“No, I understand what you mean. I think,” I added with a laugh. “I lived in the city all my life. This—this is new to me.”
“Ah, I see. And it is different? The people who live here, are they different from your city dwellers?”
I paused. “I hadn’t considered it. I suppose they are.” I slowed my gait, forcing Sianh to slow his, as well. “And they’ll have to form a government, all of them, somehow. Agreeing to laws and taxes and—”
“I do not envy those men trapped in the Westland ballroom having such debates. That is where my role in your nation’s play comes to a close,” Sianh replied. “I shall have no dialogue there. I am not interested in politics, yours or any others. People speak as though war is ugly. War is clean compared to politics.” He shook his head in disgust. “I will leave such concerns to your brother and your betrothed.” He paused. “And you.”
“If you can make an army out of field hands and dockworkers, and then fold in professional soldiers and noble officers, I think anything can be done.”
He slowed to a stop and turned back, looking over the elites-in-training on the field. “Yes, anything can be done.” His brow creased as he watched them.
“There’s trouble?” I asked.
“Not in so many words. But there is… ah, how to describe. A new pair of leather breeches, sometimes they are too stiff, they chafe in uncomfortable ways.”
“Sianh!”
He suppressed a smirk. “It is the same here. We had an army of common people, of volunteers, who learned together. Then we brought in the deserters. They are better soldiers in every technical sense, and everyone is quite aware of it. Despite my best efforts at keeping them from gloating.” He shrugged. “And before, they voted on their officers from among their ranks. Now?” He nodded toward Jeremy, who was correcting a southern Galatine man’s stance with the bayonet. “They have nobles’ sons teaching them.”
“We can’t waste any resources we have, people and knowledge included,” I said.
“Agreed. And yet.” He watched the men continue their drill for a moment, then began walking again. “And yet they are frustrated. It chafes. Beneath that, they are reminded—there was division and discord before the war, too.”
“Plenty of those men were Red Caps from the start, but plenty weren’t,” I said. “Some joined because they want complete annihilation of the system of nobility altogether, others because they just wanted the reforms upheld.”
Sianh nodded his agreement. “They fight alongside one another because they have a common cause in defeating a common enemy.” He met my eyes as we reached the columned entrance of the military academy. “And yet they are not entirely sure what they have been promised any longer.”
“The council will fix that,” I said. “They’ll draft a new charter, a new country in pen and ink.”
“Indeed,” Sianh said. “I hope they do not believe all of their deliberations shall be so simple as the first,” he added pointedly.
“Picking a name? I thought that produced plenty of rows,” I said with half a smile. “But the result—the Republic of Galitha.” I gestured with open hands as though presenting a fine new painting or a long-awaited music premiere.
“It is a fine name. And has, I believe, inspired some renewed confidence in the soldiers.” He returned my smile grudgingly. “Ah. And here is Theodor. Look who I found at bayonet drill.”
“She’s picking up some new skills, then?” Theodor’s smile was half-hearted, but he took my hand and didn’t let go for the duration of the midday meal.
43
GALITHA TOOK A SHARP TURN TOWARD WINTER IN THE FOLLOWING week, laying heavy frost on the ground each morning and buffering the sun in thick clouds that broke, frequently, into cold rain.
Theodor paced the colonnade of the academy as the Third Regiment lined up for a final inspection before we began the march northward. Tents, powder, and supplies were stowed in baggage wagons, the Fourth Regiment already held positions along the northward road, and Sianh directed the final preparations from the back of his new favored horse, gray and exceptionally tall.
“If only the weather had held,” Theodor muttered.
“It’s what it’s always like in late autumn,” I said. I watched him reach the end of the colonnade, turn, and repeat his steps. He’d paced this thin stretch of ground ten times if he had crossed it once, distracted and anxious. I caught his hand. “Do you remember where we were last fall?”
“We had just met one another,” Theodor said softly. “At Viola’s salon. I—I thought you were the prettiest lady I’d ever seen and was miffed she’d never introduced us.”
