Not bad, she thought, as the applause began. The bit about the constitution—which still did not technically exist, in anything but the broadest outline—had been certain to play well with the men largely responsible for it. Emphasizing the limits of the new post, rather than its vast powers, made it more acceptable in a city so recently out from under the bloody hand of a tyrant.

The title “consul” had been Raesinia’s suggestion. It carried the weight of history, the connotations of great men who worked selflessly for their republic and then stepped aside. And the truth was that Vordan needed Janus, with practically unlimited authority, if it was going to stand a chance once the vast, slow-moving legions of Murnsk were brought to bear and while Borel continued its stranglehold on the coasts.

Now Janus himself appeared, immaculate in army blue and the red of his home county. He was escorted up the aisle between the deputies by four men of the Mierantai Volunteers, with red uniforms and long rifles on their shoulders. They stopped, standing rigidly at attention, and saluted, while Janus took a few more steps forward and then sank to one knee.

“Count Mieran,” Raesinia said. “If the Deputies-General does grant my request, will you serve in the post of consul for as long as the emergency requires?”

“I will, Your Majesty,” Janus said, his normally soft voice ringing throughout the hall.

“And do you swear, on your sacred honor, to exercise the powers granted to you only in defense of Vordan and its interests?”

“I swear, Your Majesty.”

“And do you swear that on the successful conclusion of the war, you will relinquish your office, and submit yours to the orders of this assembly, where all authority rightfully resides?”

“I swear, Your Majesty.”

“Then I submit my proposal to the Deputies-General,” Raesinia said, turning to the president. “I request a vote.”

She stepped back, and the old man took the podium again, going through the motions. The vote was more or less a formality, of course. Even if Janus’ troops hadn’t occupied the city, the streets wouldn’t have stood for anything less than their hero being put in charge of the nation’s armies. The deputies had tasted the mob’s wrath once before, for failing to put Janus in command, and she doubted any of them wanted to try it again.

Looking down at him, though, Raesinia felt suddenly uncertain. This was the right thing to do, the only thing she could have done, but there was a sudden, awful sense that she’d stepped over a cliff without looking down. Janus stared up at her, gray eyes huge and luminous, and the briefest of smiles flashed across his face.

Be wary of Vhalnich, the Ghost had said. He plans deep.

Epilogue

SHADE