Raesinia

Mistress Lagovil sniffed haughtily and drew herself up. With her hair piled on top of her head in elegant disarray, she was intimidatingly tall, a head and a half higher than her queen. Raesinia had to fight not to hunch her shoulders like a child being scolded.

“I see no reason why war, if there even is to be a war, should interrupt the social calendar,” she said. “Your father, may God rest his soul, held the view that Ohnlei was a precious jewel, to be preserved from the storms and furors of the outside world. He would have insisted that the Autumn Fete proceed as scheduled.”

“I’m sure,” Raesinia said, biting back the rest of her response. In the privacy of her own head, she added, Perhaps if he’d spent less time attending to the social calendar and more time paying attention to his wars, he might have won a few of them. Raesinia had loved her father, who’d been as kind and loving a parent as she could have hoped for given the demands of kingship, but she had to acknowledge that military matters had not been among his talents. She cleared her throat and said, “But it’s a matter of resources and popular opinion. A great deal of work still needs to be done here, and expenditures must be kept to a reasonable level while war is still a threat. The people will not tolerate a court that pampers itself while soldiers starve.”

“In your father’s day,” Mistress Lagovil said, “we were more concerned with what people of quality thought.”

“Times have changed,” Raesinia said grimly. We had a little bother with a revolution, you might have noticed. They nearly burned your precious palace down. Maybe it would have been better if they had. Then I could start from scratch and not put up with this—

Mistress Lagovil had the look of someone willing to continue the argument indefinitely, but thankfully at that point there was a rap on the door.

“Eric Vandalle to see you, Your Highness,” said Barely from outside.

“Finally,” Raesinia said, cutting off Mistress Lagovil before she had a chance to protest. “Excuse me. I’ve been expecting him.”

“Very well.” The frosty look on the head of staff’s impeccably made-up face said that the discussion wasn’t over, but she stood and walked stiffly to the door, making the palace livery look as martial as a soldier’s uniform. Raesinia waited until she was gone and Eric had stepped in to take her place before she relaxed.

“I should ask Marcus if the Girls’ Own needs any officers,” she said, to no one in particular. “I can just see Mistress Lagovil screaming her troops into line to repel a cavalry charge.”

Eric started to snigger, remembered himself, and turned it into a cough, then struggled to regain his impassivity. Raesinia gave him a few moments, then said, “I don’t suppose you actually have anything important to report?”

“I do, in fact,” Eric said, trying for dignity. “A message from Deputy—​that is, from Minister d’Andorre. He has, as of this morning, been confirmed in the post of Minister of War, and would greatly like to meet with you in his offices.”

“That’s why he’s been putting me off,” Raesinia muttered. She’d been trying to meet with d’Andorre for a week. Once again, she found herself deeply missing Sothe. Alek Giforte was competent, but she was certain Sothe could have done better. And Sothe would have had d’Andorre kneeling on the palace carpet instead of inviting her over to his ministry like some kind of supplicant.

Careful, careful. She couldn’t afford an open rift with the Deputies now, however obstreperous they might be. At least they’ve finally picked someone, and he’s a known quantity.

More news had trickled into the capital in the weeks since Janus’ announcement, and none of it was good. Janus had ridden south, to where part of the Grand Army had been left to guard the frontier. The divisions there had all declared for him immediately, without more than token resistance on the part of loyal officers. Reports had also confirmed that an unknown number of Murnskai troops marched with Janus, apparently under his command. All in all, it meant that the would-be emperor had collected an army at the northern frontier that was at least equal to the loyal Grand Army in size, if not larger.

Marcus had not been idle, of course. Garrisons, frontier posts, and training camps had been stripped to bring the divisions camped north of Vordan City up to strength, though the process was far from complete and many of the new recruits were raw. Other units were on their way, summoned from as far afield as the eastern border, but they would take weeks to arrive. The city was restive, with pro-​Janus demonstrations almost every day, and the Armsmen had been worn ragged preventing riots. This can’t go on. There would have to be a clash, sooner rather than later. And God help us if we don’t come out on top.

The Ministry of War was one of the big stone buildings that stood along the grand drive leading up to the front gates of the palace. Standing in front of it, Raesinia could look over her shoulder and see the ruined shell of the Cobweb, former headquarters of Duke Orlanko’s Ministry of Information. Hopefully, the sight will remind d’Andorre what can happen to ministers who get too big for their boots.

