But Raesinia’s betrayal had opened his eyes. After the fall of the Vendre, he’d genuinely hoped that the world might change; the will of the people was sweeping away the old chains, and—properly guided—it could lead to a new era of enlightenment. Then he’d seen Raesinia, the young woman he’d trusted as one of his closest companions, now dressed in the garb of a queen.

He’d realized then that nothing had changed. The old chains still held. They’d all meant nothing to her, less than nothing; the will of the people had been a useful tool to bend to her own ends. It had opened his eyes to what was needed. A true revolution required a purge, as Farus IV had understood over a hundred years before. It needed a man willing to do what was necessary, without restraint.

Ionkovo had come to him soon after the war had begun, and laid out his price. Maurisk hadn’t hesitated. He needed peace to continue his work. Raesinia, Vhalnich, and some dusty Khandarai artifact were a small price to pay.

“As you say,” Maurisk finally said, “the queen is in hand.”

“What about Vhalnich? He keeps winning battles.”

“Vhalnich will need to be . . . reined in, but I don’t anticipate any difficulty. Once our position is secure, he will either deliver himself to us or reveal himself as an outright traitor, and any support he has will melt away. Once we have him, it shouldn’t be difficult to force him to reveal where he’s hidden your Thousand Names.”

“That’s good,” Ionkovo said. “That’s very good. I wanted to be certain you were still committed.” He leaned forward. “Because if Vhalnich’s little successes make you think you can stand against us, you had better think again. The Borelgai fleet dominates your coasts, and the Emperor of Murnsk is coming with all his power. Hamvelt is a sideshow. If you don’t give us what we want, we will crush this city under our heel.” He grinned, showing teeth. “Not that you, personally, would be around to see it.”

“I told you, everything is in hand.” Maurisk was appalled to find himself sweating. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“I’ll tell that to the pontifex,” Ionkovo said. “He’ll be pleased to hear it. When will your position be ‘secure’?”

“Another few weeks, at most. Preparations are well under way—”

“Very well.” Ionkovo stood up and bowed. “A pleasure speaking with you, as always.”

The Penitent Damned circled around the desk, coming to Maurisk’s side. Maurisk started to turn in his chair, but Ionkovo laid a hand on his shoulder, and he froze in place. Ionkovo passed out of sight, behind him, and there was a whisper like silk brushing silk.