* * *
Winter, Cyte, and Bobby waited, several hundred yards in front of the now-halted Girls’ Own, as the two colonels dismounted some distance away and approached on foot. They were accompanied by a single ranker, bearing a white flag, while several more stayed back with their horses.
It was past midday, and a chill wind was blowing. Winter shaded her eyes with a hand and examined the two men. She didn’t recognize either, but that wasn’t unexpected—outside of the Army of the East, she wasn’t very familiar with the officer corps.
The pair of them were a study in contrasts. The one on the left was obviously a Royal, an old-time army officer; he wore an expensive, tailored uniform, spotless except for the dust of the recent ride. The eagles on his shoulders were silver, though, which meant he’d graduated from the War College rather than purchasing his commission.
His companion barely had a uniform at all, just a ranker’s blue jacket over a dark shirt and trousers. His eagles were stitched outlines of white thread, already fraying at the edges, and he wore a battered slouch hat instead of an officer’s cap. He walked with an affected swagger, trying hard to seem nonchalant.
When they were a few yards away, Winter offered the formal nod that was due to an officer of equal rank. Bobby and Cyte saluted, and the ranker with the flag did likewise. The Royal colonel returned the gesture, precise and correct, while the other just stared insolently.
“I’m Colonel Winter Ihernglass,” Winter said. “Third Regiment of the Army of the East. This is Lieutenant Forester and Lieutenant Cytomandiclea.”
The unofficial-looking colonel raised his eyebrows at Cyte’s full name, but his companion remained impassive.
“I’m Colonel Zarout, of the Eighteenth Regiment of the Line,” he said. “This is Colonel Braes, of the Tenth Volunteers.”
“I’ve sent a rider to bring General Vhalnich,” Winter said. “He’s at the rear of the column, but I’m sure he’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“If you don’t mind,” said Braes, “I’d like to have a chat before he gets here.” He had the drawl of the Transpale in his voice. “These your troops in front of us?”
“This is the Third Regiment, yes.”
Braes’ eyes went to Cyte for a moment. “Can’t help but notice that most of ’em appear to be ladies.”
Winter’s expression hardened. “The First Battalion is female. As are many of my officers.”
“I heard some strange things about Vhalnich, but I didn’t credit them,” Braes said. “There a lot of girls in this army?”
“As far as I know, only my regiment has a women’s battalion,” Winter said in the iciest tone she could manage.
“I have to tell you, I’d have a hard time shooting a girl,” Braes said.
“I assure you that the reverse is not true,” Winter said.
Colonel Zarout coughed. “The . . . gender of Colonel Ihernglass’ troops is not the issue here.”
Braes gave a rolling shrug. “Just curious.”
“Colonel,” Zarout said, turning back to Winter, “I would like to inquire as to General Vhalnich’s intentions.”
“I’m sure he can answer your questions when he arrives,” Winter said.
“You must know something,” Zarout said. “He is marching on Vordan City. Has he said why?”
Winter hesitated, then said, “General Vhalnich believes that the President of the Directory has unlawfully assumed the post of Minister of War, and other powers besides. He is marching to support the queen and the legitimate government of Deputies-General.”
“Way I heard it, he’s trying to keep himself off the Spike,” Braes said.
“General Vhalnich would never disobey an order he believed was legitimate,” Winter said. “And I think I should ask your intentions. My scouts tell me that your troops are drawn up in defensive positions across the road.”
“I have orders,” Zarout said, “from the new Minister of War, to engage and defeat the Army of the East.”
Braes gave a braying laugh, which earned him a cold look from Zarout.
“What he wants to say,” Braes said, “is that Maurisk has tossed us in front of a runaway cart and hopes we might slow it down a little.”
“I meant nothing of the kind,” Zarout said stiffly. “But I will admit you appear to have the advantage of forces.”
Winter suppressed a smile. Even with the garrison they’d left behind to hold Antova, the Army of the East was nearly thirty thousand strong. The two regiments in front of her mustered five or six thousand at best, with minimal artillery and no cavalry. She felt a sudden sympathy with Zarout.
“I agree that your position seems . . . difficult,” Winter said. “I’m sure I speak for the general when I say that we would like to avoid bloodshed between fellow Vordanai. Is there anything we can do in that regard?”
Zarout’s jaw clenched. “I have been informed by the Ministry that if General Vhalnich is permitted to pass, I and every man in my command will be executed for treason.”
“That’d certainly keep Dr. Sarton busy,” Braes said.
“General Vhalnich would suggest that such an order would be illegitimate,” Winter said.
“All well and good if General Vhalnich’s . . . opinion carries the day. But at the same time, those of us who have obeyed Directory orders . . .” Zarout trailed off, considering his words. Braes laughed again, and Zarout turned on him. “What do you find so amusing?”
“The way you know what you want to say, but get so tied up trying to say it,” Braes said. He looked Winter in the eye. “Look. Here’s our problem. If we fight you, a lot of people are going to get killed who don’t have to, and it’ll all be the same in the end, ’cause you’ve got six times our numbers. But if we don’t fight, and you lose, then we’re all going to be getting a little prick right here.” He thumped his chest.
