Rule

by Rowenna Miller

  “Not yet. Kristos is getting all sentimental and wants to wait through the end of the first one hundred days like Pellians do.” I laughed. “I suppose she’s the only baby around, so there shan’t be any confusion.”

  Sianh agreed, for once, to raid the finer stores of our army’s provisions, given that a fine dinner could show our diplomatic guests that we were not ready to succumb to starvation. “It never pays to look desperate, even if the ink is dry on the contract,” he muttered to me as I reattached a loose epaulet before the party.

  I didn’t have my own closet at my disposal, of course, but Westland Hall still held a sizable portion of Theodor’s mother’s and sister’s wardrobes. Both women were smaller than me, petite Galatine women with dainty builds like songbirds. In the back of a musty closet, I found a dark gold gown of his mother’s in the outdated “flying” style, loose shoulders and an open front. Likely it was set aside to be remade, but a war and fleeing her home had put a stop to any sartorial planning. I looked, and felt, like a dowdy aunt invited last minute to a supper party, but I made the gown fit.

  We gathered in the private family dining room of the estate; the formal dining room, a larger and more stately space, had been taken over as part of the field hospital. Even so, candles blazed in sconces and from silver candlesticks on polished cherry sideboards, illuminating full sets of silver and finely painted china. Penny wasn’t ready to be out of bed yet, but Kristos came down with my niece long enough to present her, to a deluge of well wishes. She slept soundly through the entire parade around the room, oblivious to the coos and congratulations.

  “And in red and gray!” Dira smiled. “She is a little patriot, is she not?”

  “A beautiful child,” said Hysso.

  “In Serafan, we say Hya’tin Fia,” said Sianh, “which means ‘due welcome, small stranger.’” He bowed and presented his sword to the slumbering infant, which earned some laughter from the gathered regimental officers, but I saw the glint of a tear in the corner of his eye before Kristos returned the baby to Penny.

  Viola had rustled up stewards from the corps of former Rock’s Ford military school students. As nobles’ children, they were used to being served rather than serving at a table, but despite my worries they would appear sullen or reluctant, they were eager to be given even a minor role of honor. A young man with sun-kissed skin and neatly clubbed black hair held my chair for me, and another poured wine.

  We passed trays of cheese and stuffed figs, as though this were a perfectly ordinary Galatine dinner party. Kristos returned and engaged Hysso in a lively conversation about historical Pellian philosophy, and its influences on first the Red Caps and now the Republic of Galitha. Dira watched with bright curiosity, tasting each cheese and sipping her wine.

  “Do you like the figs?” I asked as she tried one.

  “They are surprising—with honey! Rather sweet, are they not?” she said. “Like dessert. But we do not take to sweet foods at home, for the most part.”

  “This is your first time in Galitha, then?” I said.

  Dira nodded serenely. “It is. I hope to return when the atmosphere is a bit calmer. I find that the scenery is quite interesting.”

  “A toast, then!” Theodor cleared his throat and stood, a scanty glass of wine in hand. “To a renewed Republic of Galitha, to our citizens both old and new, and to our friends and allies.” He lifted the glass as a signal for us to join him. The sunset outside the lead glass windows danced through my wineglass, casting a shadow like a smear of blood on the nearest wall. “We hang on the edge of a great—”

  The door swung open with a crack like thunder, and the officers serving as stewards put their hands to their swords. Sianh had his sword out and at the ready, and was on his feet and in front of me in one motion. As I peered around him, blocked into my chair by his thick legs, I saw that the intruder was a rail-thin man accompanied by two of our officers, his hair overgrown and disheveled and his clothes marred with old and fresh stains.

  It was Ambrose.

  Theodor’s brother was pale as snow, his lips cracked and gray. I rose from my chair and silverware clattered to the floor as I jostled the table. Sianh stepped aside as Theodor rushed toward his brother.

  “Ambrose!” Theodor said as he embraced him, but he swayed under the weight. Theodor ushered him to a chair. “What’s happened to you?”

