Swallowing his impatient reply, Leo nodded. “I am,” he said. “Tell her I’d like to speak with her. Since you two are here, I assume she knows the way.”
Again, the men shared a look. For a second, Leo thought one or both might suggest he accompany them instead. Fortunately, neither man was foolish enough for such a thing. Stooping to retrieve his dropped pipe, the smoking man soon nodded a second time.
“Aye, yer lordship. We’ll inform her straight’way.”
Leo waited until the pair had gone, then heaved a sigh and turned to lean against a shelf of canned vegetables. At least, he hoped they were vegetables. The jars and tins were so obscured with dust that the contents could have been meat if not for their slightly greenish tint.
“Well, that’s something,” he muttered, glancing at Nyssa. “Either Grey never found the tunnels or Davin recaptured them at some point. Hopefully Buchold didn’t mistake her men for Grey’s.”
“He won’t have,” Nyssa assured him. Stepping close, she offered him one of her candles and placed the other on a nearby shelf. “He served your wife while we dealt with Sutherpoint, remember? I’m certain he and Davin would have crossed paths during that time.”
“True,” Leo said. “But anything can happen in war. It’s not like scheming. I can’t just think through all the possibilities. There are so many different angles and possibilities. So many ways I might have handled things differently.” He trailed off, studying his hands.
As he’d intended, it was not hard for Nyssa to guess his thoughts. She reached out, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tenderly.
“This was never going to be painless, Leo,” she reminded him. “But it’s over now—or near enough. You’ve still got me and Karran here. We’ll look after you.”
At the mention of her name, Karran approached and took the candle from Leo’s opposite hand. Setting it aside, she wrapped his fingers between her claws and warmed them tenderly. Then, soft as a breath, she lifted them to her face and brushed her cheek against his knuckles.
Leo smiled, accepting the affectionate gesture without complaint. It was reassuring after a fashion, if not precisely what he’d meant.
There was precious little to do while they waited. Twice, elves burst into the kitchen, evidently fearful that they’d lost the man they were supposed to be protecting. Both times, Leo assured them that he was fine and asked them to focus on securing the rest of the ducal residences. And although he was uncomfortably aware that the elves he so ordered probably suspected he was simply dismissing them in favor of carnal pursuits, he wasn’t willing to forgo the comfort of Nyssa and Karran’s hands.
It had been a long time, far too long, since he’d had the chance to simply enjoy a quiet moment without the dread of some approaching battle. And although it was entirely possible that Davin’s arrival would bring with it some dire news of loss or some new foe, even that could hardly be worse than the uncertainty that had plagued him over the past month.
Leo couldn’t say how long he spent with them in such a manner but he was still holding both women when Davin arrived. In the quiet stillness of the cellar, unbroken save for his soft breathing and that of the women beside him, he heard the approaching footsteps long before their source grew visible. He turned slightly as Davin’s face appeared in the mouth of the tunnel and offered a small nod of greeting.
Davin, however, was not content with such a minimal welcome. She scampered lightly from the tunnel, smirking as she wiped her hands and peeled off her linen cowl. She’d cut her hair short since the last time Leo had seen her—scandalously so—and yet the change only highlighted the mischievous gleam in her eyes.
“Welcome home, Your Excellency,” she drawled. “I trust you had a pleasant war?”
“I’ve had better,” Leo said. He released Nyssa and Karran, and both women immediately turned to regard Davin with a gaze that could only be described as warmly suspicious. He, on the other hand, merely folded his arms. “I assume the tunnels are secure?”
“Aye,” Davin said. “I’m honestly a bit surprised on that account. Didn’t even have to fight for them. This entrance I can understand, but Grey must have sent the laziest bastards in the city to search your old estate. The Hammond one, not mine. They poked around for a few minutes but moved on when they didn’t find your wife. Amateurs—I had my men put down a few rugs to hide the hole but I doubt Grey would have even noticed if I’d killed the ones that came looking.”
