The Infernal Battalion

by Django Wexler

  Winter smiled. “Glad I could help.”

  Climbing down the cargo net was one more insult to aching muscles, but she managed it well enough. Abraham had more trouble, though Alex swarmed down with the agility of a spider and hopped lightly to the dock. Winter turned to Dobraev as Abraham gingerly dismounted.

  “It... might be possible for you to come to the fort,” the lieutenant said. “The colonel may be understanding. And...” He gestured at the three of them, who had nothing more than the clothes on their backs and the saber at Winter’s belt.

  “We’ll be all right,” Winter said. She wasn’t at all certain of that, of course, but it was clear that Dobraev didn’t think highly of his chances of explaining them to some Murnskai colonel. No need to make his life any harder.

  “If you say so,” he said, relieved. “Thank you, once again. None of us would have survived if not for you.”

  Winter nodded silently. You wouldn’t have been in danger if not for me. But she didn’t say it. It might not even be true. The Beast would have come here eventually.

  “If you are unable to find a ship,” Dobraev said, “get a message to me at the fort. I will see if there’s anything I can do.”

  “Thank you,” Winter said. “I will.”

  There was an awkward pause. Dobraev looked up at Gorchov, who was leaning on the rail of the ship, then back to Winter. He grinned, straightened, and gave her a crisp salute.

  “Division-​General,” he said.

  Winter nodded, as she had to so many salutes. Dobraev turned and hurried aboard the ship. Gorchov said something in his ear, putting one big arm around his shoulders, and they both started laughing.

  “We made it,” Winter said. She looked at her companions. Abraham was grave, while Alex grinned, eyebrows raised.

  “We made it,” the girl agreed. “So, now what?”

  *

  It turned out that they hadn’t been the only group with the idea of making for Dimiotsk when things went sour. The city was almost as full of refugees as the fortress had been, but there was no garrison to keep things orderly. The smell of the place was overpowering, whatever sanitary systems normally served the city having long since been overwhelmed.

  They worked their way inland from the river docks, angling in the general direction of the deep​water harbor. The streets were crowded, a dense mass of people pushed to the center of the crooked alleys by the crude shelters against the walls of every building. More people were sleeping in the open, huddled under blankets or cloaks. At the intersections, hawkers called out, drawing queues for roast potatoes or fresh bread, but the prices seemed shockingly high, all the more so when Winter remembered that the Murnskai imperial was roughly two and a half Vordanai eagles.

  “There must be inns, right?” Alex said, glancing around at the press of desperate humanity. “Any harbor has to have somewhere for people to stay and eat.”

  “I don’t think we can afford an inn,” Winter said. “Actually, I’m not sure we can afford anything. If I sell my saber, maybe—”

  Alex tossed a small purse in Winter’s direction, and Winter reflexively snatched it out of the air. It was heavier than it looked, and a brief glance inside showed her the dull gleam of gold. She quickly stuffed it deep in her pocket and drew close to Alex.

  “How long have you been hiding that? Since the Mountain?”

  “About five minutes. And there’s more where that came from.” Alex looked back at Winter over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows. “Greatest thief in the world, remember? Cutting a purse isn’t exactly a challenge.”

  “But...” Winter looked around at the desperate refugees and lowered her voice. “You can’t steal from these people.”

  Abraham, pulling up next to them, nodded vigorously.

  “Of course not,” Alex said. “They haven’t got any money! I got that off the angry-​looking merchant with the bodyguards two streets back.”

  “I’m not...” Winter took a breath, catching the whiff of roast potato, and found her hunger rapidly overcoming her moral qualms. “Just don’t steal from anyone who doesn’t look like they can afford it, all right?”

  Alex grinned. “Think of it as their contribution to saving the world from the Beast.”

  Abraham let out a long-​suffering sigh and muttered something that might have been a prayer.

  By the time they reached the harbor front, Alex had harvested three more purses, from what she assured her companions had been very deserving-​looking targets. They found an inn, nameless and unmarked except for a painted sign of a man climbing into bed. It was guarded by a broad-​shouldered mountain of a man with a stout cudgel at his belt. Winter slipped the bouncer a silver coin to demonstrate that the three of them weren’t as indigent as they appeared, and he grunted and stepped aside.

