The Infernal Battalion

by Django Wexler

  In Winter’s pack, down under her spare clothes, was a small notebook into which Sothe had copied relevant details from the Concordat surveillance reports of Ellie d’Ivoire. Winter had read through them, weirdly guilty, like she was opening a window into someone else’s life. Ellie’s family had lived not far from here, in a solid, respectable house with a lawn and a front drive, like the ones they drove past. If Duke Orlanko hadn’t issued the order for casual murder, this could have been Winter’s life, growing up as a businessman’s daughter in these safe, quiet streets. Then what? Getting married to some merchant’s son? Or taking up the family business—​after all, her brother had chosen a different career.

  My brother. It was no use saying it to herself. It didn’t seem real. What do I do with a brother?

  Sothe wanted her to talk to Marcus. That was obvious, even if she wouldn’t come out and say it. Her search for Ellie d’Ivoire was a self-​imposed penance, but she wasn’t willing to betray Winter’s secrets in order to complete it. Does it really matter, though? If I die fighting the Beast, then Sothe can do whatever she likes. And if, somehow, Winter survived... then I can think about what happens next.

  The northern boundary of Vordan City was difficult to place. The houses gradually grew larger, the estates more extensive, until they were riding along a country road rather than a city street. Small, well-​manicured forests appeared among the elaborate gardens. Farther along, and the hedge-​and-​fence boundary of Ohnlei came into view, enclosing the vast royal estate that included the palace, Ministry buildings, and mansions of the favored elite.

  Rather than going to the grand main gate, their driver took the carriage on a curving road that skirted the fence, coming to a much smaller and plainer entrance close to the palace proper. Two soldiers in the uniform of the Grenadier Guards stepped forward, and the driver presented his pass to them. Whatever it said, it must have been satisfactory, since they waved the carriage through.

  “I wondered if we’d have trouble getting into the palace without causing an uproar,” Abraham said. “Evidently not.”

  “Sothe was the head of Raesinia’s security for years,” Winter said. “I’m sure she knows every way in and out of here.”

  The carriage bumped along a gravel drive at the rear of the palace, past the bulk of the Prince’s Tower. More guards were in evidence, but no one challenged them when they pulled up at what looked like a kitchen door. Winter and Alex got out, and Abraham helped Ennika down, while their driver opened the door without knocking and went inside. A few moments later he came back with a young woman in palace livery, who bowed.

  “She’ll take you up to the queen,” the driver said. “Best of luck.” He nodded again, hopped back on the box, and snapped the reins, the carriage’s wheels spitting gravel as it got moving.

  The young woman was even less talkative. She merely beckoned, and Winter and the others followed. They went through an empty kitchen and into a narrow corridor, which led to a servants’ stair. From there they followed a twisting path Winter couldn’t hope to replicate, never encountering another living soul. Their guide never faltered, and eventually they came to a door, which she opened to reveal a heavily decorated hallway, with cut-​glass windows and thick blue-​and-​silver carpet. The door they’d come out of closed flush with the wall, so as to be nearly invisible.

  Ahead was a much grander door, carved hardwood depicting an armored figure on a rearing horse. Two guards with muskets stood in front of it, staring curiously at the group of newcomers. Winter’s guide held up a hand for her to wait, but Winter was already stepping forward.

  “Barely!” she said. “Joanna!”

  One of the guards, a tall woman, blinked and then made a rapid series of hand signs in the direction of her partner. The other, a short, skinny woman, stared at Winter, eyes going wide.

  “Balls of the fucking Beast,” she said. “Sir? General Ihernglass? You have got to be joking!”

  “No need to stand on formality,” Winter said, with a broad grin.

  “Shit. Uh. Sorry, sir.” Barely straightened to attention, joining Joanna, who was already saluting. “You’re just the absolute last person I expected to step out of the woodwork.”

  “Believe me, I don’t blame you.” Winter looked over her shoulder. “Can you tell the queen I’m here? Quietly, please. I’m not eager to alert the whole palace.”

  “Of course. One moment.”

