The Guns of Empire (20 page)

—

“Your Majesty . . .” Sothe said quietly.

“I know,” Raesinia said. “You think this is a bad idea.”

“These people are dangerous.”

Raesinia gestured around them. The large tent, big enough for a company to eat dinner, was empty except for herself, Sothe, and five guards from the Girls' Own. She and Sothe sat on a bench on one side of a long table, like hosts waiting for their guests to arrive.

“I think we've taken adequate precautions,” Raesinia said. Lowering her voice, she added, “And they're hardly dangerous to
me
.”

“It's still a risk, however slight. I don't understand what you hope to gain.”

That was a point on which Raesinia wasn't prepared to have a debate, but she was saved from the necessity by the arrival of a small procession. It was led by a Girls' Own sergeant, a big woman with a barely tamed frizz of red hair, and followed by four more soldiers. They were evenly spaced around the prisoners, two women and a young boy, dressed in the drab browns of Murnskai peasants.

Raesinia got to her feet as the captives were escorted to the other side of the table. Their hands were bound behind their backs, she noted, and they were absolutely filthy, clothes stiff with mud and skin still crusty with dried blood. The taller of the two women had bandages wrapped around her head, with an angry red inflammation peeking out from underneath them. Something
stank
, the sick-sweet smell of a festering wound.

“Sergeant,” Raesinia said. “General Ihernglass assured me these prisoners were being treated properly.”

“We've done everything we can for 'em,” the sergeant said, bowing deep. “General Ihernglass said he doesn't want us to lay hands on them more than necessary. We've offered baths and fresh clothes, but they won't hear of it. Won't let a cutter near them, either.” She glared at the captives. “If the stink displeases you, I can have the girls strip 'em down and rinse 'em off.”

“No,” Raesinia said. “I think General Ihernglass has it right.” She turned back to the trio. “Has anyone tried to talk to them?”

The sergeant scratched her cheek. “Not enough of us speak Murnskai, to be honest, Your Majesty. They've got a few words of Vordanai, but not enough for a conversation. General Ihernglass spoke to them a little bit, but after we wiped out the whole nest of 'em he didn't think they'd have anything useful to say.”

Raesinia nodded, still staring at the three. The woman whose face wasn't bandaged was the oldest, and she met Raesinia's gaze with hard, clear blue eyes. The boy couldn't have been older than fifteen, and kept sneaking quick glances at Raesinia before turning his attention back to his shoes.

“Good afternoon,” Raesinia said, blowing the mental dust off her Murnskai. She spoke slowly and probably overpolitely; everything she'd learned had been geared toward diplomatic functions. “I am Raesinia Orboan. What are your names?”

The older woman blinked, unprepared to be addressed in her own
language. Then, with a quick glance at her companions, she set her jaw and said nothing.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” Raesinia said. “I just want to talk. Would you like to sit down?”

“I am Vitali,” the boy mumbled.

The older woman heaved a sigh. “I am Nina,” she said. “And this is Lidiya.” Her eyes narrowed. “You are . . . empress?”

“Queen, we would say,” Raesinia said. “Yes. I am the Queen of Vordan.”

“Queen of the heretics,” Lidiya muttered under her breath. “Queen of filth.”

Nina ignored this. “Why would you speak to us?”

“I wanted to talk about what you did, back at the village. I wanted to . . .” Raesinia trailed off, shaking her head. Most of all she wanted to
understand
, impossible as that might seem. “You fought. All of you together, men and women and children.”

“Of course,” Nina said. “My sons and I would not leave my husband on his own.” She blew out a breath. “I regret only that I must wait before I can see them again.”

“And before that,” Raesinia said. “You attacked the army at night? The wagons, the supply lines. Correct?”

“She will kill us,” Vitali muttered urgently. “Say nothing.”

“She will kill us anyway,” Lidiya said. The bandage held her jaw shut, Raesinia realized, so all her words came from between clenched teeth.

“Let her,” Nina said, making no attempt to hide her voice. “Yes. We did our part to drive your cursed army away.”

