An hour later, a short man with gray hair stumbled into the ruined hall, guided by Einar’s palm on the back of his neck. He wore red robes that were stained nearly black in places, tattered at the hem. And his eyes, his eyes shone with pure madness, etched in evil. Jael had seen some crazy bad shit in his day, but this man? Mary.
“You cannot kill me,” Priest was babbling. “I’m a god. I’m immortal. I will rise.”
The big man glanced at the princess in chains for permission, hefting his axe suggestively. Jael expected her to nod and give him the go-ahead to serve as her executioner. Instead, she put out a hand and took the weapon from him. Her green eyes were like chips of jade in her pale, bloody countenance. This was the face of the Dread Queen.
“Kneel,” she commanded, and the command had an inexorable weight.
Not only did Priest drop to his knees, so did other men in the vicinity; two belonged to Silence. The Speaker frowned at this.
In a single swing, she took her enemy’s head. The crowd roared.
And Jael fell a little in love.
29
The Spoils of War
It would take weeks of work to make this place habitable. Dred eyed the evidence of Priest’s rituals with sheer disgust, then she turned back to the Speaker. He appeared unmoved by the carnage, but with the skull painted over his features, it was hard to tell. She beckoned him away from the others; to her surprise, he followed.
“Do we wait until the offensive is complete to begin dividing up gear and property?”
The Speaker shook his head. “You receive immediate possession of Priest’s property and holdings. The Handmaiden will wait until Grigor has been conquered to claim her reward.”
On the surface, that seemed like a generous offer, but Dred knew Grigor had more space in addition to having the largest standing army in Perdition. She wasn’t clear on what defenses Grigor had, as nobody had ever pushed far enough past his borders to check them out. Earlier, she’d learned that the rumors about Priest’s Peacemaker units had been nothing but bullshit, stories circulated to keep invaders away. It was a good tactic until somebody was brave—or stupid enough—to find out for himself. She had been so relieved when Tam came back to report there were a lot of enemies between her and the inner sanctum but no heavy weapons. Still, cutting so many men down took time, and she’d nearly been too late.
So was Silence. She left her sneak attack until the last possible moment.
But her expression gave away none of her thoughts as she replied, “That’s satisfactory.”
Then she turned to Tam, dismissing the Speaker. “Head back to the hall and check on things for me. Make sure Ike and Wills are holding down the fort.”
Dred didn’t tell him she was worried about an attack while their home front was so weak; she didn’t need to. Tam only nodded and slipped out of Abaddon. Queensland, now. As usual, he went alone. If he spotted trouble, he would slip around it. She had never known anyone who moved like he did, the shadow of the wind.
As she turned, she caught a few concise gestures from the Speaker, aimed at Silence’s quiet killers. As one, they formed up behind the skull-faced man and departed, leaving the mess for her to deal with. With so much blood, spilled entrails, and hacked-off limbs, it was impossible to judge the potential of this place. With a faint sigh, she went over to Einar.
“Take half the men back to Queensland. I’m putting you in charge of internal defense until I get back.”
“You’re supervising the inventory and cleanup?” the big man asked.
She nodded. “I can’t imagine you’re interested in such housework.”
“I love you, but no.”
She joked back, “So there are limits to your devotion.”
“And you’ve found them.”
Einar boomed out, “Sound off in ones and twos, you stupid gits! That’s presuming you can count that high.” Sometimes he sounded so military. The men complied, then he shouted, “Odd ducks, come with me. The rest of you stay with the Dread Queen. You get to haul off the corpses and spit-shine this place.”
A chorus of groans met the announcement, but the even-numbered Queenslanders went over to Dred. The group included Jael; they clustered around her waiting for instructions as the rest of the men moved out. At this point, Katur’s aliens decided they needed to move out, as they were definitely in the minority, and this cease-fire might not last. She also suspected they would carry word about the alliance between Queensland and Entropy, but as long as they stayed in the Warrens, Dred didn’t care what they knew. They had served their purpose, just as Tam predicted; the man was positively Machiavellian. The day after her recovery, he’d told her about his scheme, a brainstorm resulting from a chance encounter in the ducts. Dred had to admit, it had paid off beautifully.
Smiling wearily, she gave concise orders, tasking the men to haul all the bodies to the chutes, then find cleaning supplies. Dred found a chair, not so much because she was above menial labor—though Tam would counsel her against it for the sake of appearances—but mostly because her knees felt like they were filled with water. Her head spun; hopefully, nobody could tell just how weak she was or how much the battle had taken out of her. The weight of her chains made her arms ache, the first time she could remember being conscious of them in that way.
A few minutes later, Jael joined her. She didn’t chastise him for not participating in the work crew. He’d earned a place at her side as her champion. Dred inclined her head as he sat.
“You fight like a gladiator,” she said.
“Tried that. I didn’t much care for it. Too much depends on the emperor’s whim.”
She was never sure when this man was being facetious. “How’re you feeling?”
“I ought to be asking you that, but I can tell by looking.” His blue gaze swept her critically from head to toe.
“Do you think the others suspect?” The question slipped out before she could quell it.
“I doubt it. They don’t look at you with appraising eyes. They’re blinded by all the impossible things they believe you can do.”
“It’s the Dread Queen mythos,” she said.
“That must be exhausting.”
She pushed out a quiet sigh and leaned her head against the back of her chair, legs stretched out. The posture looked feline, relaxed, but the truth was, she lacked the energy to get up at the moment. “You have no idea.”
“How do you feel about Einar?” That was the last question she expected to hear from Jael, mostly because it was so personal.