  Barely opened the big door enough to slip inside. A few moments later she pulled it wide and beckoned. Winter looked for the servant, but she’d slipped away, all in silence. With Alex by her side and Abraham and Ennika behind her, Winter went into the royal suite.

  It looked more or less as she expected the queen’s residence to look, with polished, gilded furniture and paintings of frowning nobility. Raesinia stood in front of her writing desk, grinning broadly. Winter resisted the urge to give her a nonchalant wave, and bowed instead. Alex and Abraham followed suit.

  “Winter.” Raesinia shook her head. “God Almighty. We hoped... but I didn’t think...”

  There were, Winter was astonished to see, tears in the queen’s eyes. She coughed uncomfortably.

  “I’m. Um. Sorry it took me so long.” Stepping sideways, she waved a hand at her companions. “I think you’ve met Alex. This is Abraham, a healer from the Mountain, and Ennika, a... refugee. I wouldn’t have made it without them.”

  “They all have demons? I knew I felt something in the palace.”

  Winter nodded.

  “Welcome, all of you,” Raesinia said. “Winter—”

  “I know. We should talk, alone.” Winter turned to the others. “If you don’t mind waiting for a moment.”

  Alex was looking around with obviously avaricious eyes, as though she were totaling up the cost of the furnishings. Abraham nodded kindly and directed Ennika to a seat at a nearby table. Raesinia reached out and rang a small silver bell that hung from the wall.

  “Eric will be here in a moment,” the queen said. “If you need anything—​drinks, food—​just tell him.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” Alex said.

  Raesinia waved vaguely as she retreated to an inner room, with Winter following behind. This was her bedchamber, with a huge four-​poster bed shrouded by translucent curtains dominating. Raesinia shut the door behind them and let out a deep breath.

  “Not that I mind, obviously,” she said, “but can I ask how you got into the palace without anyone telling me?”

  “Sothe,” Winter said. “She found us in Murnsk and brought us here.”

  “She’s here?” Raesinia said.

  “In the city, at least,” Winter said. “There was business to take care of, apparently. But she told me to tell you that she’s sorry and that she’ll be there when you need her.”

  There was a long silence, punctuated by a soft thump as Raesinia slumped back against the closed door. The tears in her eyes threatened to overflow, and she wiped her sleeve across her face, sniffing.

  “When I most need her,” Raesinia said in a small voice. “I’ve needed her ever since she left. Idiot woman.”

  “I know the situation is... complicated,” Winter said, shifting awkwardly. “Whatever she’s doing, she has a good reason.”

  “Of course she does.” Raesinia blinked rapidly and pushed herself away from the door. “God. I’m sorry. It’s been a difficult few days.”

  “I understand,” Winter said. “How much do you know about what’s happening?”

  “About the war, you mean?”

  “About the Beast.”

  Raesinia stared at her. “How can you know about that?”

  “I was there,” Winter said. “When it escaped from Elysium.”

  “Escaped?” Raesinia shook her head. “You may need to start at the beginning.”

  There wasn’t time to go over everything, of course. Even a summary took a while. Winter kept to the basics—​the nature of the Beast, its ability to control minds, its unstoppabl
e spread throughout Murnsk and its implacable pursuit of Infernivore. While she spoke, Raesinia walked slowly to the bed and sat down, as though she didn’t trust her legs.

  When Winter came to Ennika’s role in the story, the queen brought her up short. “Janus? She said Janus spoke to her?”

  “Yes,” Winter said. “We weren’t certain if we could believe that, but it’s hard to think what the Beast has to gain by pretending to be Janus. I know it sounds crazy—”

  “Not... entirely.” Raesinia shook her head. “Marcus met with Janus, during the campaign in the Pale valley. Janus demanded he surrender, but while they were talking he passed him a note. As though he had to... slip it past someone. It said that Janus’ mind was not his own and that you were our best chance against the Beast. That’s the only reason I know the name.”

  “Saints and martyrs,” Winter said. “So he really could be... alive in there? Aware? Whatever that means.”

  “And trying to help us,” Raesinia said.

