\hypertarget{chapter-33-promises}{%
\section{Chapter 33: Promises}\label{chapter-33-promises}}

\begin{quote}
\emph{``No matter how good the horse, it can only bear one saddle.''}

-Callowan proverb
\end{quote}

Our march through Summer had taken a month, from the perspective of
Creation. Longer than I would have liked, but still miraculous compared
to how long it would have taken me to come down from Denier the old
fashioned way. Juniper agreed.

``Hugging,'' she sneered. ``You've gotten soft, Foundling.''

It was awkward embracing an orc with a solid two feet on me and broad as
a barn, but I put the effort in. For all that the Hellhound mocked me,
her grip was tight as well. We'd not gone this long without seeing each
other since the Fifteenth was founded.

``You haven't,'' I said. ``Gods, what do you eat? It's like they carved
you out of slab of muscle.''

She tried not to look pleased at that, but I'd been dealing with wilier
operators of late. My general was a refreshingly open book. Ratface had
apparently gone mad with power since I'd suborned the Smugglers' Guild
to him, but since he'd abused his power to find me a fresh crate of Vale
summer wine I was going to let that one go. Pouring myself a full cup of
the pale wine, I allowed myself a little sigh of pleasure after sipping
the alcohol. The stuff I'd dragged with me through Arcadia just wasn't
the same, mostly cheap red vintages from the south. The two of us
claimed the folding chairs in her own tent, not having bothered to
gather people in the larger command pavilion. We'd have a proper
briefing with the others at some point, but I wanted to talk with her
before Marshal Ranker and the Deoraithe were dragged into the
conversation.

``You'll have news for me,'' I said.

She grunted in assent, sniffing at her goblet full of aragh before
downing it. A sure sign this was to be informal: Juniper never touched
anything stronger than watered wine in the usual officer meetings.

``Holden is back into the Imperial fold,'' she announced. ``General
Istrid and her legions annihilated the fae garrison and are now
fortifying the grounds.''

It was one of Juniper's little quirks that she only ever referred to her
mother by her rank even in private. As for what she'd told me, I was
pleased. I needed to herd the Summer Court through known grounds and
allowing them two footholds into Callow would have muddied the waters.
Now they'd have to come through Dormer, which made it a great deal
easier to plan for them. It was shame three legions and some of the
finest battle commanders in the field had to be left where I couldn't
use them, but anything less and I was fairly sure the Summer Court would
try to force passage. After our last scrap they'd be wary of picking a
fight with the Legions of Terror on a chosen field, though. They might
win but their losses would leave them too weak to be able to handle the
army I'd assembled. Some days it gave me pause, that I'd become someone
who could use twelve thousand veterans of the Conquest as a mere
deterrent. I'd come a long way from pit fights and waiting tables.

``Losses?'' I asked.

``Light,'' the orc noted. ``It was only the bare bones of a garrison.
You kicked the hornet's nest when you invaded Summer.''

``Oh, I pissed them off way beyond that,'' I grunted. ``I've got a
Princess of Summer in chains, Juniper. They'll be out for blood.''

``Keeping that prisoner secure is a logistical nightmare, I'll have you
know,'' the Hellhound growled. ``Kilian and half our mages had to be set
aside permanently so we'd never lack practitioners for the rotations.''

``It'll be worth it,'' I said. ``Largest bargaining chip I could get my
hands on short of taking the seat of the Summer Court itself.''

``You assume the fae can be bargained with,'' the Hellhound said.

``They always cut deals, it's in their nature,'' I said. ``And if for
once I can avoid having to pay the price by scraping myself raw, I'll
have no complaints.''

``Devils and fairies always get more than they give,'' the orc warned.

``Then it's a good thing I stole a lot of their shit,'' I replied
bluntly. ``I don't mind overpaying as long as I get what I want. I'm not
going to get stuck in games with them, Juniper. I'll get exactly what I
need not try for an inch more. Only way I can get away without getting
fucked too hard.''