Smartly uniformed guards escorted Raesinia, her two attending soldiers, and Eric into the building and up to the top floor. The minister’s vast office faced a huge picture window, looking out across the palace grounds. D’Andorre had already settled himself behind the leather-​topped desk, but he had the decency to rise at his queen’s approach. Raesinia waved for him to sit, though she herself remained standing; if she’d sunk into one of the heavy armchairs, her head would barely have shown over the edge of the desk, and she didn’t want him literally looking down on her.

“Minister d’Andorre,” she said. “That is correct, yes? I only just received the news of your appointment.”

“It is,” d’Andorre said. “My colleagues in the Deputies voted yesterday evening.”

“Do you know if they’ve come to a decision on my request to appoint a supreme commander?”

“They have.” D’Andorre steepled his fingers. “I’m afraid they have rejected it, Your Highness.”

“They must see that we have to do something.”

“That is clear to everyone,” d’Andorre said. “The Deputies-​General is only concerned that, in our haste, we will repeat the mistakes of the past. The creation of the post of First Consul was, after all, one of the primary reasons for our current difficulties.”

Raesinia gritted her teeth, but she couldn’t really deny that. “Then who will command?”

“The Deputies have appointed a military committee, chaired by myself, to oversee the army.”

“So instead of repeating the mistakes of the Consulate, you want to repeat the mistakes of the Directory?”

“There’s no danger of that, Your Highness. Strict safeguards have been put in place, I assure you.” He spread his hands. “I am merely a representative of my colleagues, not a power unto myself.”

“In that case, you, or the committee, or the entire Deputies, need to get moving. Janus is accumulating supporters by the day, and every hour we sit here doing nothing makes us look weak. We have to act.”

“I understand that, Your Highness.”

“Then give Marcus the order to march!”

“Ah.” D’Andorre gave a tired smile. “I wondered when we’d come to that.”

*

“They’re making a mistake,” Marcus said.

Raesinia sat in his tent, in the uncomfortable camp-​chair, staring across the big table at him. Between them was a large-​scale map of Vordan, with stacks of paperwork pushed to the side.

“Look,” he said. “Janus is coming south. He needs to take Vordan City, obviously. He could push southeast, here”—​he stabbed a finger at the map as though it had offended him—“through the passes at the head of the Vor. That’s the most direct route, but it’s rough country, with a lot of fortified towns and little rivers to hide behind. It’d be very hard to bring an unwilling opponent to battle.

“Instead, he’s pushing southwest, down the valley of the Pale.” This time he tapped the map more thoughtfully. “Open country, fewer rivers. Good terrain for a field battle, where Janus excels. He wants us to go after him. He needs a quick decision.”

“We need a quick decision,” Raesinia said. “If we let him do as he likes, anyone on the fence is going to want to join the winning side. We need to confront him.”

“Not if it means playing directly into his hands.”

“Janus isn’t divine, Marcus,” Raesinia said gently. “Not everything we do is part of his plans.”

“I don’t know if I’d bet on God Almighty against Janus bet Vhalnich,” Marcus said grimly. “I’m telling you that if I take the army to the Pale, I can’t guarantee—”

“They don’t want you in command,” Raesinia said. “That’s what I came here to tell you.”

There was a long pause. Marcus looked down at the map for a moment, then over at the papers, as though seeking inspiration.

“I’m sorry,” Raesinia said. “I tried to get d’Andorre to reconsider. But as far as the Deputies is concerned, handing the army that’s going to fight Janus over to his closest subordinate is too dangerous, no matter how loyal you claim to be. Even with the queen vouching for you, apparently.”

“So who are they putting in charge?” Marcus said. “One of the other division commanders?”

Raesinia shook her head. “They’ve summoned General Thomas Kurot from the southern coast. Apparently, he served well against some holdouts during the revolution and basically sat out the war against the Directory. He’s supposed to be some kind of prodigy, and he’s never even met Janus.”

“That’s...” Marcus suddenly looked very tired. “That’s going to be a disaster. Sending some back-​ranker who’s hardly tasted gunsmoke up against Janus bet Vhalnich? We might as well pack it in.”

“That’s why I need you to go with him,” Raesinia said.

“I thought you said the Deputies didn’t want me along.”

“They don’t want you in command. I was able to persuade d’Andorre that it would be foolish not to use you in some capacity, though even that wasn’t easy.” Raesinia grinned. “I may have implied that the troops might mutiny if they tried to march without you.”

Marcus snorted. “I think you overestimate my popularity.” The brief moment of humor faded and died as he considered the situation for a moment longer. “So where do they want me?”

“Commanding the Second. It seemed like a neat solution. They need a general who understands their... unique circumstances.”

“And that’s supposed to be me?” Marcus shook his head. “I should refuse.”

