The Price of Valor (33 page)

Winter struggled to her feet, clutching the deep cuts the old man's nails had left in her arm. Jane, musket still raised, looked around the room and then back to her.

“What the
fuck
?” she said. “Holy Karis buggered with a bloody pike, what the
fuck
was that?”

Two soldiers were dead, Cyte was badly hurt, and Winter's own pain was rapidly closing around her. But she couldn't deny—even if it made her an awful person—a tiny bit of pleasure at the look of utter stupefaction on Jane's face.

MARCUS

S
tanding in front of the polished dining room table of Twin Turrets, looking down at the hastily sketched map and deciding how best to deploy his forces, Marcus felt a powerful sense of coming home. It brought to mind memories of Khandar, which appeared increasingly attractive in retrospect; the situation had been desperate, but at least the sides had been clear and the enemies obvious.
Until the very end.

He shied away from that thought, memories of his brief time with Jen Alhundt still too painful to touch, and returned his mind to the current problem. Desperate as Khandar had been, he didn't think he'd ever led
this
small a contingent. His army consisted of six Mierantai riflemen, two half-trained rankers, one completely unblooded and the other female, plus himself and a teenage financier.
Oh, and the Queen of Vordan.

On the other hand, it was unlikely that the enemy expected them. This was good, because if Marcus had his way the whole thing would go off without a shot being fired. The Patriot Guard might work for Maurisk, but they were still Vordanai, and for the most parts they
were
patriots.
We can't shoot them just for being in the way, not unless there's no other choice.

“This is what we know,” he said, tracing the outline of the big building on the map. “Cora's people have been keeping watch for the past few days, so we have a pretty good idea of what to expect.”

The girl blushed at the mention of her name and kept her eyes on the table. Cora's contacts, spread throughout the Oldtown and the rest of the South Bank,
had been invaluable. Boys who normally earned a few coppers keeping tabs on food shipments coming up the Green Road or boat traffic on the river had instead turned their eyes to the innocuous warehouse off the River Road, so nondescript that it was only labeled with the number 192.

Raesinia stood beside Cora, one hand on her shoulder. Lieutenant Uhlan was there as well, along with Hayver and Andy.
With only eight soldiers, the line between officers and men gets a little fuzzy,
Marcus reflected.

“It doesn't look like there's any guards within the building itself,” Marcus went on. “There's only one door, though, and there's four men on it day or night. They're all in plainclothes, but we're pretty sure they're Patriot Guards. Around here”—he tapped a spot on the map just in front of the warehouse's front door, where a pier jutted out into the river—“they have a riverboat they tie up at night. Four more men there, two sleeping and two on watch.”

“There'd be less opposition during the day, then,” Uhlan said.

“We're hoping we don't have to fight them at all,” Marcus said. “You want to explain what you found, Cora?”

The expression on her face made it clear that she would rather not, but Raesinia squeezed her arm, and she spoke in a small voice.

“Th-there's a back door. Or there was. Someone got rid of it, the last time they fixed that place up. But Gregory went up to have a look, and it's not bricked in, just boarded up and plastered. A man with a crowbar should be able to make short work of it.”

Uhlan raised his eyebrows, and Marcus held up a hand to forestall his objection. “Yes, that'll be loud enough that the guards will hear. So we're going to need a distraction. That's the part I'm still working on.” He tapped the pier again. “We'll hire a boat to drop us by the door. After that, I'm thinking that someone needs to get onto the Guards' boat from the river side and set a fire. Once that's got them occupied, we should be able to get the door open and get in without anybody getting wise. Once we have what we need, we can get back out by boat.”

The Mierantai officer considered for a moment, then nodded. “Seems simple enough. When are we going in?”

“Tomorrow night. Before that, we'll need a few things. Cloaks for everyone, and some hurricane lamps. That warehouse may be stuffed with flash powder, and I don't want to take any chances.”

“I can get whatever you need,” Andy said. She sounded eager to be a part of things. “I'll make a trip down this evening.”

“Good. Lieutenant, anything else you think of that we might require, let Ranker Dracht know.”

“Yes, sir.” Uhlan saluted. “I'll speak to my men.”

