“The Thousand Names may eventually provide a key to help solving that problem. But the Priests of the Black will not make peace, not now. They know we have the Names, and they know a demonic presence sits on the throne of Vordan. A faith cannot be destroyed with cannonballs.”

“So how do we beat them?”

“We must go to Elysium,” Janus said. “We must break their power at the source, or we will never have peace.”

“Elysium.” Marcus stared. “You’re—of course you’re serious. You’re always serious. But—”

“I know the objections,” Janus said, holding up a hand. “Elysium is deep in Imperial Murnsk, surrounded by the armies of the emperor and a sea of hostile fanatics. It is a fortress-city that has never been taken, even during the Demon Wars, when the Church was young. And it is full of things like the one you fought on the Green Road.”

“That about sums it up, yes,” Marcus said. “So how do we get there?”

A brief smile crossed Janus’ face. “The same way we get anywhere else, Colonel. One step at a time.” His eyes sparkled, but his expression became serious again. “I wanted to ask if you were with me. After what happened here, no one would blame you for wanting to be out of it, least of all me. I could arrange an easy post somewhere, or a comfortable retirement, whichever you’d prefer.”

“I . . .” Marcus shook his head.

He’d always considered himself loyal to crown and country, but it had been a vague, distant thing, buried under more pressing concerns. In Khandar, he’d fought for nothing more or less than survival, against what often seemed to be impossible odds. He’d followed Janus home, and when the revolution broke out he’d been mostly driven by a sense of duty to the men under his command, the Armsmen who’d become his responsibility.

Now Janus was willing to declare those responsibilities at an end. But while country had become vaguer than ever—Marcus wasn’t certain what Vordan really meant anymore—queen had taken on a personal solidity. She wasn’t some abstract ideal, a monarch whose honor his oaths obligated him to defend. She was a short, pretty woman with a quick smile, who wore ridiculous boyish trousers whenever she got the chance, never listened to advice when she ought to, and felt the pain of everyone who got hurt trying to protect her like a spear in her own heart. She’d been forced into this world, the world of demons and Penitent Damned, and for the crime of survival the Black Priests wanted to lock her away forever.

He wanted to protect her. But the best place to do that was on the battlefield.