The Infernal Battalion

by Django Wexler

  “Commanding the Second. It seemed like a neat solution. They need a general who understands their... unique circumstances.”

  “And that’s supposed to be me?” Marcus shook his head. “I should refuse.”

  “I don’t think you can refuse an order from the Minister of War.”

  “I can resign,” Marcus said, jaw set. “God knows that would be a relief.”

  “D’Andorre might call that treason.”

  “Then he’s welcome to court-​martial me,” Marcus said, voice rising. “After everything I’ve done—”

  “I know.” Raesinia cut him off. “I may not be a military man, but I understand pride. I know it must be hard for you.”

  “It’s not about pride.” Marcus laughed bitterly. “Spend enough time with Janus and you soon get used to swallowing your pride. You’re asking me to take responsibility for a division, under a commander I don’t have any faith in. That means ordering my men—​men and women—​into fire when I don’t have confidence their sacrifice is going to be worthwhile. I can’t do it.”

  Raesinia swallowed past a lump in her throat. “Marcus...”

  “I’ll resign,” he said, suddenly animated. “I’ll stay here with you. I’m sure Alek can find some use for me with the Armsmen, and you’re going to need all the help you can get keeping the city under control.”

  “None of that will matter if Janus takes Ohnlei,” Raesinia said. “What I need is for you to be on the scene when things start to happen. Please, Marcus.”

  Marcus stared at her, jaw working.

  “Why me?” he said eventually. “You know I’m no match for Janus.”

  “The Deputies don’t trust you,” Raesinia said. “But I do.”

  And it’ll be safer for you with the army. The soldiers loved Marcus almost as much as they loved Janus. If he stayed, once they departed he’d be at the mercy of the politicians. And if things go wrong and they start looking for scapegoats, you’ll be much too convenient. At the height of the revolution, anyone of Borelgai or Murnskai extraction risked being strung from a lamppost by an angry mob. It wasn’t much of a stretch to think that Janus’ former subordinates might face the same fate when it was his army approaching.

  “If Kurot won’t listen to me, I’m not going to be able to help,” Marcus said after a long silence.

  “You know the other division commanders. If you work together...”

  “That sounds dangerously close to suggesting mutiny.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. Just... guide him.”

  “Saints and fucking martyrs.” Marcus slumped in his chair. “This is insane.”

  “There’s another thing,” Raesinia said. “Maybe you’re right about Janus. If someone is using him, you’ll be in the best place to do something about it. That could put an end to the whole thing at a stroke.”

  “That’s a long shot,” Marcus said.

  “It may be the best we’ve got.”

  Another pause. After a moment Marcus pushed himself to his feet.

  “All right. Tell them I’ll take the Second. Let’s hope this Kurot is willing to listen to reason.”

  “Thank you, Marcus.” Raesinia stood up as well. “I wish I could come with you.”

  “I don’t. It’s been a few hundred years since the queen’s place was on the battlefield.”

  Raesinia circled the table, feeling Marcus’ eyes on her. “I know. But it was... simpler when we were away from Ohnlei.”

  “I suppose.” He looked uncomfortable. “Those were unsettled times. I think we were... confused.”

  Raesinia fixed his gaze with her own. “What do you mean?”

  “Just that... I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Forget it.”

  “No. Be straight with me, Marcus. Have you changed your mind about what you said to me?”

  “No! Of course not.” He looked away, cheeks burning under his beard. “I just meant that I wouldn’t hold you to any promises that you made in the heat of the moment. I understand that political realities can be difficult.”

  “Marcus.”

  When he wouldn’t look at her, she stepped closer and grabbed the front of his uniform. Surprised, he bent toward her, and she kissed him as thoroughly as she knew how. After a moment his arms came up, wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her close. Raesinia felt her heart beat faster as she was pressed against him, and she locked her hands together at the small of his back. His beard tickled her cheek.

