Django Wexler - The Shadow Throne

Marcus almost felt sorry for them. The queen was definitely a great deal smarter, and more stubborn, than they gave her credit for. And, having worked with Janus for the past week on drafting his plans for a reorganization of the Royal Army, he knew that these men were about to have their world turned upside down.

“May I ask a question, sir?” Marcus said.

“Certainly, Colonel.”

For a moment Marcus nearly looked over his shoulder to see who Janus was speaking to. He fingered the silver eagles on his shoulders uneasily, as if to confirm they were still there.

“I think I’ve puzzled out most of what you did during the battle. Using the volunteers as a skirmish screen was inspired.”

“I guessed it would confuse the enemy,” Janus said. “The Desoltai used similar tactics, if you recall, and they certainly caused problems for me.”

“And you knew they would eventually have to commit their cavalry.”

“Indeed. It was Orlanko’s misfortune that he had only a regiment of heavies available. A few squadrons of hussars or dragoons would have been better suited to the task.”

“I even,” Marcus said, “understand why you launched the final attack when you did. The enemy were still in disorder from their own charges.”

A smile flickered across Janus’ face. “None of this amounts to a ‘question,’ Colonel.”

“Why did you send in the volunteer pike? Why not the Colonials? It seemed to me that a charge by regular troops would have made success more certain.”

“Ah,” Janus said. “Truthfully, there were a number of reasons. The Colonial formations were still tied up with the fleeing skirmishers, and it would have taken time to get them shaken out and moving. I judged that a single concerted assault, delivered promptly, would be more likely to succeed than a more traditional attack by lines. There was also the matter of keeping something in reserve-if the attack had failed, the Colonials could be relied on to hold their ground, whereas the volunteers would likely have panicked. The proper use of reserves is crucial. If the Last Duke had kept a few of his battalions in reserve to launch a counterattack, things might have gone very differently.”

“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.