``We'll get nothing if we're not winning,'' she said. ``Don't lose sight
of that.''

That was the Praesi way, wasn't it? No, maybe not Praesi. The way of the
Legions, Black's way. Compromise could be reached, but only from a
position of strength. On their own terms. Our way, I must confess.
Kilian hadn't been wrong when she'd said I had no taste to compromise
when I could get things how I wanted them instead.

``Masego's getting ready for the Queen,'' I noted. ``Or as much as he
can, with an entity like her.''

``The Hierophant now, I hear,'' Juniper said. ``Fancy Name. Never heard
of it before.''

There was hint of doubt there. Older Names, those better known, tended
to be more powerful than relative outliers like my friend's. They'd
accumulated more weight over the centuries, greater legends to draw
from.

``He'll pull through,'' I said. ``Always does. But I'll admit, for this
kind of work I almost wish Diabolist was on our side. There's a lot of
bad to be said about the old school, but they have a peerless record
when it comes to things like this.''

``She might pull it off,'' the Hellhound said. ``But whatever she gained
from that victory she'd use to screw us the moment the battle was
over.''

``I know,'' I sighed. ``The competence doesn't come without the rabid
crazy. And speaking of dear old Akua, where the Hells is she?''

``We have no idea,'' Juniper grunted. ``Scrying doesn't work, and the
last time we had eyes on her was when she took Liesse above the clouds.
She could be anywhere by now.''

I frowned.

``She can't stay up there forever,'' I said. ``She's got over a hundred
thousand mouths to feed, and if she starts dragging civilians to altars
she'll have riots on her hands.''

I wasn't sure what a riot would look like a dozen leagues above solid
ground, but I'd guess it wouldn't be pretty. Akua's mind was like a sack
of angry, treacherous badgers but she wasn't stupid. She had pretty
thick blinders on, sure, but I'd never seen one of her schemes collapse
on its own. She wouldn't be nearly as dangerous if they did.

``Ratface says she can manage two months at most,'' the Hellhound said.
``A guess based on what she reported to your Ruling Council when she was
Governess, with the assumption she was lying through her teeth on the
numbers.''

I'd trust the Taghreb's judgement in this. He was a middling tactician
at best but when it came to supplies and logistics, there was no better
man in the Fifteenth. I'd been lucky to get my hands on him back at the
College, and even Juniper occasionally offered praise of his abilities.
Never where he could hear, and always tempered with generous criticism
about his more underhanded dealings, but that my general said anything
at all was telling.

``So now we have to guess at the where she'll be coming down,'' I said.

``We don't know enough about what she's after to be remotely accurate,''
the Hellhound grunted. ``Will she be after supplies? If so, Vale will
likely be the target. Is she aiming to cripple the Legions in Callow, to
carve a realm from the ruins of the south? If so, she must turn her eyes
to Holden.''

``Or she could be after sorcery,'' I said.

``Legion mages don't have the learning to even try to unpack that,''
Juniper said. ``You'll need the Hierophant to write a report about
possible targets.''

Then I'd need Hakram to go through it and cut out all the unnecessary
parts Masego would have added, I noted silently. Odds were Hierophant
would write me a damned volume with an annex twice as thick. The Soninke
was ridiculously wordy, when given ink and parchment. I drank deep from
my cup, mood soured.

``So we have a month before the Queen of Summer can enter Creation, if
Masego is to be believed,'' I said. ``Then another month before Akua
drops down from the sky to fuck everything up, as is her sacred and
solemn duty.''

``Busy year,'' Juniper snorted.

``At least Procer hasn't invaded,'' I said, trying for a bright side.
``And no one's unleashed a demon in a year.''

``High Lady Tasia did, in Wolof,'' the orc reminded me.

``I can't believe I have to lower my standards lower than they already
are,'' I complained. ``Well, nobody's opened a permanent portal into the
Hells. There. I refused to go any lower.''

``Give it time,'' Juniper grinned, ivory fangs flaring.

She'd meant it as a jest, but there was too much truth to it for me to
laugh.