  “Believe me,” she whispered when he finally broke away for breath, “I intend to hold you to every word. I love you, Marcus. And as soon as this nuisance is dealt with, we’re going to figure out how to do something about it.” And to hell with what Mistress Lagovil and the rest think.

  *

  The Grand Army of Vordan—​henceforth to be called the Army of the Republic, according to a hastily promulgated proclamation from the Deputies—​unfolded itself from the camp north of Ohnlei with a ponderous slowness, like a bear ready for hibernation but prodded into action. It was still midautumn, the leaves gloriously red and gold on the trees, and the weather remained warm and clear. But there was a fragility to it that hadn’t been there at midsummer, a sense that the storms and frosts of winter might blow in at any moment.

  Ironic, Raesinia thought, given what happened to us over the summer. This time, she hoped, there would be no Penitent Damned putting their fingers on the scale.

  The columns were supposed to have started moving at dawn, but it was past noon before the vanguard was finally on the road, Give-Em-Hell’s light cavalry riding in neat squadrons in front of the long, thin column of plodding musketeers. At intervals came the battalion flags, the silver eagle of Vordan on a blue field snapping in the breeze. Cannon rumbled by, teams of horses harnessed to the covered ammunition carts called caissons with the guns themselves, pointing backward and down, attached to the rear by their trails. More carts, carrying the tents, baggage, and other supplies, came down the road in a dense mass, protected by long lines of heavy cavalry riding beside them.

  Raesinia had witnessed quite a few such departures. This was far from the worst showing a Vordanai army had made, although she had to admit Janus’ Grand Army had been prettier as it had left for the north. Many of these battalions had been filled out with fresh recruits, some of whom still lacked proper uniforms, and sergeants screamed at them where their lack of marching practice was obvious. Here and there, the line contracted to a tight knot until an officer hurried along to sort out the disturbance.

  It’s always like this, Raesinia thought, trying to suppress a flutter of nerves. Traffic jams and mix-​ups were par for the course when armies were on the march—​after bearing witness to what Marcus had to do to keep roughly on schedule in Murnsk, she was amazed they ever got anywhere at all. Still, she couldn’t help but think in terms of omens.

  Enough. She turned away from the scene and back toward the little cluster of people behind her. They were on a grassy hilltop, overlooking the line of march. Besides Eric and the two guards, there was a small crowd of Deputies, city notables, a few curious nobles, and foreign dignitaries assembled. Raesinia spotted Duke Dorsay and headed in his direction.

  “Your Highness,” he said with a modest bow.

  “We need to talk.”

  He looked over his shoulder as the crowd began to break up into smaller knots of conversation; then he shrugged and started walking away from the others. Raesinia fell in beside him.

  “I suspect I know what you want to talk about,” Dorsay said. “But I’m very much afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

  “I’m not going to beat around the bush,” Raesinia said. “You and I managed to keep Vordan and Borel from each other’s throats. Surely it’s in your interests to help us now. If Janus takes over, it will mean war with you sooner or later.”

  “No one doubts that,” Dorsay said. “And you know you have my personal sympathies. But it’s more complicated than that.” He sighed. “We received
a packet from our government this morning.”

  “That’s quick work.” The speed of the Borelgai packet ships was proverbial, but even so. “Are you certain they had all the information?”

  “Enough for preliminary instructions. All work on the treaty is to be suspended, for now.”

  Damn. She’d expected that, but she’d been hoping the Borels wouldn’t act quite so soon. “So we’re just going to be left hanging?”

  “I imagine they expect you to communicate your needs to the ambassador, so that whatever assistance is required can be a part of the negotiations when they resume.”

  “You think you have us over a barrel, so you’re going to wring out more concessions, in other words.”

  “Not me, Your Highness.” Dorsay looked genuinely unhappy. “My position here has been brought to an end. I will be returning to Viadre on the first available ship.”

  “What happened to Georg and his desire for peace?”