“They certainly noticed when I killed him,” Leo said dryly. Davin’s grin widened at his words but the thought of further small talk, however relevant, turned his stomach. Swallowing hard, he fixed the woman with a grim stare. “Davin, where is my wife?” he asked.
She paused, looked thoughtful for a moment, and then glanced back at one of her men still in the tunnel. The man scowled—or, at least, stared at his boss with a face resembling one—then nodded curtly and ducked into the darkness.
“Davin,” Leo repeated.
“Leo, you have to understand,” Davin said, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Coming from the normally self-assured woman, the nervous habit struck Leo like a punch to the gut. “All of Ansiri was on edge. People were panicking, even in the hierarchy of the Low Crown. The tunnels—”
“Where is Cirilla?” he demanded.
“—go all over the city. It can be difficult to get word from one end to another in a timely fashion.”
Leo pressed forward with a growl, shouldering his way between Nyssa and Karran. Without sparing a thought as to what he was doing, he reached for the sword at his hip. Alarmed, both trow and ambrosian grabbed at him, desperate to restrain him before matters worsened. Opposite, several members of Davin’s entourage leaped forward as well.
“Answer me!” Leo bellowed, thrashing and raging against the hands that clutched him. “Where is my wife?”
“Gods, Leo, I’m right fucking here.”
Leo blinked in confusion, still struggling on momentum alone as Cirilla emerged from the darkened tunnel. His wife squinted at the brightness of the candles and lifted a hand to shield her eyes. Pushing her way forward, she eyed the rim of the hole then reached up expectantly.
Davin dropped to her knee without hesitation. Carefully, she helped the duchess climb from the tunnel. Then, with a growing smirk and mirthful eyes, she turned to meet Leo’s gaze.
“Your wife is fine,” she assured him. “I asked her to hang back until I made sure it was safe. Figured this was my last chance for a bit of fun before you got all boring and full of yourself.”
Leo barely heard her. He rushed forward, ripping free of the restraining hands and pulling Cirilla into a firm, irresistible embrace. The weight of her in his arms, the warmth of her cheek against his, and the sweet, earthy scent of her hair—the combined impact of her presence drained the exhaustion and fear from his limbs. He could easily have held her for years without ceasing. And when she pulled back, laughing breathlessly, and pressed her lips to his, he did not even mind the sting of early tears that burned the corners of his eyes.
“Davin,” he murmured. “The next time you do something like that, I’ll kill you.”
Davin’s men bristled at the threat, but the woman herself merely laughed. Then, much to Leo’s surprise, Cirilla did as well.
“You most certainly will not,” she chided. “I’d be dead without her help. She’s earned a great deal of leeway—and it will take far more than one unkind joke to settle that debt.”
Leo rolled his eyes and snorted under his breath. Only Cirilla. The woman was back for not even half a minute and she was already putting him in his place.
He wouldn’t have had it any other way.
***
A meal, a bath, and a change of clothes later, Leo felt much more like himself than he had in weeks. He was tired, of course, but such a thing was to be expected. There would be many more sleepless nights before he had a chance to truly rest. And since he couldn’t conceive of
napping without Cirilla beside him—and since she was currently roaming the Ministry, giving orders and receiving reports—he didn’t bother trying to rest. Instead, he refastened his sword on his hip and abandoned the relative serenity of his chambers for the crowded throne room.
His wife was already there, conversing with Buchold and several of the primarch’s adjutants. From the elves’ satisfied smiles, the reclamation of the city was going smoothly or they were quite pleased to be serving under the duchess once more. Or, perhaps, both were true. Buchold saluted as Leo approached, his lieutenants following his example a second later.
Cirilla turned, her eyes bright and a smile curling her lips as she noticed him. “Ah, Leo. There you are. Good,” she said. “It sounds as though the city is ours again.”
“So soon?” Leo asked, frowning slightly. He glanced at Buchold, and the elf gave a small, seemingly involuntary nod.
“The last notable holdouts surrendered moments ago,” the elf explained. “There are still plenty of Grey’s men who are unaccounted for, naturally, but they’d make a disorganized resistance at best. The only real problem is the city’s nobles.”
