Django Wexler - The Thousand Names

“I hope you don’t mind if I sit,” he said. Marcus nodded dumbly, and the colonel settled himself down and stretched his splinted leg in front of him. “It could have been much worse, so I suppose I should be thankful. Still a damned nuisance, though.”

“Worse?” Marcus said.

“The leg.”

“Ah.”

Marcus lapsed into silence again. Janus regarded him thoughtfully, gray eyes glittering.

“Another day,” the colonel said, “and we’ll be at Ashe-Katarion. The fleet should arrive the day after that.”

“That’s good.”

“I’ll be going back to Vordan on the next courier run.”

“And taking your Thousand Names with you,” Marcus said, letting a hint of bitterness into his voice.

“Yes.” Janus leaned forward. “Does that bother you, Captain?”

“You never cared about any of this, did you? The campaign, the Redeemers, any of it. It was all. . a means to an end.”

There was a pause. Janus cocked his head.

“I can’t deny that it was part of my plans,” he said. “But I think you do me an injustice. I was commanded to destroy the rebels and restore the prince, and I have done that to the best of my ability.”

“Only because it furthered your private war with the Last Duke.” Marcus turned to look down at Jen. “What about the Colonials?”

“The Ministry of War will no doubt find a new commander. I’m sure it won’t be long until some colonel disgraces himself badly enough to deserve it.”

“Ah.”

“On the other hand. .” Janus paused. “The job is yours, if you want it.”

“Mine?” Marcus blinked. “I can’t. I’m not-”

“Not nobly born, I know. But conferring a colonelcy on a commoner is not entirely without precedent. I’ll certainly speak for you, and I suspect my word will carry a great deal of weight on my return. Provided you agree to stay here for the remainder of your career, out of sight of anyone who matters, I believe the Ministry could see its way clear to authorizing the promotion.”

“Oh.” Marcus paused, not quite able to bring himself to offer any thanks.

“It’s the least I can do,” Janus said. “Assuming that’s really what you want.”

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

Janus sighed. “May I speak frankly, Captain?”

“Of course, sir.”

“You should return to Vordan. You’re too good an officer to waste his days in a sinecure. We’re going to need men like you.” Janus paused. “ I am going to need men like you.”

“What?” Marcus felt a flush of anger rise into his cheeks. “You need me? You’ve spent this whole campaign keeping me in the dark-”

“I told you as much as you would accept.” Janus flashed a brief smile. “Honestly, Captain, if I’d told you the truth when I first arrived, you would have thought I was mad.”

“I’m half sure you’re mad now.” Marcus gritted his teeth. “My men died chasing that thing across the desert. I had to stand by and watch you sign my best friend’s death warrant. What makes you think I want to have anything to do with you ever again?”

“Because I think you are a patriot, Captain. Loyal to your country, and to your king.”

Marcus stared at the colonel for a moment in stunned silence.

“You may not like it,” Janus went on, “but you cannot deny what we saw. The Penitent Damned, the elite servants of the Pontifex of the Black, working hand in glove with Duke Orlanko’s Concordat. Evidently the Last Duke’s association with the Sworn Church has gone well beyond a casual alliance. If we do nothing, Orlanko will take power, and Vordan will be as good as ceded to Elysium.” He nodded at Jen. “In the hands of people like her . We’ll have the Priests of the Black back in the cathedral, rooting out heresy with knives and hot pokers. The Great Schism all over again.”

Another long pause.

“Even if I believed. .” Marcus hesitated. “Even if I believed any of that, what assurance do I have that you would be any better?”

Janus smiled again. “All the more reason to come with me, Captain. If the day comes when you believe I no longer have the kingdom’s best interests at heart, you’ll be in a position to do something about it.”

Marcus said nothing. His eyes went to Jen. Janus caught the expression and frowned.

“You know what she was,” he said. “Is.”

“I know,” Marcus said. He was quiet for a moment. “The cutters don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

“Unsurprising. It’s a bit beyond their area of expertise.”

“Is she going to wake up?”

Janus blew out a long breath. “In all honesty, Captain, I don’t know. What happened to her was. . unique. I would not have expected her to survive at all. Given that she has, she might wake up tomorrow, or in a month, or not at all. And if she wakes. .” He hesitated. “I don’t know how much will be left of her.”

“You don’t know.”

“I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“Did you study my history before you came here?” Marcus said.

Janus nodded. “Of course.”

“Then you know what happened to me. To my family.”

The colonel ducked his head. “A tragedy.”

“They all died. That’s what they told me, afterward. I wasn’t there, you see. I was still at the College. By the time I got home they’d gone ahead with the funerals. Visiting the cemetery was all I could do. There wouldn’t have been anything left to see, anyway. The whole house burned.”

Janus nodded.

“All dead,” Marcus said. “But Jen. . when we were in the temple, she said. .”

“Are you certain?”

There was a long silence.

“I don’t want to hold out false hope for you, Captain,” Janus said. “Orlanko and his creatures are masters of deceit. There may have been no more truth in it than in her affection for you.”

“I know. But-”

“You want to know for certain.”

Marcus said nothing.

“If the truth exists anywhere,” Janus said, “it’s buried under Orlanko’s lair in the Cobweb.”

“I’ll dig it out,” Marcus said. The anger in his voice surprised him. “With my bare hands, if I have to.”

“Come with me,” Janus said. “I swear I’ll help you, if I can.”

After a long moment, Marcus nodded.

WINTER

Winter pushed the tent flaps open cautiously, and blinked in the full glare of the morning sun. Scrubby grass underneath her feet meant they were no longer deep in the Desol. Ahead, the land fell away in a spectacular cliff. Beyond that, stretching to the horizon, was the sea. The water was deep blue against the cloudless Khandarai sky, and she could see tiny white-tipped waves far below. The air smelled different-salty, and somehow alive compared to the baked, dead atmosphere of the Desol. Even the heat was moderated by a cool breeze blowing off the water.

She’d awoken to crisp linen sheets and a surprisingly small amount of pain. Some of her wounds were bandaged, while others had been closed with fine silk stitches that were already sinking under the surface of newly healed skin. Her side still hurt when she touched it, but not nearly so badly as it had. When she lifted the sheet to examine her skin, she saw that the mass of bruises had turned a startling yellow-green.

Waiting at the foot of her bed was her uniform, freshly laundered, the various cuts and abrasions expertly stitched and patched. Beside it was a brand-new coat, with a lieutenant’s stripes properly sewn into the shoulders.

Outside, a white fabric awning threw its shadow across a wooden table and a couple of chairs set with pillows. One of them was occupied by Colonel Vhalnich, who was reading a book with his legs stretched out on a cushioned footrest. He looked up at the rustle of the tent flap, then shut the book and flashed her a brief smile.