  “We may not have a Deputies-​General, but neither is Georg an absolute despot.” Dorsay sighed. “I can only assume there has been a realignment at home. I’ll know more once I arrive.” The duke kicked at a tuft of browning grass. “Assuming I’m permitted to remain at court. They may pack me off to the country again, which I have to say would suit me well enough. I’m too old for this nonsense.”

  “It’s going to take too long,” Raesinia muttered, half to herself. Time to talk to the Borelgai ambassador, time for the message to go to Viadre by ship and back again, however many times it took to come to an agreement. “By the time any help even sets out from Borel, it could be too late.”

  “I know. I have tried to impress upon Georg that military affairs rarely wait on a politician’s timetable.”

  “There must be something we can do to speed things up.”

  Dorsay shrugged. “Not unless you can convince Georg he needs a Vordanai vacation, and I sincerely doubt that you can. He hasn’t left the palace grounds in years, the lazy wretch.”

  She thought, briefly, of the flik-​flik lines, the signaling technique that Janus had brought back from Khandar. Their operation required extensive training, however, and all the operators Vordan possessed were going along with the army, to lay out a line keeping General Kurot in contact with the capital. We should have more of them. And permanent stations, and— And they would, someday. But here and now there wasn’t time, even if she was willing to reveal military secrets to the Borels.

  Or maybe there’s something in the Thousand Names. Feor, the Khandarai priestess, had students studying the ancient archives. But from what Raesinia knew of magic, coming up with something so eminently practical so quickly was unlikely.

  “That’s it,” Raesinia said.

  “What, getting Georg to go on vacation?”

  “The other way around,” Raesinia said. “Duke Dorsay, I think it is about time I saw Viadre.”

  *

  “I’m telling you, Your Highness,” Dorsay said, as they neared the Borelgai ambassadorial suite, “this is a bad idea.”

  “I agree,” said Eric, on the other side. “The Deputies will have a fit.”

  “You have no idea what the court in Viadre is like,” Dorsay went on. “I’d take any battlefield you care to name over that nest of vipers, and I’ve seen my share of both.”

  “They’ll say you don’t have the authority,” Eric said. “What’s the good of going there yourself if the Deputies won’t approve the deal you work out?”

  Raesinia stopped in her tracks, forcing the two of them to come to a hurried halt. She’d changed out of her riding leathers and into a full formal dress, whose layers of velvet and silk added considerably to her bulk. They rustled as she turned on the two men.

  “First of all,” she said, “the court doesn’t scare me. Politics around here haven’t been exactly safe, you may have noticed.” And I was at the center of the revolution, she added mentally. “Nest of vipers” doesn’t begin to describe it. “Second of all, the Deputies have already given their approval to the treaty in outline. All that’s under discussion is the details.”

  “They won’t see it that way,” Eric said. “Military assistance was not what they had in mind!”

  “Then they’re welcome to explain that to Janus,” Raesinia said, “or argue with me after we’ve won.”

  “But who’s even going to conduct the negotiations?” Eric said. “You?” At Raesinia’s arched eyebrow, he stuttered, “N-n-not that you’re not a fine negotiator, but do you know enough about the subjects? I know I can’t follow half of what goes on when they get into trade agreements and shipping rights.”

  Raesinia glanced at her two bodyguards. Barely was trying hard to keep a straight face at Eric’s discomfiture, but Joanna was definitely grinning. She felt like grinning back.

  “As it happens,” she said haughtily, “the Minister of the Treasury has agreed to lend me one of his experts.” Or he will, once we ask him. “Between us we should be able to handle the major issues.”

  “Your Highness, please.” Dorsay lowered his voice. “You may be putting yourself in danger.”

  “I’m sure His Majesty would never lower himself to harming a guest,” Raesinia said. And danger or not, this is what I can do to help. Marcus was out there because she’d asked him to go, begged him over his best instincts. If there’s anything I can do to protect him, I have to try. She grinned. Besides, what’s the worst they can do, cut my head off? They’d be very surprised at the results.