“I can say from experience,” Winter said, “that General Vhalnich does not lose.”
“That’s what I hear. Trouble is, when the top seat changes hands, the new boss tends to get a bit angry with whoever knuckled under to the old boss. There’s a lot of us who’ve just been following orders, and we’re all looking over our shoulders after what happened to Hallvez.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You follow our predicament?”
“I do.” Winter took a deep breath. “I can’t speak for the general, of course, but I have served with him since Khandar, and he is not the vengeful sort.” For a moment, she thought the ghost of Adrecht Roston might raise a protest. That was different. Mutiny was one thing, but Janus wouldn’t execute a man who’d happened to be on the other side, especially if he didn’t fight. I hope. “I’m sure officers who followed their duty and their conscience would have nothing to fear.”
Zarout coughed. “Do you think the general would be willing to offer his personal assurance on that? For the men as well as the officers?”
“I suspect so, yes.”
“That would be . . . useful.” Zarout looked over his shoulder, back toward his own men. “It occurs to me that, positioned as we are, our left flank is unprotected. Since the Ministry of War has neglected to assign me a cavalry force, a threat in that direction would force us into a tactical withdrawal, probably over the river at the nearby crossing.” He nodded in the direction of the river. “If the bridge were subsequently destroyed, it would be many days before we could reach another.”
Braes was laughing again, and Winter found herself smiling in spite of her best efforts.
“I think,” she said, “that something like that could be arranged.”
* * *
When Janus did arrive, his conference with the two colonels was brief and to the point. A few minutes later, Give-Em-Hell led a force of laughing, whooping cavalrymen on a ride around the end of Zarout’s line. Winter, standing beside Janus on a roadside hill, could see the long lines of blue-uniform
ed troops already beginning to leave their positions, headed for the bridge over the Ost and safety.
“A pity that they couldn’t be persuaded to join us,” Janus said. “But one can’t have everything.”
“I don’t blame them for being cautious,” Winter said. “These are strange times. Zarout seemed like the sort who wanted to do the best by his men, whatever happens.”
“No doubt. Strange times indeed when the best a loyal officer can manage is to step aside and let a mutinous army through.”
Winter shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t like to think of myself as mutinous, sir.”
“What else can you call it?” Janus waved down at the road, where the Army of the East was marching on toward the day’s camp. “I’m certainly disobeying orders.”
“Maurisk had no right to give those orders,” Winter said. The story of the coup in Vordan had become common knowledge in the past few days. She guessed that the soldiers passed it round so eagerly in part because many of them shared the same uncomfortable feeling she had; it made things easier if the government they were disobeying was a treacherous one. “He’s shut the queen up in the country and locked up anyone who speaks against him. That’s hardly the revolution we signed up for.”
“No doubt when the histories are written, that’s what they’ll say,” Janus said. “Assuming we win. If we lose, of course, we’ll be a lot of dirty traitors.” He flashed his summer-lightning smile at her. “But tell the truth. If Maurisk had been content to leave us alone, would you be marching against him?”
“I . . .” Winter shook her head. All she could think was that if matters had never come to a head, she might have had more time to get through to Jane.
“You don’t have to answer that.”
“May I ask you a question, sir?”
Janus raised an eyebrow. “Certainly.”
“You seem like you expected . . . something like this.”
“It seemed likely. I couldn’t have told you who it would be, but after the revolution someone would end up taking charge, and the odds were extremely high that they’d make a hash of it.” He frowned. “Maurisk has exceeded my expectations there, I must admit. But yes, it wasn’t hard to guess that it would eventually come to this.”
“Then why leave Vordan at all?” Winter shook her head. “If you knew we were going to be coming back to the city with an army . . .”
“Why not take over after Midvale, you mean? Make myself Raesinia’s regent, as Orlanko wanted to?”
Winter colored slightly. “Something like that.”
Janus looked contemplative. “If you were going to go about taking over a kingdom, how would you do it?”
“Having an army in the capital seems like a pretty good first step.”
Janus shook his head. “Not in the long run. The Borelgai defeated our armies in the War of the Princes, but they weren’t stupid enough to try and install a new king. If I’d used the Colonials to take over after the revolution, I would have been as bad as Maurisk. I would have had to be, in order to stay in power, and in due time some hero would have come along to defeat me.”
“But you can go back now?”
“Oh yes.” He spread his hands, gray eyes sparkling. “Now I’m the hero, come to overthrow the vicious tyrant. That puts things on a very different footing.”
Winter stared for a moment, not sure what to say. Janus lowered his arms.
“Liberators are always more popular than conquerors. And a return to law and order is more welcome once people have gotten a taste for what life is like without it.” He cocked his head. “What’s the matter, Colonel? You look shocked.”
“You . . . really planned all this? That far in advance?”
“I believe I told you once that it’s not about planning. It’s about putting the pieces in the right places, and reacting to whatever opportunities come up.”
“But why?” Winter blurted. “Just for the power? To make yourself king?”
“I don’t want to be king. I think Raesinia will be a good queen, if she gets the chance. And I don’t want the power, in the end. But . . .”
