“Eh?” Torahn shrugged. “I suppose. As you say.”
“In that case,” Janus said, “I suggest we adjourn. As His Grace said, I’m sure we all have preparations to make.”
Marcus held his tongue until they were out of the palace and walking across the lawns, with Janus’ Mierantai bodyguards following a step behind. Finally, he leaned toward the colonel and murmured, “Are you sure about this?”
“Hmm?”
“Orlanko could be right. I don’t know the city like he does, but things may get ugly.”
“It’s quite possible.” Janus glanced at Marcus, just for a moment. “These are dangerous times. I am afraid I may be asking a great deal of you.”
Marcus straightened up. “I’ll do whatever I can, sir.”
“I know,” Janus said. “And believe me, I am grateful. If, sometimes, you cannot quite see the way clear. .” His smile was there and gone again in an instant, like a lightning bolt. “Sooner or later we all must take something on faith.”
“Sir,” Giforte said woodenly, standing at attention in front of Marcus’ desk.
Marcus eyed him thoughtfully, doing his best to keep any suspicion out of his gaze. He didn’t think the vice captain would notice in any case, though. He was obviously working to keep hold of some strong emotion, and his stony mask was cracking at the edges.
“Yes, Vice Captain?” Marcus said. “Did you have some comment regarding your orders?”
Giforte took the invitation to speak, words escaping like steam from a boiling kettle. “Yes, sir. This is a mistake, sir. A critical mistake.”
“These orders come from the minister himself,” Marcus said.
“Perhaps the minister doesn’t grasp the situation fully,” the vice captain said. “If he were to come and speak with me-”
“The minister is very busy,” Marcus said. “And I think he understands more than you think. These are his orders, and we will carry them out.”
“If we arrest Danton, the streets will explode. We don’t have the manpower to keep order.”
“I assume the minister knows that.”
“Then why won’t you speak to him?”
“I gave him my opinion.” Marcus shook his head. “He told me I needed to have faith.”
“Faith, sir?”
“One of his little jokes, I think.” Marcus sighed. “Look, Vice Captain. We don’t have a choice. Take whatever men and equipment you need, and do whatever’s necessary to keep our men safe. But I want Danton behind bars as soon as possible. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Giforte saluted, textbook-perfect. “Excuse me, sir. I have preparations to make.”
“Send me a report when he’s taken.”
Giforte saluted again and left the office. Marcus leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead with two fingers.
It would be so much easier if I could trust him. Giforte was competent and conscientious. But Marcus, struggling through the files Eisen had brought him, had found at least a trace of what he’d been looking for. Other incidents, other accidents, where the Armsmen’s investigation had been only perfunctory. Not so unusual-there were accidents in the city every day-but these were cases where the Armsmen involved had wanted to dig deeper, only to end up stalled at Giforte’s desk. As far as Marcus could tell, none of the previous captains had even noticed.
So when he doesn’t want to arrest Danton, is he really worried about riots in the street? Or is there someone else pushing on him from the other direction?
He tapped one finger on the desk for a long minute. Then he shook his head, retrieved the stack of files from his cabinet, and resumed his painful search of the archives.
CHAPTER NINE
WINTER
Jane had organizational matters to discuss with Min and her other lieutenants in the morning, which she none too subtly told Winter would probably only bore her. She detailed Abby to escort Winter to breakfast. Something passed between the two of them that Winter couldn’t quite catch, but Abby accepted the task without arguing, and led the way back downstairs toward the makeshift dining room.
“What you told me,” Winter said, “when we first met. About how you came here. Was that true?”
“What?” Abby looked over her shoulder and looked thoughtful. “Oh. Yes, I think so.”
“So you didn’t come here from Mrs. Wilmore’s?”
“Ah. She told you about that, did she?”
Abby stopped beside a half-open door, through which Winter could see a half dozen young teenagers getting out of bed. The place was organized much like Mrs. Wilmore’s had been, with girls divided up roughly by age group and again into “dorms,” though here there were only separate hallways. The ones she thought of as lieutenants were the oldest, closer to her and Jane’s age, and they served the role of proctors and organizers. Someone, somewhere was spending some effort to keep things ticking over in an orderly manner-there was a list of names and times tacked to the bedroom door, which looked like a rota or duty roster.
“She did,” Winter said. “I’m still having a hard time believing it.”
Abby laughed. “I said the same thing, when I first got here. To answer your question, no, I was never at the Prison, and I’ve heard enough about it to be glad of that. After Jane set up shop here in the city, she started to take in strays. You’d never know it to look at her, but she’s a sucker for a sob story. Runaways, orphans, ex-prostitutes, all sorts of people. Only girls, though, and mostly those too young to look out for themselves. I think we’re nearly half and half now, between them and the original group from Mrs. Wilmore’s.”
Abby started walking again, and Winter followed. They passed more doors, open and closed, and a couple of gangs of chattering young women brushed past them on the way to breakfast.
I have to ask, Winter thought. It wasn’t as if she was spying, since she hadn’t decided what she would report to Janus. If he ever even comes asking. She was just satisfying her own curiosity. Besides, it can’t be spying if Abby is practically giving me the tour.
“The thing I don’t understand,” Winter said, as they stood aside to get out of the path of a gang of charging twelve-year-olds, “is how you keep this up. Who pays for all of this?”
“The building was abandoned. We fixed it up ourselves, mostly-”
“Jane told me. But what about the food? The clothes? You must have four hundred people here.”
“Three hundred sixty-eight,” Abby said, and shrugged. “Keeping track of that sort of thing is my job. Jane doesn’t have much of a head for numbers.”
“Three hundred sixty-eight, then. Food for that many doesn’t come cheap, especially if you always eat the way we did last night.”
“It’s true. Jane always says some of the little ones need more meat on their bones.” Abby smiled, looking oddly sad, then quickly shook her head. “Most of the girls work in the area, once they’re old enough.”
“Work at. .” Winter trailed off.
“Odd jobs.” Abby shot her a look that showed she understood perfectly what Winter didn’t want to mention. “We send them out in groups, which keeps them safe, and the local tradesmen all know us.”
And they knew that laying a hand on one of them would earn a visit from “Mad Jane.” “I can’t believe you’re supporting a place like this on ‘odd jobs,’ though.”
“No, we’re not. The bulk of the money comes from our. . other activities.”
Before Winter could follow up on this, they reached the dining room. Abby was greeted by waves and calls from a dozen quarters, but she made her way toward a group of older girls at one end of the tables, and Winter trailed behind her. They sat beside a small cluster who were bent over the table, all trying to read a broadsheet at once.