Queen of the Night (The Revanche Cycle Book 4) (36 page)

Baum slowly turned to look at him. “Was I unclear?”

They brought him the flag, a long square of white-painted canvas on a brass pole almost as tall as he was. Baum stepped forward, out onto the grasslands in front of his army. He held the flag aloft and waved it slowly, from side to side. Then he waited.

In the distance, across the open field and down by the water, a tiny square of white rippled in response.

“Keep everyone back,” Baum said, handing over the flag. “I’m going to parley.”

“Sir? Sir, this is
highly
irregular—”

The general ignored him. He walked, alone, across the newborn battlefield, his boots slick in the dew-damp grass. Two figures broke from the Terrai lines, approaching him. A straw-haired man with a long, narrow chin, garbed in black armor and a furred cloak, and a woman in wolf furs and corpse paint. The woman walked a step behind the man, one of her hands resting proprietorially on his shoulder.

The three of them met, between two frozen armies, separated by five feet of grass.

“Judicael Leclerc,” the man said. “Knight-commander and acting regent of Belle Terre. This is my wife, Ophelie.”

Baum gave a slow nod. “General Baum. A citizen soldier.”

“Is that the title you’re using? We’ve heard rumors. Rumors that Theodosius the Lesser is no longer Theodosius the Anything.”

“That’s correct. I am one member of a small military council. We’ve temporarily taken control of the government, to instill order until a proper successor can be found.”

Judicael glanced back over his shoulder, toward the rebel army.

“This must be very distressing for you. Let me guess: you want to know how we did it.”

Baum shook his head. “I already know. You were supplied with arms by a Verinian traitor. That, combined with Theodosius drawing down the troops and sending everyone to the desert, was enough to start the snowball rolling. From there, it became an avalanche.”

Judicael and Ophelie shared a look.

“Hmm,” Judicael said, “that’s about the size of it, yes. All right, my curiosity is piqued. Why did you want to parley, then?”

Baum looked into the distance and rubbed the stubble on his jaw.

“I was inspecting the lines. Talked to a soldier—a boy, really, younger than my own sons. He asked if he was going to die today.”

Judicael gave him an understanding look. “Did you lie to him? Tell him that if he followed orders and stayed the course, everything would be all right?”

“Of course I did. Wouldn’t you?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “Twice this morning already.”

“So I had a thought. Just a stray thought. Maybe even call it a whim.” Baum spread his open hands. “What if, instead of killing each other today, we just…don’t?”

Judicael looked to Ophelie again. She tilted her head, thinking, then gave her husband a firm nod. He turned back to Baum.

“We’re listening.”

“I’m tired, Judicael. I’m tired of noblemen starting wars they’ll never fight in, and I’m tired of lying to young men and sending them to die. Theodosius is gone. We have a chance—a
chance
, though we’ll probably fuck it all up—to do things differently for once. Let’s end this, you and me. Let’s end it today. A peace treaty between Belle Terre and the Empire.”

“And we should just let bygones be bygones?” Judicael said. “We should just
forget
that you invaded our land, massacred and enslaved our people—”

“Husband,” Ophelie said. “Hear him out. The Goddess wills it.”

Judicael fell silent.

“What’s the alternative?” Baum asked him. “You push at us; we push back. You take some of our land; we take some of yours. How long are we going to do this, Judicael? How many more years? How many boys are we going to throw into the meat grinder? How many
generations
are going to have to keep fighting this war? Yes. You’re aggrieved. You were wronged. And I am
sorry
for that. What we have, right here and now, is a chance to try a different way. Will you try?”

The couple stepped back. Baum watched in silence as they debated back and forth in hushed whispers. Judicael took a deep breath, and they returned to the parley.

“State your terms,” Ophelie said.

“You pull your men back across the water. The Empire will acknowledge Belle Terre’s original borders and issue a formal decree respecting your right to self-governance. I assume you’ve taken prisoners of war; you’ll release them and send them home.”

“We will send the
soldiers
home,” Judicael said. “The bureaucrats, we keep. As our honored guests, in case the Empire changes its mind.”