  “Or trick us into helping him. I wouldn’t put either past Janus,” Winter said. But she had to admit the corroboration lifted some of her doubt. “And now he’s coming here?”

  Raesinia nodded. “With an army that’s at least twice as strong as everything we’ve got.”

  “Ennika said the core, the Beast’s original body, is coming with him.”

  “If we kill that, does it hurt the thing?”

  “Not seriously,” Winter said. “But if I can get to it with Infernivore, the Eldest at the mountain thought I might be able to destroy it for good. That has to be the chance Janus talked about.” Winter took a deep breath. “If I push on north, I should be able to find it before he reaches the city. I don’t know exactly what will happen if I succeed—”

  “You’ll never get close,” Raesinia said. “Don’t be stupid. The Beast knows this is a possibility, even if it doesn’t know you’re here. The core will be well guarded.”

  “What else can we do?” Winter said. “I have to try.”

  “We can figure out a way that gives you a chance at success,” Raesinia said. “Which means not running off half-​cocked. We may not be able to match Janus’ numbers, but he’ll have to at least deploy for battle when he comes against us, and that alone will give you an easier shot at the core.” She got up from the bed, her face all decision. “We need to talk to Marcus. He’s out there trying to bang the fresh recruits into some kind of army—”

  “That may not be a good idea,” Winter said, a little desperately. “Time could be important.”

  “Like I said, if we’re only going to get one chance, we have to make it count. Besides, I’m sure there are other people you’re going to want to see.” Raesinia smiled again. “You’re back from the dead. Do you have any idea—”

  “No,” Winter said. “Please. You can’t... tell people I’m here.” Cyte. “I can’t...”

  The room shimmered. This time, Winter realized, she was the one on the verge of tears.

  There was a pause. After a moment she felt Raesinia take her hand, pulling her to a seat on a velvet-​cushioned chaise. The queen sat down across from her, cross-​legged on an ottoman.

  “Winter,” Raesinia said. “What’s going on?”

  “I just...” Winter swallowed hard. “When I confronted the Beast the first time, at Elysium, it nearly devoured me at the same time I was using Infernivore to try to destroy it. Assuming I succeed this time, I’m not sure that it... won’t succeed, too. I don’t know if there’ll be anything left of me afterward.”

  “Oh,” Raesinia said. Her gaze was far away.

  “It has to be done,” Winter said. “I know that. If it’s me or all of humanity, obviously it has to be me. I’m not... afraid.” That was a lie. Sometimes she felt like she was nothing but afraid. “But the people in the Second Division, Marcus... they already think I’m dead. Wouldn’t it be more cruel to them to come back for a little while and then to leave again?”

  Raesinia sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “Then I should stay quiet—”

  “It might be more cruel, in the end,” Raesinia interrupted. “But I do know that if you asked them, if you gave them the choice, they would want to see you again. However briefly you were going to stay.”

  Winter stared at her. Her throat was thick. Raesinia looked down, her hands interlocking in her lap.

  “I’m hardly one to go around dispensing wisdom,” she said. “Queen or not. I just thought...” She trailed off.

  “You’re right,” Winter said. “They would want to see me.” I’m just scared. Scared to see Marcus and of all that would mean. Scared to see Cyte again, and then face not seeing her. And the others. Abby. Feor. Sevran. I can’t just slink away. Winter swallowed again and sat up straighter. “Your plan makes sense. If you’re willing to help. “

  “Good,” Raesinia said. “I’ll send a messenger to Marcus, and we can get started.”

  “Actually, I think I need to speak to Marcus alone. If you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.” Raesinia stood up, then looked back at Winter. “Do you need to try to find one of your old uniforms? The ones that, ah...”

  Her disguise. Winter looked down at herself. She’d had the chance to wash all her clothes aboard ship, though they were still heavily patched and motley. Her traveling outfit wasn’t particularly feminine, trousers and a loose shirt, but neither was it intended to conceal, like her tailored uniforms. Even her hair had grown out, almost to her shoulders.

  “No,” she said. Something inside her twisted. “I don’t think so.”

