The Shadow Throne

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

RAESINIA

“Raes!”

“Cor-”

Raesinia didn’t have time to get the word out before the girl hit her at speed, knocking the wind out of her and hugging her so tightly she had trouble sucking in another breath. Raesinia let this go on for a while, but eventually she tapped Cora on the shoulder, indicating that a slight decrease in pressure would be appreciated. Raesinia didn’t really need to breathe, but it was difficult to talk without air in her lungs.

“Cora,” she got out, once she was able. “Are you all right?”

“More or less,” Cora said, still pressed close against Raesinia’s shoulder. “They were a little rough when they tied us up.”

“They didn’t. .” Raesinia hesitated, and Cora gave her a squeeze.

“I’m fine. The black-coats were threatening some of the women, but the captain replaced them with Armsmen before anything came of it.”

“Thank God.” Raesinia had been having waking nightmares of finally taking the prison, only to find a pile of mangled corpses, in spite of what Abby had told her. “Have you seen Sarton? We heard he was taken as well.”

“I saw him just now,” Cora said, and made a face. “He was walking around on the old prison levels. They have machines there for. . well, for a lot of unpleasant things. You know Sarton and machines, though, whatever they’re for.”

“I know.” The ghost of a smile crossed Raesinia’s lips, then vanished. “Cora. .”

“What about the others?” Cora looked up. Her hair was a rat’s-nest tangle, and her eyes were red from crying, but there were no tears there now. “Were they arrested?”

“Maurisk is downstairs, arguing with someone, I suspect. Faro as well.” Raesinia closed her eyes. “Ben. . Ben’s dead.”

She felt Cora’s hands tighten on the back of her shirt. “He. . you’re sure?”

“I was with him. He saved my life.” That was a lie, of course, but she thought it a kind one under the circumstances. “Orlanko’s men tried to kill us both.”

“Ben. .” Cora swallowed hard. “God. I never thought things would get this bad.”

Guilt made a lump in Raesinia’s throat. “Neither did I.”

There was a long silence. Eventually Cora loosened her grip and stepped away. They were in one of the Vendre’s tower rooms, long disused and empty except for dust and an ancient table and chairs. Raesinia went to one of the latter and sat down, gingerly, half expecting it to collapse. It let out a groan, but held for the moment.

“What the hell happened?” Cora said. “The guards wouldn’t tell us much. Just that there was a mob attacking the prison.”

“They arrested Danton,” Raesinia said. “The Armsmen did, I think, but afterward the Concordat must have thought it was time to make a clean sweep. They picked people up all over the city.”

“I know,” Cora said. “I was at the church in Oldtown. We sent everyone out the back when we saw them coming. I was going to try talking to them, but they just kicked in the door and grabbed me before I could say a word.”

Raesinia nodded. “They’re onto us, obviously. It was bound to happen eventually. I just didn’t think the Last Duke would try something like this. He’s supposed to be smarter than that.”

“But where did this riot come from?”

“All over. A woman named Mad Jane brought a huge gang of Docksiders over because they’d taken some friends of hers. I went to the Dregs and helped Maurisk round up the students and hangers-on. And once it got started people showed up on their own. I think half the city must be down there now.”

Cora shook her head. She glanced at the gun slit in the wall, where a faint gray light was just starting to make itself felt against the glow of the candles.

“It’s nearly morning,” she said. “What happens now?”

“I don’t know.” Raesinia shook her head. What she wanted more than anything else was time. Time to let emotions cool, time to gather the scattered members of her cabal and make a proper plan, time to get her own head in order. Time to mourn Ben the way he deserved. But she was equally aware that she was not going to get it. Half the city might be gathered in the streets, but they wouldn’t stay there for long. Something was happening, and it was happening now, whether she wanted it to or not.

If we don’t get control of it, someone else will. Right now the fall of the prison had produced a triumphant atmosphere, but the anger was still there. And God only knows what’s happening at Ohnlei. If Father is dead, then Orlanko will be trying to take control. There were too many variables, too many possibilities. Maybe I can leave Cora and Maurisk in charge here, and-

There was a knock at the door. Cora started and spun.

