Inger stepped forward. Liakopulos had torchbearers illuminate her, so there would be no doubt. “There’s been a battle in the east. The King was involved. We did lose it, and badly. But as yet we have no direct evidence that the King was killed. All we have are rumors started by people who want to profit from confusion and despair. It’s just more of the same thing that goes on every day in Vorgreberg. Don’t take it seriously. Don’t sit around like men condemned. We’re soldiers. Our job is to maintain order. It’s time we got on with that.”

He spoke a while longer, trying to restore morale. He did not scruple against lying. When he finished he turned the troops over to their captains, who prepared to move into the city.

“Major, they seem a little weak, number wise. What happened?”

“Desertions. We lost close to seventy men. All the Marena Dimura scouts. Most of the lads of Nordmen background. The Wessons stood up better.”

“They were always a more solid lot. All right. We’re going to split the force into two companies. One will accompany the Queen to the palace. The other will follow me to the Vorgreberger barracks. We’ll get them stirring, then start clearing the streets.”

The Major looked out his window. An orange glow illuminated the underbelly of the clouds. “It may be too big a job for the tools at hand. General.”

“We’ll try anyway, Major. That’s our job. Don’t relay your doubts to your men.”

“Of course not, sir. If you’ll excuse me? Your Majesty?”

“One moment,” Michael said, speaking for the first time. “Where’s Colonel Abaca?”

“I haven’t heard anything since he ordered us into barracks.”

“I see. Thank you.”

Passing through the city’s unguarded, deserted, open western gate, Michael told Inger, “That damned Credence wanted this. Guess he figured he wouldn’t leave you much to take over. Damn. He was a good man, too.”

“I never saw much good in him.”

“You looked at him as Marena Dimura, not as a man. Till today he was a perfect soldier. But for Bragi.”

Inger didn’t respond.

“Bragi was the glue that held everything together,” Michael mused. “Even the Estates respected him. His is going to be a hard act to follow.”

“Don’t try to sell me anything, Michael.”

Shouts came from the head of the column. A squadron whooped off after a band of looters. They were rounded up, tied neck to neck, and forced to march alongside. The number of prisoners grew steadily, though Michael insisted the column keep to the quieter parts of town.

“They should be cut down where they’re found,” Inger complained.

“Part of the problem is Credence’s savagery earlier,” Michael countered. “There’s a place for savagery, but not when you’re trying to smooth troubled waters. If we butchered anybody now we’d just get more angry people. You can’t intimidate a mob. It grows faster than you can cut it apart. When you’re dealing with a more limited, planned thing, like the riots a while back, then savagery can have some value.”