge of the stack of letters, picked it up, and got to his feet. “Shall we go?”

In the corridor outside, they waited while the Guard fetched Janus’ sword, and Marcus explained what he knew of what had been happening, including Peddoc’s march and Orlanko’s subsequent victory.

“It’s too bad they didn’t send for you sooner,” Marcus said. “After what happened to Peddoc, it’s not going to be easy to get people to fight.”

“True,” Janus said. “On the other hand, it buys us time.”

“How so? There’s nothing stopping Orlanko from marching on the city.”

“He won’t do that if he can possibly avoid it. Fighting in the city itself could lead to a long battle, and give his troops the chance to change their minds about their allegiance, not to mention causing considerable damage. Peddoc gave him exactly what he wanted, a nice quick victory in the open field. Now that he has it, he’ll try to convince the deputies to surrender.”