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Jezal could not help gri
“As a result of your dedication and courage in this difficult and vital task, I am delighted to a
Jezal’s eyes opened up very wide. “I have?”
“You have indeed, my boy, and no one could deserve it more.”
To rise two ranks in one afternoon was an unprecedented honour, especially when he had fought in no battle, carried out no recent deeds of valour, and made no ultimate sacrifices. Unless you counted leaving off the most recent bedding of his best friend’s sister halfway. A sacrifice, no doubt, but scarcely the kind that usually earned the King’s favour.
“I, er, I…” He could not escape a glow of satisfaction. A new uniform, and more braid, and so forth, and more people to tell what to do. Glory and fame were meagre rewards, perhaps, but he had taken the risks already, and now had only to say yes. Had he not suffered? Had he not earned it?
He did not have to think about it for so very long. He scarcely had to think about it at all. The idea of leaving the army and settling down receded rapidly into the far distance. “I would be entirely honoured to accept this exceptional… er… honour.”
“Then we are all equally delighted,” said Hoff sourly. “Now to business. You are aware, Colonel Luthar, that there has been some trouble with the peasants of late?”
Surprisingly, no news had reached Ardee’s bedroom. “Nothing serious, surely, your Grace?”
“Not unless you call a full-blown revolt serious.”
“Revolt?” Jezal swallowed.
“This man, the Ta
“No one ever suspected it would reach the point of open rebellion.” Varuz worked his mouth angrily. “But following a demonstration near Keln a group of peasants encouraged by this Ta
“Ravaging?” murmured Jezal, glancing at the door. Ravaging really was a very ugly word.
“It is a most regrettable business,” bemoaned Marovia. “Half of them are honest men, faithful to their king, pushed to this through the greed of their landlords.”
Varuz sneered his disgust. “There can be no excuse for treason! The other half are thieves, and blackguards, and malcontents. They should be whipped to the gallows!”
“The Closed Council has made its decision,” cut in Hoff. “This Ta
Marshal Varuz clasped his hands before him. “The two regiments of the King’s Own that have remained in Midderland will be sent out to counter this threat. A list of concessions,” and he scowled as he said the word, “has been prepared. If the peasants will accept negotiation, and return to their homes, their lives can be spared. If this Ta
“Killed,” said Hoff, rubbing at a stain on the table with his heavy thumb. “And the ringleaders delivered to his Majesty’s Inquisition.”
“Regrettable,” murmured Jezal, without thinking, feeling a cold shiver at the very mention of that institution.
“Necessary,” said Marovia, sadly shaking his head.
“But hardly straightforward.” Varuz frowned at Jezal across the table. “In each village, in each town, in every field and farm they have passed through they have picked up more recruits. The country is alive with malcontents. Ill-disciplined, of course, and ill-equipped, but at our last estimate they numbered some forty thousand.”
“Forty… thousand?” Jezal shifted his weight nervously. He had supposed they were perhaps discussing a few hundred, and those without proper footwear. There was no danger here, of course, safe behind the walls of the Agriont, the walls of the city. But forty thousand was an awful lot of very angry men. Even if they were peasants.
“The King’s Own are making their preparations: one regiment of horse and one of foot. All that is missing now is a commander for the expedition.”
“Huh,” grunted Jezal. He did not begrudge that unfortunate man his position, commanding a force outnumbered five to one against a bunch of savages buoyed up by righteousness and petty victories, drunk on hatred of noblemen and monarchy, thirsty for blood and loot…
Jezal’s eyes went wider still. “Me?”
“You.”
He fumbled for the words. “I do not wish to seem… ungrateful, you understand, but, surely, I mean to say, there must be men better suited to the task. Lord Marshal, you yourself have—”
“This is a complicated time.” Hoff glared sternly at Jezal from beneath his bushy brows. “A very complicated time. We need someone without… affiliations. We need someone with a clean slate. You fit the bill admirably.”
“But… negotiating with peasants, your Grace, your Worship, Lord Marshal, I have no understanding of the issues! I have no understanding of law!”
“We are not blind to your deficiencies,” said Hoff. “That is why there will be a representative from the Closed Council with you. Someone who possesses unchallenged expertise in all those areas.”
A heavy hand slapped suddenly down on Jezal’s shoulder. “I told you it would be sooner rather than later, my boy!” Jezal slowly turned his head, a feeling of terrible dismay boiling up from his stomach, and there was the First of the Magi, gri
“The peasants’ army, if we can call it such, is camped within four days’ slovenly march of the city, spread out across the country, seeking for forage.” Varuz craned forward, poking at the table with a finger.
“You will proceed immediately to intercept them. Our hopes hang on this, Colonel Luthar. Do you understand your orders?”
“Yes, sir,” he whispered, trying and utterly failing to sound enthusiastic.
“The two of us, back together?” Bayaz chuckled. “They’d better run, eh, my boy?”
“Of course,” murmured Jezal, miserably. He had had his own chance to escape, his chance to start a new life, and he had given it up in return for an extra star or two on his jacket. Too late he realised his awful blunder. Bayaz’ grip tightened round his shoulder, drew him to a fatherly distance, and did not feel like releasing him. There really was no way out.
Jezal stepped out of the door to his quarters in a great hurry, cursing as he dragged his box behind him. It really was an awful imposition that he had been obliged to carry his own luggage, but time was extremely pressing if he was to save the Union from the madness of its own people. He had given only the briefest consideration to the idea of sprinting for the docks and taking passage on the first ship to distant Suljuk, before angrily dismissing it. He had taken the promotion with his eyes open, and now he supposed he had no choice but to see it through. Better to do it, than to live with the fear of it, and so forth. He twisted his key in the lock, turned around, and recoiled with a girlish gasp of shock. There was someone in the shadows opposite his door, and the feeling of horror only worsened when he realised who it was.