“I don’t think you can refuse an order from the Minister of War.”

“I can resign,” Marcus said, jaw set. “God knows that would be a relief.”

“D’Andorre might call that treason.”

“Then he’s welcome to court-​martial me,” Marcus said, voice rising. “After everything I’ve done—”

“I know.” Raesinia cut him off. “I may not be a military man, but I understand pride. I know it must be hard for you.”

“It’s not about pride.” Marcus laughed bitterly. “Spend enough time with Janus and you soon get used to swallowing your pride. You’re asking me to take responsibility for a division, under a commander I don’t have any faith in. That means ordering my men—​men and women—​into fire when I don’t have confidence their sacrifice is going to be worthwhile. I can’t do it.”

Raesinia swallowed past a lump in her throat. “Marcus...”

“I’ll resign,” he said, suddenly animated. “I’ll stay here with you. I’m sure Alek can find some use for me with the Armsmen, and you’re going to need all the help you can get keeping the city under control.”

“None of that will matter if Janus takes Ohnlei,” Raesinia said. “What I need is for you to be on the scene when things start to happen. Please, Marcus.”

Marcus stared at her, jaw working.

“Why me?” he said eventually. “You know I’m no match for Janus.”

“The Deputies don’t trust you,” Raesinia said. “But I do.”

And it’ll be safer for you with the army. The soldiers loved Marcus almost as much as they loved Janus. If he stayed, once they departed he’d be at the mercy of the politicians. And if things go wrong and they start looking for scapegoats, you’ll be much too convenient. At the height of the revolution, anyone of Borelgai or Murnskai extraction risked being strung from a lamppost by an angry mob. It wasn’t much of a stretch to think that Janus’ former subordinates might face the same fate when it was his army approaching.

“If Kurot won’t listen to me, I’m not going to be able to help,” Marcus said after a long silence.

“You know the other division commanders. If you work together...”

“That sounds dangerously close to suggesting mutiny.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Just... guide him.”

“Saints and fucking martyrs.” Marcus slumped in his chair. “This is insane.”

“There’s another thing,” Raesinia said. “Maybe you’re right about Janus. If someone is using him, you’ll be in the best place to do something about it. That could put an end to the whole thing at a stroke.”

“That’s a long shot,” Marcus said.

“It may be the best we’ve got.”

Another pause. After a moment Marcus pushed himself to his feet.

“All right. Tell them I’ll take the Second. Let’s hope this Kurot is willing to listen to reason.”

“Thank you, Marcus.” Raesinia stood up as well. “I wish I could come with you.”

“I don’t. It’s been a few hundred years since the queen’s place was on the battlefield.”

Raesinia circled the table, feeling Marcus’ eyes on her. “I know. But it was... simpler when we were away from Ohnlei.”

“I suppose.” He looked uncomfortable. “Those were unsettled times. I think we were... confused.”

Raesinia fixed his gaze with her own. “What do you mean?”

“Just that... I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Forget it.”

“No. Be straight with me, Marcus. Have you changed your mind about what you said to me?”

“No! Of course not.” He looked away, cheeks burning under his beard. “I just meant that I wouldn’t hold you to any promises that you made in the heat of the moment. I understand that political realities can be difficult.”

“Marcus.”

When he wouldn’t look at her, she stepped closer and grabbed the front of his uniform. Surprised, he bent toward her, and she kissed him as thoroughly as she knew how. After a moment his arms came up, wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her close. Raesinia felt her heart beat faster as she was pressed against him, and she locked her hands together at the small of his back. His beard tickled her cheek.

“Believe me,” she whispered when he finally broke away for breath, “I intend to hold you to every word. I love you, Marcus. And as soon as this nuisance is dealt with, we’re going to figure out how to do something about it.” And to hell with what Mistress Lagovil and the rest think.

*

The Grand Army of Vordan—​henceforth to be called the Army of the Republic, according to a hastily promulgated proclamation from the Deputies—​unfolded itself from the camp north of Ohnlei with a ponderous slowness, like a bear ready for hibernation but prodded into action. It was still midautumn, the leaves gloriously red and gold on the trees, and the weather remained warm and clear. But there was a fragility to it that hadn’t been there at midsummer, a sense that the storms and frosts of winter might blow in at any moment.

Ironic, Raesinia thought, given what happened to us over the summer. This time, she hoped, there would be no Penitent Damned putting their fingers on the scale.