  “A few months in a jail cell in the Stone Castle,” he said, “followed by bombardment of the city by the Royalists and a rather uncomfortable trip to get to you.”

  “Jail cell?” I looked at Ambrose and then at Kristos, who hung back from the tableau unfolding before him. Dira and Hysso watched with polite but intent interest.

  “I was an enemy of the Galatine people,” he said, glancing at Kristos as though assessing him, too. “Anyone of noble lineage or—what did Niko Otni call it?—guilty of ‘excessive consort’ with the nobles, that’s right.”

  “But you were in the city? All along?” Theodor said, and I spoke at the same time, “I was there, I asked—”

  “I know. The names of those jailed weren’t made public. I think the idea was to quietly dispose of us later—I’m not sure, maybe I’m being uncharitable. But Otni couldn’t afford public trials and disagreements over what should be done with nobles who stayed—sweet hell, especially not nobles who stayed and helped.”

  “You did help, didn’t you?” I said. “When they stormed the Stone Castle, you opened the secret door from River Street.”

  Ambrose’s tired eyes lit up. “How did you know?”

  “I heard that the Stone Castle was breached, and that someone opened that door,” I said. “Someone who knew it existed, how to open it—I didn’t think Otni did.” I shook my head. “Of course he was happy to take the credit for it.”

  “Of course he was,” Ambrose repeated in a tired echo. “Yes, the uncomfortable fact that the victory over the city had something to do with the interference of a noble would have come out if he did anything public with me. And several others, I might add—a dozen of us from the university alone were actively assisting the efforts of the Reformists in the city. But Otni wants to start fresh, I think.” Silence settled around us.

  “He can’t start fresh,” Kristos said finally, through gritted teeth, “by killing people united under the banner of the Republic of Galitha.”

  Ambrose’s brow creased, then shot up in surprise. “Republic of Galitha! Brilliant! I can see it in the history books now. The formation of the great nation of—” He broke off in a fit of coughing.

  “Damn Otni’s eyes, Ambrose, you’re ill.”

  “Not important.” Ambrose coughed. “There are plenty who agree with you, Balstrade. While the city was under bombardment, the first time the Royalists got within range to strike at the city center, the Stone Castle took some slight damage—nothing serious, but we didn’t know at the time that the whole place wouldn’t come down around our ears. Some of the guards decided they didn’t want our corpses on their consciences.”

  “It’s bad in the city, then.” Theodor stood slowly from beside his brother and paced toward the opposite wall, sharing a glance with Sianh. “The bombardment has begun in earnest.”

  “It’s begun, and I don’t mind telling you that you had better get there before it’s ended in earnest.”

  Sianh swore. “Why has this Niko not sent word?”

  “I thought he must have,” Ambrose mused. “He’s not a great enough fool to think he can outlast them.”

  “He’s not?” Theodor snapped.

  “Divine Natures, I hope not.” Kristos sighed. “I suppose it’s possible his messengers didn’t make it through.”

  “And Theodor’s consumptive brother did?” Viola said. “No offense, Ambrose.”

  “It’s plausible,” Ambrose said. “I left the city immediately—clearly I had no good reason to hang around and see if I was going to get arrested and imprisoned again. And I know the countryside.”

  “No,” Kristos sai
d slowly. “I know Niko. He sent Fig, and Fig made it. He’s sent letters, when he wanted, and those made it. He could have sent someone. He thinks he can hold the city on his own. And he thinks if he does he’ll be able to leverage his way on giving Galitha to the Red Caps to govern.”

  “He is mistaken,” Sianh said. “Whatever fool thinks he can withstand bombardment and blockade on his own is a fool indeed.”

  “He has always been bold. Too bold. It doesn’t matter,” Kristos said. “We have to go north. Now. March on the city. Now.”

  “Our troops are ready,” said Hysso. “Ready for this—history with Galitha.”

  “Well put,” Theodor said, burying any reticence he felt. “And we are ready, as well.”

  “But in winter,” Gregory said. “It’s against every military manual out there.”