  The inn was a large, two-​story building, a rarity in Dimiotsk, with a common room on the main floor and ship-​style bunks cramming a single big space upstairs. The prices were absurd, as Winter had predicted, but there was enough gold in the purses Alex had cut for at least a few days’ room and board. They sat at a table made from planks nailed over a barrel and told the proprietor to bring them lots of everything.

  She wasn’t expecting much, but apparently there was plenty to eat in Dimiotsk, if you could afford it. Most of it was fish, bowls of thick chowder followed by something pink-​fleshed and fried crispy. Thick, crusty bread topped with pork fat accompanied the seafood, along with a dark, bitter beer. The first round only managed to take the edge off Winter’s hunger, and she called for more, which the smiling, potbellied man who ran the place was only too happy to bring.

  As the proprietor was laying out another set of iron skillets, Winter said, “A question, if you don’t mind?”

  “Of course, honored guest.” The man was beaming. He ought to be, for what we’re paying him.

  “We’re looking for passage on a ship south, to Vordan. Do you know any captains who might be taking on passengers?”

  The innkeeper’s face fell. “You have not heard?”

  “Heard what?” Alex said, sucking the meat from the bones of her last course.

  “There is war on the sea. The Borelgai king has sent ships to aid the Vordanai child-​queen against our new emperor. Wise captains are staying close to shore and the guns of His Imperial Majesty’s forts.”

  “The Borels have attacked Murnskai ships?” Winter said.

  “Not yet, that I have heard, but it cannot be long.”

  Winter swore silently. “I’d pay generously. Do you know anyone who might be willing to risk the danger?”

  “Captain Fyrnor of the Black Cat has always been a little bit mad,” the innkeeper mused. “But even he would have to be very well paid to risk the Borelgai navy.”

  “I see.” Winter waved the man away, ignoring his apologies. She looked around—​the common room was mostly full, and the sailors and merchants were making quite a bit of noise. Quietly she said, “That doesn’t sound promising.”

  “If you need me to steal enough to bribe a pirate, it might take a few days,” Alex said. “Just finding someone with that much cash is going to be the hard part.”

  “At that point,” Abraham said, “why not just steal the ship?”

  “And a crew to sail it?” Alex said. “I’m no seaman, but I know that an ocean voyage is a long way from a quick jaunt down the river.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Winter said, lifting something out of the skillet. “Anyone have any idea what this is?”

  “Looks like a bit of gristle,” Alex said.

  “Fish guts?” Abraham hazarded.

  “Barnacle,” a woman’s voice said. “A bit like a snail. Not bad with butter.”

  All three of them looked up. A slim figure in a hooded cloak stood beside the table, though moments earlier Winter could have sworn they’d been alone. She let one hand drop to the hilt of her saber, while she popped the barnacle into her mouth with the other.

  “You’re rig
ht,” she said, after a moment of thoughtful chewing. “It’s not bad. Now, would you mind telling us who you are?”

  “You don’t recognize me, Winter Ihernglass?” The voice did sound familiar. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Winter’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not in the mood for games.”

  “Fair enough.” The woman drew back her hood, revealing olive skin and short, dark hair. “Better?”

  “Rose,” Winter said. She’d been part of the group that had gone into the Vendre, the night of the revolution. Afterward, the queen had introduced her by another name. “Or is it Sothe?”

  “Whichever you prefer,” Sothe said.

  “You know her?” Abraham said.

  “I saw her, too,” Alex said. “Back with the army. She was some kind of attendant to the queen.”

  “Something like that,” Sothe said, with the hint of a smile.

  “How can you have been waiting for us?” Winter said. “No one outside the Mountain knew we were coming here.”

  “That is... a very complicated story,” Sothe said. “We have quite a lot to talk about. But you won’t need to find a ship.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I have one ready,” Sothe said. “And, from what I understand, it’s important that we leave immediately.”