“Joke’s on you, I wasn’t a lady. I was the hired help.”
He laughed. “No lords and ladies at all any longer. The council decided.” My breath was sharper than I would have expected. “Disappointed?”
“No, hardly. Just… I didn’t expect any of this last year. A war. A council voting to abolish nobility as a legal construct. Ever spending this much time at the Rock’s Ford military school,” I added.
“Are we having a garden party?” a voice interrupted us. I started, but it was only Jeremy. He stood a few feet away, laughing gray eyes crinkling at the corners as he tried to suppress a smile.
“Are you bringing a picnic, Jeremy?” I asked.
“I’m Gregory.” He couldn’t hold back the grin any longer.
“I’m so sorry!” I flushed pink, but Gregory just laughed harder.
“You have no idea how much fun we had as kids with that,” he said. “Once I snuck out for a whole three days to visit one of the Pommerly boys at cider-bottling time to—ah, least said, soonest mended. On the off chance you someday meet my mother.” He grinned, ignoring the distinctly slim chances that would happen in any circumstance that would include a polite chat about family memories. “At any rate, Jer covered for me and I promised to return the favor.”
“And did you?”
“Nah, we got shipped off to military school.”
“I can’t imagine why Mother made that decision,” Theodor said blandly.
“I could say it was entirely having to do with our futures and family honor and all that, but you’re probably right—it got us out of the house for most of the year.” His smile softened. “We were never easy on her. Not like Theo.” It was impossible to ignore any longer that the conversation brushed against something painful, as both brothers fell silent.
I cleared my throat and forced a smile. “And here I had hoped you would have good stories to blackmail him with later.” I shrugged. “Too bad.”
“I’m sure I could work up a couple. Ambrose might have one or two, but he was always crammed deep in a book.” Gregory stopped abruptly—we hadn’t heard anything from or about Ambrose, and I knew Theodor had begun to accept the jagged, painful knowledge he was probably dead. “At any rate, we didn’t come along until Theo was almost done making a fool of himself.” Gregory sighed. “And he was always looking out for us, making sure we were in line. He took his responsibility as the oldest seriously.”
“And I certainly hope you’re taking your responsibility seriously.” Theodor tapped his foot on the stone pavers lining the colonnade. “Your company is ready to move?”
“Yes, sir. They’re a little sore that they’re leaving their lieutenant behind, though.”
“You’re their lieutenant now. Act like it.” Theodor sighed. “We agreed—the council stays behind. And Lieutenant Davies is one of the most intelligent, well-read men in the council.”
“Fair enough, but just so you know, they like that Red Cap better than my noble ass.”
“Gregory! In front of a lady.”
“Hey, now, we don’t have ladies anymore, right?” Gregory flashed a cheeky grin at Theodor.
“Or,” Theodor said through a firmly set jaw, “every woman could be treated with the same respect and gentility with which you would treat a noble lady. Let’s try that. Given that we have the opportunity to engender some new social mores.�
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“Yes, Professor Westland.” Gregory saluted. “Going to go round up the rest of us grunts now.”
Theodor returned the salute. “And you and Alba will stay at the rear. Near the baggage. The quartermaster insists she’s the best to take along to keep track of supplies—I won’t argue.”
“Kristos is not keen on staying behind.”
“He… military strategy isn’t his strong suit, Sophie. I’d like him kept out—that is, assigned somewhere he can be of the most use.”
“Out of the way. You were going to say ‘out of the way.’”
“Yes, I was. Not because I don’t respect him.” He watched me, askance, as he continued. “I didn’t know how this was going to work, a split leadership like this. I admit my bias in comparing it to a kingship—could three men lead as effectively as one?” He gripped the hilt of his sword. “Three men lead better than one, as long as they all respect one another, and we do. Kristos is invaluable to us as a visionary, as a writer. He’s invaluable to the council—just because they finalized a charter doesn’t mean they don’t have plenty to do in our absence.” Theodor sighed. “But he’s more liability than asset on the field.”
