The Infernal Battalion

by Django Wexler

  “He’s not the only connection I have in the Keep.”

  Matthew half turned, which was Raesinia’s cue. She raised her veil and pulled back her hood, nodding respectfully at Phineas.

  “Raesinia Orboan,” she said.

  “Raesinia—​Raesinia Orboan?” Phineas practically leapt out of his seat. “The Queen of Vordan?”

  “And,” Matthew said smoothly, “my fiancée.”

  “Oh,” Phineas said, settling rapidly. “Oh, I see. That’s... very interesting.”

  Raesinia could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. As Matthew went into the actual sales pitch, Phineas kept looking back to her, tilting his head as though trying to see her from a different angle.

  We’ve got him.

  “...and I’m confident,” Matthew said, “that, given our unique advantages, the company will be able to keep ahead of the pack.”

  “Confidentiality?” Phineas said.

  “Assured. Our shares are already trading in the market. If I sign these over to you”—​Matthew raised a satchel, which contained a thick stack of gilt-​edged documents—“you can deposit them with your favorite deniable broker, and there will be no connection visible between us. The staff here is known for perfect discretion.”

  “They are indeed.” Phineas eyed the share certificates like a hungry man watching a steak browning in a pan. “And how much were you thinking, Matty, my old friend?”

  “Two hundred thousand marks at minimum. Below that and we’ll need to cut too many people in—”

  “Make it five hundred,” Phineas said. “I’ll run it through my box at Three Crowns Bank. You know the one?”

  “Oh, yes.” Matthew smiled. “You won’t regret this, Finny.”

  “I’d better not.” Phineas grinned. “You have no idea what the wife would say.”

  *

  “Does it bother you?” Raesinia said, when they were back in the carriage and rattling their way toward the Keep.

  “Does what?”

  “Doing this to your old friends.”

  “They’re not my friends,” Matthew said. “They’re the boys that I got drunk with, or cousins I saw at my father’s parties. None of them care about me. The less popular I am with my father, the less I hear from them. Strange how that works.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have many real friends, and none of them are rich enough for this sort of thing.”

  “I’m glad you won’t be troubled by pangs of conscience, then.” Raesinia found that she was, a little. Phineas had seemed like a nice enough person. If things go badly, we’re going to make a lot of lives very miserable.

  She gritted her teeth. Let them complain to Georg. I’ll do what I have to.

  The carriage rattled under the looming gatehouse and around to a rear drive, one of several that led into the labyrinthine bulk of the Keep itself. Jo and Barely were waiting to escort Raesinia to the courtyard, where she met Cora.

  “I wish you’d let us come with you,” Barely said, as they walked through the wood-​paneled corridors, past the stiff-​necked Life Guards. “Anything could happen out in the city.”

  “I appreciate that,” Raesinia said. “But anything could happen in here. If Georg wants to hurt me, we can’t stop him, and I can’t imagine anyone else daring to cross him now.”

  Joanna signed something, and Barely gave a bitter laugh.

  “What did she say?” I’m really going to have to learn to understand her.

  “Old proverb,” Barely said. “The quickest way to die is to underestimate your enemies. The second quickest is to overestimate them.”

  Raesinia snorted.

  Cora was waiting beside a decorative stream, near where it ran into a grated archway and under the wall. Barely and Joanna kept watch for interlopers, though the yard was empty except for the occasional hurrying servant. Cora was bouncing on her heels.

  “Is he in?” she whispered.

  Raesinia nodded and held up five fingers. Cora’s face lit up.

  “Five hundred thousand marks.” Her eyes went glassy as she calculated. “Banks require ten percent in equity. We’ve been getting our derivatives at four or five percent, less handling fees, a little for...” She went quiet. “Call it a hundred million, give or take a million.”

  “Give or take a million?”

  Cora shrugged. “The exact rate is hard to predict.”

  Raesinia shook her head. When they’d paid five thousand eagles for Danton Aurenne, that had seemed like a fortune to her. It probably was a fortune to almost anyone. The amounts Cora talked about now felt dreamlike and unreal.