---

It would be two days before the armies marched south, beginning the trek
to Dormer. We were still waiting on supplies and we had a horde of
wounded to deal with. I could have begun to put a dent into the pile of
urgent scrolls that no doubt awaited me, but for tonight I decided I'd
done enough. My body could go on, but I was exhausted in a deeper way.
There were only so many twists and turns I could take before it was too
much. I slogged my way back to my tent, painfully aware that no one
would be awaiting me inside. I'd passed by Ratface's quarters beforehand
and ignored his many requests for me to look at the books in favour of
bullying him to hand me another bottle. Juniper and I had polished off
the last one after she'd finished her aragh, talking for a few hours
until it got dark. It still amazed me that the two of us had gone from
being at each other's throats to people who could actually enjoy the
other's company, no matter how much she insisted otherwise. It was rare
thing for me to seek two bottles in a day, but I had a feeling I'd need
another drink if I was going to sleep at all tonight. I could still
smell the incinerated corpses of the soldiers I'd failed in Arcadia, the
hundreds that had died at the whim of two vicious creatures beyond my
understanding.

There were Gallowborne around my tent and I spent a few moments chatting
with them before going inside. They'd gotten off light from the last
battle in Arcadia, and Tribune Farrier was already recruiting to fill
the ranks left empty by the dead. I hoped the volunteers would
understand what they were in for. I'd gotten half my retinue killed
because I'd been sloppy and arrogant, and while I didn't intend to ever
make that mistake again there were harder fights ahead. I wished Black
was there so he could tell me about his own guard. He'd had his for
decades, he must have known ways to keep them safe without making them
irrelevant. Or maybe he didn't. My teacher might not share my qualms
about people being killed in his name, not even people he knew. I'd
gotten harsher in the last few years but I was still a long way from
being iron as cold as the Black Knight. There was no candle lit in my
tent, but to a Named that made no difference. That was why I saw the
silhouette sitting on the edge of my cot, and though for a hopeful
moment I thought it was Kilian the notion disappeared when the details
sunk in.

It was a woman. Soninke, dark eyes, and while shy of pretty not exactly
ugly. I'd seen her before, known her under the name of Lady Naibu.
\emph{Lady Deputy}, in Mtethwa. My hand left the grip of my sword and I
inclined my head respectfully.

``Your Most Dreadful Majesty,'' I said.

This was Empress Malicia's own puppet, the soulless flesh simulacrum she
could use to be two places at once.

``I've already told you there is no need for such formality,'' the
Empress dismissed, using someone else's hands.

I glanced at the flaps of the tent but the Gallowborne had yet to move.

``You may consider this a private audience, Catherine,'' Malicia smiled.

Fuck. My tent was in the middle of an army over thirty thousand strong.
The boundaries of the Fifteenth's fortified camp were set with wards
Masego had designed personally. I had thousands of sharp-eyed goblins
running around. And yet there she was, on my own godsdamned bed. This
could have been an assassin and no one would ever have known. I wasn't
ashamed to say that it was almost enough to scare me, this reminder
about how far the Empress' reach went. I set the bottle on the table and
ripped out the cork.

``A glass as well, if you please,'' the Empress said. ``It has been ages
since I've tried anything from Vale.''

And she knew my favourite wine. I wasn't even surprised, to be honest.
Black had already told me he'd had a file about me before I ever became
the Squire, and it was pretty much a given the Empress would have one
twice as thick somewhere in the Tower. I poured her a goblet as well and
handed it to her.

``Thank you,'' she said. ``I hear you've finally met Ranger.''

I blinked.

``This is turning out a lot more civil of a conversation than I
expected,'' I frankly said.

The meat-puppet chuckled. It would not do forget that was what I was
looking at, to be taken in by the charm and the pleasantries. I was
dealing with a woman who'd hollowed out a body of its immortal soul for
the sake of convenient conversation.

``Did you expect me to come storming in, demanding justifications?'' she
said. ``The Empire is a balancing act, Catherine. I do not introduce
weight without careful consideration.''