“It’s me,” said Sothe.

“Come in,” Raesinia said.

Cora looked surprised but said nothing as Sothe slipped in and shut the door behind her. Raesinia gestured wearily from one to the other.

“Sothe, you know Cora. Cora, this is Sothe. She’s an. . agent of mine. She’s been working with us since the beginning. I trust her with my life.” Or the nearest equivalent. “We couldn’t have taken the prison without her.”

Cora frowned, then bowed in Sothe’s direction. “Then I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” Sothe said, with a glance at Raesinia that told her they’d have words later. “It’s part of my job, after all.”

“What is your job?” Cora said, curious.

“Chambermaid,” Raesinia said. Sothe suppressed a smile. Cora looked between them and shook her head.

“They’re planning a grand council downstairs,” Sothe said. “To arrange for something along the lines set out in your declaration.”

“Who’s invited?” Raesinia said.

“Everyone from the old council, plus you, ‘Mad Jane’ and some of her people, Captain d’Ivoire, and some representatives of the merchants and traders. All sorts have been turning up, and everyone’s demanding a place at the table.” Sothe paused. “They’re going to want Danton to make a speech.”

“That can be arranged,” Raesinia said. “I’ll need some time to work out what we want him to say.”

“Before that,” Sothe said, “there’s something else we need to talk about.”

“Oh?”

“All of us.” Sothe’s expression was grim. “The cabal. Alone.”

The sun was coming up, but the morning light had revealed the hovering clouds to be heavy black thunderheads. They swept across the city like a conquering army, plunging it into shadow. It was still hot and dry, but the wind that whipped across the Vendre’s parapet was thick with the scent of rain. Distant, warning grumbles echoed across the river like the coughing of far-off cannon.

Raesinia sat on the stone parapet, her back to a crenellation, one leg dangling over the long drop to the rocks and the river below. Cora stood beside her, when she managed to stand still. Mostly she paced, arms crossed over her chest, hugging herself tighter when the wind gusted. Sothe, expressionless and impassive, waited between them.

One by one, the other conspirators made their appearance. Maurisk’s eyes were dark with fatigue, but his expression was triumphant. Faro had found time to change clothes, and was now back in his fashionable courtier’s outfit, complete with dress rapier. Unlike Maurisk, he seemed to be full of nervous energy, and glanced from Sothe to Raesinia and back again. Last to arrive was Sarton, who seemed none the worse for wear from his captivity.

“Raes, what’s going on?” Maurisk said, breaking the silence. “I’ve got work to do. They’re holding the council meeting this evening.”

“And who is this?” Faro said, indicating Sothe.

“This,” Raesinia said, “is Sothe. She’s what you might call an adjunct member of the cabal.”

Faro blinked. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I work for Raesinia, but I don’t make myself known to any of you,” Sothe said. “I help keep the Concordat looking in the wrong direction.”

Maurisk’s face clouded. “Then you’ve been doing a bang-up job, I must say.”

“I don’t like this,” Faro said. “You should have told us, Raes. Letting her in on the secret put all of us at risk. We have a right to know what you’re doing.”

“I trust her,” Raesinia said. “I’ve known her for longer than I’ve known any of you.”

“But I haven’t,” Maurisk said. “Faro’s right. Why not let us know?”

“Because,” Sothe said, “I work for Raesinia. My job is to keep her safe. That includes keeping her safe from any of you.”

That hung in the air for a long moment. Cora turned away, walking to the inner edge of the parapet and looking down at the still-thronged courtyard. Sarton was still staring at the sky, but Raesinia, Maurisk, and Faro exchanged glances.

“Now I really don’t like this,” Maurisk said. He stepped forward to stand directly in front of Sothe. “What are you implying?”

“And,” Faro said, coming up behind him, “why should we believe you?”

Thunder growled.

