There was a long moment of silence, broken by the muttering in the back ranks. Vertue eyed Marcus, as though assessing whether there were any other levers he could apply. Finally, he gave a curt nod. “As you say, Captain. I will do as you suggest.”
“I wish you every success, my lord.”
Vertue turned, and after some effort was able to corral the rest of them out of the office. There was a distant shout from the fat man-“His head, damn you! His head!”-that was cut off when the door closed behind them. Marcus blew out a long breath and counted to three. There was a knock at the door before he got there.
“Eisen?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Come in.”
Staff Eisen entered, a thick wad of papers tied with string under his good arm. He shifted awkwardly, unable to salute, and Marcus waved him forward with a slight smile.
“Did you hear most of that?” he said.
“Couldn’t help it, sir.” Eisen deposited the papers on the desk, straightened up, and offered a belated salute. “Apologies for eavesdropping.”
“The way they were carrying on, I imagine half the building heard. What did you think?”
“I was impressed, sir. Where did you learn to talk to nobility like that?”
“It was on the syllabus at the War College,” Marcus said. “I think I’m a bit rusty. I feel like I’ve been washing my mouth out with soap.”
“Won’t Vertue go straight to the minister?”
“Let him. He won’t get in to see him today, that’s for certain.” He tapped a sheet of paper on his desk. “Count Vhalnich is meeting with the Cabinet, and requests my presence. I doubt he’ll be up to receiving guests. I’ll make sure he knows Vertue is coming.”
Eisen nodded. “He won’t be angry with you for putting them off?”
“I doubt it,” Marcus said. Janus was capable of many things, but Marcus didn’t think he’d hang one of his subordinates out to dry. Not unless he had a very good reason, anyway. “By the way, I haven’t heard of this Count Vertue, but I feel as though I should have. Or at least he acted as though I should have. Any idea why?”
“No reason you would have, sir. They’re not a military family.”
“Important, though?”
“Very rich, which is more or less the same thing. Their lands are in the Transpale, on the northern coast. About as far as you can go in Vordan before you get to Borel. Young Vertue’s half Borel on his mother’s side, and he’s married to one of them, too.”
“And I imagine they have banking interests.”
“So I’ve heard, sir.”
“That figures,” Marcus said. He turned his attention to the files. “What have you got for me?”
“Service records and incident reports, sir. For the men who were on the scene the night of the fire, and. . uh. . the vice captain.”
Eisen squirmed, obviously uncomfortable. Like most of the Armsmen, he had a deep respect for Giforte, and going behind his back like this obviously made him uncomfortable. Having looked through a few years of records already, Marcus was beginning to see why. Giforte’s attention to detail and sympathy for the men under his command were apparent in his reports, and his steadying hand had guided the Armsmen through the chaos of court politics and short-term captains. Hell, I would have been glad to have him in the Colonials.
It wasn’t the man’s character he was looking into, though. He needed something-either something to tell him why the vice captain had put off the investigation, or else something he could use as leverage to make Giforte tell him. The latter prospect made Marcus deeply uncomfortable, but not as much as the alternative. Sometimes he thought he could feel Adam Ionkovo staring at him through three stone floors, waiting for Marcus to take his bargain.
“Sir?” Eisen said.
“Hmm?” Marcus had untied the string and idly flipped through the first of the files.
“I’m certain if you just asked the vice captain-”
Marcus shook his head. “Not yet.”
“What if he notices the activity in the archives?”
“If he asks you directly, you don’t have to lie,” Marcus said. “Otherwise, you’re just doing private work on my direct orders. Nothing wrong with that.”
“Yes, sir,” Eisen said, unhappily. Marcus sympathized with him-confusion in the chain of command was every soldier’s nightmare. But I have to know. And since Janus doesn’t seem inclined to help me-the colonel hadn’t found the time to come and speak to Ionkovo himself, or even send Marcus any instructions-I’ll use whatever I’ve got at hand.
He picked up the stack of files and unlocked the cabinet under the old oak desk, where the rest of the material he’d gathered was collected. Once the new acquisitions were secure with the rest, he dusted off his hands and stood up.
“I’ll go through these later. Right now I’ve got to attend to His Excellency and see what urgent task he has in store for me. Keep an eye out for anything else that might be relevant.”
“Yes, sir.” Eisen hesitated. “Good luck, sir.”
Janus had an office at the Ministry of Justice, of course, but it was primarily for ceremonial purposes. He worked out of the cottage on the palace grounds where he’d established his household, and he’d already turned the dining room table into an impromptu writing desk. Stacks of notepaper were arranged across it in crosshatched piles, which Janus flipped through repeatedly in between every word he put to paper. A silver tray by his left hand gradually filled up with wax-sealed outgoing correspondence, and a servant periodically came and substituted an empty tray for the full one.
Guards in Janus’ red-on-blue livery surrounded the building, standing at attention beside the doorway and prowling the exterior in squads of four. There were more of them about than Marcus remembered. He recognized Lieutenant Uhlan, who favored him with a crisp salute as he passed through the doorway.
“Sir?” Marcus said.
Janus stopped writing and laid down his quill, carefully, on an ink-stained steel tray provided for that purpose. He stretched his right hand, fingers spread, and Marcus could hear pops from his knuckles. Only then did he look up. To Marcus’ surprise, he seemed somewhat the worse for wear. Even in the desert temple, Janus had never shown signs of strain, but now there was a hint of red around the edges of his huge gray eyes, and his chin and upper lip needed shaving.
“What is it, Captain?”
“You asked for me, sir. The Cabinet meeting.”
“Ah.” Janus squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Yes, of course.”
He smiled, but the usual sparkle was absent from his eyes.
Marcus coughed. “Forgive me for saying so, sir, but you look. . tired.”
“I suppose I am,” Janus said. “I’m not sure when I slept last.”
“Two nights ago,” said Lieutenant Uhlan, unexpectedly. “And then only for three hours.”
Marcus looked up and met the lieutenant’s level gaze. A certain understanding passed between them, the shared feeling of men tasked with keeping a superior from absentmindedly killing himself. Marcus suppressed a smile.
“Two nights,” Janus mused. “Well, I will rest once the Cabinet meeting is finished with. In the meantime, I have a great deal of work to do.”
“May I ask a question, sir?” Marcus said.
“Certainly, Captain, though I reserve the right not to answer.”
“Isn’t the Last Duke going to read all your letters?”
“Another monograph I must write, if I ever find the time. ‘On the Methods of Enciphered Communication,’ perhaps?” Janus watched Marcus’ incomprehension and smiled again. “Never mind. Suffice it to say, there are ways of baffling our friends in the Ministry of Information. The duke’s influence is all-pervasive and his clerks are diligent, but his methods are somewhat unsophisticated. I suspect that power has made him complacent.” He glanced at the table and sighed. “Unfortunately, these techniques require a considerable effort on my part.”