  “Are there even a hundred million marks?”

  “You mean physical coins?” Cora laughed. “Almost certainly not. If you count bank deposits, outstanding credit, metal value of—”

  “Never mind.” Raesinia pressed her hands to her temples. “Is it enough?”

  “I think so. I’ll need a couple of days to put the appropriate transactions through.”

  “Then what?” The broad outline of the plan had been Raesinia’s, an idea that would never have entered Cora’s tidy, rule-​abiding mind. Once it had come to actually implementing it, though, she’d been dependent on Cora’s acumen. As usual.

  “Then we move to the next step,” Cora said. “The warning shot.”

  *

  Raesinia’s negotiations with Goodman had taken on a slightly dreamlike quality as well.

  Officially, her engagement to the second prince, and the deal that had brokered it, was still a secret. But there seemed to be no secrets in the Keep, and it had become clear almost immediately that Goodman knew everything. Raesinia knew that he knew, and vice versa, which meant that they were both well aware that their meetings had become a farce. Goodman continued to stick to his guns on the matter of Vordanai debt, even while he knew that his monarch was preparing to overrule him.

  Maybe it’s just for public consumption. There had to be some people in the Keep who didn’t know the secret, and probably a lot more outside. It would look strange if the negotiations stopped, especially after the king had ordered the navy dispatched to Vordan’s aid. Or else he’s maneuvering against Georg and the other Honest Fellows. By maintaining his resistance, Goodman might be intending to show that he wasn’t willing to be bullied, or possibly he was setting himself up to win future concessions from the throne.

  It was impossible to know, and for Raesinia’s purposes it didn’t particularly matter. All it meant was that she had to sit through sessions that had long since become utterly rote. She would be on one side of a table, with Eric beside her, and Goodman would be on the other with a gaggle of aides. Raesinia would read her statement, which contained an offer to negotiate a settlement on Vordan’s prerevolution debts. It was the most generous offer Cora thought they could afford, but it was clearly unacceptable to Goodman, who in turn would read his own statement about the sanctity of contracts and his unwillingness to impose burdens on private bondholders.

  Then they would bow to each other and leave through opposite doors. Inevitably, there was a small crowd waiting outside, kept at bay by Jo and Barely. Nobles and other palace hangers-on congregated in hopes of a quick word from Raesinia, who ordinarily didn’t oblige them. Today, however, she paused as a young man in a smart suit stepped in front of her and begged her pardon.

  “Your Highness,” he said, when he saw she was looking at him. “I’m Count Edward Holish. I was hoping to invite you to a small gathering—”

  There was a general clearing of throats, and other gentlemen stepped forward, some of them waving introductory cards.

  “—​a dinner—”

  “—​perhaps you’d enjoy—”

  “—​a tour of the harbor—”

  How popular we are. Now that the king’s offer was widely known, it was clear that her favor suddenly had considerable value. Hence the self-​serving courtiers pushing and shoving to present their invitations and the steady stream of perfumed envelopes making their way
to her door.

  “I’m sorry, gentlemen,” she said, a bit more loudly than was really polite. “I’m afraid my business here requires all my time at the present.” She allowed a little exasperation into her voice, and shook her head. “Not that we seem to be making much progress!”

  “Your Highness!” Eric said, not having to work hard to feign shock.

  Raesinia put on a guilty expression, like she’d been caught talking out of turn. The whispers had already started by the time Eric and her guards hustled her around the corner and out of sight.

  They went straight to Cora’s suite to wait for results. It didn’t take long—​after an hour, Cora came bounding in, grinning gleefully.

  “It’s working,” she said. “I think a dozen messengers must have gone straight to the market. Vor River Trading—​that’s us—​has dropped almost thirty percent in the last forty-​five minutes. And the securities market as a whole is down nearly twenty percent. It’s a bloodbath.”

  “When does the next message go out?” Raesinia said.