“Ah, of course,” he murmured. “I take it they’d holed up in their estates?”
“Like rabbits in a warren. Many of them contributed a sizable percentage of their household guards to Grey’s cause, but they’re still quite entrenched. We also suspect that many of the men Grey conscripted from the north might be sheltering with the nobles. Protecting them in exchange for food and shelter. It might be possible to starve them out, but…”
“But we’d be extending the war for months. Maybe longer,” Leo finished for him. Buchold’s grimace was all the confirmation he needed. Matching it with one of his own, he turned to Cirilla. “Any ideas?”
“A few,” she admitted. “But nothing that can’t wait until morning. Our army is tired and there are hundreds of wounded to be cared for. Perhaps it would be best to simply post sentries throughout the noble district and address the matter tomorrow? A few hours of sleep will also allow tempers to cool. We may wake to find quite a few houses willing to negotiate terms of surrender.”
“Fair enough,” Leo said. He turned back to Buchold. “Station as many as you think wise. As for the wounded, tell our surgeons that they’re free to requisition medical supplies from any of the city’s surgeons or apothecaries. Who, in turn, are welcome to petition the Ministry for compensation in a week’s time.”
“Understood,” Buchold said. The elf fidgeted slightly, clearly keen to be on his way but unwilling to violate protocol under the circumstances. “Will that be all, Your Excellencies?”
“Yes—wait, no,” Leo said. He glanced around the throne room. Though virtually all of the room’s inhabitants were aware of him, most had maintained a respectful distance. The sole exceptions to this were Karran, Nyssa, and the freshly unshackled Atarah and Fanette. The trow and ambrosian sat readily on the steps leading to the throne, well within earshot.
“Your Excellency?” Buchold prompted.
“I promised our soldiers they’d be freed after the war was won,” Leo explained softly. “Inform them that I’m drafting a proclamation to do just that. Keep it quiet, if you can; we don’t want the city rioting. But make certain our forces know that I intend to fulfill that vow.”
Buchold grinned. The elf’s eyes, normally stoic and thoughtful, glinted fiercely with pride and admiration.
“Thank you, Your Excellency,” he said. “I’ll do just that.”
Chapter Thirty
Leo had hoped that the morning might bring some semblance of normalcy to Ansiri, but the empty streets quickly put such a notion aside. Fortunately, the lack of pedestrians made the remaining work far simpler than it might have been otherwise. His elves scoured the city’s many thousands of homes, businesses, and estates one by one, hunting for any of Grey’s men who might have eluded them the night before. There weren’t many. Most of the conscripts had deserted by now, stashing their weapons and armor and attempting to pass as just another citizen, or else had pledged themselves to one of the city’s skittish nobles. There were, however, one or two hundred residual holdouts discovered throughout the day. Leo watched from an upper story window of the Ministry’s central spire as the weary and disarmed men staggered into the plaza, mostly in pairs, and into the holding pens that had been erected.
A part of him wished he could have addressed the issue at once. The plaza was filled by nearly two thousand men from Grey’s army. And, given the impossibility of shackling so many, Buchanan and the other officers had taken to simply binding the men’s wrists or ankles with hempen rope requisitioned from the VanOrden docks. Even so, it made him uncomfortable to think of so large a host of recent enemies sitting listlessly twenty paces from his front door.
Cirilla understood his concerns, of course. But as always, she had just the words and arguments to guide him elsewhere.
“Should we take a break?” she asked. Moving to his side, she half-sat on the edge of the desk he’d claimed and gently pried the folio from his hands. Closing it, she fixed him with a warm smile. “It’s a bit early for dinner, but you’ve been staring at the same page for a quarter-hour now.”
Sighing, Leo rubbed his eyes and turned in his chair to stare out the window again. Grimacing, he nodded at the men below.
“Not yet,” he said. “We need to sort them out.”
“They can wait,” Cirilla said. At his glance, she furrowed her brow quite intently. “You know I’m right. Their rations will last another day or two and without officers to lead them, they might as well be a herd of cattle.”
