Django Wexler - The Shadow Throne

“Sir,” he gasped. “We’ve had a runner from the city.”

“What’s happened?”

“Riots, sir. After the vice captain arrested Danton, people were gathering in the streets. The Concordat has been arresting the ringleaders, but it only makes them angrier.”

Of course it does! Marcus wondered what the hell Orlanko was thinking. “Is Giforte back yet?”

“He’s taken Danton to the Vendre-”

“To the Vendre ? Why?”

“He judged it would be safer, sir. It’s a fortress. Between the men he took along and the garrison, it can hold off an army.”

Marcus stared at him, a sinking feeling in his guts. The Vendre. A fortress, to be sure, but a fortress on the tip of the Island, within easy reach of an angry mob. And run by Orlanko’s people. I don’t like this one bit.

“Can he bring Danton here?” The Guardhouse was less defensible, but at least it wasn’t in the heart of the city.

“No, sir. That’s why he sent a runner. There are enough people in the streets that he doesn’t want to risk it.”

“Balls of the Beast,” he swore. “All right. Gather up anyone you can find here who can hold a musket. We’re going down there.”

“Yes, sir!”

Marcus strode away, letting Eisen close and lock the cell door behind him. He was aware of a certain lightness in his step, in spite of the crisis. Or, perhaps, because of it-Eisen’s report had banished all thoughts of Ionkovo and Janus, reducing the world to simpler terms. His men were in danger, and for the moment Marcus d’Ivoire knew exactly where his duty lay.

ORLANKO

The Cobweb was always brightly lit on the inside, but tonight even the facade was ablaze with lights.

The Last Duke had put out the word, and the army of shadows sallied forth. Alone or in groups, on horseback or riding in great armored wagons, each according to his particular assignment, they formed a river of lanterns, glittering steel, and dark, flapping coats stretching from Ohnlei toward the city.

It was another advantage, the duke reflected, of the uniform, the black coat that was so embedded in popular imagination. The Concordat employed two scribes and bean counters for every spy and assassin, and on a night like tonight manpower was in very short supply. And yet take the lowliest junior analyst, a half-addled boy who’d never been trusted with anything more than adding up columns of figures; swaddle him in that sinister black leather, and he was suddenly Concordat , a terrifying instrument of the will of the all-knowing and all-powerful Orlanko. Never mind that if you gave him a sword, all he’d be able to do was cut himself. People came along quietly, goaded by the phantoms in their own minds. It was remarkable.

Of course, there were some assignments that couldn’t be trusted to dressed-up scriveners. Orlanko paged through the first of the reports that were already flooding into his office, and looked up expectantly as Andreas entered.

“Sir. You summoned me.”

“I did. Your report says that you have identified Danton’s backers.”

“Only in part, sir. I have a source in the group, but his information is limited.”

“But you know where they meet.”

“I believe so, sir.”

“And you think they’ll be meeting tonight?”

“Almost certainly, sir. The minister’s arrest of Danton has set the city buzzing.”

“Vhalnich,” Orlanko said bitterly. “He was supposed to be taken care of in Khandar.”

“Yes, sir.” Andreas’ voice was neutral.

“In your report,” the duke said, “you recommend not taking immediate action against this. . cabal.”

“Yes, sir. I believe there is another layer, to which only the senior members have access. My source claims their funding was obtained via speculative investments, which is obviously nonsense. There must be another entity, with deep pockets, standing behind them. If we let them have free rein for a while, we will eventually discover it.”

Orlanko tapped his fingers on the desk. That was certainly the conventional procedure. Once you had a hook in the prey, it was always best to let them have their head for a time, especially once they became aware the forces of authority were breathing down their neck. It was always interesting to see where they bolted.

But this was hardly a normal time. The ship is close to the breakers, the duke thought. If we can navigate the narrow passage, then it will be clear sailing, and there will be plenty of time to run down any rats.

“Take them,” he said. “Tonight. Use as many men as you need. I want as many as possible alive for interrogation. Bring the source in as well, and keep him with the others. You never know what he might hear.”

Andreas bowed slightly. “Yes, sir.” He hesitated. “There may be a complication.”

“Oh?”

“You know several of the agents following the group were found dead, the day of the bank run.”

“Obviously they became careless. These are desperate men and women.”

“Yes, sir. I received a final report from one of those agents, with a promising lead that turned out to be a dead end. When our people analyzed the report, there were irregularities in the text. I now believe it to be the work of-”

“The Gray Rose,” Orlanko said, not bothering to keep the weariness out of his voice. “This has become an obsession with you, Andreas.”

“It is the only logical explanation, sir. And the consequences are alarming. If our ciphers have been compromised-”

“I designed our ciphers myself,” the duke said. “Part of that design ensures that any individual cipher falling into enemy hands does not affect the security of the whole.”

“I know that, sir. But if it is the Gray Rose, her knowledge of our procedures makes us vulnerable. I think-”

“It makes no difference one way or the other,” the duke snapped. “You know where this cabal is meeting. Go and take them. If the Gray Rose shows herself, you have my permission to kill her.”

Andreas looked, for a moment, as though he wanted to argue, but his face quickly returned to its customary blank mask. He bowed deeply, worn leather coat flapping about his ankles. “As you say, sir. I will proceed directly.”

As Andreas padded out, the duke looked back at the report he’d been reading, fighting a rising sense of irritation and, most annoyingly, nervousness. Things really were coming to a head, in more ways than one. Vhalnich. It all turns on Vhalnich.

Vhalnich had decided to arrest Danton, a move guaranteed to send the streets into convulsions. Orlanko didn’t understand what the new Minister of Justice was playing at, which for the master of the Concordat was an uncommon and distinctly unwelcome feeling. There hadn’t been time to stop him, so Orlanko had done the next best thing.

If Vhalnich wants the city brought to a simmer, we’ll see how he likes it when the pot boils over. The Concordat agents fanning out through the city were bringing in every agitator, every troublemaker, every printer of libelous broadsheets or licentious pamphlets. They’d begun at sundown and were working until dawn, gangs of black-coated men riding through the streets, breaking down doors, hauling terrified men and women in nightshirts out of their homes and off to the black, hulking walls of the Vendre.

There would be clashes, even deaths. It would only enhance the effect.

The streets will burn . There will be riots, looting, disorder. Afterward, it would be easy to put the blame on Vhalnich. After all, his arrest of Danton had been the spark that ignited the powder magazine. Besides, the maintenance of public order was the responsibility of the Armsmen and the Ministry of Justice. They needed the goodwill of the public. All the Concordat needed was fear.