  *

  Winter sat in one of the palace’s innumerable parlors, in a wingback chair beside a roaring fire that dispelled the late-​autumn chill. Servants had brought a glass of wine—​rather good wine—​and a tray of fruit and cheese. She waited, tense as a cat, until she heard booted footsteps outside the door.

  Marcus came in, brushing flecks of mud from the sleeves of his uniform coat. He’d aged visibly since Winter had last seen him, the dark circles under his eyes hardening into permanent fixtures, the hair at his temples and in his beard flecked with gray. He also seemed, in some indefinable way, smaller. In her memory, especially from back in Khandar, he loomed as enormous and solid as a mountain. This was just a man, a decade or so older than her and half a head taller, weary after a long day and short of sleep.

  She wondered what he saw, looking at her. It took him a moment, and then his eyes widened. He closed the door behind him carefully.

  “General Ihernglass,” he said. “By God it’s good to see you again.”

  “You as well, General d’Ivoire,” Winter said. “You’ve talked to the queen?”

  “She filled me in,” Marcus said, crossing the room. “Though I have some questions for you about the Beast. I take it you’ve seen it in action.”

  “More than enough for one lifetime,” Winter said. “But I need to talk to you about something else first.”

  “Something else?” Marcus frowned.

  “It’s...” She took a deep breath. “Go ahead and sit down. It may take a few minutes.”

  Marcus looked at her curiously, but took the other seat, stretching out to put his boots near the fire. Winter leaned across to pass him the second glass of wine, which he accepted gratefully.

  “I see you’re in your... female disguise again,” he said, after a sip. “Good thinking. If Janus and the Beast are looking for General Ihernglass, they’re hardly going to question a ragged girl.”

  Winter set her jaw. Marcus had seen her without her disguise once before, when she was working with Jane’s Leatherbacks, and he’d had the same response then. Sothe was right. He truly doesn’t want to see.

  “First of all,” she said carefully, “let’s get that out of the way. This is not a disguise, Marcus.”

  “I mean...” He waved his hands vaguely. “It’s not as obvious as last time, but—”

  “I mean it is not a disguise at all,” Winter said. “I am a woman.�
��

  “You...” Marcus blinked. “You’re...”

  “Please don’t make me pull up my shirt and demonstrate,” Winter said.

  “That, uh, won’t be necessary,” Marcus said hastily. He stared at her. “You’re... I mean... since Khandar?”

  “Since I was born, as far as I know,” Winter said.

  “How? How did you...?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  He thought about that for a moment. “No,” he said. “Not really. But why?”

  “Because you would have thrown me out of the army if I hadn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t have...” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have thrown you out. I would have made certain you were taken care of.”

  “I’m sure you would have, but that’s not the point.”

  “Why join the army at all?” Marcus said. “Why would a girl...? I mean, why would you want that?”

  “You’ve been commanding the Girls’ Own, I understand,” Winter said. “Ask them.”

  “That’s different,” Marcus said. “I admit, at the beginning, I was... opposed to the idea. But the women in the Girls’ Own joined up because they wanted to defend Vordan when it was under attack.”

  Or because it was the only way out of wherever they started, Winter thought. Or out of a marriage they hated, or away from a father who beat them. Or because they wanted an adventure. Or a hundred other reasons. But she remained silent.

  “I understand that,” Marcus went on. “When your country is in danger, sometimes you have to do things that... aren’t usual. But you were in Khandar for three years before the Redemption, weren’t you? God, you must have been what, eighteen when you arrived?”

  “Twenty,” Winter corrected.

  “Why, then?”

  “That’s the second part. The more important part.” Winter paused, gathering her courage. “I grew up in an institution. A school called Mrs. Wilmore’s Royal Benevolent Home for Wayward Youth.” From the way Marcus’ face went still, she knew he recognized the name. “It... wasn’t a good place, and I ran away. I wanted to get as far from there as I possibly could.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if I was in my right mind, to be honest. But the recruiting sergeants weren’t hard to trick, and Khandar is a hell of a long way from anywhere.” She let out a long breath. “Did Raesinia tell you how we got back to Vordan?”