Page 21 of The Infernal Battalion

“Good luck to you, too,” she said, stepping back.

The Ghost nodded and raised his arms. Wind swirled around him, carrying the hot, dry taste of the desert, incongruous in this mountain hideaway. Sand rose into a whirlwind, obscuring him from view, and then streamed off into the air, leaving behind nothing but a bare patch of earth.

“That would be very convenient,” Alex said, looking down at her hands. “If my demon could do that, it would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

Winter turned to the Eldest. “My soldiers,” she said. “They can stay?”

The old man nodded. “Of course. The Beast has no reason to hunt them. And if you succeed, they can even return to Vordan. We don’t need to hide if the Black Priests have been destroyed.”

And if we fail, it won’t matter. Winter suppressed a grimace. “Thank you.”

“You are doing God’s work, Winter Ihernglass,” the Eldest said. “I pray that He will protect you.”

“I thought it was God who sent us the Beast of Judgment?” Winter said.

“He did,” Abraham said. “But He also sent us the means to keep ourselves safe.”

“God can be sort of a jerk that way,” Alex said.

4

Raesinia

Mistress Lagovil sniffed haughtily and drew herself up. With her hair piled on top of her head in elegant disarray, she was intimidatingly tall, a head and a half higher than her queen. Raesinia had to fight not to hunch her shoulders like a child being scolded.

“I see no reason why war, if there even is to be a war, should interrupt the social calendar,” she said. “Your father, may God rest his soul, held the view that Ohnlei was a precious jewel, to be preserved from the storms and furors of the outside world. He would have insisted that the Autumn Fete proceed as scheduled.”

“I’m sure,” Raesinia said, biting back the rest of her response. In the privacy of her own head, she added, Perhaps if he’d spent less time attending to the social calendar and more time paying attention to his wars, he might have won a few of them. Raesinia had loved her father, who’d been as kind and loving a parent as she could have hoped for given the demands of kingship, but she had to acknowledge that military matters had not been among his talents. She cleared her throat and said, “But it’s a matter of resources and popular opinion. A great deal of work still needs to be done here, and expenditures must be kept to a reasonable level while war is still a threat. The people will not tolerate a court that pampers itself while soldiers starve.”

“In your father’s day,” Mistress Lagovil said, “we were more concerned with what people of quality thought.”

“Times have changed,” Raesinia said grimly. We had a little bother with a revolution, you might have noticed. They nearly burned your precious palace down. Maybe it would have been better if they had. Then I could start from scratch and not put up with this—

Mistress Lagovil had the look of someone willing to continue the argument indefinitely, but thankfully at that point there was a rap on the door.

“Eric Vandalle to see you, Your Highness,” said Barely from outside.

“Finally,” Raesinia said, cutting off Mistress Lagovil before she had a chance to protest. “Excuse me. I’ve been expecting him.”

“Very well.” The frosty look on the head of staff’s impeccably made-up face said that the discussion wasn’t over, but she stood and walked stiffly to the door, making the palace livery look as martial as a soldier’s uniform. Raesinia waited until she was gone and Eric had stepped in to take her place before she relaxed.

“I should ask Marcus if the Girls’ Own needs any officers,” she said, to no one in particular. “I can just see Mistress Lagovil screaming her troops into line to repel a cavalry charge.”

Eric started to snigger, remembered himself, and turned it into a cough, then struggled to regain his impassivity. Raesinia gave him a few moments, then said, “I don’t suppose you actually have anything important to report?”

“I do, in fact,” Eric said, trying for dignity. “A message from Deputy—​that is, from Minister d’Andorre. He has, as of this morning, been confirmed in the post of Minister of War, and would greatly like to meet with you in his offices.”

“That’s why he’s been putting me off,” Raesinia muttered. She’d been trying to meet with d’Andorre for a week. Once again, she found herself deeply missing Sothe. Alek Giforte was competent, but she was certain Sothe could have done better. And Sothe would have had d’Andorre kneeling on the palace carpet instead of inviting her over to his ministry like some kind of supplicant.

Careful, careful. She couldn’t afford an open rift with the Deputies now, however obstreperous they might be. At least they’ve finally picked someone, and he’s a known quantity.

More news had trickled into the capital in the weeks since Janus’ announcement, and none of it was good. Janus had ridden south, to where part of the Grand Army had been left to guard the frontier. The divisions there had all declared for him immediately, without more than token resistance on the part of loyal officers. Reports had also confirmed that an unknown number of Murnskai troops marched with Janus, apparently under his command. All in all, it meant that the would-be emperor had collected an army at the northern frontier that was at least equal to the loyal Grand Army in size, if not larger.

Marcus had not been idle, of course. Garrisons, frontier posts, and training camps had been stripped to bring the divisions camped north of Vordan City up to strength, though the process was far from complete and many of the new recruits were raw. Other units were on their way, summoned from as far afield as the eastern border, but they would take weeks to arrive. The city was restive, with pro-​Janus demonstrations almost every day, and the Armsmen had been worn ragged preventing riots. This can’t go on. There would have to be a clash, sooner rather than later. And God help us if we don’t come out on top.

The Ministry of War was one of the big stone buildings that stood along the grand drive leading up to the front gates of the palace. Standing in front of it, Raesinia could look over her shoulder and see the ruined shell of the Cobweb, former headquarters of Duke Orlanko’s Ministry of Information. Hopefully, the sight will remind d’Andorre what can happen to ministers who get too big for their boots.

Smartly uniformed guards escorted Raesinia, her two attending soldiers, and Eric into the building and up to the top floor. The minister’s vast office faced a huge picture window, looking out across the palace grounds. D’Andorre had already settled himself behind the leather-​topped desk, but he had the decency to rise at his queen’s approach. Raesinia waved for him to sit, though she herself remained standing; if she’d sunk into one of the heavy armchairs, her head would barely have shown over the edge of the desk, and she didn’t want him literally looking down on her.