Chapter V. A Sort of Stratagem
V
A SORT OF STRATAGEM
“I told him.
“Hand to belly and tears in my eyes, I told Wulfric I carried his child. I’d hoped he would embrace me. That the love he whispered of when I lay in his arms would prove true, and that with a smile, oh that beautiful smile, he would banish all my fears.
“My God, what a fool I was.
“He was so angry. A fury came upon him, turning storm-grey eyes to black, and he proclaimed the babe an abomination in God’s eyes. He told me a child of hell grew in my belly, spawn of the greatest sin ever committed, and I wept at his words.
“I loved him true. I know he’d loved me, too.
“How could the fruit of that love be evil?
“He told me I must be rid of it. But already, I felt this gift, this life inside me, budding slow to bloom. And though he raged, still I told him no. The babe is blameless. And for me to snuff so fragile a flame when I should love it most in all the world would be evil.
“He fell silent at that. And if the rage I saw in him before was unmatched, so too then was the despair. He called himself a cur. A traitor. He told me this was God’s punishment for abandoning his oaths, that his love for me was not love, but simple, foolish pride.
And he fell to his knees then, bloody tears in his eyes as he called to heaven.
“‘I see it now, O Lord. I hear thee, O my God. All on earth the work of your hand.’
“He whispered then, and it made me frightened but I do not know why.
“‘Let this blackened veil be undone.’
“TWELVE NIGHTS HAD passed since I read those words, and yet they haunted me still. I could see my mother in my mind’s eye; a young lioness, standing between the monster and her cub unborn.
There’s no rage under God like that of the mother whose babe is imperiled.
The same rage I’d seen in my Astrid’s eyes as Fabién Voss sat at our kitchen table, our sweet Patience upon his lap, and his black eyes fixed upon my bride.
“What is the knife for? he’d asked.
“You, she’d promised.
“You.
“But more than the love I felt for my mama, a wrongness had settled upon my shoulders as I’d read her words.
It had taken time to see it. Like the sigil of the Esani, etched into the doors of Cairnhaem, onto the tomb of Mother Maryn beneath Maergenn.
Which was the truth of it? The two skulls? Or the chalice between?
“From holy cup comes holy light;
“The faithful hand sets world aright.
“And in the Seven Martyrs’ sight,
“Mere man shall end this endless night.
“Before the Five, come unto one,
“With sainted blade, ’neath virgin sun,
“By sacred blood, or else by none;
“This blackened veil shall be undone.
“So went the words we’d unearthed in Maryn’s tomb. The prophecy to bring back the sun. But daysdeath hadn’t even fallen in the nights Wulfric knew my mother.
“There was no darkness yet across the skies.
“So what blackened veil had he been talking about?
“I could find no answer, within my own mind nor Mama’s journal.
The remaining pages spoke of her confrontation with my grandfather.
His rage and her banishment, young Raphael Castia’s declaration of love, and their decision to journey to Lorson.
At the mention of my stepfather, I thought again of my sister.
Wondering where Celene could be, if she knew the answer to this riddle, the truth of this damned prophecy.
“The blackened veil?
“But in the end, I supposed it didn’t matter.”
The Last Silversaint fell silent, gazing at the sevenstar on his palm. Jean-Francois found himself staring too; those scars and beautiful tattoos. A wreath of skulls atop his right hand, roses upon his left, the word P A T I E N C E across his fingers, edged with silver sheen.
“This prophecy may be the greatest riddle of our age, Gabriel.” The historian’s eyes narrowed to knifecuts. “How in the name of God could it not matter?”
“I had more important things to fret on.”
The silversaint tipped his head back, draining his wine in one long gulp.
“We’d reached San Maximille.”
Reaching out slow, he filled his goblet slower. And from his bones, he sighed.
“We’d marched as hard as we could after liberating that meat train, spurred by the thought of other innocents languishing in Fabién’s grip.
But the prisoners we’d saved had numbered thousands—men and women and children, too thin and weak to fight.
And though we’d no choice but to bring them along, they’d slowed our pace to a crawl.
Winter had fallen before we reached the Ranger Valley, and by the time we drew close enough to scout San Maximille, the ground was thick with snow, rivers frozen once more.
I was sure the chateau would be abandoned—Lachie and I were already drawing up plans to meet Fabién in the field.
But though he’d had ample time to depart his fortifications, our scouts returned from the Shield of Augustin with unsettling news.
“Our enemy was still holed up inside.
