unpredictable development. Still, a plan too brittle to bend with circumstances is worse than no plan at all. “My congratulations, then, General Cosca,” she managed to grate. “But my offer still stands. Gurkish gold in return for your services to Duke Rogont-”
“Ah.” Cosca winced, sucking air through his teeth. “Tiny little problem there, unfortunately. I already signed a new engagement with Grand Duke Orso. Or with his heir, to be precise, Prince Foscar. A promising young man. We’ll be moving against Ospria just as Faithful Carpi planned, prior to his untimely demise.” He poked at the air with his forefinger. “Putting paid to the League of Eight! Taking the fight to the Duke of Delay! There’s plenty to sack in Ospria. It was a good plan.” Agreeing mutters from the captains. “Why work out another?”
“But you hate Orso!”
“Oh, I despise him utterly, that’s well known, but I’ve nothing against his money. It’s the exact same colour as everybody else’s. You should know. He paid you enough of it.”
“You old cunt,” she said.
“You really shouldn’t talk to me that way.” Cosca stuck his lips out at her. “I am a mature forty-eight. Besides, I gave my life for you!”
“You didn’t fucking die!” she snarled.
“Well. Rumours of my death are often exaggerated. Wishful thinking, on the part of my many enemies.”
“I’m beginning to know how they feel.”
“Oh, come, come, whatever were you thinking? A noble death? Me? Very much not my style. I mean to go with my boots off, a bottle in my hand and a woman on my cock.” His eyebrows went up. “It’s not that job you’ve come for, is it?”
Monza ground her teeth. “If it’s a question of money-”
“Orso has the full support of the Banking House of Valint and Balk, and you’ll find no deeper pockets anywhere. He’s paying well, and better than well. But it’s not about the money, actually. I signed a contract. I gave my solemn word.”
She stared at him. “When have you ever cared a shit about your word?”
“I’m a changed man.” Cosca pulled a flask from a back pocket, unscrewed it and took a long swig, never taking his amused eyes from her face. “And I must admit I owe it all to you. I’ve put the past behind me. Found my principles.” He grinned at his captains, and they grinned back. “Bit mossy, but they should polish up alright. You forged a good relationship with Orso. Loyalty. Honesty. Stability. Hate to toss all your hard work down the latrine. Besides, there’s the soldier’s first rule to consider, isn’t there, boys?”
Victus and Andiche spoke in unison, just the way they’d used to, before she took the chair. “Never fight for the losing side!”
Cosca’s grin grew wider. “Orso holds the cards. Find a good hand of your own, my ears are always open. But we’ll stick with Orso for now.”
“Whatever you say, General,” said Andiche.
“Whatever you say,” echoed Victus. “Good to have you back.”
Sesaria leaned down, muttering something in Cosca’s ear. The new captain general recoiled as though stung. “Give them over to Duke Orso? Absolutely not! Today is a happy day! A joyous occasion for one and all! There’ll be no killing here, not today.” He wafted a hand at her as though he was shooing a cat out of the kitchen. “You can go. Better not come back tomorrow, though. We might not be so joyous, then.”
Monza took a step towards him, a curse half-out of her mouth. There was a rattling of metal as the assorted captains began to draw their weapons. Friendly blocked her path, arms coming uncrossed, hands dropping to his sides, expressionless face turned towards her. She stopped still. “I need to kill Orso!”
“And if you manage it, your brother will live again, yes?” Cosca cocked his head to one side. “You’ll get your hand back? No?”
She was cold all over, skin prickling. “He deserves what’s coming!”
“Ah, but most of us do. All of us will get it regardless. How many others will you suck into your little vortex of slaughter in the meantime?”
“For Benna-”
“No. For you. I know you, don’t forget. I’ve stood where you stand now, beaten, betrayed, disgraced, and come out the other side. As long as you have men to kill you are still Monzcarro Murcatto, the great and fearsome! Without that, what are you?” Cosca’s lip curled. “A lonely cripple with a bloody past.”
The words were strangled in her throat. “Please, Cosca, you have to-”
“I don’t have to do a thing. We’re even, remember? More than even, say I. Out of my sight, snake, before I pack you off back to Duke Orso in a jar. You need a job, Northman?”
Shivers’ good eye crept across to Monza, and for a moment she was sure he’d say yes. Then he slowly shook his head. “I’ll stick with the chief I’ve got.”
“Loyalty, eh?” Cosca snorted. “Be careful with that nonsense, it can get you killed!” A scattering of laughter. “The Thousand Swords is no place for loyalty, eh, boys? We’ll have none of that childishness here!” More laughter, a score or more hard grins all aimed at Monza.
She felt dizzy. The tent seemed too bright and too dark at once. Her nose caught a waft of something- sweaty bodies, or strong drink, or stinking cooking, or a latrine pit too close to the headquarters, and her stomach turned over, set her mouth to watering. A smoke, oh please, a smoke. She turned on her heel, somewhat unsteadily, shoved her way between a couple of chuckling men and through the flap, out of the tent and into the bright morning.
Outside it was far worse. Sunlight stabbed at her. Faces, dozens of them, blurred together into a mass of eyes, all fixed on her. A jury of scum. She tried to look ahead, always ahead, but she couldn’t stop her lids from flickering. She tried to walk in the old way, head back, but her knees were trembling so hard she was sure they must be able to hear them slapping against the insides of her trousers. It was as if she’d been putting off the fear, the weakness, the pain. Putting it off, storing it up, and now it was breaking on her in one great wave, sweeping her under, helpless. Her skin was icy with cold sweat. Her hand was aching all the way to her neck. They saw what she really was. Saw she’d lost. A lonely cripple with a bloody past, just like Cosca said. Her guts shifted and she gagged, an acid tickle at the back of her throat. The world lurched.
Hate only keeps you standing so long.
“Can’t,” she whispered. “Can’t.” She didn’t care what happened, as long as she could stop. Her leg buckled and she started to fall, felt Shivers grab hold of her arm and drag her up.
“Walk,” he hissed in her ear.
“Can’t-”
His fist dug hard into her armpit, and the pain stopped the world spinning for a moment. “Fucking walk, or we’re finished.”
Enough strength, with Shivers’ help, to make it to the horses. Enough to put a boot in a stirrup. Enough, with an aching groan, to get herself into the saddle, pull her horse around and get it facing the right way. As they rode from the camp she could hardly see. The great captain general, Duke Orso’s would-be nemesis, sagging in her saddle like dead meat.
You make yourself too hard, you make yourself brittle too. Crack once, crack all to pieces.
VI
OSPRIA
“I like a look of agony, because I know it’s true”.
It seemed a little gold could spare a lot of blood.
Musselia could not be captured without an indefinite siege, this was well known. It had once been a great