  “Perhaps so,” Sianh said slowly. “But it is perhaps not unwise. One,” he ticked off, “the Royalists will not anticipate it. We may in fact surprise them, at least to some degree. I would venture that they have made their encampment outside Galitha City to overwinter and will therefore be massed there, which means that, two,” he counted, “they will not be a great impediment on the move northward. And finally.” He swallowed. “We either win this campaign or we lose the war. If we fail, it is over. We shall spend winter on prison barges or in the ground.”

  “We’ll all hang together,” I murmured to no one but myself.

  “Then we move now,” Kristos said. “Galitha City is where it started, and Galitha City is where it’s going to end.”

  49

  THE SPEED WITH WHICH THE ARMY COULD PACK UP AND MOVE surprised even Sianh, who watched in the pale gray before dawn as the lines of men moved northward, the wagons of supplies and gear trundling on behind. “I am very grateful we were able to requisition oxen,” he finally said.

  “Pastoral Galitha has its advantages,” I replied. He smiled in reply. It was the last time I saw him smile on the march toward the city.

  Scouting troops cleared our path of any belligerent Royalists, and we rejoined them as we marched, our numbers gathering strength as we approached the city. We all knew, with fear and excitement fusing our thoughts with our nerves, that this would be our final battle. There were only two outcomes. We might win a victory here, and though skirmishes and rebellions might follow the war, we would effect the surrender of the Royalists.

  Or we would be defeated. Summarily, once and for all. The Republic of Galitha would die before it had even really begun.

  The day we came within sight of Galitha’s towers, Sianh halted us for a short respite before we would march through the night and attack at dawn. The leaders of the army gathered by a small fire, warming hands and finalizing the plans for the morning.

  Theodor caught my hand as we walked to join the others. “This is it,” he said. I slowed my pace and turned to him. He searched my face, waiting. He wanted a moment of quiet, a moment to mark the importance of what we were about to undertake. Some words, some pledge, some promise.

  I found I couldn’t give it to him. Stopping the forward motion toward tomorrow meant yielding to the growing panic in my gut that we weren’t strong enough, that I wouldn’t be able to provide enough magical assistance, that this errand was doomed from the start.

  That instead of surrendering to our own deaths, we had dragged thousands into oblivion with us.

  “We’re expected,” I said instead, tugging at his hand.

  “Sophie, I—in case we’re… in case tomorrow—”

  “See?” I said, gripping his hand tighter. “You don’t really want to talk about it any more than I do. Nothing needs to be said,” I added more softly. “I love you. You love me. We will see one another on the other side of this battle.”

  “But if we don’t, I just—I wanted—”

  “We will,” I said firmly, “one way or another.”

  He struggled for a moment and then acquiesced, taking my face in his hands and accepting a fleeting kiss as our promise in lieu of long words.

  We joined the others by the light of the wan fire. “I could hope that Otni would come to that conclusion on his own,” Sianh said. “But hope is not a wise strategy.”

  “We could send someone into the city,” Kristos said. “Someone who knows how to get in and out.”

  “I’ll go,” Ambrose said.

  “No,” Theodor cut him off. “You’re hardly of sound enough body to even be on the march with us.”

  “I’m riding, not marching, thank you very much,” his brother shot back with resignation. “And I could manage getting into the city.”

  “Even if you did, there are those who would recognize and imprison you again. I’m terribly sorry, brother of mine, but you are a dangerous noble and not to be trusted.”

  Ambrose laughed, and his laughter disintegrated into coughing.

  “How ’bout me?” Fig piped up from behind Sianh.

  “Vimzalet,” Sianh said. “It would be a dangerous gamble for a small bug like you. And yet…”

  “And yet he knows how to get in and out undetected. Clearly. The Royalists might not even notice him if they saw him, if he can keep his mouth shut.” Kristos studied him. “You can relay a message from memory? If you’re caught, you play dumb, because so help me, the Royalists can’t get near our plans.”

  “’Course I can! You take me for some dunce, sitting in the corner after getting the lesson wrong?”