“Don’t say that to him,” I said. “I’ve a feeling that hearing his sister is more valuable on a battlefield than he is would be a blow to his confidence.”
“Confidence aside, he should probably be here for Penny, too.” Theodor inclined his head toward Penny, who counted out barrels of dried beef alongside Alba as they were loaded onto a wagon. “You’ll be an aunt before spring. Ready?”
I laughed. “Babies aren’t military campaigns. They come in their own time, ready or not.” I sobered as I watched the Third Regiment marching out of the front gate of the academy. “And ready or not, it’s time for us to go.”
44
DAWN BROKE ON THE THIRD DAY OF THE MARCH COLD AND CLEAR. I uncurled myself from Theodor, bracing myself for the rush of cold air as I peeled the frost-stiffened blanket back. White rime coated each blade of grass and the bare branches and fallen leaves in intricate filigree that broke under my shoes as I tied and retied my short cloak. Even wearing the thick gray wool, wool mitts, densely woven stockings, and layers of petticoats, I was chilled.
“Once we start moving, everyone will warm up a bit,” Theodor said as he hastily swapped the wool fatigue cap he’d slept in for his proper cocked hat. “That’s my philosophy, anyway.”
“As I recall, you required a bit more than philosophy to get you out of bed on at least one rather cold morning.” I exhaled a cloud of white.
“You stole the covers, yes. In my defense, what was in bed was much more enticing than—what was that particular event? Lady Opaline’s winter hunt?” Theodor grinned. “Cruel mercy, but my ears are cold. Now, I believe there’s a dappled gray who’s saddled and ready for you.”
“I still don’t think I ought to ride, not when the other women are walking.” I glanced at the wagons of baggage, the artillery limbers hitched to draft horses and oxen, and the women accompanying the troops, all relegated to walk behind the marching columns.
“Yes, but those are laundresses and nurses. Not a high-ranking sorceress.”
I snorted, but the elevation bothered me. I was just like them, following this army and throwing my lot in with the Reformist cause. Like them, I was here because of people I loved. Like them, I left behind a home and security and, Galatine Divine bless it, a warm stove. “Is it too much like what we’re fighting against? Too much like nobility?”
Theodor slowed his walk and turned to face me. “Nothing like that. This is pragmatism. If we come under attack, we will need to deploy you quickly. That won’t happen if you’re hung up back there with the baggage.”
I nodded, pacified but unconvinced. At any rate, riding was hardly my strong suit. The gray mare Sianh had selected for me was patient and slow, and responded well to my reluctant commands, but I felt ill at ease riding with Theodor, Sianh, and Alba, who acted as though they’d been born with riding crops in hand. At least Kristos’s seat was as awkward as mine. I missed him.
“Any word from Annette?” Theodor asked Sianh as we rode next to him.
“Not since moving north. I do not expect updates from the admiral while we are on the road. She has ships scouting the coast—they will know quickly enough when we begin our attack on the city and will convene on the port.”
“And hope she can prevent a Royalist retreat,” I recalled. “So that we end it there.” I didn’t mention the crawling fear—that was if we prevailed. Despite Sianh’s careful planning, that was far from certain.
“I had a few more questions, Theodor, about the composition of the forests near the city. Are they dense, or rather more like your Westland game park?” Sianh flashed me a brief smile.
“They’re thick, new forest near the river, lots of underbrush. I wouldn’t want to move troops off the road through there. The southern portion is mostly old hardwood, less undergrowth, and—”
Shots echoed between the hills in front of us, the sound ricocheting and amplifying the report of musket fire. The rounds found their marks as my breath caught in my throat. A half a dozen men fell at once—not many, but a tremor ran through the entire length of the column.
“Creator preserve us,” Alba murmured quietly next to me as line upon line of Royalist troops crested the hill. Our road snaked between it and another steep incline. We were bottlenecked here, underneath an onslaught from the high ground that had trapped us. “Why did we hear nothing from the advance scouts about this?”