There was silence after that, until I realized she was still expecting
to answer her first sentence. Gods, I was exhausted. And near enough to
tipsy.

``She came real close to killing me,'' I said. ``Just for suggesting I
could help her in a fight, if I'm not mistaken. She's not much like the
stories.''

``I am not particularly fond of her myself,'' the Empress said. ``And
not only because she attempted to talk Amadeus into running me through
and seizing the throne after the Conquest.''

I grimaced. I'd gotten hints from Scribe there'd been undercurrents of
that in the past, but never heard it so bluntly stated before. Or been
sure the Empress knew of it.

``She's a monster,'' I said. ``Bad as the Diabolist, in her own way. I
don't get why Black likes her so much.''

``Love,'' the Empress said. ``It is love, my dear. She's an
extraordinary creature, I'll grant that. Her little philosophy is what
drew him in, and eventually what parted them.''

I raised an eyebrow. That the puppet managed to see that in the
still-dark tent was another detail I filed away for the future.

``Be all you can be,'' Malicia murmured. ``Do anything you want. If
someone stands in your way, end them. If you cannot, respect that rule
until you can end them.''

``That's just anarchy,'' I said. ``I won't lie and say I don't break
laws when it's useful, but I still recognize there's a need for them.''

``It is easy to believe your whims are the only law of Creation, when
you grow powerful enough,'' the Empress replied. ``She will kill herself
sooner or later, crossing something she could not afford to cross.''

``She got into a death match with the Summer Queen,'' I said. ``I doubt
that'll do the trick but she won't walk it off easy.''

I was getting tired of standing up with a goblet in hand, so I downed
the wine and grabbed a chair. I set it to face the Empress, sagging
against the wooden frame.

``Hye always did overestimate herself,'' Malicia shrugged. ``A matter of
little import, in the end. She's remained in her little hovel in the
woods for decades and shows no sign of greater ambitions.''

I could have told her otherwise. That Archer believed her teacher was
the best thing to come along since the Gods had whelped Creation, that
I'd lost three hundred soldiers because Ranger couldn't be fucked to do
anything about them. But those words I kept for people I trusted. I
respected the Empress, what she'd accomplished and the people she'd
crushed to get where she was, but I didn't trust her in the slightest.
So instead I leant over to grab the bottle and filled my goblet. Fishing
out a satchel of wakeleaf from my pocket, I grabbed my pipe as well and
looked at Malicia.

``Do you mind?'' I asked.

``By all means,'' she said. ``A filthy habit, but one I tolerated in
Wekesa for over forty years.''

Good enough. I struck the match and lit the dragonbone pipe, taking a
deep breath. Time to get to the meat of this conversation, I believed.

``I created a chivalric order,'' I said, and blew out a stream of smoke.

``I am aware,'' the puppet replied. ``The obtainment of cavalry, I do
not begrudge you. We've never managed to secure more horses than needed
to replenish the ranks of the Thirteenth Legion without risking
rebellion. But this is more than cavalry. It is a Callowan
institution.''

``You tried to kill it,'' I said bluntly. ``The both of you. It failed,
so I'm making use of it instead.''

Malicia raised an eyebrow.

``Another decade and it would have disappeared painlessly,'' she said.
``It takes coin to train armed men, Catherine. Their means had to be
running low, especially given the numbers you managed to gather.''

That was true enough, and the reason the knights had approached me in
the first place. A little more honesty, then. I drank from my cup and
chose my words carefully.

``I won't allow them to disappear,'' I said. ``They're a keystone of
what Callow should be.''

``There lies the issue, my dear,'' the Empress said. ``The abolition of
the Imperial governorships, I can stomach. You will have to be
publically given sanction for it and pay for the gain of authority, but
as a tool they have effectively run their course. The forging anew of a
Callowan state, however, is a different matter. In large part your
people have defined themselves as nation by their resistance to outside
invaders. Some of which currently occupy the country.''

I pulled at the pipe, inhaled the bitter smoke and let it out.