“There!” Sarton said. “Lightning!” He looked down at the others. “I’m sorry. You know how it is when you get your teeth in a p. . problem. I’ve been spending some time looking at the arrangements here, and I think. .”

He trailed off as he absorbed the tense atmosphere. Sothe cleared her throat.

“I imply nothing,” she said. “I asked you all here because, by the night before last, I had become reasonably certain one of you was leaking information to the Concordat.”

Maurisk snorted. “If one of us had been Concordat from the beginning, do you really think we would have gotten this far?”

“I didn’t say the informant was leaking from the beginning. It began quite recently, probably after the Second Pennysworth riots. That was when Danton really became a problem, and I can only assume the Last Duke went looking for answers and found someone he could squeeze.”

Faro was glaring at her, one hand on his rapier. “And you didn’t think to mention this at the time?” He looked at Raesinia. “Ben’s dead because we didn’t know the Concordat was onto us. If we believe what she’s saying-”

“It’s a fair question, Sothe,” Raesinia said. You might have at least told me.

“I said nothing because I wasn’t certain,” Sothe said. “Trust is paramount in a small group like this one. The mere accusation would have destroyed you, and I didn’t want to risk that without knowing for sure who the informant was.” Her eyes shifted, fractionally, toward Raesinia. “If that makes me guilty of Ben’s death, I accept it.”

“I don’t believe a word of this,” Maurisk said. He turned his back on Sothe and stalked away a few steps, then rounded on her. “The Last Duke would like nothing better than for us to turn on one another now. For all we know-”

“Sothe doesn’t work for Orlanko,” Raesinia said. “I’m certain of that, if nothing else.”

“So you say,” said Faro. He was still almost face-to-face with Sothe. “But you kept her secret in the first place. Why should we believe you?”

Sarton coughed politely. “If you kept silent because you didn’t know for c. . certain, the fact that you’ve told us now logically imp. . plies that you are sure.” Another rumble from the heavens nearly drowned out his soft, stuttering voice. “What happened?”

“The commander of the Concordat forces at the Vendre was Captain James Ross,” Sothe said. “His files were well organized. Like many Concordat field agents, however, he failed to take seriously the regulations concerning the practice of keeping books of ciphers in physical proximity to encoded communications.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about Concordat procedures-” Faro began, but Maurisk cut him off.

“You can read Ross’ files?”

“Not all of them, but enough to know that I was right.”

Maurisk’s voice trembled. “And the identity of the informant?”

“Yes. The duke wanted to be sure he wouldn’t be swept up in the purges.”

“Don’t tell me,” said Faro, “that you’re taking this seriously-”

Steel zinged as his rapier came out of its scabbard, faster than Raesinia would have given him credit for. Quick as he was, though, Sothe was faster. Her hand shot out and grabbed his, fingers interlocking like lovers’ on a promenade, and something fast and painful happened. Faro let go of his sword and spun away from her, only to be brought up short when she kept her grip on his hand. Sothe’s left hand had emerged from her waistband holding a long, thin dagger.

“Now,” she said, “I hope-”

“Sothe,” Raesinia said quietly.

There was a click. Even as he’d lost his sword, Faro’s off hand had gone to his pocket and come out with a nasty-looking short-barreled pistol. He thumbed back the hammer and brought the barrel up to aim squarely between Raesinia’s eyes.

“Your job is to protect her, isn’t it?” Faro said, his voice tight with pain. “Isn’t it? Then let go of me!”

Sothe locked eyes with Raesinia, just for a moment. Raesinia raised her eyebrows emphatically and nodded.

Better he point that thing at me than anyone else. Part of her was trying to process what was unfolding-that Faro had as good as signed Ben’s death warrant-but the rest was still planning as calmly as ever. All I need to do is make him pull the trigger. He’d never get the chance to reload. Raesinia had watched Sothe split leaves with a knife at twenty yards, and she never had less than a half dozen blades on her person. Come on, come on. .