He bustled off, and Marcus stepped away from the table to let the others know they were dismissed. Andy followed Uhlan, with Hayver trailing in her wake. Raesinia tried to catch Marcus' eye, but he pretended not to notice, slipping out of the dining room and up to his office while she spoke with Cora in low, urgent tones. It might have been a cowardly move, but Marcus was expecting harsh words from his monarch, and she often didn't give enough thought to the possibility of being overheard.

In any event, it only won him a few minutes' respite. He'd managed to uncork his ink bottle and sharpen his quill by the time there was a knock at the door.

“It's me,” Raesinia said. “I need to talk to you.”

“Come in,” Marcus said, making a show of setting his pen aside as she entered. “But I still need to write to our illustrious general.”

News of the great victory at Gaafen and the fall of Desland had come via flik-flik within hours, but only trickled into the rest of the city by more conventional means over the past few days. The mood was subdued. While the surrender of a League city was by no means a small triumph, the Hamveltai army at Antova made it a temporary one. It was widely agreed that Janus would have to confront the fortress next, or risk being cut off from Vordan in the event of a sudden enemy thrust. The general opinion of his prospects seemed low, though Janus' messages to Marcus were nothing if not confident.

Raesinia frowned. “It hardly matters, does it? It's not like he can send us any help.”

“I like to keep him up-to-date.” Marcus sighed. “Maybe it's just for my benefit, but it eases my mind. But all right, shut the door.”

Raesinia did, then stood opposite the desk, looking thoughtful.

“I have an idea,” she said finally. “For the distraction.”

“Oh?”

“I talked a little with Viera, one of the students you rescued.”

“The Vheedai girl?” Marcus nodded. “What about her?”

“She was studying with your friend the Preacher.”

Marcus nodded again, a bit slower. She'd mentioned that, but it hadn't really registered.

“And before that, she worked with an alchemist in Hamvelt,” Raesinia went
on. “I think we should bring her in and put her to work on making our distraction a good one.”

“That does sound better than just lobbing a torch over the rail,” Marcus said. “But do you think we can trust her?”

“I think so. She seems to . . . have a lot of respect for you.” Raesinia looked slightly embarrassed, for some reason, and shook her head. “She certainly has no reason to help Maurisk or the Guard. And she was working with the Preacher before I was even attacked, so she can't be a plant—”

“All right.” Marcus held up his hands. “Will you talk to her?”

“I can.” Raesinia fixed Marcus with a hard stare. “I also talked to Cora. She said you asked her to come along.”

Marcus took a deep breath and blew it out. “I did.”

“You know that's crazy. She's not cut out for this.”

“It won't be dangerous if the plan works,” Marcus said, knowing as he spoke how weak that was.
Since when has a plan ever gone perfectly?
“We need someone who knows what to look for. We'll probably only have a few minutes once we get in.”

“You can't bring her,” Raesinia said flatly. “She's my friend, and I love her, but she needs a book or a banknote in her hand, not a pistol.”

“No one said I was giving her a pistol. Besides, you were the one who got her involved in the first place.”

“She's been
involved
the whole time. She was with us from the beginning, before the revolution. You saw what she did for the refugees before we even got there. It's not that she isn't
brave
, but she's not a soldier. You can't take her into danger like this!”

“I don't have a choice,” Marcus said. “We're shorthanded as it is. If I thought I could get away with it, I'd leave Andy and Cora here with you, but—”

“You . . .” Raesinia paused, and cocked her head. “You'd leave
Andy
and take
Hayver
? Hayver would trip over his own foot even if he only had one leg!”

Marcus had to admit that, if push came to shove, Andy would probably be more useful to have at his back in a fight than the awkward boy.
But still.
Seeing Andy with her face bruised and bloodied, and knowing she'd gotten that way defending
him
made Marcus feel deeply wrong. Inadequate, as though he'd failed in some primal duty he could barely articulate. It was not a position he wanted to put himself in again.

“It doesn't matter,” Raesinia said brusquely, “because the solution is obvious.
I'll come with you, and Cora will stay at Mrs. Felda's. I can find the evidence we need as easily as she can.”