“Why?” Raesinia said. “None of our foragers even came close to your village. We did nothing to you.”

“Is that what you think of us?” Nina laughed bitterly. “That we are so cowardly as to ignore the houses your men burn, the girls they rape, the crops they steal, because they haven't yet come to
our
village? That we value our lives so highly we would stand by while your demon general destroys Father Church and condemns the world to darkness?”

“No villages have been burned,” Raesinia said. “We are here because your emperor declared war on
us
.”

Even as she said it, it felt like sophistry.
We're here because Janus wants to destroy the Black Priests.
The First Consul had made it clear that everything else was secondary.

“The emperor serves by the will of God,” Vitali said. It sounded like a catechism. “The Church of Elysium is the will of God made manifest.”

“Who told you to destroy your own village?” Raesinia said. “The priests?”

“You understand nothing of us,” Nina said. “Everything we do is in accordance with the will of God. We feel it.” There was pity in her eyes for a moment. “A heretic would never understand.”

“You're right,” Raesinia said, feeling her anger rising. “I don't understand what could drive people to murder their own children.” She looked from Nina to Lidiya and back again. “It's what you did, isn't it? Everyone too young or too old to join in your mad attack.”

“They are with God now,” Nina said, her eyes hooded. “My mother. My daughter.”

“My sisters,” Vitali said. “And my brother. One of your girl soldiers cut his throat.”

“They didn't have to be,” Raesinia said. “If you'd stayed in your homes, we would have left you alone!”

“Lies,” Lidiya said. “You lie, you . . . you . . .”

Her emotion overcoming her limited ability to speak, she took hold of the bandage and tore it away. A crust of dried blood and pus went with it, and fresh gore spattered across the table. Raesinia instinctively averted her eyes from the ruin of the woman's face, where a long diagonal cut was dark with rot at the edges.

“You think you can fool us, harpy,” Lidiya shouted. “Slut. Queen of whores. Look at you, dressed like a boy to please your general. He must fancy little boys.”

The Girls' Own sergeant stepped forward, frowning, but Raesinia held up a hand. She felt Sothe tense.

“I should have stayed home and done nothing?” Lidiya said, blood spraying with every word. “My children are
safe
now in their eternal reward. I should have let you take their souls? Make them into freaks like your whore soldiers?” She jerked her head at the guards and sneered, dry flesh cracking. “Murnsk and Father Church will build a mountain of your heretic corpses, and then you will scream forever in hell.”

Lidiya ran out of breath, panting, a steady patter of blood dripping onto the table. Nina squared her shoulders.

“Well?” she said. “Will you kill us now?”

“No,” Raesinia said, wiping a spot of blood off her cheek. “Sergeant?”

“Your Majesty?” The sergeant was staring at the maimed woman.

“Take these two away.” She indicated Nina and Vitali, then pointed at Lidiya. “Find a cutter and tell him to do whatever he can for her.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The sergeant gestured the guards forward. “Although it may be too late.”

“Tell him to try regardless.” Raesinia sat down heavily on the wooden bench. “Thank you for your help, Sergeant.”

“Of course.” The sergeant bowed and followed the retreating prisoners.

“You were right,” Raesinia said, when Sothe sat beside her. “This was a bad idea. I thought . . .” She wasn't sure
what
she'd thought. “That maybe if we're fighting the Priests of the Black, we could convince everyone else to stay out of it.”

“It would be easier for all concerned,” Sothe said. “But you know it's impossible.”

Raesinia shook her head. “I thought some of them could be convinced, perhaps. They've just seen their families slaughtered on Elysium's orders. They should
hate
the priests for that. But . . .” She looked up at Sothe. “They're going to fight us, aren't they? All the way to Elysium.”

“All the way,” Sothe agreed.

A hundred more villages like this one. A hundred more little massacres. Knives in the dark and burning villages.

“It's what needs to be done,” Sothe said, watching her expression.

To keep
me
safe from the Priests of the Black.
Raesinia took a long, shaky breath.
Does that make this my fault or theirs?

