*
It had been a little more than a year since Raesinia had come to Farus’ Triumph with Danton, though it felt more like half a lifetime. The huge square looked the same as it always had, with four small fountains framing a single enormous one and the pillar supporting the equestrian statue of Farus IV rising up behind it like a stone tree trunk. Halfway up that pillar was a disk-?shaped stone platform, the traditional speaker’s rostrum for anyone who wanted to address the crowds of Vordan City.
And the crowds were there in force. There was still time before Raesinia had planned to begin, but people thronged the square, pressing around the fountain into a tight mass that was slowly expanding toward the ring of shops and hotels that edged the open space. They came from all walks of life—?neat, modest tradesmen; merchants from the north bank in suits that reminded her of her time in Borel; and swarms of laborers from the south bank in shabby linens and leathers. Armsmen were scattered throughout, creating small islands of calm, but the rest of the crowd surged and shoved, trying to get closer. A babble of voices made hearing all but impossible.
To get Raesinia to the platform, Alek had arranged a flying wedge of Armsmen, who pushed their way through the crowd with their staves. Inside the cordon, Raesinia walked slowly, feeling the stares of everyone they passed. Marcus was on one side, his posture stiff and correct, one hand on the butt of his saber. Alek Giforte was on the other, barking orders to his men as they advanced.
When they neared the base of the stairs leading up to the platform, Raesinia saw they were blocked off from the crowd by another cordon, this one of blue-?uniformed soldiers. Behind them, sitting on the steps, was Chief Minister d’Andorre. He got to his feet and spoke to a nervous-?looking lieutenant as the wedge of Armsmen got closer.
Raesinia grabbed Giforte’s arm and dragged his ear close. “No violence!”
He nodded fervently and hurried forward to speak to his Armsmen. As the two groups came into contact, the soldiers closed ranks to keep the Armsmen out, and both sides began screaming at each other. Since the general racket made them impossible to understand, this produced very little result.
“Stay close,” Marcus said, pushing forward himself. Raesinia followed just behind him. The soldiers stiffened as he came through the press, the insignia of his rank gleaming.
“What the hell is going on?” he said, his parade-?ground voice loud enough to make himself understood.
“Sir!” The other soldiers quieted enough for the lieutenant to be heard. “I’m sorry, sir, but we have orders to keep the rostrum clear.”
“Whose orders?” Marcus said. “Do they apply to the queen?”
“The chief minister’s, sir.” The lieutenant’s face was very pale. “And they do.”
“D’Andorre!” Raesinia shouted, into the tense pause that followed. “Can I have a word?”
The chief minister got to his feet, apparently heedless of the shouting, shoving tumult of humanity all around him. He came forward to stand beside the nervous lieutenant, and looked down at Raesinia.
“I wish you’d taken my advice,” d’Andorre said.
“I’ll bet you do,” Raesinia growled. “Get your men out of the way before they get hurt.”
“Are you willing to order Armsmen to attack Vordanai soldiers? Will they obey, do you think?”
“The Armsmen haven’t got anything to do with it. What do you think will happen if I start shouting that the queen is here and the chief minister won’t let her speak?”
D’Andorre’s face paled. “You wouldn’t.”
“I was here during the revolution, Chief Minister. On the ground. I’ve seen the power of the mob. Have you?”
“I...” He shook his head. “Please. Don’t do this.”
“Do what? Give the people what they want?”
“They don’t know what’s good for them!” d’Andorre said. Despair was written all over his face. “Your Highness, I beg you. At least wait until we’ve received Janus’ terms. They may be more lenient than we expect. Afterward—”
“Get out of my way.”
Pushing past Marcus, Raesinia shoved between two Armsmen and pressed past the soldiers. One of them reached out to grab her, and she gave him her best glare. He faltered, looking back at d’Andorre, who only stared at her blankly. Raesinia shook the soldier off and went to d’Andorre’s side.
“I’m only going to offer them a choice,” she said. “If they choose you, I’ll go quietly. You have my word.”
“Your Highness...” D’Andorre shook his head. “If they choose you, then God help us all.”
Raesinia turned away from him and climbed the rostrum. The steps seemed endless, winding around the pillar twice before they came to the speaker’s platform. As she ascended, the noise of the crowd rose, shouts and exclamations merging into an enormous roar like that of a stormy sea crashing against the rocks. Raesinia reached the top step and walked out onto the small circle of stone. It felt a thousand miles high, high enough that the faces in the crowd were only dots in a pattern, a vast fabric of humanity that went on forever. Small flashes of blue and silver were everywhere, Vordanai flags in all sizes, waving wildly like a school of strange fish.
Her heart slammed in her chest, as though it were about to burst, and the air felt too thin. She’d spoken to her people like this once before, and it hadn’t gone well. Only the arrival of the Colonials, the sudden restoration of hope, had turned the tide of opinion in her direction.
Last time she’d spent hours on her speech, reading classic texts, consulting books of rhetoric. This time she had a few lines she’d scrawled in haste the night before. There would be no last-?minute arrival. She didn’t have Danton’s magic voice. Just me. She breathed in until her lungs creaked, let the air out in a rush, and held up her arms. Gradually, the crowd’s shouts subsided, the noise level falling until it reached, not silence, but the closest equivalent a mob of ten thousand people could manage.
Raesinia stepped forward. She could feel the eyes on her, so many eyes, as though the concentration of attention was a physical force.
“People of Vordan,” she said. In her own ears, her voice sounded wrong, thready and weak. Do I always sound like that? “I am Queen Raesinia Orboan, daughter of Farus VIII. This morning I returned to our city from Viadre, aboard the fleet that now waits outside the harbor.