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That’s when I break his nose and slam my elbow into his temple till he no longer moves.
40
PARADIGM
“Fitchner left?” she asks me.
“Through the window,” I say.
I watch Mustang across Apollo’s white warroom table. A blizzard has risen outside, no doubt meant to keep my army inside the castle around their warm fires and hot pots of soup. Her hair coils about her shoulders, held by leather bands. She wears the wolfcloak like the others, though hers is streaked with crimson. Muddy boots with spurs are kicked up on the table. Her standard, the only weapon she really favors, leans on a chair beside her. Mustang’s face is a quick one. Quick to mocking smiles. Quick to pleasant frowns. She gives me the smile and asks what is on my mind.
“I am wondering when you will betray me,” I say.
Her eyebrows knit together. “You’re expecting that?”
“Cheat or be cheated,” I say. “Echoed by your own lips.”
“Are you going to cheat me?” she said. “No. Because what advantage would you gain? You and I have beaten this game. They would have us believe one must win at the cost to all the rest. That isn’t true, and we’re proving it.”
I say nothing.
“You have my trust, because when you saw me hiding in the mud after taking my castle, you let me escape,” she explains thoughtfully. “And I have your trust, because I pulled you from the mud when Cassius left you for dead.”
I do not respond.
“So there is the answer. You are going to do great things, Darrow.” She never calls me Darrow. “Maybe you don’t have to do them alone?”
Her words make me smile. Then I bolt upright, startling her.
“Get our men,” I order.
I know she was looking forward to resting here. I was too. The smell of soup tempts me. So does the warmth and the bed and the thought of spending a quiet moment with her. But that is not how men conquer.
“We’re going to surprise the Proctors. We’re going to take Jupiter.”
“We can’t surprise them.” She taps her ring. The jamField Fitchner had is gone. We’d ditch the rings completely, but they are our insurance. The Proctors may be able to edit out a few things here and there, but common sense dictates that they can’t tamper with the footage too much or the Drafters will get suspicious.
“And even if we make it through this storm, what will taking Jupiter accomplish?” she asks. “If Apollo didn’t leave when his House lost, Jupiter won’t either. You’re just going to provoke them into interfering. We should go after the Jackal now!”
I know the Proctors are watching me plan this. I want them to know where I’m going.
“I’m not ready for the Jackal,” I tell her. “I need more allies.”
She looks at me, eyebrows pinched together. She doesn’t understand, but it doesn’t matter. She will soon enough.
Despite the blizzard, my army moves swiftly. We bundle ourselves in cloaks and furs so thickly that we look like animals stumbling through the snow. At night, we follow the stars, moving despite the mounting winds and the piling snow. My army does not grumble. They know I will not lead them purposelessly. My new soldiers press themselves harder than I would have thought possible. They have heard of me. Pax makes sure of that. And they are desperate to impress me. It becomes problematic. Wherever I walk, the procession around me suddenly doubles their efforts so that they overtake those in front or outpace those behind.
The blizzard is vicious. Pax always stands close to me and Mustang, as though he means to block us from the wind. He and Sevro are always stepping on each other’s toes to be nearest me, though Pax would likely want to light my fires and tuck me in bed at night if I let him, while Sevro would tell me to pick my own ass. I see his father in him every time I look at him now. He seems weaker now that I know his family. There’s no reason that should be the case; I guess I just supposed he really did spring from the loins of a she-wolf.
Eventually, the snows cease and spring comes fast and hard, which confirms my suspicions. The Proctors are playing games. The Howlers make sure all eyes are to the sky in case Proctors decide to harass us as we make our way. None do. Tactus keeps an eye out for their tracks. But it is quiet. We see no enemy scouts, hear no war trumpets in the distance, see no smoke rising except to the north in Mars’s highlands.
We raid provision stores in burnt and broken castles as we push toward Jupiter. There are jugs from Bacchus’s castle that Sevro was disappointed to discover full of grape juice instead of wine, salted beef from Juno’s deep cellars, molding cheeses, fish wrapped in leaves, and bags of the ever-present smoked horsemeat. They keep us full as we march.
In four rugged days, I have reached and besieged Jupiter’s triple-walled castle in the low mountain passes. Snow melts swiftly enough to make the ground soggy for our horses. Streams flow through our camp. I do not bother devising a plan of action. I simply tell Pax’s, Milia’s, and Nyla’s divisions that whoever gives me the fortress will win a prize. The defenders are very few and my army takes the outer fortifications in a day by making a series of wooden ramps under intermittent arrow barrages.
My other three divisions scout the surrounding territory en force in case the Jackal decides to stick his nose into this. Jupiter’s main army, it seems, is stranded across the now-thawed Argos laying siege to Mars’s castle. They did not expect the river to thaw so quickly. Still there is no sign of the Jackal’s men or of the Proctors. I wonder if they have found Fitchner locked in one of the Apollo Castle cells yet. I left him food and water and a face full of bruises.
On the third day of the siege, a white flag is flown from Jupiter’s ramparts. A thin boy of middling height and timid smiles slips out Jupiter Castle’s postern gate. The castle lies on high, rocky ground. It is sandwiched between two huge rock faces, so its three-tiered walls bow outward. Soon I would have tried sending men down the rock faces. It would have been a job for the Howlers—but they’ve had enough glory. This siege belongs to the soldiers captured when we fought Apollo.