  “Soon,” Cora said breathlessly. “There’s still two hours until the market closes. I’m going to go see what happens.”

  Raesinia would have liked to go herself, but that would have tipped her hand. Instead, she returned to the room she shared with Matthew and kept waiting. The second prince was at the market, reassuring his friends and distributing Raesinia’s message.

  This was the part that had most worried her. She’d seen, back in the revolution, that once fear and panic were unleashed, they could prove almost impossible to stop. Her statement this afternoon, the seemingly banal admission that negotiations were going poorly, had been taken as the symbol it had been meant to be. If negotiations collapsed, Vordanai debt would be worthless, and companies that speculated in Vordanai debt—​like their own VRT—​would be in serious trouble.

  The new message said that Raesinia remained committed to finding a mutually acceptable solution to the debt problem, and hinted in the most oblique possible terms that she was aware of the conditions in the markets in general and concerned about VRT in particular. This would probably go over most heads, but the friends of Second Prince Matthew, who had bought into the venture on the strength of his promise that he had Raesinia’s support, would hear it loud and clear. It should turn things around, making today’s scare brief. If greed is stronger than fear. That seemed likely—​this was Borel—​but...

  Raesinia didn’t relax until Cora returned, sending Barely over with a note. “VRT stable at -9, broader market -3. Hornets buzzing.” The last referred to Goodman and his friends among the Honest Fellows, whose market activities Cora had been observing. The wild fluctuations had no doubt alarmed them, and Raesinia felt that she could count on them to take the appropriate steps.

  So far, so good.

  *

  “It’s Master Goodman,” Barely said through the door. “He wants to see you immediately.”

  “We have a conference scheduled for Thursday,” Raesinia said, feigning confusion. They were in Cora’s room, sitting behind the heavy dining table.

  “This is not an official meeting.” Goodman’s voice was muffled. “This is urgent. And I suspect you would prefer to be discreet.”

  I would prefer to be discreet, would I? She kept her voice neutral and hid her smile. “Very well, I suppose. Let him in.” She got up, exchanging glances with Cora.

  The door opened. Goodman was in his usual suit, but there was something very slightly off, his cuffs uneven and his tie askew. For him, Raesinia suspected, this was the equivalent of turning up to work stark naked. He pushed into the room, and she had to give ground rapidly to avoid a collision. He glared at her, ignoring Cora completely.

  “I expected better,” he said. “I don’t know why. In retrospect, this is exactly the sort of pathetic grubbing so typical of Vordanai. But I thought that being royalty meant you’d have at least the pretense of honor. More fool me, I suppose.”

  “My dear Master Goodman,” Raesinia said, pretending shock. “What exactly are you implying?”

  “We can drop the act, as long as we’re alone.”

  “We’re not alone,” Raesinia said. “I think you know my companion Cora?”

  Goodman waved a hand impatiently and sighed. “If I must spell it out, I’m referring to your involvement in the Vor River Trading concern. Do you deny it?”

  “I suppose it would be silly to try, seeing as you seem so certain.”

  “Believe me, I didn’t want to do this.” Goodman took a deep breath, steadying himself on the back of a chair. “The thought that a member of one of the great royal families of the continent—​albeit one fallen on hard times—​would stoop to entangling herself in trade out of pecuniary interest was the farthest thing from my mind. However, after the events of the last few days and my own investigations, it has become clear to me that you have done exactly that, and furthermore have used your privileged position to profit from our private discussions. I am, frankly, ashamed, and I suspect His Majesty feels likewise.”

  Goodman took a deep breath as he finished this speech, and Raesinia gave him a moment to recover. She walked to the sideboard, where there were several dusty bottles of amber liquor.

  “Would you like a drink, Master Goodman?”

  “I would not,” Goodman said stiffly. “I ask again. Do you deny any of this?”

  “Let me see if I understand what you’re accusing me of. You think that I fed information from our negotiations to this trading company, in order to unfairly make money for myself in the market?”

  “That is exactly what you did,” Goodman said. “And it is highly illegal under Borelgai law, I might add.”

