Django Wexler - The Shadow Throne

Jane laughed again. “I can’t tell if you’re the father or the mother in this little allegory. Maybe both.”

Winter managed a chuckle, and a little bit of the tension seeped out of the tent. She settled herself more comfortably on the cushion. “Bobby was at Mrs. Wilmore’s, too, you know. I think she ran away just before you came back.”

“You went back?” Bobby said. “I wouldn’t have thought anyone would go back there on purpose.”

“It took me a while to nerve myself up to it,” Jane admitted.

“She marched the girls out of there!” Winter said. “Right under the old hag’s nose, too.”

Jane looked embarrassed. “Something like that.”

“Wow.” Bobby gave Jane an admiring stare. “How did you manage that?”

“It’s not actually all that much of a story,” Jane said. “The really interesting parts happened afterward.”

Winter sat back while Jane told the story of what had happened to her exodus after leaving the Prison-their time in the swamps, and then with the Leatherbacks. By the time she got to a considerably exaggerated version of Winter’s storming of the Vendre, Bobby was clapping her hands in delight. Winter retaliated with stories of the fighting in Khandar, which Bobby embellished with lurid details. Before Winter knew it, the sky had darkened entirely and the torches outside were faint glows through the tent walls.

The only awkward moment came when Bobby was filling in what had happened after they left Ashe-Katarion. She and Folsom had been promoted to sergeant as Fitz worked to fill out the ranks of the junior officers, while Graff, because of his long experience and against his fervent objections, had been made a lieutenant. Of their little circle, that left only Feor, and here Bobby hesitated.

“She was on the ship with us,” she said. “I even saw her, once or twice. But I think Fitz kept her under guard. There were a couple of cabins none of us were ever allowed to visit, with sentries on every watch, and she slept in one of those. I didn’t see her again after we transferred to the riverboats.” Catching Winter’s expression, she tried to be reassuring. “I’m sure she’s here, though. You can ask Fitz when you see him.”

Winter nodded. She had a pretty good idea of where Feor was, and what had been in that guarded cabin. Janus would not have left the steel plates bearing his precious Thousand Names in Khandar without the Colonials to guard them. Feor was certainly here, but whether the colonel would ever let her out again was uncertain. He has to let me in , at least. He owes me that much.

Eventually Folsom arrived, huge and taciturn as always, and Winter made another round of introductions. The big sergeant was happy to see Winter, but curiously shy in the presence of Jane, and the fact that he wasn’t privy to the secret made the conversation a bit more circumspect. Shortly thereafter, Winter and Jane excused themselves, and Bobby promised to send Graff over to visit when she tracked him down.

More shouted greetings followed them away from the row of tents, and Winter turned to wave over her shoulder to the rankers. She and Jane walked together in silence for a while, through the rest of the Colonial encampment and out past the line of sentries, on to the darkened lawn that separated the palace from the Ministry of War.

“They all love you,” Jane said, after a while.

Winter winced. “It took me a while to get used to it. It’s not even about anything I’ve done . Just that we went into battle together, and they survived. I’m like a. . a lucky charm.”

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

“Not everyone survived.” Winter bit her lip. “They tend to forget about that. I can’t blame them, but. .”

Jane snaked her arm through Winter’s and crooked it at the elbow. Winter went stiff.

“Don’t,” she said. “Someone might see.”

“It’s dark,” Jane said. “Besides, you think you’re the only lieutenant who keeps a girl?” She laughed. “We know Marsh does.”

“Marsh.” Winter sighed but left their arms linked. “I don’t know what Bobby was thinking.”

“She was thinking that he was handsome, and she was lonely. How old is she-sixteen? Seventeen?”

“Seventeen, probably.”

“You must remember what it was like to be seventeen and have your head turned by a pretty face.” Jane’s fingers found her hand and squeezed it. “I know I do.”

“Is he handsome, then?” Winter said, glad the darkness hid her flushed face. “I’ve never been able to tell.”

“Sure. At least, I thought so, and Bobby seems to agree. But there’s no accounting for taste.”

“I suppose he does look a bit like those old paintings of Mithradacii gods, with that hair. Do you remember those old storybooks we found in the Prison library? They were always turning into boars or swans to get women to fall in love with them.”

“I never quite understood how that worked,” Jane said. “But I recall you being very interested in the woodcuts of nymphs and dryads without any clothes on.”

Winter rolled her eyes and gave Jane’s arm a tug. “Come on. We had better make sure your girls haven’t killed anybody.”

RAESINIA

“My queen,” said Count Vertue, bowing low. “I beg you. We have one last opportunity to avert this bloodshed. Let us act, before it is too late.”

Raesinia stood on a hillock beside the north road from Ohnlei. It was another beautiful August day, though a breath of cooler air carried the hint that summer would not last forever. Count Vertue, dressed in a “simple” riding outfit embroidered with silver and gold thread, stood beside his mount with two blue-uniformed soldiers at his side. Raesinia stood alone, but there was a squad of Colonials waiting at a discreet distance, in case Orlanko’s emissary tried something desperate.

“I agree,” Raesinia said. “Let me extend you one final offer. Tell your master that if he orders his troops to return to their camps, his noble followers to disperse, and offers himself into our care, I personally guarantee that he will receive no punishment, and will be free to live out his days in the duchy. You may assure your fellows that none of them will be punished, either. Only members of the Ministry of Information who directly participated in the plot against the Crown will be brought to trial.”

“It grieves me to hear you say that, Your Majesty. I have no ‘master,’ as you put it, only a good friend in His Grace the duke, around whom all the right-thinking gentry of the kingdom have come together. He does everything in Your Majesty’s interests, whatever these traitors may have told you.” Vertue glanced scornfully at the Colonials. “If you would only appeal to them yourself, I feel sure they would throw off the orders of Vhalnich and the so-called deputies and return you to your proper place. How can you ally yourself with a pack of rabble-rousers and treasonous thinkers who have disgraced the sacred halls of the cathedral and Ohnlei both?”

“I am the queen, Count Vertue. It is for me to say who is a traitor, and who is not, and I tell you the traitors are in your own camp.”

“If you will not think of the nation,” the count said, “at least consider the men who will die to no purpose if you throw this mass of beggars and frontier soldiers against the pride of the Royal Army. You must know they cannot stand the test of battle.”

“Whatever deaths there have been”-Raesinia gritted her teeth-“and whatever deaths are still to come, all of them fall on Orlanko’s conscience, not mine. Not that I imagine it bothers him. His hands are well stained already.”