Django Wexler - The Shadow Throne

They picked their way, slowly, through the crowd. Every faction and sect seemed to be out in force tonight, striving to take control of this critical moment with all the volume they could muster. Reunionists preached the virtues of a united Church, Republicans had taken up Danton’s call for the Deputies- General, and a thousand splintered bands of Utopians shook worn copies of Voulenne’s Rights of Man at one another. Gangs of Feudalists, with their antique flags, shouted at phalanxes of Monarchists, refighting the battles of Farus IV that had been dead and buried before Raesinia was born. And everywhere the papers, with huge, jagged type, letters in different styles, random splashes of ink from malfunctioning presses, anything the printers could think of to draw the eye. More carriages had gotten stuck and been abandoned by their passengers. The drivers sat playing cards on the boxes, resigned to waiting until the crowd broke up. Judging by the reek of horseshit, some of them had been there for a while.

After ten minutes of making progress only by vigorous application of her elbows, Raesinia broke into the clear. The street in front of the Mask was empty in a wide half circle around the doorway, as if it had been enchanted with an evil charm. The interior was dark, and it took Raesinia a moment to realize what was wrong-the big, expensive single-pane windows had been shattered and lay in glittering fragments all around.

“Oh God.” Raesinia took a step forward, automatically, and felt Sothe’s restraining hand on her arm. “What the hell happened?”

She looked around, wildly, and grabbed a hapless Individualist by the wrist. He squawked as she dragged him into the cursed, empty circle.

“What happened?” He stared at her, blankly, and she raised her voice. “What happened here?”

Her victim, a freckled boy with sandy brown hair and a bewildered look, glanced at the broken windows and shook his head.

“Concordat,” he said. “They raided quite a few places before the street really filled up. After that people started running them off.”

“Raided? What for?”

“How should I know? I heard they were just rounding up whoever they could find and hauling them off to the Vendre.” He brightened. “See, it proves the fundamental illegitimacy of collectivist ruling structures that, in a crisis, they must always resort to coercive measures or violence. A truly just polity would emerge spontaneously from-”

Raesinia left him to babble and grabbed for Sothe. “Orlanko’s people were here . They found us.”

“We don’t know that for certain,” Sothe said. “Other cafés were hit as well. But it’s possible.” She frowned. “I told you we couldn’t keep them off forever.”

“We have to find them,” Raesinia said.

“Don’t be foolish,” Sothe said. “ If they were taken, they’re on their way to the Vendre.”

“We have to find them. You know what happens to people in there!”

Sothe fixed Raesinia with a withering look. “Of course I do. And I know what Orlanko will do to you if he discovers you’re involved.”

“But. .” Inspiration struck. “They know me, don’t they? When he starts asking for information, they’ll give him a description, and Orlanko will be able to put the pieces together if anyone will.”

“They might not talk,” Sothe said, but she looked unhappy.

“Everybody talks, eventually. You told me that, Sothe.”

“I know.”

“Then let’s go! If all the streets are as crowded as this one, they can’t have gotten far. We can-”

“Stage a rescue? Have you got a bag of bombs under your skirt you didn’t tell me about?” Sothe shook her head, a calculating look in her eye. “I’ll go. You stay here.”

“You know I won’t be in danger-”

“You will be,” Sothe said. “You may not be able to die, but if you get caught, we lose everything.”

“What if they catch you and make you talk?”

Sothe smiled grimly. “Believe me, I have plans against that contingency.”

“But-”

“Besides, I’ll move faster without you. Just stay here . Stay in the crowd, and keep your head down. I’ll find a way to get word to you as soon as I have news.” She glanced at the ruined Mask. “And stay away from this place. It may be watched.”

“Sothe. .”

“We don’t have time to argue about this.”

“I know.” Raesinia took a deep breath. “Just. . bring them back, all right? And be sure to come back yourself, too.”

“I’ll do my best.” Sothe gripped Raesinia’s hand for a moment, squeezed, and let it fall. “Remember. Stay where there’s a crowd, and don’t do anything to get their attention.”

Raesinia nodded, her throat suddenly thick. Sothe turned on her heel and stepped into the crowd, slipping through the packed street like a ghost. She was lost to sight in moments.

Beast, Raesinia swore, alone in a semicircle of clear cobbles. Balls of the fucking Beast. She’d always known this was a possibility, of course. The whole conspiracy had been a desperate throw of the dice. Once it became clear that her father wouldn’t live out the year, she’d had no other choice. Only a popular uprising against the Last Duke could free the kingdom of his malign influence, and so she’d set about creating one. But it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. What possessed Vhalnich to arrest Danton? I thought he was smarter than that.

The sound of someone calling her name made her jump. It was accompanied by a wooden crash and a lot of swearing. Raesinia turned and saw a light flickering somewhere inside the ruined coffee shop.

“Raes!” The voice was hoarse, desperate. It was Ben. Oh, hell. “Raes!”

Raesinia spit a curse and ran inside the Blue Mask.

The common room had been comprehensively destroyed. Every table lay in splinters, the chairs had been kicked to pieces, and the intricate bronze-and-copper coffee apparatus on the bar lay in twisted metal fragments. Broken wine bottles were everywhere, and the smell of the stuff, slopped on the floor and soaking into the rugs, made Raesinia’s head spin. It was mixed with the reek of urine from a smashed chamber pot, and the gritty, earthy smell of powder smoke.

The light was coming from the back, where the conspiracy had held their meetings. Raesinia passed through the smashed door and hurried across the wine-stained footprints. The door to their room was broken, too, and the table they’d sat around had been overturned. Ben was standing by the window, peering carefully around a jagged rim of shattered glass.

“Ben?”

He turned around, narrowly avoiding cutting his arm open on the remains of the windowpane. “Raes!”

She barely had time to brace before he was on top of her, both arms wrapped around her in a bear hug. His lantern, hanging forgotten in one hand, swung wildly and clipped her painfully in the small of her back, but she managed not to make a sound. Her feet briefly left the floor, and his scratchy, unshaven cheek was pressed against hers.

“Thank God,” he was saying. “Thank God. I thought they’d got you.”

“Ben. I’m fine. Please.” He didn’t show any sign of letting go, so Raesinia wriggled her arm loose and pried him off. “Ben! I’m fine, really. What happened? Where are the others?”

His eyes, bloodshot and teary, took a moment to focus on her, and he swallowed hard. “I haven’t seen Sarton. Maurisk is in some kind of meeting with the other groups. They’re trying to decide what to do, but when I left they weren’t getting anywhere. I lost Faro somewhere in the crowd, but he’s okay, I think. Cora. .”

He paused.