The columns were supposed to have started moving at dawn, but it was past noon before the vanguard was finally on the road, Give-Em-Hell’s light cavalry riding in neat squadrons in front of the long, thin column of plodding musketeers. At intervals came the battalion flags, the silver eagle of Vordan on a blue field snapping in the breeze. Cannon rumbled by, teams of horses harnessed to the covered ammunition carts called caissons with the guns themselves, pointing backward and down, attached to the rear by their trails. More carts, carrying the tents, baggage, and other supplies, came down the road in a dense mass, protected by long lines of heavy cavalry riding beside them.

Raesinia had witnessed quite a few such departures. This was far from the worst showing a Vordanai army had made, although she had to admit Janus’ Grand Army had been prettier as it had left for the north. Many of these battalions had been filled out with fresh recruits, some of whom still lacked proper uniforms, and sergeants screamed at them where their lack of marching practice was obvious. Here and there, the line contracted to a tight knot until an officer hurried along to sort out the disturbance.

It’s always like this, Raesinia thought, trying to suppress a flutter of nerves. Traffic jams and mix-​ups were par for the course when armies were on the march—​after bearing witness to what Marcus had to do to keep roughly on schedule in Murnsk, she was amazed they ever got anywhere at all. Still, she couldn’t help but think in terms of omens.

Enough. She turned away from the scene and back toward the little cluster of people behind her. They were on a grassy hilltop, overlooking the line of march. Besides Eric and the two guards, there was a small crowd of Deputies, city notables, a few curious nobles, and foreign dignitaries assembled. Raesinia spotted Duke Dorsay and headed in his direction.

“Your Highness,” he said with a modest bow.

“We need to talk.”

He looked over his shoulder as the crowd began to break up into smaller knots of conversation; then he shrugged and started walking away from the others. Raesinia fell in beside him.

“I suspect I know what you want to talk about,” Dorsay said. “But I’m very much afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

“I’m not going to beat around the bush,” Raesinia said. “You and I managed to keep Vordan and Borel from each other’s throats. Surely it’s in your interests to help us now. If Janus takes over, it will mean war with you sooner or later.”

“No one doubts that,” Dorsay said. “And you know you have my personal sympathies. But it’s more complicated than that.” He sighed. “We received a packet from our government this morning.”

“That’s quick work.” The speed of the Borelgai packet ships was proverbial, but even so. “Are you certain they had all the information?”

“Enough for preliminary instructions. All work on the treaty is to be suspended, for now.”

Damn. She’d expected that, but she’d been hoping the Borels wouldn’t act quite so soon. “So we’re just going to be left hanging?”

“I imagine they expect you to communicate your needs to the ambassador, so that whatever assistance is required can be a part of the negotiations when they resume.”

“You think you have us over a barrel, so you’re going to wring out more concessions, in other words.”

“Not me, Your Highness.” Dorsay looked genuinely unhappy. “My position here has been brought to an end. I will be returning to Viadre on the first available ship.”

“What happened to Georg and his desire for peace?”

“We may not have a Deputies-​General, but neither is Georg an absolute despot.” Dorsay sighed. “I can only assume there has been a realignment at home. I’ll know more once I arrive.” The duke kicked at a tuft of browning grass. “Assuming I’m permitted to remain at court. They may pack me off to the country again, which I have to say would suit me well enough. I’m too old for this nonsense.”

“It’s going to take too long,” Raesinia muttered, half to herself. Time to talk to the Borelgai ambassador, time for the message to go to Viadre by ship and back again, however many times it took to come to an agreement. “By the time any help even sets out from Borel, it could be too late.”

“I know. I have tried to impress upon Georg that military affairs rarely wait on a politician’s timetable.”

“There must be something we can do to speed things up.”

Dorsay shrugged. “Not unless you can convince Georg he needs a Vordanai vacation, and I sincerely doubt that you can. He hasn’t left the palace grounds in years, the lazy wretch.”

She thought, briefly, of the flik-​flik lines, the signaling technique that Janus had brought back from Khandar. Their operation required extensive training, however, and all the operators Vordan possessed were going along with the army, to lay out a line keeping General Kurot in contact with the capital. We should have more of them. And permanent stations, and— And they would, someday. But here and now there wasn’t time, even if she was willing to reveal military secrets to the Borels.

Or maybe there’s something in the Thousand Names. Feor, the Khandarai priestess, had students studying the ancient archives. But from what Raesinia knew of magic, coming up with something so eminently practical so quickly was unlikely.

“That’s it,” Raesinia said.

“What, getting Georg to go on vacation?”

“The other way around,” Raesinia said. “Duke Dorsay, I think it is about time I saw Viadre.”

