* * *
Leaning against a street-side stall, Possum watched the ragged, exhausted column of Crimson Guardsmen enter the tall bronze doors of the Palace precincts. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry; was this it then? The much vaunted Guard? Had the stories over the years so grown in the telling? And what of Cowl? Had he survived?
A Hand-commander stopped at his side. One of the second echelon, vice-commanders. Coil was her name. ‘Anand wishes to know if he can count on us cooperating with the barricades.’
Possum leaned forward blocking one nostril to blow his nose to the street. ‘Yes. Seed the crowds. Tell everyone to keep their distance.’
‘Very good.’ Still, the woman did not move. She watched the outer gates swinging ponderously shut.
‘Yes, Coil?’
‘Hard to believe, yes?’
Irritated by the familiarity, Possum demanded, ‘What? That they returned? Or the condition in which they did? Or the chances that they should pick this time to show up?’
Coil did not turn to her head to glance to him. ‘Chance? I don't believe in it. And I don't take them.’
Which is why, Coil, you'll never stand where I am. ‘You have your orders.’
Coil glanced to him with her half-lidded hard eyes. ‘And these orders – from the Empress?’
The Hand-commander's tone quickened Possum's pulse. By the Queen's Mysteries, was she challenging his authority? ‘Immaterial. You've just heard them from me.’
Smiling, Coil inclined her head in the shallowest of bows, and sauntered away. Possum watched her go. Why so bold? No need to advertise what everyone in the ranks understands – that all those beneath you think they can do a better job, and are ever watchful for opportunities to demonstrate such by ousting said superior.
Blowing his nose once more, Possum dismissed Coil from his mind. She'd been merely angling for news of the Empress. No need to tell her he'd searched the Palace earlier and found no sign of her; sensibly, she'd run off. No point being disappointed about it. What could she be expected to do against some fifty Avowed and seven hundred Guardsmen? Bravely face them only to be captured? Reduced thereafter to a hostage or mere bargaining chip? What would be the sense in that? No, to Possum's way of thinking she'd done the wise thing. Let the Guard blunder like clod-footed fools through the Palace. What did they expect? To just sit on the throne and be obeyed? No, this whole episode was the shabby and frankly rather embarrassing final chapter to what had once been a noble career. Possum wiped his nose. Yes, thinking about it, he realized that he was quite disappointed by the whole thing and more than a little resentful that they'd bothered showing up at all; they'd ruined the legend for him and for everyone.