Django Wexler - The Thousand Names

“No, sir.”

Marcus sighed. “Val, we’ve known each other for five years now. If you’re going to start ‘no, sir’-ing me, you can damn well keep your urgent matter to yourself.”

“Sorry, sir.” Val let his shoulders fall again. “Marcus. I just-I don’t know what to do.”

“Sit down, to start with.” Marcus seated himself beside the hated desk, where he could stretch his legs, and gestured Val to the other cushion. “And tell me what the problem is.”

“The problem-” Val let out a long breath, making his mustache quiver. Then, all in a rush, he said, “The problem is that I ought to resign.”

“Resign?” Marcus blinked. “Why?”

“For not seeing through Adrecht from the start,” Val said miserably. “He damn well kidnapped you, and the colonel, and I was ready to follow along and say, ‘Yes, sir!’ It’s a disgrace.”

“You didn’t know that at the time,” Marcus pointed out.

“I ought to have guessed,” Val said. “Besides, it was obvious that what he was up to was mutiny. It was my duty to stop him.”

Marcus shifted uncomfortably. “With me gone, Adrecht would have been senior captain. You’d have been perfectly within your duties to follow his orders.”

“You know what I mean, damn it.” Val twisted his mustache anxiously, then smoothed it out again. “I went along with it because I thought he might be right.”

“A lot of people went along with it,” Marcus said. Everyone, really, except Fitz and Lieutenant Ihernglass.

“But they weren’t in command of a battalion,” Val insisted. “They couldn’t have stopped it all.”

“What would you have done? Ordered the Second to fire on the Fourth?”

“If necessary,” Val said stiffly.

“That would have been worse than anything that actually happened,” Marcus said. “Believe me.”

“But-” Val hesitated. “After all that, how can the colonel have any confidence in me?”

That was the heart of the matter, Marcus thought. It was one thing to make a wrong decision, and quite another to believe your commander held a grudge against you because of it. He picked his words carefully.

“The colonel hasn’t given any indication to me that he’s lost confidence in any of the senior officers. If anything, he blames himself.” And isn’t that a wonder?

“You think so?”

Marcus shrugged. “He confides in me as much as he confides in anyone, and he hasn’t mentioned anything of the kind. Besides, do you think he would want you to resign now ? We’re going to need every man in the next couple of days.”

“I could carry a musket, if necessary.”

The images of Val, with his neat uniform and his waxed mustache, walking in the ranks with the common soldiers was enough to make Marcus chuckle. After a moment, Val managed a weak smile as well.

“You understand what I mean, don’t you, Marcus? I just thought I ought to. . to make amends somehow.”

“I know. The best way to do it is to make sure the Second is ready. There’ll be action tomorrow.”

“You think so?”

“The colonel as good as told me so. And he never tells anyone anything.”

Val nodded. “Just as well. Water won’t last much longer. The lads are eager for a fair shot at the cowardly bastards, too.”

“I think we all are.” He gestured at the writing desk. “Anything but this.”

“What is all that, anyway?”

“Discharges. For the men of the Second Company who were involved in the mutiny, and a few others in the Fourth as well.”

Val frowned. “Discharges? Aren’t they being held for court-martial?”

“The colonel said we can’t spare the time or the men to keep prisoners. He’s going to give them as much food and water as they can carry and turn them loose. Let them make for the coast, if they can.”

“Across the Great Desol?” Val sucked in his cheeks. “That’s small mercy.”

“They’d all hang, if we ever get back to civilization,” Marcus said. “The Ministry takes a dim view of mutiny.”

“Still. .” Val looked up. “Is Adrecht going with them?”

Marcus nodded. Val shook his head.

“Poor Adrecht. He ought to have stayed in the city. Losing a limb can have a terrible effect on a man.”

“Maybe he’ll make it back there.”

“Maybe.”

They sat for a moment in silence. After a while Val said, “I think Mor feels the same way I do.”

“About Adrecht?”

“About resigning. He thinks he’s guilty.”

“He certainly didn’t look it this afternoon.”

“You know Mor,” Val said. “He’s either angry, or pretending to be angry. But underneath-”

“Will you talk to him? Or send him to me, if that’s easier.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Val said. “It may take a while to bring him around.”

Another silence.

“Well.” Val slapped his knees and levered himself to his feet. “I had better get some rest myself. Action tomorrow, you say?”

“Almost certainly.”

• • •

It was full dark, but sleep eluded him. He lay in the bedroll, thin blanket wadded beside him, and stared at the tent ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Adrecht. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other while the colonel had pronounced sentence, but Adrecht’s eyes hadn’t left Marcus for a moment.

How can he tell me I betrayed him ? He’s the one who raised a goddamned mutiny. And yet. .

When he closed his eyes he saw Adrecht, not grim and one-armed but laughing and gambling like he had in their War College days. Sharing a drink, kissing a pretty blond girl with delicate skin and powder-darkened eyes. Offering a pistol in one outstretched hand, his eyes full of pain. “If you’re going to kill yourself, Marcus, at least be a man about it. .”

He never belonged here, for all his fancy clothes and Khandarai girls. This was my post. Marcus had taken the Khandar posting when Adrecht had been handed his exile, out of solidarity, but he’d fitted into it in a way his friend never had. It had been away , about as far away as it was possible to get from Vordan, from the burned wreckage of a house and a family.

The tent flap rustled. Marcus’ eyes flicked sideways and he saw a female silhouette against the faint glow of the camp. He relaxed.

Once the flap fell back, the tent was in darkness again. He heard a couple of footsteps, and then the soft cloth sounds of disrobing. A moment later Jen slid across the bedroll and pressed herself against him, bare skin warm against his. Marcus slipped an arm underneath her and turned his head to give her a kiss, but found his nose bumping into something cold and hard.

“Sorry,” she said. “Spectacles.” She pulled them off and set them carefully aside, then leaned back against him, brushing his lips with hers before settling her head on his shoulder.

A long moment passed quietly. He listened to her breathing, feeling it tickle the hair on his neck, the softness of her body pressed against his side.

“Are you all right?” she said.

“Mmm?”

“Adrecht. He was your friend.”

“He was.” Marcus let out a long breath. “No. I’m not all right. I just. . I don’t understand.”

“People do strange things when the pressure gets too high.”

“Is that a professional opinion?”

He meant it as a joke, but by the way she stiffened he realized it was the wrong thing to say. He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. After a moment, he felt her relax.

“Sorry,” she said. “After today. .”

He was silent. Her hand lay lightly on his chest, fingers tightly curled.

“I was sure they were going to kill me,” she whispered. “They’d have to, wouldn’t they? If you’re staging a mutiny, you don’t keep the informer around to write a report. Adrecht might have been too much the gentleman, but not Davis. I kept waiting for them to come back and. .” She pressed against him a little tighter.