*

“I’m telling you, Your Highness,” Dorsay said, as they neared the Borelgai ambassadorial suite, “this is a bad idea.”

“I agree,” said Eric, on the other side. “The Deputies will have a fit.”

“You have no idea what the court in Viadre is like,” Dorsay went on. “I’d take any battlefield you care to name over that nest of vipers, and I’ve seen my share of both.”

“They’ll say you don’t have the authority,” Eric said. “What’s the good of going there yourself if the Deputies won’t approve the deal you work out?”

Raesinia stopped in her tracks, forcing the two of them to come to a hurried halt. She’d changed out of her riding leathers and into a full formal dress, whose layers of velvet and silk added considerably to her bulk. They rustled as she turned on the two men.

“First of all,” she said, “the court doesn’t scare me. Politics around here haven’t been exactly safe, you may have noticed.” And I was at the center of the revolution, she added mentally. “Nest of vipers” doesn’t begin to describe it. “Second of all, the Deputies have already given their approval to the treaty in outline. All that’s under discussion is the details.”

“They won’t see it that way,” Eric said. “Military assistance was not what they had in mind!”

“Then they’re welcome to explain that to Janus,” Raesinia said, “or argue with me after we’ve won.”

“But who’s even going to conduct the negotiations?” Eric said. “You?” At Raesinia’s arched eyebrow, he stuttered, “N-n-not that you’re not a fine negotiator, but do you know enough about the subjects? I know I can’t follow half of what goes on when they get into trade agreements and shipping rights.”

Raesinia glanced at her two bodyguards. Barely was trying hard to keep a straight face at Eric’s discomfiture, but Joanna was definitely grinning. She felt like grinning back.

“As it happens,” she said haughtily, “the Minister of the Treasury has agreed to lend me one of his experts.” Or he will, once we ask him. “Between us we should be able to handle the major issues.”

“Your Highness, please.” Dorsay lowered his voice. “You may be putting yourself in danger.”

“I’m sure His Majesty would never lower himself to harming a guest,” Raesinia said. And danger or not, this is what I can do to help. Marcus was out there because she’d asked him to go, begged him over his best instincts. If there’s anything I can do to protect him, I have to try. She grinned. Besides, what’s the worst they can do, cut my head off? They’d be very surprised at the results.

She started walking again, reaching the door to the ambassadorial suite before her escorts had a chance to say another word. The Borelgai Life Guards opened the door and stepped out of the way, coming to attention. Ihannes Pulwer-​Monsangton waited by the big table, wearing his diplomat’s grin.

“Your Highness,” he said. “It’s an honor.”

“Thank you for receiving me on such short notice,” Raesinia said, sweeping in. That was one thing to be said for formal dresses, she had to admit—​they made for dramatic sweeps. “You got my note?”

“I did indeed.” Ihannes’ smile widened.

“And?”

“While my instructions from His Majesty do not specifically address this eventuality, I am sure that I’m not going outside the bounds of my authority to say that he would welcome your visit as a sign of the increased cordiality between our two nations.” Ihannes cocked his head. “And, of course, it would be more convenient for any negotiations that might arise.”

“Then His Majesty will receive me?”

“In due time.”

Raesinia felt her heart sink, expecting some excuse for indefinite delay. But Ihannes only waved a hand theatrically.

“His Majesty is, of course, extremely busy, and arranging the appropriate celebrations will take time. But I’m certain that the relevant members of the government would be at your disposal immediately.”

“Perfect,” Raesinia said. She’d expected more of an argument from the ambassador, truth be told. Perhaps even he realizes this is a crisis. “I want to leave as soon as possible.”

“In part that depends on how much of an escort Your Highness plans to bring,” Ihannes said. “The packet sails tomorrow evening, but space is limited.”

“It won’t be much,” she said. “Fewer than a dozen, including myself. Is that acceptable?”

“Ideal,” Ihannes said, so quickly Raesinia wondered if she’d made a mistake. But bringing a regiment of soldiers along wouldn’t put her any less at the Borels’ mercy if they decided to turn on her. “In that case, I must begin preparations at once. If you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course. Thank you, Ambassador.”

Ihannes bowed again, and Raesinia retreated. Dorsay hurried in beside her.

“That man,” he whispered, “is not your friend, however much he smiles. Don’t forget that.”

And you are? Raesinia looked down at the flustered duke. He’d always been honest with her—​always seemed honest—​but he had to have his own agenda, the same as anyone else. I’ll have to watch him, too.

“Believe me,” she said, as her bodyguards resumed their places at her shoulder. “I’m used to it.”