Free The Thousand Names by Django Wexler Page A

suppose you know that.”
    “I do indeed,” Janus said. “What did you think of her?”
    “Personally?” Marcus shrugged. “We didn’t talk long enough to form much of an opinion. A bit stuffy, perhaps. Harmless.”
    The corner of Janus’ lip twitched. “Harmless in her person, perhaps. How much do you know about the political situation back home?”
    Politics.
Marcus fought back a surge of panic. “Almost nothing, sir. We don’t even get the gossip until it’s six months stale.”
    “I won’t bore you with the details of plots and counterplots. Suffice it to say that for some time now His Majesty’s government has been divided into two factions. One—call them the ‘peace’ party—favors a greater accommodation with the Borelgai and Emperor of Murnsk, and particularly with the Sworn Church of Elysium. The other side would prefer an aggressive policy toward both. Precisely who belongs to which faction is never entirely clear, but the leader of the peace party has for some time been His Grace Duke Orlanko.” Janus cocked his head. “You’ve heard of him at least, I trust?”
    “The Last Duke,” Marcus said. “Minister of Information.”
    “Indeed. It was the ascendancy of the war party that brought us the War of the Princes, which ended so disastrously at Vansfeldt.”
    “You don’t need to remind me of
that
,” Marcus said. “I was there.”
    He’d been on his tour as a lieutenant, supervising a supply company well short of any action. He’d been close enough to catch the distant flash and grumble of the guns, though, and to be caught up in the panicked rout that followed.
    Janus nodded. “After the treaty was signed, the peace party found its rule nearly uncontested. The death of Prince Dominic had robbed the war party of its leader, and the king was too debilitated by grief and illness to interfere. Orlanko forged closer ties than ever to the Borelgai and the Church. As the king’s sicknesses have become more frequent, Orlanko’s power has increased. If His Majesty were to die—Lord forbid, of course—Princess Raesinia might take the throne, but Orlanko would rule, to the extent that he does not already.”
    “All right,” Marcus said uncertainly. “What does that have to do with Khandar? I would have thought we’d be the last thing on his mind.”
    “Indeed. When the Minister of War suggested a Khandarai expedition, everyone expected Orlanko to oppose it. Instead, he not only threw his own weight behind it, but demanded that one of his people be sent along as an official observer.”
    “Why?”
    Janus smiled. “I have spent most of the past few months trying to figure that out. One possibility is that he guessed that I would be chosen for the command. The Duke and I are . . . not on good terms. He may think that we are doomed to either bloody failure or ignominious retreat, and in either case he could use the fallout to destroy me.”
    Marcus, somewhat alarmed by the casual reference to “bloody failure,” kept his expression carefully neutral. “But you don’t think that’s it.”
    “I don’t. It’s too roundabout, even for a compulsive schemer like Orlanko. No doubt my downfall would be gratifying, but there’s something here that he wants.” Janus pursed his lips. “Or something that
someone
wants. It may be that Orlanko is merely an errand boy for his friends in the Sworn Church. There have been a great many clerical comings and goings from the Ministry of Information lately.”
    “What would the Sworn Church want from Khandar?”
    “Who knows?” Janus shrugged, but his eyes were hooded. “It could be anything. They still believe in demons up in Elysium.”
    “It doesn’t seem very clever of Orlanko to put his agent out where everyone can see her,” Marcus said. “I can have a couple of men tail her, if you like.”
    “Thank you, Captain, but don’t bother. As I said, I suspect she’s harmless in her person. The real agents are no doubt salted amongst