Page 176 of The Infernal Battalion

“The queen is right,” Winter said. “We can’t have the battle in the city if we can possibly avoid it.”

“What’s the other alternative?” Raesinia said.

“It’s riskier,” Marcus said. “We deploy the army north of Ohnlei, close to the Marak, and dig in as much as we can. Janus won’t be able to slip around our left, because of the river, and if he tries to go wide around our right we can pounce on his rear. He’ll have no choice but to attack us. If we choose our position carefully, we might be able to hold out until nightfall, or until Winter succeeds.”

“That seems logical enough,” Winter said. “Why do you say it’s risky?”

“Because Janus is Janus,” Marcus said, with a bitter laugh. “General Kurot thought he had him locked in a trap, and look what happened to him. He could do a hundred things I haven’t thought of and we’d be in no position to stop him. Once we pick our ground, we’re committed—​we can’t maneuver without losing the advantage of our fortifications.” He scratched his beard. “The only reason I even suggest it is because of the way he fought in the Pale valley.”

“What way was that?” Sothe said.

“Carelessly,” Marcus said. “As though the lives of his troops meant nothing to him. Whenever I served under Janus, he never spent blood recklessly, but now...” He shrugged. “If all he’s concerned with is speed, he’ll come at us head-on. Then we’ll have our battle. If not, then we may end up like Kurot.”

Raesinia took a deep breath, her face hardening.

“I think it’s our best option,” she said. “How long do we have?”

“Five days, at the minimum,” Marcus said. “Longer, if Janus goes easy on his men, but when has he ever done that?”

“And have you picked out your site?”

“I think so,” Marcus said. “I need to go and look it over personally.”

Raesinia glanced at Winter, who nodded.

“All right,” Raesinia said. “Then this is where we stop the Beast.”

28

Winter

Ennika held Winter’s arm as they descended the steps into the palace basement, Alex and Abraham following behind. It was cool down there, a steady breeze blowing up from the dark, underground corridors. There were springs under Ohnlei, and their chilly waters were channeled through the walls to wine cellars and meat storage. The ubiquitous braziers were absent, and Winter carried a candelabra in her hand.

At the bottom of the stairs, a young man in a gray robe waited in front of a curtained doorway. He bowed at Winter’s approach. She recognized him, distantly, as one of the students Feor had taken on when she’d been commissioned by the queen to study the Thousand Names. The lack of familiarity brought home just how long it had been since Winter had seen the Khandarai priestess. She probably feels like I abandoned her here.

“General Ihernglass,” the young man said. “My name is Justin de Horat. The mistress is expecting you.”

Winter nodded. “Is there somewhere Ennika could rest while we talk?”

“Of course.” Justin extended his arm to the blind girl. “You’ll find the mistress through the archive in the sanctuary. I’ll find Miss Ennika somewhere comfortable.”

He disappeared through the curtain, and Winter and the others followed. Beyond was a wide hallway with more curtained doorways off either side and a large arch at the back. Between the doorways, lining the walls, were the Thousand Names.

It had been more than a year since Winter had seen the ancient artifacts that had been the start of everything. They were eight-​foot-​tall slabs of steel, deeply incised with long strings of tiny, unfamiliar characters. Under the Mountain, she’d seen a similar archive, and the Eldest had told her their unwieldiness was intentional. Not only would the steel tablets be proof against the years, but their sheer size and weight made theft unlikely.

She knew now that they were the creation of the Mages, an ancient faction of the pre-​Elysian church that held that the summoning of demons was not intrinsically evil. The Mages had worked to discover the names of demons, and inscribed their knowledge on tablets like these. But their enemies, led by the great Saint Elleusis Ligamenti, had won the power struggle, and the Mages were declared heretical. Some had survived by stealth, like the Eldest and his followers at the Mountain. Others had fled over the seas, taking their archive with them, and after a thousand years had become the secret cult that Winter and Janus had faced in the temple under the Great Desol.

Or so the Eldest claimed, at any rate. Winter was on shaky ground as far as theological matters went, and she wasn’t sure how Feor would take being labeled as a devotee of a heretical Karisai sect. She can talk it over with the Eldest, once all this is finished. For the moment they had more practical concerns.

Abraham’s eyes were wide and his hands twitched, as though he couldn’t wait to examine the huge tablets. He leaned close to Winter and said, “It’s true, then. What you said about the archive in Khandar.”

“You thought I was making it up?”

“I just...” He shook his head. “The idea that it could be found, after so long, seemed incredible.”

They pushed through the curtains at the end of the hall and into a large space, softly lit by ranks of candles. Like the chambers of the Eldest, it was simply furnished, with a circle of cushions on the stone floor the only concession to comfort. They were all empty, save one where Feor sat, looking expectant.

She’d grown, Winter thought, in the time since they’d last met. Not just physically, though a better diet had gone a long way toward filling out the half-​starved girl Winter remembered. There was a confidence in her that hadn’t been there before, a squareness to her shoulders and a steadiness to her gaze. Her dark hair was long and carefully plaited, and the gray cast to her skin marked her as Khandarai.