“I couldn’t quite fathom it. Augustin had been Fabién’s goal for years.
And now it was within his reach and he’d just …
stopped? The rivers were frozen, the valley grey with snow, sulfur stench and roiling skies.
There was nothing to prevent him marching forth.
And still he waited, coiled like a serpent behind San Maximille’s walls.
“It was a grim stretch of country, lashed by chill winds, but the local iron mines were worth an emperor’s ransom, and San Maximille had been home to fifty thousand people in brighter days.
The chateau and surrounding city were perched upon a fist of dark stone among rugged foothills, across a bend in the Ranger River.
The city was walled, studded with high tenements, thin roads snaking up to the mighty fort above it.
The river wending around its battlements might have proved another barrier were it not already frozen.
But the bridge leading up to the maingate had been repaired by the Voss anyway, and there wasn’t a single thrall nor foulblood guarding it.
We could approach across the ice, over the bridge, attack from any direction we chose.
“It was almost too good to be true.
“‘They know we’re here.’
“Valentino shrugged off his greatcoat, the snows upon his shoulders scattering on the floor. Carlos threw his tricorn and gloves aside, warming his hands over a burning brazier. We were gathered in our command tent—another souvenir from my grandpapa’s campaigns with the Emperor.
It was a palace of canvas with a solid timber frame, those winds howling across the plains kept well at bay.
Banners with the de León coat of arms graced the walls, furs covered the floors, and a grand map table was set at its heart, gleaming red and scattered with round stones.
Valentino stepped up to his twin at the brazier, stomping the chill from his feet, breath steaming in the air.
“‘Yer certain?’ Lachlan asked. ‘They know fer sure?’
“Carlos nodded, Evangeline preening on his shoulder. ‘Oui. They were keeping their food stocks in the city around the chateau, but—’
“‘They’re not food, Frère Beaufort,’ Charlotte snapped. ‘They’re people.’
“‘Not to our enemy, Mlle de León,’ Valentino said. ‘You’re educated in matters military. If your city were about to be besieged, what would you do with your provisions?’
“Charlotte narrowed her good eye. ‘Bring them inside my best walls.’
“‘And our enemy has done just that. Every man, woman, and child in their larder, bought up to the chateau and locked behind their highest battlements.’
“‘Withdrawing further,’ I whispered, shaking my head. ‘Voss is weak.’
“‘Or feigning weakness,’ Carlos replied.
“‘How many men his number?’ I asked. ‘How many Dead?’
“‘Hard to say from the sky,’ Valentino shrugged. ‘But … not so many as I expected, I admit. A thousand swords, perhaps. Ten times that in wretched.’
“‘Think about it,’ I told them. ‘Voss lost bodies at Augustin. A lot of bodies. Pyres big enough to be seen on the horizon, you said. But unlike his other battles, he had to quit the field afterward. He couldn’t have his Dead feed on the wounded, nor replenish his numbers from among those who rose afterward. The Endless Legion stayed endless so long as the Forever King kept winning. And whatever the hell happened in Augustin…’
“I shook my head, pulse running quicker.
“‘For the first time in seventeen years … Voss is on the back foot.’
“‘We could give him what he expects?’ Carlos offered. ‘Lay in a siege? The train we liberated was intended to feed his wretched, he’ll have less to slake them now.’
“‘We have three thousand new mouths to feed ourselves, Frère,’ Charlotte replied. ‘Winter only deepens, and who can say how long a siege against the Dead might last? If we wait, we consign every man, woman, and child in that city to death.’
“‘What shape are they in? The fortifications?’
“This question came from Baptiste, stood near a second brazier. He was shaving his shovelblade jaw with a silversteel dagger, whetting the knife’s edge with spit.
“Carlos shrugged. ‘Considering the Forever King crushed this place a few months back, they’ve done a decent job repairing their own damage. But the sou’ward battlements are a little weak, and the eastgate looks as shabby as my dear brother’s moustache.’
“Valentino punched his twin’s arm. ‘Watch the lip, pup.’
“Carlos grinned, rubbing his bruised bicep. ‘Methinks perhaps the Voss smashed the eastgate down during the assault. They’ve cobbled it since, but it’s definitely vulnerable.’
“‘And the sally ports?’ Lachlan asked.
“Valentino petted his peregrine’s head. ‘Eirene concurs with you, brother. Two of them. Right where you’d said they’d be. The slopway, too.’
“I stood beside Lachie, looking down at his creation with thundering heart.
“‘This is our chance, then. We attack come the dawn.’