“No,” Marcus said. “Out of the question.”

“I—”

“You are the
Queen of Vordan
. You are not going to come with us to skulk into some warehouse that could easily be a trap!”

“But you're willing to bring a girl like Cora along?”

“Don't think I like it, but yes. Raesinia—Your Majesty—you are
more valuable
than she is, whether you like it or not.”

“That—”

“If Cora were to die,” Marcus ground out, over whatever Raesinia had been about to say, “it would be a tragedy. She's a wonderful person, and I understand that she's your friend. But if anything happens to
you
, the entire kingdom will suffer. Millions of people, just as wonderful as Cora. You are the last of the Orboans. Without you, at worst we'd have civil war. At best we'd have someone like Maurisk claiming the throne.”

“Or someone like Janus?” Raesinia snapped.

“Janus swore an oath,” Marcus said. “As did I. We are bound to protect and defend the kingdom and the queen. I can't do that if I deliberately take you into danger.”

“So you'll leave me here,” she said. “Unguarded.”

“We'll lock the building down. I should be gone only a few hours.”

Raesinia's face was calm, but he could see rage in the depths of her eyes. “And if I order you to let me come?”

“Then you can find someone else to lead this raid.”

“I could have you thrown in prison.” She put on a vicious smile. “Or sent to the Spike.”

“That would be Your Majesty's prerogative.”

There was another drawn-out silence. Then, without a word, Raesinia turned away, wrenched the door open, and disappeared, slamming it so hard it bounced off the doorframe and rebounded. Marcus winced.

*   *   *

He got to sleep surprisingly easily that night, settling into the soft bed in his second-floor room more comfortably than he had done in weeks. His dreams were full of fire, and when a knock at the door dragged him out of slumber, he found himself reflexively looking around for signs of a blaze.

“What?” he managed, blinking and shaking his head. “Is something wrong?”

“Open the door,” Raesinia said.

“Raesinia? What's happened?”

“Nothing's happened. Just do it.”

Marcus rolled out of bed and pulled on his undershirt before crossing the room and pulling the door open. He'd extinguished all the candles before going to bed, but left the curtains open, and a square of moonlight fell on the carpet and edged the shadows with a silvery glow.

Raesinia pushed into the room before he could say anything, slamming the door behind her. Marcus hastily backed away a step as she turned to shoot the bolt, then fixed him with a stare.

“Your Majesty . . . ,” he said. “I . . . uh . . .”

He noticed—it was impossible
not
to notice—that Raesinia was wearing a sheer silk nightgown that did little or nothing to hide the shape of the figure beneath it. A woman's figure, Marcus had to admit. The queen's diminutive height made it easy to forget that she'd passed her twentieth year. When he wrenched his eyes away from
that
, he took in the knife in her right hand. It was a long, thick blade, probably filched from the butcher's block in the kitchen.

“You shouldn't be here,” Marcus said. “Dressed like that.” He took another step backward, doing his best to keep an eye on Raesinia without actually looking at her. “And . . . perhaps you should put down the knife?”

“Colonel Marcus d'Ivoire,” Raesinia said, with a note of command in her voice. “Sit down on the bed and be quiet.”

“I—”

“Am I your queen or not?”

“You are,” Marcus said. “Your Majesty.”

He sat, and she stepped forward, into the square of moonlight. It made her skin look as pale as parchment, and her eyes glowed.

“I am going to show you something,” she said. “It's something I have never shown to anyone, at least not of my own free will. I'm doing this because I trust you, and because I don't want us to have any more . . . misunderstandings.”

Marcus swallowed hard. “I don't understand.”

“If you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, the consequences would be . . . dire. For me.” She cocked her head. “Janus already knows, of course. I know you don't understand. Just nod.”

Marcus nodded.

“Fuck.” Raesinia took a deep breath. “God, sometimes I wish I could still get drunk. All right. You helped Janus capture the Thousand Names in Khandar, correct?”

“Yes.” A chill ran along Marcus' spine. “How do you—”

“So you know magic is real,” Raesinia interrupted. “You know that a person can carry a demon inside her.”