  “Would this be a good time to point out that Vor River Trading has not, in fact, made any money?” Raesinia poured a tumbler half full of sticky spirit, and carried it back to the table.

  “I don’t see that it matters,” Goodman said. “I never accused you of competence in your crimes.”

  “I see. So, what do you intend to do?”

  “In light of your agreement with His Majesty, I am prepared to be lenient,” Goodman said, swelling visibly. “The concern will be wound up immediately. You will be confined to the Keep until your marriage, with or without an escort from the second prince. Your companions”—​he glanced derisively at Cora—“will be returned to Vordan by the first available vessel.”

  “And the creditors?”

  “What? What creditors?”

  “The creditors,” Raesinia said patiently, “of Vor River Trading. As I said, the concern has done poorly. If it’s wound up, I doubt there will be enough to pay its debts.”

  “Don’t expect me to believe you honestly care,” Goodman said. “But His Majesty will, I’m sure, make your creditors whole.” He smiled nastily. “I imagine we’ll recoup our losses from Vordan eventually.”

  “Oh, good.” Raesinia turned to Cora. “How much would that be, do you think? In round figures.”

  “In round figures?” Cora’s lips moved soundlessly. “Six hundred, maybe seven. Certainly not more than eight...”

  Goodman rolled his eyes. Cora counted, ostentatiously, on her fingers, and then grinned.

  “Yes, that’s about right. Call it seven hundred million marks.”

  The merchant’s face clouded. “What sort of nonsense is this?”

  “We’ve had quite an influx of investors of late,” Raesinia said. “And with Second Prince Matthew vouching for us, your banks have been more than happy to extend credit, which has allowed us to leverage those investments—​that’s the term, isn’t it? Leverage?”

  “You’ve lost seven hundred million marks?”

  “We haven’t lost it yet,” Cora said. “It’s invested in the market for Vordanai debt derivatives.”

  “We bet on Vordan’s not having to pay, in other words. For some reason there was no shortage of investors willing to take the other end of that bet. So if Vordan does pay out in the end, we’ll be in quite
the hole.”

  “I see,” Goodman said grimly. “Clearly I underestimated your capacity for dishonor. And this is supposed to force my hand, is it? Make me grant you a favorable deal?”

  “Something like that,” Raesinia said.

  Goodman grinned like a snake. “Passing clever, I’ll admit. But contracts are just paper. If the king declares them invalid, your little attempt at blackmail goes up in smoke.”

  “That would be very interesting,” Raesinia said. “Cora, do you want to explain this part?”

  “Well,” she said cheerfully, “first of all, those contracts are pledged as collateral to the banks, in exchange for the loans that paid for them. So if they go up in smoke, then a lot of angry creditors are going to come looking for VRT.”

  “That is hardly my problem.”

  “What they’re going to find,” Cora went on, “is that our accounting has been... well, a bit irregular. Specifically, we’ve sold more shares in the company than actually exist.”

  “A lot more,” Raesinia said.

  “Each mark of income is about thirteen thousand percent overpledged,” Cora agreed. “There are a lot of investors holding a lot of paper that will suddenly be worth essentially nothing. When they find out, there’ll be a panic.”

  “You—” Goodman looked from Cora to Raesinia and back again. “You didn’t. That’s absurd.”

  “I suppose I’m just not very good with numbers,” Cora said.

  “Given the size of the company, if VRT goes down hard, the whole market in Vordanai derivatives is going down with it,” Raesinia said. “Once it gets out where our loans came from, there’ll be runs on the banks. And then the banks that lent to those banks, and so on.”

  “Including the Yellow Shield Bank,” Cora said. “They’re one of our largest creditors. And I believe you’re the majority owner, aren’t you, Master Goodman?”

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Goodman said. “If a breath of this hits the market—”

  “Then everything collapses like a house of cards. That was more or less the point.” Raesinia picked up the tumbler again. “Are you sure I can’t offer you that drink?”