Django Wexler - The Shadow Throne

“I have no choice, Your Grace,” Janus said. “I’m charged with upholding the laws of Vordan. I swore an oath to the king to that effect.”

Now Grieg was smiling. Orlanko looked from him to Janus, and Marcus could picture the tiny gears behind those glass lenses whirring at phenomenal speed.

“Captain,” Janus said.

“Sir!” Marcus came to his feet and saluted crisply. He could tell when he was being used as a prop, and thought he might as well play the role to the hilt.

“You are to take Danton Aurenne into custody as soon as possible, along with any other individuals who may have contributed to his conspiracy. He is to be given all due rights and processes. Is that understood?”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

“Don’t be foolish.” Orlanko turned to appeal directly to Marcus. “Captain, you must know what will happen if you arrest Danton. It is your Armsmen who will be on the front lines in the event of rioting. I urge you to reconsider.”

Marcus kept his face calm with an effort, but inside he was grinning savagely. “With respect, Your Grace,” he said, “I take my orders from the Minister of Justice, not from you. I also swore an oath to the king. If you would like them changed, I suggest you take the matter up with my lord Count Mieran.”

Something played at the corner of the duke’s mouth, but his eyes remained invisible blurs behind his spectacles.

“Well,” he said, “if the Minister of Justice has quite made up his mind, I have preparations to make. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”

All eyes followed Orlanko as he rose stiffly and left the room. He nearly ran into a footman in the act of knocking on the door on the way out, and pushed past him without a word. The footman, red-faced, stepped to one side and then met the assembled gazes of the most powerful men in Vordan with evident embarrassment.

Janus rescued him. “Yes? Did you have something for us?”

“Yes, my lord,” the man said, bowing deep. “Doctor-Professor Indergast begs an audience with the Cabinet.” His eyes flicked after the vanished Orlanko. “Shall I tell him the meeting has ended?”

Grieg started to say something, but Janus overrode him. “His Grace has departed, but the rest of us are still here. Bring him in.”

The footman bowed, withdrew, and returned a moment later leading an old man in the silver-threaded black robes of a University professor. Indergast had only a wispy remnant of silver hair, and he walked hunched over, as though there were a great weight on his shoulders. When he raised his head to look around the room, however, his sunken eyes were sharp and intelligent.

“Doctor-Professor,” Janus said. “Welcome. I regret that we have not had the chance to meet before this.”

“Count Mieran,” Indergast said, with a faint Hamveltai accent. He ducked his head. “Forgive me if I do not bow, but I am afraid I might not be able to straighten up again.”

“Of course. Please, take a seat.”

“No, thank you, my lord. I will not keep you long.”

Janus nodded. “You have news for us, then?”

“I do.”

“Good news, I hope,” Torahn drawled.

“I’m afraid not, my lords.” Indergast cleared his throat. “The malignancy in His Majesty’s left armpit is on the verge of reaching the major vessel there. If it is not removed, it will kill him within a few weeks, at the longest, and much of that time he will be in terrible pain. If he is to be saved, I must operate within the day.”

Janus looked across the table at Torahn and Grieg. The former shrugged, while the latter would not meet his gaze.

“Then you must operate, of course,” he said. “Is there anything you require?”

“It is not as simple as that,” Indergast said. “His Majesty is not a young man, and the malignancy has greatly weakened him. There is a chance-a very good chance, I’m afraid-that he will not survive the surgery, or that he will lack the strength to recover.”

There was a long silence. Torahn coughed.

“Seems clear enough,” he said. “If you operate, he might live. If not, he’ll die for certain. Better to throw the dice, eh?”

“Has His Majesty expressed an opinion?” Janus said.

“Regrettably, he has not been conscious for some time,” Indergast said. “I waited as long as I dared, hoping to put the question to him, but now I believe he will not wake until after the surgery, if at all. I have therefore come to you, my lords.”

“His Majesty was never one for letting go of something if there was a chance of making it come out right,” Torahn declared. “He would have wanted to chance it.”

“I must agree with the Minister of War,” Janus said. He glanced at Grieg, who gave a brief nod. “Very well. Please proceed, Doctor-Professor. I wish you the very best of luck.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Indergast said. “As I have said, the prospects are dim, but if we have faith perhaps God will have mercy.”

“One thing,” Janus said. “The city is in a delicate state. I must insist that this news not spread any farther, and that no one be allowed to leave the king’s chambers once you begin the operation.”

“Yes,” said Grieg fervently. “Wild rumors are the last thing we need.”

“I understand,” said Indergast. “I will begin the preparations.”

They watched the old man hobble painfully out of the chamber. Once the door closed behind him, Torahn said, “The princess ought to be told, at least. Preparations need to be made, just in case.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Grieg snapped. “If we start polishing up the funeral carriage, you don’t think that will start a rumor?”

“Still, common decency and all that. The girl deserves to know about her own father.”

“Agreed,” Janus said. “But we dare not trust the information to a servant. My lord Torahn, if you would be so good as to visit Her Highness personally? And impress upon her the need for secrecy.”

“Eh?” Torahn shrugged. “I suppose. As you say.”

“In that case,” Janus said, “I suggest we adjourn. As His Grace said, I’m sure we all have preparations to make.”

Marcus held his tongue until they were out of the palace and walking across the lawns, with Janus’ Mierantai bodyguards following a step behind. Finally, he leaned toward the colonel and murmured, “Are you sure about this?”

“Hmm?”

“Orlanko could be right. I don’t know the city like he does, but things may get ugly.”

“It’s quite possible.” Janus glanced at Marcus, just for a moment. “These are dangerous times. I am afraid I may be asking a great deal of you.”

Marcus straightened up. “I’ll do whatever I can, sir.”

“I know,” Janus said. “And believe me, I am grateful. If, sometimes, you cannot quite see the way clear. .” His smile was there and gone again in an instant, like a lightning bolt. “Sooner or later we all must take something on faith.”

“Sir,” Giforte said woodenly, standing at attention in front of Marcus’ desk.

Marcus eyed him thoughtfully, doing his best to keep any suspicion out of his gaze. He didn’t think the vice captain would notice in any case, though. He was obviously working to keep hold of some strong emotion, and his stony mask was cracking at the edges.

“Yes, Vice Captain?” Marcus said. “Did you have some comment regarding your orders?”

Giforte took the invitation to speak, words escaping like steam from a boiling kettle. “Yes, sir. This is a mistake, sir . A critical mistake.”

“These orders come from the minister himself,” Marcus said.

“Perhaps the minister doesn’t grasp the situation fully,” the vice captain said. “If he were to come and speak with me-”