Baum smiled. “Do you think I care about what happens to the paper pushers?”

“Not a bit more than I do,” Judicael replied, mirroring his smile, “but
someone
has to pay the price for past wrongs. They’ll suffice.”

“Fair enough.”

“Don’t suppose you’d give us the emperor, too?”

“That’s off the table,” Baum said. “He’s an Imperial criminal. So he’ll be granted a swift, fair, and impartial trial by an Imperial judge, then hanged by an Imperial executioner.”

“I can live with that. We’ll want open trade lines. And reparations. We have a kingdom to rebuild, after all.”

The three of them talked on into the afternoon, and then into the night, calling for a table and maps and parchment and all the instruments of diplomacy while their two armies stood a silent watch. In the end, as a newborn sun rose over the grasslands, they’d taken their first fledgling steps toward changing the course of history.

And at least for a little while, nobody had to die.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Sitting at her dressing table, Livia stared at her reflection in the glass. Two attendants fussed over her, whisking a soft brush across her cheekbones, lightening some colors and darkening others. The endless, frustrating work of making her more pleasing to the eye. She’d grown to tolerate it. Kailani stood behind her, arms folded, watching protectively.

“Everyone knows their duties tonight?” Livia asked her.

Kailani gave a sharp nod. “They won’t fail.”

“And Freda?”

“I have two of my people watching her. She won’t come within a mile of the council chambers tonight, and if she tries, they’ll distract her. Mistress, may I ask a question?”

“Why did I remove her from your order?”

“That, and why is it so important she
not
be there tonight? She’s unfailingly loyal to you. Given how important this is—”

“I have plans, Kailani. Long-term plans. All I can say is that you need to trust me. You are
my
defenders, and Freda is strictly out of the loop. She is to know nothing about Browncloak affairs from now on, unless I explicitly say otherwise.”

Kailani bowed toward her image in the glass. “As you command.”

The attendants stepped away. Livia rose, graceful, and turned her back on the mirror.

“Very good. Now, let’s have a word with the College.”

Marcello’s notes on his fellow cardinals had been exhaustive, almost obsessive, and Livia had pored over each and every one like a scholar deciphering a forgotten language. He’d cataloged their weaknesses, their fears, vices, and crimes, and made spiderweb charts outlining who was beholden to whom. Who could be swayed, who could be bought, and even, as he’d once hinted, which ones were honest. Reading his frustrated and failed attempts to corrupt Cardinal Josef put a tiny smile on Livia’s face.

She’d made notes of her own, working out her master plan. And tonight marked the first step.

The council auditorium, meeting place of the College of Cardinals, awaited beneath the papal manse. It had been built like a bowl, with concentric circles of seats descending to an open ring and a single raised podium at the heart of the room, all under the warm, soft light of a vast crystal chandelier. The College had been called in for a special session, and now nearly fifty men in forest-green stoles milled about the room and waited to find out why.

The auditorium doors swung wide and Livia made her entrance. She descended the steps to the podium in silence while a pack of Browncloaks—a dozen in all—filed in behind her. Two of them stood at her back as she took the podium, the others shutting the doors and standing sentry around the edges of the chamber.

The room fell silent. Cardinals glanced up from their tiny knots of conversation, and cast uncertain looks her way.

“Please,” she said, “be seated.”

She waited as they filed into their chairs. A few coming up to the very first row, as close to her as they could, and others making their way to the farthest seats in back. They reminded her of errant, surly schoolchildren. Appropriate enough, she thought.

After all, she was there to teach.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. “I understand there’s been some tension over my appointment as your pope. Some resentments, some worries and fears of change. I hear you, and I feel your concerns. And I realize that I could do more to meet you halfway. I need to get to know you, each and every one of you, and understand your unique needs and challenges.”

She took in their faces. Folded arms here and there, a few strident nods. A few with uncertain eyes, not sure what to make of her.

“To begin, tonight, I would like to single out two of you for special recognition. Cardinals De Luca and Cavalcante, will you please join me down on the floor?”