“Your Majesty?” Sothe said. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” Raesinia said. “Go back to the tent. I want to . . . walk for a while.”

—

After the rot-tinged air of the tent, the cool air outside felt like a tonic. Raesinia walked away with no clear destination in mind, turning at random through the close-packed tents of the Girls' Own camp. There were women everywhere, cooking, cleaning weapons, playing dice or cards, and attending to all the other incomprehensible little chores that soldiers busied themselves with on the march. Some of them recognized her, and she left a trail of startled looks and sketchy bows in her wake.

Eventually she felt the strange, almost-pain sensation in her head that she'd learned meant the nearby presence of another demon. Raesinia hadn't managed to become adept with this new sense, but she could usually tell when Winter
was nearby, at least. This time it felt unusually strong, and she expected to find the general right behind her, but when she finally stopped, she was standing by the flap of a tent halfway down the row. Winter noticed Raesinia at the same time and bowed as she approached.

“Your Majesty,” Winter said. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

“Just clearing my head,” Raesinia said.

Winter exchanged a look with a captain standing beside her.

“You're not here to visit Alex?” Winter said.

Raesinia blinked. “Alex?”

“Our . . . guest. I thought the First Consul would have given you my report.”

“He didn't say anything about it,” Raesinia said, gritting her teeth. “Who's Alex?”

“We picked her up after the fight with the partisans. She's”—Winter looked around—“like us. You understand?”

A demon-host.
While the precise nature of Raesinia's power was known only to a few, it was impossible to conceal the presence of her demon from another host. Now that she knew what to look for, she could just about separate the pressure in her head into two distinct parts, one oriented toward Winter, the other into the tent.

“Is she Murnskai?” Raesinia said. “A Penitent?”

“She's Hamveltai, as best we can tell. She's been recovering from a nasty wound, so we haven't gotten the chance to question her closely. She claims to be looking for revenge on the Priests of the Black, but . . .” Winter shrugged. “Janus asked me to try to get something more out of her.”

“Can I speak with her?” Raesinia said.

Winter frowned. “I was about to talk to her myself, but we can't be certain it's safe. If she
is
a Penitent—”

“You don't need to worry on my account,” Raesinia said. “I can take care of myself.”

Unlike Sothe, Winter seemed willing to take that at face value. She nodded to the captain.

“Bobby, wait outside, but don't go far.”

“Yes, sir.” Bobby saluted and moved off.

Raesinia lowered her voice. “She's one of us as well?”

Winter nodded. “It's . . . complicated, but yes.”

Keeping my secret is going to be harder than I thought.
There seemed to be a surprising number of demon-hosts around.

Winter slipped through the tent flap, and Raesinia followed, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the relative darkness. It was a cutter's tent, with room for a surgeon and several patients, but currently only one bedroll was occupied. The young woman that Raesinia assumed was Alex was sitting up, reading a thick, leather-bound book. She was younger than Raesinia, probably still in her teens, with dark hair and wide, intelligent eyes. Her face was a little drawn, probably from the injury Winter had spoken of, but her expression was alert when she looked up at them.

“Winter!” she said. “Thank God. I thought I was going to have to tackle another chapter.”

“That bad?” Winter said.

“I'm sure it's fascinating, if you're interested in the marriage arrangements of a Mithradacii Tyrant who's been dead for a thousand years.”

“I'll ask Cyte if she has anything more exciting.” Winter gestured to Raesinia. “This is—”

Raesinia had been watching Alex, and there was no recognition in her eyes. She caught Winter's gaze and raised an eyebrow. Winter understood and with barely a stumble continued. “—Raes.”

“Another demon-host,” Alex said. “Janus has quite the collection, doesn't he?”

Raesinia gave a noncommittal smile.

Winter said, “Do you mind if we sit?”

“It's your tent,” Alex said. “I'm just borrowing it.”

Winter dragged cushions over, and she and Raesinia sat down opposite Alex. Alex set the book aside.