Slowly, Sothe released Faro’s hand. He stepped away from her, weapon still trained on Raesinia, and circled around until his back was against the waist-high parapet stone.

“You’ll never get out of here alive,” Raesinia said, conversationally. She heard a hiss of breath from Maurisk and a startled squeak from Cora, somewhere behind her. “You know that, don’t you?”

“The hell I won’t.” Faro grabbed Raesinia by the arm and pressed the barrel of the pistol against the back of her skull. “Come on. Over to the trapdoor.”

He pushed her, painfully, but she didn’t move. “Then what?”

“Then I leave you all up here, bar the door, and get off the Island before anybody comes up here to let you out.” He tugged again, and when she didn’t move his voice turned almost plaintive. “Come on, Raes. Nobody needs to get killed.”

“Ben,” Raesinia said. “Ben got killed. Because you told Orlanko where to find us.”

“I didn’t know they were going to kill him! Everyone would have been fine if you’d just come along quietly.”

“Raes. .,” Maurisk said. “He’s right. We’ll catch up with this bastard later. It’s not worth getting your head blown off.”

“Please, Raes!” Cora’s voice was high and scared.

“Answer me this, Faro,” Raesinia said, implacably. “How much did it cost to buy you? A new pair of boots? One of those fancy swords you like so much?”

“Shut up. Move, damn it!” Faro tried to pull her after him, but Raesinia let her legs sag and ended up leaning against the parapet, facing outward, with Faro pressed up close behind her. Her knees pressed against the stone, and she felt a tingle in the soles of her feet as her balance shifted dangerously.

“Raes!” Cora shrieked.

Raesinia put her free hand on the parapet. “How much, Faro?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Faro took a step back, spun Raesinia around so they were face-to-face, then pushed her back against the wall, his hand still tight on her wrist. The pistol was pressed tight against her forehead. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

More or less. Raesinia smiled. “How much?”

“They had my family,” Faro hissed through clenched teeth. He pressed harder, levering her out dangerously over the edge. “My parents. My sisters. He told me he’d send them to me in pieces if I didn’t go along. What in the name of the Savior was I supposed to do?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, blinking away tears. It was as good an opportunity as Raesinia thought she was likely to get.

She brought her free hand up and wrapped it around his wrist, feeling their shared center of balance rock against the parapet. At the same time, her knee came up, fast and hard, between his legs. The blow to his groin would curl him up, and she’d be able to force the pistol away from her head before he could fire.

That was the theory, anyway. Something felt wrong as soon as she started to move. Her knee got tangled against something hard between his thighs-the damned scabbard, it got twisted when he turned around-

The wooden sheath absorbed the force of her blow with a splintering crack. She got her hand on his wrist, but the pistol was jammed hard against her forehead, and she didn’t have the leverage to shift it. She saw his eyes open and blink again, as slowly as if in a dream, and his finger jerked on the trigger. The hammer fell, sparking into the pan, and then-

Raesinia had never been shot in the head before. She felt a violent tug, as though someone had grabbed hold of her hair and yanked backward hard. In the same instant, her whole body went numb and all her limbs tried to pull inward at once, like a child instinctively clapping a hand over a skinned knee. With her knee between Faro’s legs, caught on his scabbard, and one of his wrists in her hand, this had the effect of pulling him practically on top of her.

Something scraped against the small of her back. There was a high, thin scream-Cora-and Raesinia saw a dizzy, spinning view of the darkening sky. Something dropped out of the pit of her stomach, and then she was falling.

It was a long way to the rocky riverfront below. She had time to let go of Faro and push him away. Raesinia hoped, in the muzzy-headed way of one whose brain had largely been converted into a cloud of flying gore and splinters, that she’d gotten enough momentum to get away from the wall and hit the water, but as she spun the ground came into view and it became clear she wasn’t going to make it. The base of the wall was a jumble of rocks, rounded off by the river at the waterline but still jagged above it.

Oh dear. This is going to hurt.