Janus looked away, at the column marching past. Evening was beginning to fall, and the light had turned soft and buttery, painting the brown grass of the hillside so it looked as if it were cast from gold. The silence stretched on, until Winter thought she’d offended the general. When he spoke, though, it was not the dismissal she expected.
“Someone had to do it,” he said.
There was another pause. Winter blinked. “That’s it?”
Janus shrugged. “Anyone could see the crisis was coming. The king dying, the princess too young, Orlanko too powerful, and the Black Priests . . . It was going to explode, one way or another. The wrong ruler, at the wrong time, can mean decades of poverty and war. Farus the Third, the Wastrel King, let the nobles steal the kingdom from under his nose. Farus the Fifth, Farus the Great, was so in love with his own face that he bankrupted the state building grand monuments. Only the right person could keep us from disaster.”
“And you’re the right person?” Winter said.
Janus smiled, and fixed her with his fathomless gaze. His eyes blazed in the soft light.
“Of course,” he said.
“You didn’t believe him?” Abby said.
They were in Winter’s tent, after dinner. The camp was in a pasture by the side of the road, and the outer pickets had to fend off determined attempts by inquisitive cows to breach the perimeter. Whoever was supposed to be minding the animals had apparently fled at the army’s approach. He’s lucky Janus is so restrained, or we’d all be eating beefsteak.
Abby had slipped into the tent, quietly, as she had done every night since the confrontation at Antova. In what might have been an effort to delay the main business of the evening, Winter found herself recounting her conversation with Janus, and her impression that, somehow, he’d been lying to her.
“I don’t know,” Winter said. “Not telling the whole truth, anyway.”
“You don’t think he’s really doing it for the good of Vordan?”
Winter shook her head. “That may be part of it, but there’s something else. What he told me sounded . . . too pat. Like it was something he told himself, to try and get himself to believe it.”
“We’ve got no choice now but to trust him,” Abby said.
“No.” Winter let her awareness sink through the layers of her mind, down to the level where she could feel the slow movement of the Infernivore. “It’s been a long time since I had a choice.”
There was a long pause.
“Jane was wrong,” Abby said. “She was wrong, and she’s still wrong. You did the right thing.”
Winter sighed. “Thanks.” Then, steeling herself, she asked the question she’d asked every night. “Any sign of her?”
The forward scouts, some from the Girls’ Own and others from Give-Em-Hell’s cavalry, had been given quiet instructions to ask the folk they met about others who might have come this way. Winter wasn’t sure what she expected to find—traffic on the River Road was heavy enough that a small group of young women wouldn’t have attracted much notice—but she had to try. I’ll find her. She wants me to find her.
“No,” Abby said. She looked at the table, on which was spread a map, and put her finger near the spot where they were camped. “We’ll make Orlan tomorrow. That’s our best chance to pick up the trail, assuming she came this way at all.”
“She came this way,” Winter said. “This is the way back to Vordan City. Where else does she have to go?”
Abby nodded. “We’ll find her. If not before we get to the city, then after.”
After . . . Winter hadn’t let herself think too much about after. What might happen after everything played out, after Janus confronted Maurisk. It seemed like a distant fantasy world, the other side of an endless
river with no bridge in sight. The end of the war.
“Cyte needs to talk to you,” Abby said, seeing the distant look in Winter’s eyes. “She’s got orders to go over for tomorrow. And I think there were some disciplinary issues Bobby wanted you to look at.”
“Right.” Winter pulled herself back to the here and now. Since Jane had left, that seemed to be getting harder and harder. “Tell them I’m ready for them.”
“And try to get more sleep,” Abby said, getting to her feet. “You look exhausted.”
* * *
“Take the knife,” Jane said, as though instructing a friend in how to carve a roast. “Put the point of it about here”—she raised her head and put the tip of the dagger on her throat, just under her chin—“and press in, upward, as hard as you can.”
I did it already. Winter could feel the soft flesh of Sergeant Davis’ throat parting under her blade, the stunned, stupid look on his face as his blood gushed over her hands.
“Fuck the army,” Jane said. “Fuck the Directory. Fuck all of them. It is not your responsibility, don’t you understand? You don’t have to care.”
I can’t help it. Winter let her hands fall, the knife slipping through her fingers. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I can’t help it.
“Just because you weren’t brave enough to save me doesn’t mean you have to save the whole world to make up for it.”
How can you say that? Winter squeezed her eyes shut, tears falling. I came back for you. You never came looking for me.
“We’re together.” Jane leaned close to her. “Now, and always.”
Her lips touched Winter’s. The kiss was sweet, as sweet as it had ever been, as sweet as the first time. Then Winter felt something rising within her, the demon that lived in the pit of her soul, rushing forth and flooding into Jane. She screamed at it, swore at it, but it went on unbidden. As it had when she’d used it on Jen Alhundt, the thing spread, transforming Jane into more of itself, down to her feet and the tips of her fingers. Then, hunger satisfied at last, the demon dove back inside Winter, leaving nothing behind but the fading image of a crooked smile and green eyes full of pain.
The Price of Valor Page 51