“They’re not the ones I’m worried about,” he reminded her. “I told the elves I’d give them their freedom once the war was won. Every hour without some sort of formal declaration, I lose that much more credibility.”
“They can wait too.” Canting her head at his skeptical expression, Cirilla cupped his chin affectionately. “What? Did they expect to hand in their swords the moment the last foe surrendered? Even a fortnight would hardly be too long. Besides, this is a higher priority right now. We need to deal with the nobles.”
“I know,” Leo said softly, shrugging free of her fingers. He plucked the folio back from his wife’s grip and laid its contents across the partially occluded desk. “But seven hells, this is a damned pain. How am I supposed to punish nobles when I wasn’t here to witness anything? I could spend a solid year interviewing every last one, and they’d all swear on the lives of their children that they supported me with every sovereign they had.”
“Who cares what they have to say?” Cirilla said. “You are the Duke and they are mere vassals. Seizing coin and property is the surest way to ensure they remember that fact. If they learn that they can oppose you with impunity then you’ll lose their respect forever.”
“I know that! But I’ll lose it just the same if I punish the innocent alongside the guilty!” he snapped.
“Oh? Which innocents? How many of those nobles sent a single footman to fight alongside you?”
“It’s not a crime to be a coward.” Sighing loudly, Leo turned back to the window. “Gods, maybe Duke Avans had the right idea. Dealing with nobles is enough to drive a man mad.”
He froze as a thought occurred to him. Then, as he began to consider the notion, he stiffened and began to chuckle.
Cirilla, to her credit, merely quirked a brow. A lesser woman might have been offended at being kept in the dark, but she waited patiently for him to share. And then, when no explanation was forthcoming, she adopted a knowing smirk.
“I take it you’ve come up with something?” she asked.
“Maybe,” Leo admitted. Mind racing, he stared unseeingly at the folio before him and drummed his fingers rapidly on its pages. “How long would it take to gather all of Ansiri’s nobles?” he asked. “Say, barons and above. And the aldermen as well.”
His wife shrugged. “A few hours, if you’re okay with missi
ng a few. Or, if it can wait until tomorrow, we could send messengers tonight. Given the state of the city, I doubt there will be many noblemen passing out in taverns and brothels, so it should be rather simple to find them all at home.”
“We’ll do that, then. Can you handle the invitations?”
Cirilla’s grin remained, unperturbed by the rapid unfolding of Leo’s plan. The only sign of hesitation at all was a slight narrowing of her eyes.
“I suppose,” she said. “But am I allowed to know the contents of my dear husband’s latest scheme?”
“Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Rising eagerly, Leo pulled his wife into his arms and kissed her deeply. He didn’t pull back until they were both breathless. And then, his face flushed and appetites roaring, he told her.
There was a brief moment in which Cirilla merely stared at him. Then, with a boisterous laugh, she kissed him again.
***
The most difficult part of Leo’s plan was, ironically, finding a space large enough to accommodate those he planned to address. If it had been only the nobles, he might have been able to squeeze the majority of them into the ducal throne room. Or, alternately, if he wished to prioritize the aldermen, he could perhaps have crammed a few of the higher-ranking noblemen into the chamber gallery. But, if this plan of his was to work, both groups needed to be present in their entirety.
And so, he spent the rest of the day and much of the following morning on the stone steps of the Ministry’s exterior, helping Buchanan, Lucius, Buchold, and Sophe determine what to do with the endless queue of prisoners. Most of the work was purely administrative, such as taking the names and hometowns of the various conscripts and organizing the resources and vessels necessary to transport them back to their homes. Occasionally, however, the questions at hand grew infinitely more complicated.
Such as, for instance, when Leo found himself face-to-face with the man who’d led Atarah and Fanette onto the battlefield and rallied Grey’s men after the count’s death. The man was securely tied, his skin rubbed raw from the coarse ropes, and his head bowed submissively. But one glance at the man’s downcast eyes told Leo he was far from defeated. The depth of loathing and resentment smoldering there was so pronounced that Leo almost reached for the sword at his hip.
Duke of Minds (Master of Monsters Book 4) Page 28
