“Or words to that effect.”
“Queen Raesinia trusted me with this command. I don’t intend to disappoint her.”
“From what I hear, she didn’t trust you, but rather that fool Kurot.”
“She had her reasons,” Marcus said.
“I’m sure.”
This time Janus’ smile was venomous, and Marcus felt anger rising. He clenched his fists. “Don’t. How can you do this to her?”
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry she’s involved. But it had to be done.”
“Why?” Marcus said. “You told me that your goal was the destruction of the Priests of the Black.”
“They were a threat,” Janus said. “And they had to be eliminated.”
“That’s it? In the end all that matters is gathering power for yourself?”
“Of course,” Janus said, with that summer-?lightning smile. “Read your history, Marcus. Nothing else has ever—”
“Liar,” Marcus snapped. “You’re not in it for power, and you never were.”
“Oh?” Janus cocked his head. “You know me so well?”
“I went to Mieranhal,” Marcus said. “Gravya told me your story.”
There was a long pause. Beneath them, the river splashed and gurgled. A cavalry horse snorted and stamped a foot. Behind Janus’ eyes, Marcus could almost see the gears turning, the clockwork mechanism swinging into a new configuration.
Then Janus blinked, and there was something else. Deep in the center of his huge gray eyes, inside the pupils, Marcus swore he could see a faint red spark. Another blink and it was gone.
“She told you...” Janus said, after a while.
“About Mya.”
“Ah.”
“You mentioned her,” Marcus said, flushing a little in ridiculous embarrassment, “when you were feverish. You told me... bits and pieces.”
“I’m surprised you got her to talk. The Mierantai are a notoriously closemouthed lot.”
“Lieutenant Uhlan vouched for me.”
“Of course.” Janus’ lip quirked. “And now you think you understand me?”
“I’ll never understand everything. But it’s all for her, isn’t it? The Thousand Names, and then the march on Elysium. All of it.”
“If it had worked,” Janus said, with a hint of his old fire, “it would have been worth it. You can’t understand, Marcus.”
“Why not?”
“Because you think I’m a genius,” Janus snapped. “It’s like a cat trying to understand the works of Voulenne.”
“I appreciate the comparison,” Marcus drawled.
“I... apologize.” Janus let out a breath. Something passed over his features, some emotion Marcus couldn’t guess. It was gone in an instant, and he was himself again.
“What I can’t figure out is the point of all this,” Marcus said. “If it’s all for Mya, what does this get you?”
“The next best thing, perhaps.” Janus looked away, down at the river.
“You are...” Marcus shook his head. “Enough. We’ve established that I’m not going to surrender. Is there anything else?”
“I suppose it won’t help to remind you what you owe me,” Janus said.
“What about what you owe us? All of Vordan?”
They glared at each other, a few yards apart, and there was another awkward silence. Then Janus stepped forward, one hand extended.
“As you wish, Marcus. If this is how it has to be.”
For a moment Marcus considered ignoring him, just turning away. It would be a nice, dramatic gesture. But he still couldn’t bring himself to hate this man, who’d brought him so far. It doesn’t make sense. He stepped forward and clasped his old commander’s hand.
“I wish things were different.”
“So do I,” Janus said. Oddly, he refused to meet Marcus’ eye, fixing his gaze instead on the buttons of his coat. “So do I.”
Then he was walking away, hands tucked into his pockets. Marcus stared after him, then down at the palm of his hand, where a single much-?folded sheet of paper had been pressed.
19
Winter
“Inside!” Winter shouted. “Everyone inside now!”
Lieutenant Dobraev looked at her, startled. “What—”
Fortunately, Sergeant Gorchov had more sense. “Back to the gate!” he thundered, in a voice that would have done credit to a parade-?ground instructor. “At the double!”
Dobraev took the hint and started to run, and his escort followed. Vess and the Haeta needed no further urging. They sprinted for the gate, overtaking the more heavily laden Murnskai soldiers. Winter, following behind, sent up a silent prayer that the guards on the walls wouldn’t interpret this as an attack. But there was no repeat of yesterday’s disaster—?either Dobraev had been careful with his instructions, or Gorchov’s shout had carried clear back to the wall.
Alex and Abraham stayed with Winter, who slowed a little as she turned to look behind them. From the trees an army had emerged, a strange, ragged force whose only common trait was their battered condition. There were Murnskai soldiers in muddy whites and Vordanai men in stained blue. Peasants—?men, women, and children—?in leather and homespun, their outfits ragged and torn. Hunters with fur caps, scruffy-?looking bandits, priests in red and white robes whose distinctions had been erased by the mud.
Quite a few of them carried muskets, Winter was surprised to see. It must have decided it needed a stronger force to get to me. The Beast had nearly waited too long, and now its prey was on the verge of escaping.
They passed through the big timbered gate, and Dobraev waved frantically to the guards, who shoved the log barrier forward on its rope hinges. When it was in place, they slotted two iron bars across it, each the size of Winter’s arm. Deeper in the fortress, a bell was ringing, a tinny clamor of alarm.
“To the wall!” Dobraev was shouting. “Every man to the wall! We are under attack!”
There’s too many. She’d gotten only a glimpse of the Beast’s force, but there had to be hundreds of red-?eyes. “You won’t be able to hold the wall,” Winter said urgently. “We have to get the ships ready and fall back—”
“With all respect, Miss Ihernglass,” the lieutenant said, his expression rigid, “I am most appreciative of your warning, and your removal of my oaf of a commanding officer. But this is an hour for soldiers, so I would appreciate it if you would stay out of my way.”
“I—” Winter shook her head, frustrated. Weren’t you just complaining about being in charge? She shook her head. Not the time. People are going to die.
She left Dobraev and went to the Haeta, who were huddled together in a clear space among the shacks and lean-?tos. The soldiers who ran past gave them curious glances on their way to man the wall walk, where the cracks of musketry were already sounding. Alex and Abraham stood at the edge of the group, waiting anxiously for Winter.
“Just in time, huh?” Alex said.
“It was waiting for us,” Winter said. “It must not have been certain it had enough bodies, so it held off.”