  She started walking again, reaching the door to the ambassadorial suite before her escorts had a chance to say another word. The Borelgai Life Guards opened the door and stepped out of the way, coming to attention. Ihannes Pulwer-​Monsangton waited by the big table, wearing his diplomat’s grin.

  “Your Highness,” he said. “It’s an honor.”

  “Thank you for receiving me on such short notice,” Raesinia said, sweeping in. That was one thing to be said for formal dresses, she had to admit—​they made for dramatic sweeps. “You got my note?”

  “I did indeed.” Ihannes’ smile widened.

  “And?”

  “While my instructions from His Majesty do not specifically address this eventuality, I am sure that I’m not going outside the bounds of my authority to say that he would welcome your visit as a sign of the increased cordiality between our two nations.” Ihannes cocked his head. “And, of course, it would be more convenient for any negotiations that might arise.”

  “Then His Majesty will receive me?”

  “In due time.”

  Raesinia felt her heart sink, expecting some excuse for indefinite delay. But Ihannes only waved a hand theatrically.

  “His Majesty is, of course, extremely busy, and arranging the appropriate celebrations will take time. But I’m certain that the relevant members of the government would be at your disposal immediately.”

  “Perfect,” Raesinia said. She’d expected more of an argument from the ambassador, truth be told. Perhaps even he realizes this is a crisis. “I want to leave as soon as possible.”

  “In part that depends on how much of an escort Your Highness plans to bring,” Ihannes said. “The packet sails tomorrow evening, but space is limited.”

  “It won’t be much,” she said. “Fewer than a dozen, including myself. Is that acceptable?”

  “Ideal,” Ihannes said, so quickly Raesinia wondered if she’d made a mistake. But bringing a regiment of soldiers along wouldn’t put her any less at the Borels’ mercy if they decided to turn on her. “In that case, I must begin preparations at once. If you’ll excuse me?”

  “Of course. Thank you, Ambassador.”

  Ihannes bowed again, and Raesinia retreated. Dorsay hurried in beside her.

  “That man,” he whispered, “is not your friend, however much he smiles. Don’t forget that.”

  And you are? Raesinia looked down at the flustered duke. He’d always been honest with her—​always seemed honest—​but he had to have his own agenda, the sa
me as anyone else. I’ll have to watch him, too.

  “Believe me,” she said, as her bodyguards resumed their places at her shoulder. “I’m used to it.”

  5

  Marcus

  Getting an army on the road after a long time in camp was always difficult. It seemed to take even veterans only a few weeks to forget everything they’d ever known about how to march, which meant that order had to be carefully established all over again—​road space allocated to prevent traffic jams, carts and other transport accounted for, patrols and sentries assigned, and distances plotted. Having lots of fresh recruits made things worse. The cavalry patrols would be kept busy rounding up those who’d gotten lost or dropped out of line. Fortunately, they had at least ten days’ march before they reached the Illifen passes, which meant there’d be time to get the fresh troops into some kind of shape before they had to worry about the enemy.

  All of this, Marcus had been expecting, and much of the staff work had already been done. What he hadn’t planned for was the attitude of the other senior officers, who were suddenly ill at ease whenever he was around. It was as though he’d been diagnosed with some horrible disease and nobody quite knew how to talk to a dead man walking. Or they’re worried it might be contagious. Even Val showed the signs, though he made a dutiful effort to pretend nothing was wrong.

  Only Fitz was immune, which was not surprising. He shook his head when Marcus asked him about it.

  “It’s not that they don’t trust you,” Fitz said. “Most of the officers don’t care much what the Deputies think. It’s more that they expect you to be upset about it, and so they’re walking on tiptoe.”

  That made sense, Marcus thought. They do look a little bit like children who know Daddy’s ready to explode about something. It didn’t make it any less irritating, though. General Kurot was on his way from the south, but Raesinia had insisted the march begin immediately, so it had been Marcus’ responsibility to set things in motion. Once that was done, though, he happily passed over command to Fitz and reported to the division that was from now his only responsibility.