The two men ambled down the steps, side by side, escorted by a pair of Browncloaks. They stood before her podium, their escorts at their backs. De Luca beamed like a cherub, preening for the crowd, while Cavalcante stared up at her and squeezed his arms close to his sides. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, like he suddenly didn’t fit in his own clothes.

“The two of you have served for many, many years,” Livia told them. “I’ve been told that, like Cardinal Accorsi, you have tremendous sway in the College.”

She paused, letting them bask in the compliment.

“Sway you have used to conceal and facilitate an impressive array of crimes, from stealing Church funds by the fistful to embezzling charity proceeds, and—in Cardinal Cavalcante’s case—operating a brothel out of a convent.”

De Luca’s jaw dropped open, as if he’d been slapped across the face. As murmurs rippled through the gallery, Cavalcante shouted, “That’s—that’s preposterous! You can’t make accusations like that!”

“Of course I can. Especially when your friend Marcello so carefully documented the proof. Oh. You all might notice that the good Cardinal Accorsi isn’t here tonight.”

She cast a long, slow gaze across the council chamber, making sure she had their full attention.

“That’s because he’s dead. And now, gentlemen, your long-overdue recognition.” She nodded to the Browncloaks standing behind them. “Give them what they’ve earned.”

Cavalcante spun just in time to see the meat cleaver flashing down, chopping into his arm at the shoulder.

Cardinals leaped to their feet, their screams as loud as the two dying men, running for the auditorium doors in a mad stampede as Livia’s followers did their grisly work. They’d been ordered not to make it quick. Cavalcante and De Luca writhed on the floor, their blood guttering across the pristine white marble, as a line of stone-faced Browncloaks formed a cordon across the doorway and stopped the panicked audience from escaping.

“
Sit down
.” Livia’s voice snapped through the air like a bullwhip. On the floor before her, a gurgling whimper escaped from De Luca’s throat. The cleavers fell, one last time. The auditorium went silent.

“None of you,” Livia said softly, “were given permission to leave the room. So take your seats.”

The Browncloaks stepped back. They made no motion to move the butchered corpses, leaving them on display as the rest of the cardinals, pale and trembling, inched back to their chairs. Livia waited until they were all seated before she spoke again.

“These two men were not the only corrupt elements in the College. No, Cardinal Accorsi—Gardener rest his soul—was a font of knowledge about each and every one of you. So now we’re going to play a little game.”

She leaned over the podium, peering at each of the cardinals as if she could see inside their minds. One cupped his hand over his mouth; another sat with white knuckles clenching the arms of his chair and his eyes squeezed shut. The stench of congealing blood and bile flooded the sealed chamber.

“The name of the game is ‘What Does Livia Know?’ You see, those of you conducting illegal business under the aegis of the Church might be perfectly safe. I could be bluffing. Perhaps the only crimes I could prove were those of these two men, right here, and I’m completely in the dark about everything else.” She waved her open hand, taking them in. “Or, perhaps I know everything. And what I’m doing right now is giving you a rare, once-in-a-lifetime chance to quietly mend your ways and come back to the light, before I call you to face judgment. Do any of you men like to gamble? Hm. I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

She gave them a moment to let that sink in.

“My father always said a ruler’s chair should be uncomfortable. That leadership should be a burden, a weight to carry in the service of others. Let this be your reminder. From this day forward you will clean up all of your messes, you will root out the corruption in this room, and you will remember your purpose as servants of the Gardener. You will do this, or I will do it for you. And in case there is any doubt of who addresses you tonight, let me be perfectly, unequivocally clear.”

She held up her right hand. The light from the chandelier danced across the face of her signet ring, dazzling like a diamond.

“I am Livia Serafini, and I am your pope. I left my home as a refugee. I returned as a conqueror. And from this day forward, when I speak, you will listen. When I give instructions, you will obey. And you will fear me.”

She rested her hand upon the podium.

“Any questions? No? Good. You are dismissed.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Renata and Felix stood side by side at the wicker archway that marked the western edge of Kettle Sands.