translation, Janus rattled off a string of court Khandarai so perfect that the obsequious minister gaped. Even the prince was taken aback, eyes widening under the painted mask. Marcus blinked.
“If that’s all,” Janus continued in Vordanai, “then I will take my leave. Please thank His Grace for his time.”
He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, the pair of Heavenly Guards parting before him. Marcus hurried to keep pace, feeling like a boy running at the heels of an older brother. He waited until they were well clear of the tower to speak.
“I didn’t know you spoke the language, sir.” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but it still felt uncomfortably accusatory.
“I speak seven languages,” Janus said absently. “In addition to the usual Vordanai, Noreldrai, and Hamveltai, I have made a particular study of Borelgai, Murnskai, Vheedai, and Khandarai.” He shrugged. “Though I will admit I needed to brush up on the more formal usages. I found the time aboard ship most conducive to study, as there was so little else to occupy the mind.”
“That’s . . . very impressive.”
Janus shook his head and seemed to come back to himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to boast.”
“Not at all, sir.”
“If we’re to work together, Captain, it is important that we be honest to ourselves and one another about our capacities. I’m sorry if I caught you off guard.”
“It just surprised me, sir.” Marcus hesitated. “What did the prince say to you? I can follow most Khandarai, but not that formal stuff.”
Janus’ lip quirked. “He said that my full attention didn’t amount to much, considering that the king had sent the dregs of his officer corps.”
“Dregs” was a fair description of the Colonials, but that hit a little close to home. Marcus winced. “And what did you say to him?”
“I told him that since he was coming to us as a beggar, dregs were the best that he should expect.” The quick smile again. “I suppose that was not . . . diplomatic of me.”
“After he insulted His Majesty, it’s only understandable,” Marcus said loyally. “But . . .”
Janus noticed the hesitation and cocked his head, birdlike. “What is it? You may always speak freely with me, Captain, provided we are alone.”
He took a deep breath. “Do you really intend to try to recapture Khandar, sir? Most of the men are expecting to get right back aboard the transports and sail home.”
There was a long silence. Janus regarded Marcus thoughtfully, his gray eyes glittering. There was something extraordinary about those eyes, Marcus thought. They seemed to look
through
you, past all the trappings and courtesies and even through flesh and blood until they got at your very essence. If there really was a Beast of Judgment, it would have that sort of stare.
“And what are you expecting, Captain?” Janus said softly.
“I—” Marcus stopped, sensing a trap. “I wouldn’t venture to anticipate your plans, sir.”
“But what would your opinion be?” Janus leaned closer. “What would you do, if the command was yours?”
Turn tail and never look back.
Marcus shook his head slowly. “According to the last reports before we retreated, the Redeemer army at Ashe-Katarion was nearly twenty thousand strong. It will be larger by now. Then there’s General Khtoba”—he wanted to spit at the sound of the name—“and his Auxiliaries, six battalions worth of Vordanai-trained and Vordanai-armed soldiers. And ever since this Steel Ghost whipped up the Desoltai and threw in their lot with the priests . . .” He spread his hands. “If we’re up to full strength, we’ll have nearly four thousand men.”
“A bit more,” Janus interrupted, “with the attached cavalry and artillery.”
“A bit more than four thousand,” Marcus agreed. “Against—call it thirty thousand. Six to one against us, and that’s only counting soldiers in the field. Practically the whole population of
“If that’s all,” Janus continued in Vordanai, “then I will take my leave. Please thank His Grace for his time.”
He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, the pair of Heavenly Guards parting before him. Marcus hurried to keep pace, feeling like a boy running at the heels of an older brother. He waited until they were well clear of the tower to speak.
“I didn’t know you spoke the language, sir.” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but it still felt uncomfortably accusatory.
“I speak seven languages,” Janus said absently. “In addition to the usual Vordanai, Noreldrai, and Hamveltai, I have made a particular study of Borelgai, Murnskai, Vheedai, and Khandarai.” He shrugged. “Though I will admit I needed to brush up on the more formal usages. I found the time aboard ship most conducive to study, as there was so little else to occupy the mind.”
“That’s . . . very impressive.”
Janus shook his head and seemed to come back to himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to boast.”
“Not at all, sir.”
“If we’re to work together, Captain, it is important that we be honest to ourselves and one another about our capacities. I’m sorry if I caught you off guard.”
“It just surprised me, sir.” Marcus hesitated. “What did the prince say to you? I can follow most Khandarai, but not that formal stuff.”
Janus’ lip quirked. “He said that my full attention didn’t amount to much, considering that the king had sent the dregs of his officer corps.”
“Dregs” was a fair description of the Colonials, but that hit a little close to home. Marcus winced. “And what did you say to him?”
“I told him that since he was coming to us as a beggar, dregs were the best that he should expect.” The quick smile again. “I suppose that was not . . . diplomatic of me.”
“After he insulted His Majesty, it’s only understandable,” Marcus said loyally. “But . . .”
Janus noticed the hesitation and cocked his head, birdlike. “What is it? You may always speak freely with me, Captain, provided we are alone.”
He took a deep breath. “Do you really intend to try to recapture Khandar, sir? Most of the men are expecting to get right back aboard the transports and sail home.”
There was a long silence. Janus regarded Marcus thoughtfully, his gray eyes glittering. There was something extraordinary about those eyes, Marcus thought. They seemed to look
through
you, past all the trappings and courtesies and even through flesh and blood until they got at your very essence. If there really was a Beast of Judgment, it would have that sort of stare.
“And what are you expecting, Captain?” Janus said softly.
“I—” Marcus stopped, sensing a trap. “I wouldn’t venture to anticipate your plans, sir.”
“But what would your opinion be?” Janus leaned closer. “What would you do, if the command was yours?”
Turn tail and never look back.
Marcus shook his head slowly. “According to the last reports before we retreated, the Redeemer army at Ashe-Katarion was nearly twenty thousand strong. It will be larger by now. Then there’s General Khtoba”—he wanted to spit at the sound of the name—“and his Auxiliaries, six battalions worth of Vordanai-trained and Vordanai-armed soldiers. And ever since this Steel Ghost whipped up the Desoltai and threw in their lot with the priests . . .” He spread his hands. “If we’re up to full strength, we’ll have nearly four thousand men.”
“A bit more,” Janus interrupted, “with the attached cavalry and artillery.”
“A bit more than four thousand,” Marcus agreed. “Against—call it thirty thousand. Six to one against us, and that’s only counting soldiers in the field. Practically the whole population of
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