Django Wexler - The Shadow Throne

“I see that you have been led completely astray.” Vertue sighed. “So it must be. God sends us these trials to prove we are worthy of His continued grace. When the slaughter begins, remember that you hold it in your power to end it at any time.” His eyes narrowed. “And when you do choose to surrender, seek me out. I will make certain you and your companions are well treated.”

“Allow me to extend you the same courtesy, my lord,” Raesinia said.

Vertue snorted and turned to his horse. His guards mounted up as well, and the trio wheeled about and rode away, down the slope of the hill and north along the road. The cavalry pickets parted, reluctantly, to let them through.

Somewhere up that road-not far up it, if the latest reports they’d received were correct-was Orlanko’s army. Not a large army, by historical standards. Not even larger than Raesinia’s, if every last pike-wielding teenager was counted. But of course the point was that the pikes and the teenagers didn’t count for much, in the eyes of men like Vertue. Rabble, he says. They certainly met the description. Janus had done wonders to gather and arm so many in a week, but it was still only a week, which didn’t allow for much in the way of training.

Another horse climbed the slope. Janus bet Vhalnich himself dismounted and stood beside his queen, looking south down the road instead of north after the retreating emissaries. He was head-and-shoulders taller than her, but that was something Raesinia was used to ignoring.

“They’ve gone,” she said. “Vertue and his minders.” Janus had been certain that the “soldiers” had been Concordat spies in Royal Army uniforms.

“I saw,” Janus said, without looking back at her.

“Was it really wise to let them leave? They’ll tell Orlanko we’ve marched.”

“We can’t expect to keep that information from him. Frankly, I expect he has a complete picture of our forces by now. The city is too big and too open to keep anything secret for long, and we don’t have enough men to post a screen and intercept his couriers. Surprise is not where our advantage lies.”

“Where does our advantage lie?”

“Numbers and will,” Janus said. “And the faith that comes with fighting on the right side.”

“And superior generalship?”

“Under ordinary circumstances, modesty would require me to deny that. But since the opposition is commanded by either Duke Orlanko or Count Torahn, ‘superior’ is a low bar.”

“I thought you respected Orlanko,” Raesinia said.

“In certain arenas. He has a genius for analyzing information and organizational structures, and a crude but instinctive feel for human nature. None of that translates into battlefield competence, however, and his chief defect is his overconfidence. He does not know enough to leave things in the hands of more capable men.” Janus shrugged. “On the other hand, he has a great many cannon. That can make up for quite a few character flaws.”

“You don’t think we can win?”

Janus was looking at the road again. “If I didn’t think there was a chance, I would never have given the order to march. But as to how much of a chance. . we shall see.” He smiled briefly. “Here they come.”

A rising cloud of dust had been visible around the curve of the road for some time, but now Raesinia could see the first blue-coated ranks coming into view. The First Battalion of the Colonials had the lead, behind the wide-flung cavalry screen, marching in a long, thin column to the cheerful accompaniment of drums, flutes, and fifes. Janus had ransacked the city’s theaters for any man who could play and walk at the same time to provide bands for the troops. Whether anyone could hear anything among the clatter of boots on the dusty road and the creaks of the wagons, Raesinia was uncertain, but she hadn’t argued.

After the First Battalion came the Second, its head marked by its pair of battle flags. Alongside the steady river of blue-coated troops were the wagons, a motley collection of farmers’ wains, two-wheeled carts, and even converted cabs and carriages. At intervals among the slow-plodding vehicles were batteries of artillery, hitched to their limbers, muzzles pointing backward and down toward the dusty ground.

Behind the Second Battalion was the endless river of new recruits, still in their civilian clothes. For the most part they were a drab mass of gray and brown, but here and there a nobleman who’d thrown in his lot with the deputies stood out as a splash of color. Blue specks at regular intervals were the sergeants borrowed from the Colonials to try to impose order. Each man had some kind of weapon, but for every musket there was a long-handled spear or pike, fashioned in haste or dragged out of Grandfather’s closet.

It did Raesinia good to see them marching. She’d spent the week at the Twin Turrets, and while Janus had brought her regular reports, she hadn’t been up to Ohnlei to see it with her own eyes. It was too dangerous, the colonel had argued; among so many men, Orlanko had no doubt inserted a few of his own agents. She’d had an odd fantasy that all the volunteer soldiers were a myth, that Janus was only humoring her, and that when the day finally came to face the duke, she’d find herself alone.

Militarily, though, she had to admit they did not inspire confidence. The only hint that they were soldiers instead of a mob was that every man sported a black armband, a nod to the so-called rules of war that prescribed reasonable treatment for “uniformed troops.” It couldn’t hurt, though Raesinia had her doubts that any rules would constrain Orlanko if he won. They’d chosen black to respect the passing of her father, or to show their allegiance to the deputies, or-she thought this the most likely-because, with Ohnlei still decked out in mourning, black cloth had been readily available in unlimited quantities.

The column marched slowly, and an hour later they were still coming. Raesinia had moved to the edge of the hill, where they could see her easily, and she waved her hand at the recruits as they came by. For the most part they didn’t recognize her, but whenever someone did, they raised a cheer. I should be closer, she thought. If they’re going to die for me, they should at least know what I look like.

The sound of a horse approaching at speed brought her attention back to the hilltop, where Janus was conferring quietly with the Colonial officers. The rider, a cavalry trooper in weather-beaten blues, trotted up the slope, reined his mount around, and saluted. Raesinia drifted over.

“Sir!” the trooper said. “Give-Em-H-” He noticed the queen standing nearby, paused, and went on. “Captain Stokes sends to say that he has located the enemy. We’ve sighted their main body, and engaged their outriders.”

He dug in his saddlebag and produced a folded note. Janus took it, read it gravely, and nodded.

“As expected. It’s the logical place, from his point of view.” He turned to the captains standing nearby. The only one Raesinia recognized was Marcus, in Royal Army blue now instead of Armsmen green. She couldn’t catch his eye.

“You may proceed as we’ve discussed, gentleman,” the colonel said. “Good luck!”

They saluted and headed for their own horses.

Janus turned to Raesinia. “Your Majesty. You know what I advise.”

“I’m not going back, if that’s what you mean.” Raesinia set her jaw. “I started all this, and now I feel so helpless. The least I can do is watch.” She lowered her voice. “Besides. You know the danger is. . not entirely relevant.”

“I am, of course, Your Majesty’s humble servant. Lieutenant Uhlan and his men will accompany you.” Janus matched her whisper. “If we lose, Your Majesty-”