The Unbroken by C. Clark (ebook reader .txt) 📕

we can cross-reference it with other intelligence you gather. We’ll learn just as much by what they tell us as by what they don’t tell us.”

Most importantly, the soldier would be in a position to ask questions. The rebels wouldn’t tell her about the magic outright, not at first, but the soldier could observe. With time, maybe the answers would slip out naturally, or they could make an alliance, trading the magic… So many possibilities.

“And if she runs off to play rebel with the lot of them?” Taurvide asked. He still sat with his arms folded, fingers now tapping on biceps that strained against his coat.

Here, Luca had no other response. The woman’s life was already forfeit. It couldn’t be more forfeit. It was as risky as hiring a mercenary. But everyone was a mercenary, according to The Rule of Rule; it was only a matter of finding their price. Sometimes that price was money, but it wasn’t the only—or even the most—effective payment. As Gil had said, never overlook a good weapon. It would be silly to throw out a sword because it needed sharpening.

The general stepped in. “I have every reason to believe that this soldier, if given another chance to prove herself, could be extremely loyal. It’s a classic part of the punishment-reward cycle in Droitist and Tailleurist theories. She responded well to the hybrid form of teaching I used in her youth.”

The mention of her uncle’s theory still sent crawling ants up Luca’s back, but she nodded. “I’ll take her as part of the governor-general’s staff.” At Cantic’s surprise—and Gil’s stiffened back—she added, “As you said, she’s not fit to return among the ranks.”

For several tense, silent seconds, they all watched Cantic thinking, her steepled fingers against her lips. Finally, she folded her hands on her desk.

“Use her, Your Highness. But if you have even the hint of a suspicion—” Cantic met Gil’s eyes.

Luca nodded crisply once. “As I said, General. She’s already condemned.”

And that was how Luca came to be visiting a condemned woman in the dimness of the compound jail, with a secret aim she hadn’t discussed with the military court. An aim she’d barely thought through herself. Adapting worked like that sometimes.

She wanted that soldier. Needed her. The soldier knew about the magic. She had connections, however tenuous, however dubious, to the rebels. And she was a loose agent no longer earmarked for another task and otherwise sentenced to death. She was, in other words, dispensable. Despite what Luca had said to Cantic’s face, that thought didn’t sit well in Luca’s chest. It made her think of Beau-Sang’s boy with the cut fingers. She couldn’t even remember his name.

If the soldier could play her role well enough to learn about the magic, all the risk would be worth it. Luca got a weapon; the soldier got her life. If the woman was loyal.

So I’ll keep her loyal.

“Are you sure about this?” Gillett asked quietly, for her ears only. “We could think on this overnight.”

“Of course I’m sure.” If she waited overnight, she might lose her nerve. That and she didn’t trust Colonel Taurvide to leave the soldier unmolested.

The soldier—ex-soldier now, Luca supposed—leaned against the yellow-brown stone wall of her cell. Everything was yellowed further by the lantern light, even the woman’s skin. Everything that wasn’t cast into dim shadow, rather.

The woman squinted up. Then she scrambled to her feet and bowed, hissing slightly at some unaccounted-for pain. “Your Highness.”

Luca turned to the jailer. “You may leave, monsieur. All the way out. Close the door.” He gaped, trying to find some excuse not to abandon his charge, but she held her hand out. He gave her the lantern and returned to his office in the dark.

The soldier in the officers’ planning room had looked desperate, almost frantic. Until she had called Luca’s debt. Here, in the half dark, the lone lamp deepened the shadows under her eyes and made her look like a starving wolf. Rangy and wary and dangerous. The steady strength from Cheminade’s dinner party was buried almost too deep for Luca to see—there were still traces of it in the set of her jaw, her weary but unbowed shoulders. Again, the impulse that Luca did not want this woman to die. Not like this.

The woman wore only her uniform undershirt, which was unlaced to show collarbone and muscle. Muscle showed in her forearms, too. She had broad, scarred hands with long fingers. Luca wondered—only academically, of course—how much strength it took to bludgeon a man to death with the Sands’ batons. Luca cleared her throat.

“Lieutenant Touraine,” Luca said. “I’m sorry to meet you again under such circumstances.”

Touraine bowed again. Luca caught the brief twist of an ironic smile. “So am I, Your Highness. How may I serve?”

Luca held the lamp higher. “I have a proposition for you,” she said bluntly. “I need a well-rounded assistant. Someone martially skilled and intelligent.”

Wariness shadowed Touraine’s eyes and leaked into her voice. “Your Highness?”

“The general spoke well of you before this incident, and I believe she would like to give you one last chance.”

“She would?” Hope inflated the other woman into something almost living. “Whatever she wants, I’ll do it.”

The quick agreement took Luca aback. Maybe Cantic was right, and the soldier would be obedient under—she shuddered to think of the Droitist wording—a kind master. No. The Droitists were wrong about that; the colonial subjects weren’t more suited to masters. Anyone would be more cooperative with someone who was kind to them. So she laid out the offer she thought would most entice this particular mercenary.

“Your status would increase dramatically. In addition to being in my service, you’d have my ear and perhaps my influence in certain matters.” Luca raised an eyebrow pointedly. “Some might say that Balladaire owes the conscripts a great deal of thanks.”

“You mean you’d help the Sands?”

Good. She could listen for the words behind the words.

Luca gave a slow nod.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” The soldier bowed again. “You’re generous, and