  “I take you for someone who didn’t go to school a minute longer than he had to.” Kristos raised an eyebrow. “Repeat it. What does Otni need to know?”

  “You’re on your way. You’re going to attack, full press, from the southeast approach. They are supposed to wait to leave the city until we’ve cut the field in half.”

  Sianh tapped his boot on the hard-packed earth. “And what, vimzalet, does ‘cut the field in half’ mean?”

  “Until you’ve crossed half of it. Taken half of it.”

  “Taken half of it, yes. They should hold inside the city until the Royalists have yielded half of the distance between the edges of their field and the city’s wall to us. Then they must join us, so that the Royalists are split, fighting in front and behind their lines.” Sianh nodded. “And?”

  “The navy will not permit escape by ship. There is a contingent blocking escape by the river.”

  “Good. Good, in the case that we are successful.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to tell him in case we’re not successful?”

  “You tell them to hold in the city if we do not take half the field. And send for terms.” He swallowed. “And pray.”

  Fig repeated the entire message again, and I exhaled a shaky breath as he repeated it perfectly. Too small, too young for such an errand, and yet the best choice. I had hoped, without voicing it even to myself, that he wouldn’t be able to get the message right here, and have to stay behind. But no, his memory was flawless.

  “Then run for the city,” Sianh said. “If you are caught, no heroics. You understand, vimzalet?” Behind the teasing I saw genuine affection for his little mosquito.

  As Fig ran off, I whispered, low, to Sianh, “We didn’t tell him what to do if Niko refuses to aid us.”

  “He will. His city is under attack and, by all the reports of our scouts, in dire straits. The walls will not hold another week. He will not be so foolish as to risk defeat now that he realizes his plight. It is after victory that you must worry about him.”

  “And I do,” Theodor said. “But not now. Not tonight.”

  “Take your rest,” Sianh said. “Tomorrow comes swiftly.”

  50

  GALITHA CITY, WITH THE SPIRE OF THE CATHEDRAL AND THE ordered roofline of the university, the dark smudge of the Public Archive, the blank space between layers of buildings I knew were the public gardens—it was laid out like a map in front of me. My home. For every man in the ranks around me, Galitha City was a symbol of the country itself, the center of the nation, the seat of its governance. Now it wa
s something more, the final battleground in their war. It was ours, I reminded myself with steely resolve. This fight was ours.

  Between us and the city, rows of shining bronze Royalist artillery pieces ran like beads on a necklace down entrenchments dug into the ground. Trees from the nearby forest had been felled and used to build crude redoubts, but even though the fortifications lacked refinement, they would still prove barriers for our troops. In regular rhythm, the guns fired on the city.

  Galitha City’s walls still stood, marred and cracked in some places, but we were not too late. Sianh, on his unassuming gray mount, began directing the movement of the large wings of troops, and I moved back, out of the way. The regiments all had their orders, and I had mine, but Sianh called to me before I could begin.

  “You remember?” He trotted toward me, reining in his horse a few paces from me. “You remember your orders?”

  “Of course,” I said with a forced smile. “You made them very easy. Find a place to cast, and focus on weakening the artillery and the redoubts. If the riflemen are deployed to the field, turn my attention to them.”

  “You forgot the most important order I gave you,” Sianh said, edging closer. “Do not take risks that would allow you to be captured.”

  I nodded and climbed a shallow rise, where a dip in the slope provided cover. Then I took a breath, steadying myself, and cleared all the clamor of the troops and the bellow of the guns from my thoughts. I pulled a charm first, and wound it tight around Sianh, burying extra fortitude and fortune into every fiber of his uniform. We needed him. As the battle unfolded, all of the plans we made could be lost in a moment’s charge or a flank left open—we needed his lightning-fast insight and decisive orders.

  Someone moved next to me, and I jumped, even though no enemy could have breached our lines so quickly. Kristos flopped on the grass next to me.

  “Your view is better than mine was,” Kristos said with a lopsided grin. He looked so much like he had a year ago, if I could strip away the lines of worry and the gray-and-red uniform.