It turned out Raesinia could lose consciousness. All it took was driving a pistol ball through her brain, then smashing it to a red paste in a hundred-foot fall onto unforgiving stone.

She’d always wanted to have one of those out-of-body experiences sometimes described by seamen who’d been rescued from drowning, hovering above her corporeal form while a celestial chorus beckoned. It would have answered certain key questions raised by her postmortal state. But either those poor sailors had been telling stories or there was no choir of angels waiting for Raesinia. No army of demons, either, though. Just. . nothing, a blank in her memory from the moment she’d hit the rocks. It was a little like waking suddenly from a deep sleep, but with none of the refreshed feeling from having rested.

The binding was still working furiously, pulling wounds closed and regrowing flesh to replace what was lost. It went about this process with a blind, idiot determination that reminded Raesinia of a swarm of ants, doggedly building and rebuilding their anthill every time some curious child kicked it over. There was no intention there, no thought, just the mindless response of an animal.

It couldn’t understand, for example, when circumstances were unfavorable. As best Raesinia could tell, she was stuck on the edge of the skirt of rocks at the bottom of the Vendre’s walls, with her head and shoulder underwater and her legs sticking up in a most unladylike fashion. Her lungs were full of muddy river water, and her heart was limp and still in her chest. But the binding had straightened the fractured bones of her arms, and she could move, after a fashion. When she brought her hands up to explore her face, she found a coin-sized patch on her forehead of smooth, freshly knitted bone, surrounded by a slowly closing knot of regenerated skin.

The most urgent problem was what she was stuck on. Her eyes weren’t in working order yet, but she explored it with her hands. A splintery column of rock, freshly exposed by some underwater cracking, had driven itself some distance into her abdomen and caught there, leaving her hanging like a speared fish. As the gentle currents of the river moved her, she could feel it grate against her bottom ribs. The binding worked feverishly to repair the damaged flesh around the intrusion but could do nothing to push her off it.

Well. I suppose it’s up to me, then. Raesinia flailed her legs for a few moments until she determined to her satisfaction that nothing could be accomplished with them. Her hands could reach the offending spike, but it was slippery and offered little purchase, and the angle was bad. Scrabbling and pushing at it earned her only torn skin on her palms, which the binding went to work repairing with-she liked to imagine-an exasperated sigh.

All right. Now what? She couldn’t just hang here forever. There were people who went about picking up corpses, weren’t there? Eventually someone would notice the upside-down body under the walls of the Vendre and send a boat out. They would discover the Princess Royal of Vordan, her arse in the air, impaled on a spiky rock. She wondered if whoever did it would die of shock on the spot.

A moot point, though. Sothe will get here first.

She hung motionless awhile longer. Her eyes were beginning to clear, but there wasn’t much to see, just the dark waters of the Vor. Her hair settled in long spiderweb patterns around her head, twitching this way and that in the weak currents. She felt a tug at her leg through a rent in her trousers. A scavenger, she assumed, and kicked her feet to indicate that she wasn’t dead yet. Or. . well, whatever.

Something splashed into the water nearby. Raesinia turned her head, but all she could see was a dark shadow in the murk, making its way along the rocks. A moment later it was beside her, a pair of hands groping gently along her body until they found the protruding chunk of stone. Whoever it was took hold of her, above and below the intrusion, and lifted. Dirty water flooded into the wound, and thick, dark blood flowed out. Raesinia pictured the binding sighing again, this time with relief, as it went to work knitting up the torn skein of her intestines.

Whoever it was pushed her away from the rocks, and someone else took hold of her hands and pulled. Between the two of them they managed to roll Raesinia over the low gunwale of a boat, to lie dripping and motionless on the bottom. She felt the boat rock as the figure who’d been in the water pulled itself back in.

This left Raesinia in something of a quandary. She could pretend to be dead for only so long. It might be Sothe, but it might not, and she dared not open her eyes to check. She opted to lie still, feeling her insides rebuilding themselves, and hoped that whoever they were, they would say something.

