“Who else knows?”
“Raesinia. Sothe. Janus. Cyte. Abby and the others from the Girls’ Own. Feor.”
“So everyone, essentially.”
“Except for Marcus, and the other generals.”
“I’d tell them. What the hell, right?” Alex grinned again. “I mean, you’re the only one who can save them from the Beast. If you aren’t in a position to tell everyone to fuck off, then no one is.”
“That’s a point. You don’t think...”
Winter stopped. She didn’t know what she expected to happen. She’d spent nearly four years now wearing the disguise, and for three of those years not being discovered had been her overriding concern. It had burned itself into her mind, that discovery would mean disaster. And for a ranker in the Colonials, under the vile sergeant Davis, it would have: expulsion from the army if she was lucky, rape and murder if she wasn’t.
But Davis was dead. Winter had carved his throat open herself, the day Janus had found out her secret, when he’d shocked her by taking it in stride. Since then she’d risen higher and higher, though some part of her mind stubbornly refused to take credit for any of it. I’m lucky, and basically competent. And I have good friends. Whatever it was that fueled her success, it had made her a division-?general, second only to Marcus and Janus in the army. So what, exactly, are they going to do to me?
“Winter?” Alex said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be... glib. I know this is serious.”
“No,” Winter said slowly. “I think you’re right.”
“Oh, good,” Alex said. “In that case, I’ll take all the credit.”
*
A few days later, the Swallow reached Vayenne, at the mouth of the Vor. Winter had seen the city before, briefly, on her return from Khandar. It was a pretty, orderly place, all white-?tiled houses in neat rows facing the sea. The river Vor, wide and slow here, emptied into the sea past Fort Cevant, whose guns dominated the harbor. The fortress was perched on a rocky promontory on the eastern side of the river, with massive brick-?faced walls studded with embrasures on the seaward side and star-?shaped earthworks facing the land, a monument to Vordan’s perpetual paranoia about a seaborne ascent of the river.
Swallow dropped anchor in the mouth of the river, directly under the fort’s guns. As the ship swung gently in the current, a longboat launched from the base of the cliff, pulled toward them by a dozen oars.
“Nothing to worry about,” Captain Kerrak said, when Winter and her companions gathered at the stern to watch. “Everyone checks in with the fort before going up the river, unless you fancy eating a few rounds of hot shot. Our papers are in order.”
Even so, Winter found herself looking up nervously at the fortress. On its cliff, it would be all but immune to cannon-?fire from the river, while subjecting enemies to deadly plunging shots from its heavy guns. No wonder the Borels never tried to invade this way.
The longboat came alongside, and a short, balding man in livery climbed deftly aboard, followed by a pair of soldiers with carbines. Captain Kerrak greeted the man warmly, and handed over the leather packet with the ship’s papers. Winter was fairly certain she saw the gleam of a coin when the harbor official opened it, which he made disappear as efficiently as a street magician.
“Well,” he said after thumbing through the sheets, “this all seems to be in order. Have you called at any ports since Murnsk?”
“No, sir,” Kerrak said. Hearing Vordanai spoken aloud was strange for Winter, after all this time in Murnsk. She’d even taken to using Murnskai with Alex and Abraham. Kerrak’s accent in Vordanai was so atrocious that she suspected it was an affectation. “You can see, nowhere since Dimiotsk.”
“You haven’t heard the news, then,” the harbor agent said, handing the packet back. “If you’re planning to go all the way to Vordan City, you may want to reconsider.”
“Why?” Winter blurted out. The harbor agent turned to stare. “What’s happened?”
“A passenger,” Captain Kerrak said hastily. “Bound for Vordan City. If there’s news, we’d certainly appreciate hearing it.”
“There’s war that way,” the agent said flatly. “Or will be soon. A Borelgai fleet sailed up the Vor, bold as brass. I never thought I’d see the day.” He shrugged. “The queen herself was with them, they say. And General d’Ivoire. They’ve gone to Vordan City to have it out with Vhalnich. Emperor Vhalnich,” he corrected hastily. “I wish they’d get it over with already.”
There were a dozen questions Winter wanted to ask, but Sothe gave her a hard look, and she held her tongue. We’ll find out when we get there. No sense causing trouble now. Kerrak thanked the agent, and he went back over the side with his guards. A few minutes later, Swallow was heading up the Vor, cutting smoothly through the dark water.
“How long until we get to Vordan City?”
Captain Kerrak shrugged uncomfortably. “Depends entirely on the wind. We don’t have oars, and we’re too heavy to tow. If it turns directly against us—”
“Then we’ll make other plans,” Sothe said.
“We have to get there before Janus does,” Winter said, when they’d stepped away from Kerrak. “Ennika was clear on that. If the Beast gets its hands on Vordan City, then it’ll be unstoppable.”
“We will,” Sothe said. “Worse comes to worst, we can use the post stations.”
“I thought that needed a royal warrant,” Winter said. She’d come up that way the last time, with Janus and Marcus.
“I can put one together in a few hours, if we need it,” Sothe said. “But we’ll stay with the Swallow as long as we can. Captain Kerrak knows his business.” She paused. “Are you... feeling better? I—”
“I’m trying not to think about it,” Winter said shortly. “We’ll see what the situation is when we get there.” Marcus is still alive, at least. Does that mean Cyte is, too? Abby and the rest? How much fighting has there been?
“A commendable attitude,” Sothe said. “It never helps to develop plans with incomplete intelligence.”
Almost there. Winter stared up the length of the river. Then what?
25
Marcus
The Dominant was such a large ship that, on water as calm as the river Vor, it was easy to forget that you were aboard a ship at all. Raesinia’s cabin had a proper bed, a table, and a sideboard with bottles of liquor slotted into neat racks. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in a high-?class inn.