“Even if we can get aboard, there’ll be guards,” he said. “That will take time. Then there’s the chance one of the Penitent Damned will show up.”

“The one I fought could be overcome by a reasonably sized force,” Sothe said.

“The giant might be more of a problem,” Marcus said. “Or the fire woman, if she’s not too busy. But even if we can get past them, how do we get the ship out of range of the guns before they start shooting holes in it?”

“We could use the Names as hostages,” Sothe said.

“How? They’re not exactly easy to break. What are we going to do, threaten to sink them in the river?”

“Maybe we could rig a gunpowder charge—”

Something shifted in Raesinia’s mind, and she had it.

“I think,” she said, “we’re going about this the wrong way . . .”

Chapter Twenty-three

MARCUS

Why do I feel, Marcus thought, like I’ve been here before?

Once again, he was in a small boat, on an empty, darkened river, rowing into the unknown. The muffled splash of the oars, regular as a heartbeat, was the only sound. To the right, the Island was a blaze of light, lanterns burning even on the abandoned battlements of the Vendre where it stuck out into the river like the prow of a ship. Ahead and to the left was the stretch of noble estates called the Fairy Castles for their fantastical, impractical architecture, where only the occasional glow of some servants’ kitchen was still alight. Those of the nobility who’d remained through the revolution and the outbreak of war had finally departed, along with everyone else who had the means, now that Janus’ army was camped on their doorstep.

Tomorrow, or so the word went, the Army of the East would begin its advance into the city. Or Maurisk would surrender, or Janus would surrender, or they would meet between the lines to settle matters in single combat. The official presses had gone ominously silent, and in their absence a million rumors bloomed like fungi. Morning would settle the matter, one way or another.

More important, for the purposes of the motley band of refugees and fugitive soldiers, a strong force of Patriot Guards was posted on the outskirts of the city, blocking the roads south. A few brave volunteers had tried to get through to Janus’ army in order to establish communication, but they’d all had the sense to turn back in the face of the well-manned patrols. Maurisk clearly knew that there were groups in the city more likely to lend aid to Janus than to fight him, and he was determined to maintain a tight cordon.