Page 159 of The Infernal Battalion

“I doubt we can unseat d’Andorre in the Deputies,” Marcus said. “Not in the time we have. And someone that self-​righteous isn’t going to take a bribe.”

Raesinia thought about Cora and the mountains of gold she’d conjured in Borel. A shame we used it already. Even if they’d brought along a spare fortune, though, Marcus was probably right. Honest men are the most frustrating.

“We’ve done this before,” Raesinia said slowly. “Forget about d’Andorre. We have to go over his head.”

“Over his head?” Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that mean appealing to the queen?”

“We appeal to the people. He can’t have made his plan for surrender public yet. The people of Vordan wouldn’t give up so easily. If we turn them against him...”

“That might lead to fighting, too,” Marcus warned.

“It won’t,” Raesinia said. “D’Andorre isn’t Maurisk. He honestly believes he’s doing what’s right, and that means, as a Deputy, he can’t stand against the people’s will. He’ll back down.”

“That’s... possible,” Marcus said. “Are you certain you’ll get enough support? The people of Vordan may not give up easily, but some of them were on Janus’ side to begin with.”

“No guarantees,” Raesinia said. “But I think it’s the best chance we’ve got.” She looked down at the maps on the table, seeking inspiration. “How do we get the message out, though?”

“I think I may be able to help with that,” Marcus said. “Let me see if I can talk to Alek Giforte. He was Vice Captain of Armsmen for years. He’ll know how to whip up a crowd.”

“You think he’ll help?”

Marcus nodded. “He’s a good man, and I guarantee he won’t be happy about the surrender. We’ll put the word around that you’re going to speak tomorrow in Farus’ Triumph.”

Raesinia grinned. There was something appropriate about that; it had been in Farus’ Triumph that Danton Aurenne had given the speeches that launched the revolution.

“Do it,” she said.

“The only trouble is going to be getting you there,” Marcus said. “D’Andorre’s no fool. Once he figures out what we’re up to, he’ll keep a watch on the ships and be ready to stop you when you land.”

“I have an idea there,” Raesinia said. She sighed. “Now all I have to do is work out what I’m going to say.”

*

Raesinia hit the water with a splash that set her skin to tingling. It was warmer than she’d expected, heated by the sun on the Vor’s long progress south, murky with suspended dirt. She kicked downward, well below the surface, and let out all the air in her lungs in a stream of silver bubbles. Her chest started burning as she began to swim, her body screaming for air, but she had long since grown used to ignoring its importunate demands. She kicked steadily, feeling the slow tingle of the binding as it worked to repair the damage she was doing to herself. At least I’m not impaled on anything this time.

It was a long way to the south bank, and Raesinia wasn’t the strongest swimmer. She tried to keep herself oriented, swimming diagonally against the current, but it was impossible to stay on a consistent heading in the muck. That was all right, though. D’Andorre couldn’t watch the entire riverbank, and he’d expect to have plenty of warning to intercept any boats the Dominant put out.

For a while, suspended in featureless swirls of brown water, she felt like she wasn’t making any progress at all. Then the riverbed came into sight, gradually getting closer as she approached the shore, until her feet started to stir up great clouds of river mud. Raesinia drew her legs in and stood up, her head breaking the surface of the water, and she finally let her body draw the breath it needed.

She stood there, chilly and dripping, while the binding worked its way through her and fixed whatever her suffocation had broken. When the tingling behind her eyes went away, she waded up the shore. It wasn’t clear where the water ended and the land began, here. The Bottoms were a sucking, rotting bog, without much to distinguish between muddy ground and muddy river. By trial and error she found a patch sturdy enough to support her, then turned in a full circle. She oriented herself on the Dominant, easily visible at the head of the fleet. From there she traced the line she should have swum, and found the bone white dead tree Marcus had given her for a landmark. It was about a quarter mile up the shore. The current must be stronger than I thought.

She squelched in that direction, stumbling through mud that came up to her ankles and through occasional pools of stagnant water. As she got closer, she was relieved to see a one-​horse coach waiting, with Marcus sitting on the driver’s box, looking uncomfortable in civilian clothes and a high-​collared coat. Raesinia waved to him, and he looked her over, then did a double take.

“Raes?” He jumped down from the box. “Good God. You look like...”

“Like I just swam the river and then walked through a swamp?” She wiped a glob of mud from her face and grinned. “I hope you found me a change of clothes. I don’t think I want to address anyone looking like this.”

“Of course.” He opened the door to the carriage, and Raesinia was pleased to see a stack of towels sitting on the bench. “Alek should have everything ready.”

Raesinia stepped up, and Marcus hurried to get the carriage turned around. He was an inexpert driver, but the horse was old and tired and they weren’t in any hurry. They were on one of the many winding paths through the Bottoms, twisting and turning to stay on dry ground, and occasionally crossing an impromptu bridge of planks and logs. Before long they pulled out onto the River Road, a more official thoroughfare, which roughly paralleled the riverbank as it ran north toward the city.

The road passed just under the bastion of the southern water battery, which made Raesinia a little nervous, but there was no reason for anyone to suppose that a cheap one-​horse cab held the Queen of Vordan and her highest-​ranked general. Armsmen were out in force, with their green uniforms and tall staves of office, though traffic in the markets they passed through seemed to be sparse. The city felt like it was holding its breath, Raesinia decided. She couldn’t guess if that boded well or poorly.

While they drove, she cleaned herself up a bit, utterly ruining several towels in the process. By the time they turned north to cross the Grand Span to the Island, she was merely grubby rather than dripping with mud, and she’d detached several leeches. The binding flared to life again, and the coin-​sized holes they’d cut in her skin began to fade.

The road led directly from the foot of the Grand Span into the Triumph, but Marcus turned left, along a street of high-​class hotels. He stopped in front of one called Montarn’s and came around to open the door.

“Take this.” He handed her his coat. “Just until we get upstairs.”