  *

  Winter wasn’t sure what to expect when Sothe led them to the harbor. Experience told her that things rarely worked out quite so conveniently, but if they were walking into a trap, she couldn’t figure out why. Sothe was an expert assassin, as Winter could personally attest. If she wanted to kill me, walking up and announcing herself doesn’t seem like the right way to do it. And, as best as Winter had been able to tell, Sothe was utterly devoted to Raesinia.

  Unless she’s been taken by the Beast. But this close, she ought to be able to sense if Sothe was a red-​eye. Infernivore was uneasy, but no more than usual in the company of Alex and Abraham. Just to be certain, she caught Alex’s eye, indicating Sothe. Alex raised an eyebrow and then, understanding, shook her head.

  The harbor was mobbed, a press of humanity that set Winter’s teeth on edge. Fishermen had set up shop along the waterfront, dumping loads of still-​flopping fish in the mud and accepting shouted bids. Armed guards stood alongside them, bearing swords and cudgels. More guards maintained a strip of clear space in front of the stone piers where the smaller ships were docked. Sailors worked, loading or unloading cargo, deaf to the shouted pleas from the refugees who crammed as close as they dared. We’re not the only ones who want a way out of here.

  Out in the bay, larger ships were anchored, and small boats were rowed back and forth. From here, Winter could see the tip of the chain of barrier islands, where the largest of the desolate rocks had been converted into a stone-​walled fortress. Murnskai flags flew above its walls, and from the mast of the warship lying at anchor just below it. She wondered what sort of reception Dobraev had gotten when he reported to the commander.

  Sothe slipped easily through the press, never shoving but hardly slowed at all, and Winter had to work hard to keep up. They seemed to be headed to the end of the row of smaller vessels, where a sleek, two-​masted ship was being watched by a particularly unfriendly set of thugs. Looking at it, Winter felt something shift at the back of her mind, a slight change in Infernivore’s attention. She grabbed Alex and pointed. Alex paused for a moment, eyes narrowing. Then she nodded grimly.

  After a few more minutes of difficult progress, Winter pushed free of the last rank of refugees, emerging onto the muddy strip of ground the thugs guarded so jealously. Sothe stood between two of the men, speaking quietly and pointing to Winter and the others, and the guards raised no objection as Winter came forward. Alex was a step behind her, and had one hand on Abraham’s shoulder.

  “This is your ship?” Winter said.

  “This is the Swallow,” Sothe said. “Captain Kerrak... owes me a favor.”

  “You trust him?”

  Sothe cocked her head, considering. “Let’s say that I trust him to know where his interests lie.”

  “And they lie in taking us to Vordan?”

  “If I tell him they do, yes.” Her smile was disturbingly predatory.

  Winter stepped forward, away from the line of guards, and lowered her voice. “And are you aware that you have a demon aboard?” This close, it was unmistakable.

  “Of course,” Sothe said blandly. “How do you think I knew where to find you?”

  Winter gave her a blank look, then glanced back at her companions.

  “I think,” she said carefully, “that you had better explain.”

  *

  The Swallow was long and narrow, with smooth, clean lines. Winter, who knew nothing about ships, got the impression of speed and power, and the crew worked with practiced efficiency. Sothe led them across the deck, which was littered with boxes, ropes, and nautical paraphernalia, and through a narrow doorway into a cabin at the rear of the ship. It held a large table, bolted to the floor, a couple of locked cabinets, and a few chairs. A round window gave a view of the bay.

  “We’re taking on fresh supplies,” Sothe said. “But the captain assures me we’ll be ready to sail by the evening tide.”

  “Is it true that the Borelgai navy is stopping Murnskai shipping?” Alex said. “Will we be able to get through?”

  “I’m not sure,” Sothe said. “But it shouldn’t be a problem. Swallow has a Borelgai flag and papers if we need them. And, if it comes to it, I don’t think any warship could catch us.”

  “The demon,” Winter said. “And what you’re doing here.”

  “Of course,” Sothe said. “Wait here for a moment. I’ll get her.”

  She slipped out through the narrow door. Winter looked at her companions.

  “I don’t need to say that this feels suspicious, do I?” Abraham said.