Sianh cursed, and Theodor blanched, but both quickly recovered their composure as Sianh began shouting orders. I reined my horse back, grateful for her placid demeanor and hoping fervently that swift riding wouldn’t be in order for me.
“They are over that rise,” Sianh called, gesturing with his drawn saber. “Deploy the First in lines facing those hills, Theodor, go. I’ll join you with the Third. Captain Frissett,” he shouted, “pull the Fifth with a reserve for any flanking maneuvers and to reinforce.”
“Artillery?” Theodor replied.
“No time. Perhaps later,” Sianh amended, swallowing hard. “Sophie. Back.”
“I can help,” I squeaked.
“Yes. From behind us. Either fall back with the baggage or—”
The pounding of hooves interrupted him. As swift as a hawk alighting on a ground squirrel, a troop of dragoons thundered down the opposite hill. They swept toward not the First Regiment, which was already deploying in neat and ordered lines to engage, but toward the Second, still in marching column. The officers of the Second struggled to untangle the columns into a fighting line.
“The rise behind you,” Sianh shouted. I stared back, blank. “Your position! Forget the rear, you will not make it there. That rise!” He jabbed his sword toward a steep hill, covered heavily with brambles and squat bushes. I answered in movement only. I dismounted—the horse wasn’t going to make it up that craggy slope—and looped the reins around the branch of a nearby tree.
“Do not do that,” Alba said. “It will drive her mad, and she could be shot. Let them run away.” She held the reins of her mount, her face pale and her eyes wide, but her voice impossibly calm. “They will make their way home.”
I wasn’t sure I believed her, but I didn’t have any better options. I released the reins and the horse bolted alongside Alba’s mount. Without speaking, I resumed climbing the hill. I found a vantage point where I could see the troops moving across the field, the influx of Royalists, and could appreciate with full, dreadful clarity the magnitude of our situation.
The Royalists had us pinned on the road between the hills, where the space to maneuver narrowed and our retreat was limited to one direction—back the way we had come. The baggage blocked a swift retreat, though the oxen already moved under the steady direction of their drivers.
“Is there anything you can do?” Alba whispered urgently.
“I don’t know yet,” I snapped.
> “It’s imperative that we deploy your particular weapons quickly. We don’t know if they might have Serafans in their ranks.”
“I am well aware! Don’t harass me.” I closed my eyes, centering myself, and then opened them again onto the scene as a volley rang out from the Royalists. They were in full lines moving down the hillside now, a gentle slope that still gave them the advantage of high ground. The horses still chewed through the badly prepared Second Regiment, but our men were drawing themselves into formation. I couldn’t help them. They were clustered too closely together, the flashing sabers of the horsemen and the disciplined bayonets of our men clashing in close quarters. Any charm I settled over our men would aid the Royalists, too—and I certainly couldn’t use a curse.
Instead, I focused on the infantry pressing hard against the First. Biting my lip, I drew dark lines of curse magic and pressed it toward the oncoming Royalists, trying to push it into the wood of the muskets. It resisted, as I had expected, and I pressed on it harder until the dark glitter permeated the oiled stocks.
It didn’t seem to have much effect. They fired again, and the volley sounded no quieter than before. Dozens of men in our lines fell, but they returned fire quickly, by unit, in rapid succession. Pride rose in my chest even as the Royalists advanced—the First was working exactly as Sianh had said a disciplined unit should under fire.
But the Royalists were still gaining ground, and my strategy of cursing the muskets didn’t seem to be making a dent in their advance as they fired again, and again.
I changed my strategy, settling layers of golden light on the First and, as they formed in reinforcing lines on the wing, the Third.
“We may not have to retreat,” Alba said quietly. “And they would have surely utilized casting by now if they had it.”
I didn’t answer. Musket fire peppered the field from the hill opposite the Royalist advance. I thought at first that it was echoes, but my heart fell as I saw that thick lines of Royalist infantry moved into position on the opposite hill, as well. And then, with resounding clarity, the report of artillery pieces filled the small valley between the hills.
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