``I've never called for rebellion against Praes,'' I finally said.

``That is irrelevant, and untrue besides,'' she replied flatly. ``You've
preached the destruction of the aristocracy of the Wasteland, which
cannot feasibly be achieved without warfare. That is rebellion, no
matter your semantics. Even if you personally never raise your banner,
Catherine, you will not live forever. Your successors will inherit a
well-armed and centralized ethnically Callowan state, trained at the
expense of Praesi gold in the methods of the Legions. It is a certainty
they will seek independence, by force of arms if need be.''

I grimaced. She wasn't wrong, not entirely. Fifty years for now, if I
got myself killed, I could easily see the next Governor-General call on
mostly Callowan legions to give Praes the boot. And it was not the
outcome I wanted, seductive as the idea of a resurgent Kingdom was
sometimes. Even if they managed to win, which I knew better to assume,
half the country would be ruined for a generation. And should they
succeed, it would just be going back to the old cycle of invasion and
death, the plague on my birthplace I'd taken it upon myself to end.

``I tried the Ruling Council,'' I said. ``It \emph{failed}, Malicia.
Badly.''

``You botched the Ruling Council,'' she corrected. ``It could have been
in the palm of your hand, but you disdained the methods to see this
through. All the while chipping at Praesi authority by hanging one
governor after another. It was a functional method of rule, Squire. You
dislike Wasteland influence, but you seem to forget that we \emph{won}
the Conquest. I've already compromised a great deal. Almost more than is
reasonable.''

``You also engineered the destruction of an entire culture,'' I bit
back. ``You won, yeah. But I'm not in this seat across from you because
of my sunny personality. I'm here because you want Callow to be brought
into the fold without having to put down another dozen rebellion and
assorted heroes. You had to know there would be costs to that.''

``Then present me with alternatives,'' Malicia said. ``I could attempt
to craft one myself, in truth, but that would be a mistake. If you want
to hold the power and authority you do, both granted to you by the
Tower, then prove you deserve them. You are not a partner, if I have to
salvage your every blunder. You are a burden.''

That was harsh, but I recognized it for what it was. An invitation. An
opportunity to actually become a player in Imperial politics. That
wasn't the kind of offer that came twice in a lifetime. I set aside the
half-empty cup and breathed out the wakeleaf smoke.

``Name me Vicequeen of Callow,'' I said.

``An empty title,'' she replied. ``Your Governess-General will be doing
the governing while you lead your legion.''

``I won't keep it long,'' I said. ``A few years at most. And you'll have
set the precedent that the Tower appoints them.''

She did not reply but studied me instead, which I took as prompting to
continue.

``They have to be Callowan, that's what I ask,'' I said. ``You still get
to pick someone that won't hinder Praesi interests.''

``And the knights?'' she said.

``Folded into the Legions,'' I said. ``Malicia, you and Black have
occupied this country but you haven't really made \emph{use} of it. You
got taxes out of the governorships, but what else? If all you want is to
shake a land until gold comes out, there's easier targets. You can still
get your cut from the viceroy, but there's so much more that could be
had. How many Callowans are really in the Legions, aside from the
Fifteenth? There should be a portion in every one, even those in the
Wasteland. Callow has population on par with Praes, and if you don't
need to use your armies to keep it in check that population goes to fill
your armies. You could get cavalry that doesn't need to eat its full
weight in meat every month. Hells, you could start fielding priests with
the Legions if you name someone who has pull with the House of Light.
But to get all that, you need someone Callowans will actually
\emph{listen} to.''

``And you can accomplish all this?'' the Empress said. ``Without
breaking from the Tower?''

``Yes,'' I said hoarsely. ``No matter who gets in my way. Whether they
be gods or kings or all the armies in Creation.''

On the second evening I'd ever spent with Black, I'd remembered a sermon
from the House of Light. One about the really dangerous devils. How they
gave you exactly what you wanted, and let you find your own way to the
Hells with it.

I took her hand anyway, Gods forgive me.