There was a long silence, in fact, broken by the splash of oars as the boat cleared off from the rocky walls of the Vendre and moved out into the slow, calm waters of the Vor. Eventually, though, the rowing sounds stopped, and strong hands took Raesinia by the shoulders and rolled her onto her back, letting her look up at her rescuers.

“I must say, Your Highness,” said Janus bet Vhalnich, “you’ve looked better.”

Raesinia sat up, her clothes squishing damply, and looked around. They were in a tiny rowboat, really too small for three. In the back was Sothe, an oar in each hand, resolutely refusing to meet Raesinia’s eyes. In the front, Janus was stripped to a white shirt and trousers, sopping wet.

She opened her mouth to say something, but all that emerged was a thin stream of river water. Raesinia held up a finger to indicate he should wait, and Janus nodded gravely. She leaned over the edge of the boat and vomited up a mix of water and blood that went on for far longer than she’d expected. Then, feeling quite a bit lighter, she turned back to Janus and took an experimental breath. The binding tingled across her lungs, repairing the damage done by hours of immersion. Her heart started with a jerk, then settled reluctantly into its familiar rhythm, like an ancient machine squealing along a rusty track.

“I have,” she said, and paused to cough a bit more water over the side. “I have been better. Considerably better.”

“I trust that you’ll recover?”

“I expect so.” Raesinia felt a little giddy, either as a result of her rescue or because the binding hadn’t created enough blood to replace all she’d lost. She looked down at her torn, bedraggled shirt, and sighed. “I think these clothes have about had it, though.”

A smile flickered across Janus’ face. He looked up at Sothe. “Back to the North Shore docks, then.”

“Wait,” Raesinia said, as the oars started to cut the water again. “I have to go back. The others-”

“Think you’re dead,” Janus interrupted. “Miss Sothe has been good enough to inform me of what happened. Your reappearance now might provoke suspicion, to say the least.”

“She has?” Raesinia caught Sothe’s eye and got a look that said, I’ll explain later. She shook her head. “I could. . think of something. Some miracle. It doesn’t matter. I need to-”

“You do not,” Janus said. “Matters have not proceeded quite according to plan, but the result seems satisfactory. Your presence here is no longer necessary.”

Who the hell are you to tell me that? Raesinia’s brain felt as though it still wasn’t functioning properly. He knows about me, obviously. How? How much has Sothe told him?

“Besides,” Janus continued, “you are urgently required at Ohnlei. The next act of the drama has already begun.”

There was a long silence. Raesinia swallowed, tasting blood and river water. There was only one thing that could mean.

“My father?”

“I’m very sorry to tell you that the king is dead. Doctor-Professor Indergast did his utmost, but His Majesty’s constitution was simply too frail to recover from the surgery, as he had in the past. He passed away in the small hours of the morning.”

“I see,” Raesinia said. It was news she’d been expecting on a daily basis for months, but it still felt like a steel-gauntleted punch to her gut. He’s dead. He’s really. . “Is this widely known?”

“Not yet. The duke has been containing the information as best he can. But it will not stay quiet for long.”

Raesinia nodded, trying to think. It felt as if her mind were in a fog.

Janus bowed his head, as low as he could. “As a noble of Vordan, as I once swore my loyalty to your father, I now offer it to you. I, Janus bet Vhalnich, the eighth Count Mieran, do swear to serve and protect Queen Raesinia of Vordan, though it means my life.”

It was a standard oath, one she’d heard her father accept hundreds of times. Here and now, though, there was a strange solemnity to it, and Raesinia felt a chill that had nothing to do with the breeze or her soaked clothing. Though it means my life. It had already meant Ben’s, and Faro’s, and God knew how many others. And more, before we’re done.

“You’re right.” Raesinia shook her head. She saw Maurisk’s scowl, Sarton lost in his books, Cora sobbing, Ben gasping out his unrequited love with his last breath. “Back to Ohnlei.” And you are going to have a great deal of explaining to do.

Thunder rolled overhead. A moment later, the rain began.