Django Wexler - The Shadow Throne

“I’m fine.” Sothe’s voice was grim. “And if I had known how matters were going, I never would have left.”

“I’m sorry.” Raesinia looked down and shook her head. “Ben’s dead.”

“I know. The story is all over the city.”

“Where have you been ?”

Sothe nodded over her shoulder at the dark bulk of the fortress, looming near invisibly against the skyline. “In there.”

“You’ve been inside? Did you see Cora?”

“Not personally, but the prisoners seem to be well treated so far,” Sothe said. “That may not last, though. Do you know Captain d’Ivoire?”

“The Armsman? I’ve met him.”

“Pulling back from the wall was his idea, and he’s put Armsmen on guard duty instead of Orlanko’s thugs.”

“He seemed like a reasonable man. Do you think he’d be willing to surrender?”

“Willing, yes. Able, no. The Concordat captain has him locked in the tower. He’s getting ready to blast whoever goes through that gate into bloody ruin. They dug up a cannon from somewhere, and they’re setting up barricades for a room-to-room fight all the way to the dungeons.”

“Saints and martyrs,” Raesinia swore. “That’ll be bloody murder.”

“If we go in through the gate, it will.”

Raesinia had known Sothe a long time. “You’ve got another way in. Please say you’ve got another way in.”

Sothe nodded. “There’s a dock below the tower. D’Ivoire had men on it, but this new captain has pulled them off to man the barricades. I think we could get a small boat in without the sentries on the parapets noticing.”

“How small?”

“Four or five.”

Raesinia frowned. “How much could they accomplish?”

“I have an idea how to go about it.” Sothe hesitated. “It’s. . risky. You would have to come with us.”

“Me?” Raesinia blinked. Sothe was usually insistent that Raesinia keep herself away from possible dangers, in spite of her supernatural invulnerability, for fear that her secret would be exposed. “I mean-I’m willing, of course. But why?”

“We need someone Danton will trust. That means one of the cabal. And the only one of them I trust is you.”

“The others are trustworthy,” Raesinia protested.

“Princess,” Sothe said softly. “Please.”

“All right.” Raesinia sighed. “I started this whole thing, didn’t I? It’s only fair.”

Sothe looked unhappy but said nothing. Raesinia took a deep breath and blew it out.

“All right,” she repeated. “What’s the plan?”

“That’s it,” Raesinia said. “It’s risky, but it sounds a hell of a lot better than storming a barricade in the face of muskets and canister.”

The leaders of the riot had prudently moved to the far side of the outer wall, in case any Concordat marksmen decided to try their luck with another shot. On top of the wall, a squad of amateur musketeers kept watch on the parapet, occasionally loosing a volley when one of them spotted a creeping shadow or errant cloud.

The ram itself, an ugly thing with a cold-hammered iron head that resembled a lumpy knuckle, was being borne through the gate and into the yard on a tide of shouting, angry men. Behind it, the mob was filling up the courtyard, heedless of the threat of sharpshooters on the towers. Men with makeshift weapons pressed to the front, eager to be the first through the doorway when the breach was made.

Jane, Abby, and Winter sat on boxes in front of a small fire built of bits of scrap from demolished houses, surrounded by a group of young women in the leather aprons that seemed to be some sort of uniform or mark of distinction among the Docksiders. From the council only Cyte was in attendance, sitting cross-legged beside the fire. Maurisk, Dumorre, and the others were presumably off haranguing the crowds, and she’d seen Peddoc and his followers positioning themselves in the vanguard, eager for glory.

Jane looked at her two lieutenants. Winter, chewing her lip, nodded slowly.

“I don’t know anything about the layout of the fortress,” she said. “But even without artillery on the inside, getting through that door is going to be a bloody business, and they can make us repeat it at every barricade. If they have found a gun somewhere, it could be a disaster.”

“We don’t know they’ve found one,” Abby said. She glanced at Sothe, who stood at Raesinia’s shoulder. “All we have to go on is the word of this. .”

“Rose,” Sothe said. “Call me Rose.”

“Rose,” Abby said. “For all we know she could be Concordat.”

“I’ll vouch for Rose,” Raesinia said.

“And who vouches for you?” Abby countered.

Jane shrugged. “She has a point. You and your people turned up late to the ball. That leaves plenty of time for Orlanko to get his agents in place.”

“What do we have to lose, though?” Winter said. “Raes and. . Rose have said they’ll be going themselves. If it’s a trap and Concordat soldiers are waiting on the dock, how does it hurt us?”

“You wanted three volunteers,” Abby said. “It would hurt them .”

“If we storm the doors, a hell of a lot more than that are going to die,” Winter said. “Even if we win. I think it’s worth the risk.” She paused, then added, “I should go.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Jane said. “If any of us is going in there, it’s me.” But both Abby and Winter were shaking their heads.

“We need you out here,” Abby said. “If this is going to work at all, they can’t start the attack on the doors yet. You’re the only one who can hold everyone back, if anyone can.”

“But-” Jane began.

Winter cut her off. “That leaves two.”

Raesinia nodded. “If he’s willing,” she said, “one of them should be Vice Captain Giforte. Rose talked to Captain d’Ivoire and he thought that most of the Armsmen would surrender if the vice captain were giving the orders.”

Abby’s face hardened at the suggestion, but she said nothing.

“I don’t suppose you want to explain how you ‘talked’ to Captain d’Ivoire in the middle of a fortress full of Orlanko’s men?” Jane said to Sothe. Sothe only shrugged, and Jane gave an irritated sigh. “Okay. I don’t like it, but if Winter wants to go. .”

“I’ll be the last one,” Abby said. “If. . if the vice captain is going, I ought to-”

“No.” Jane grabbed her arm, as if to hold her in place. “I need one of you here to keep things in line. Besides, you just got out of there.”

“And left the others inside!”

Abby turned to Jane, and the two locked gazes for a long moment. Abby subsided, looking weary.

“I’ll go.”

Everyone turned to look at Cyte, who thus far had said nothing. She flinched at the sudden attention, then straightened up. Her black makeup had smeared and run until there was nothing left but dark streaks from her eyes across her cheeks, like savage war paint.

“Are you certain?” Jane said.

“Someone from the council ought to,” Cyte said. “Would you rather I went to fetch Peddoc?”

Raes winced and nodded. Jane looked from her to Winter, who frowned at Cyte, but said nothing.

“Well. We should get started.” Jane put her hands on her knees and got to her feet. She glanced at Winter. “And if you’re not back by daylight I’m going to break down that door and come in after you.”

“I’ll find us a boat,” Winter said. “Raes, you see if Giforte is on board.”

“He will be,” Abby said gloomily. “He’s got a stubborn streak a mile wide, but when it comes to his men. .” She sighed. “Take care of him, would you?”

Raes nodded. “I’ll do my best.” She held out her hand for Winter to shake. “Meet you at the waterfront?”