  “She’s not a red-​eye,” Alex said. “And neither is the demon here, I think. It doesn’t feel the same as the Beast.”

  “If this is a trap,” Winter said, “it’s a very strange one. The Beast wants to kill me, so why lure us all the way here?” She hesitated, then added, “Sothe is an assassin, and a damned good one. If she wanted us dead, she’s chosen a very roundabout method.”

  “Just because she’s not working for the Beast doesn’t mean she’s on our side,” Abraham said. “Be careful.”

  Alex flexed her fingers ostentatiously, and Winter nodded.

  “If it comes to that,” she whispered, “I’ll take the demon. Don’t take your eyes off Sothe.”

  She straightened at the sound of footsteps in the hall. Sothe reappeared, followed by a slender young woman in a long gray robe. She was thin to the point of illness, sallow and hollow-​cheeked, with dark hair cut boyishly short. A fading bruise colored one side of her face an ugly yellow-​green. Old knife scars surrounded her eyes, and her eyelids hung slack over empty sockets. Sothe held her wrist and guided her forward until her outstretched hand found the back of a chair.

  “This is Ennika,” Sothe said, shutting the door behind them. “She’s a Penitent Damned.”

  Winter tensed. Deep in her mind, Infernivore thrashed and strained. But this sick-​looking blind girl was a far cry from the masked killers of the Church she’d faced before, and she forced the demon down. “I assume she’s not dangerous?”

  “I’m not dangerous,” Ennika said in fluent Murnskai. “I’m broken. Useless.” She felt her way around the chair and sat down. Winter did likewise, and the others followed suit. Sothe patted Ennika’s shoulder gently as she went by.

  “I’m going to assume,” Sothe said, “that you don’t have much information about what happened to the army after you left.”

  Winter shook her head. “I know there was some kind of peace, and then Janus declared himself emperor, but that’s about it.”

  “The full story will have to wait for another time,” Sothe said. “Suffice to say, we came to an accommodation with the Borelgai after the weather forc
ed us to retreat. Certain elements in the Borelgai camp were unhappy about this, most especially Duke Orlanko.”

  Alex’s hands clenched into fists. “Orlanko was there?”

  “He was a guest of the King of Borel,” Sothe said. “The faction in their court that wanted war saw him as a potential candidate for a puppet ruler of Vordan. When the other faction won out, Orlanko attempted to stop them with his usual subtlety.”

  “He tried to murder everyone,” Winter guessed.

  “Precisely. Fortunately, Marcus d’Ivoire and I were able to thwart him. Duke Dorsay’s faction won out, and Orlanko fled.”

  “Damn,” Alex muttered. “Damn, damn, damn.”

  Abraham touched her shoulder. “There’ll be another chance,” he said.

  “Orlanko hurt you?” Winter said.

  “His thug Andreas killed the closest thing I had to a father,” Alex grated. “Then he handed me over to the Penitent Damned, and they kept me drugged and chained to a fucking cart for a thousand miles.”

  Ennika bowed her head, her shoulders hunched.

  Sothe cleared her throat. “If it helps,” she said, “Andreas is dead. I trapped and killed him during the revolution. And I was just as determined to make sure Orlanko did not escape justice for his crimes. I followed him when he fled from his Borelgai protectors and I cornered him and the last of his minions in Vorsk.” Her face was perfectly calm. “I killed them all.”

  “He’s dead?” Winter said. “Orlanko’s dead?”

  Sothe nodded. “For certain.”

  Alex let out her breath with a hiss, her hands still clenched tight.

  “I found Ennika among Orlanko’s entourage,” Sothe said. “She was his link to the Black Priests.”

  “What do you mean, link?” Winter said.

  “Paired demons,” Ennika said in a low voice. “My sister and I both intoned their names, and our minds were linked. What one of us thought, felt, or heard could be known instantly by the other. There are many such demons, and we who bear them serve the pontifex and the Church by passing on their words in secret.” Her lip twisted. “Orlanko was never worthy of such trust.”

  “I thought she might be useful,” Sothe said. “So I kept her alive and brought her with me.”