Lord of Order by Brett Riley (the reading list book TXT) 📕

Mister Benn is right, said Babb, shaking his finger at Troy. Gentlemen, I apologize. Lord Troy has never raised these objections to me, or I would have advised him to keep still.

Troy ignored Babb. Servin God wasn’t the waste. Keepin this city safe and clean was. We could have relocated our populace years ago.

Gabriel—Babb began, but Royster held up a hand. Babb’s mouth snapped shut fast enough to catch flies.

Your city’s geography suits our purposes, the envoy said. The preponderance of nearby waters. How the town sits in a bowl of sorts, below sea level. The causeway and the bridges. Few locations of comparable size and circumstances exist on this continent. Our other choices had far greater population densities. For all these reasons, it had to be New Orleans. But, of course, the greatest reason is that God has willed it so, and He revealed this plan to Matthew only recently. Our lives march to His beat.

Babb nodded, his eyes closed. Yes, Father.

Troy resisted the urge to groan. You said Matthew. First-name basis, huh?

Royster smiled. The expression’s sharklike qualities made Dwyer’s seem warm and wholesome. Indeed. We have been close since our seminary days.

Yet he sent you along with the riffraff.

Royster started.

Gabriel, Babb hissed.

Leave off, Jerold. I don’t need you bird-doggin my every word.

Royster recovered himself. Yes. Matthew believes my talents will be useful here. I sense hostility, Lord Troy. Toward me, if not our plans.

Boudreaux shifted his weight.

We’re talkin about Gordy’s fate too, but he’s expected to stand there and shut up. A hard task, especially for a youngster.

It’s this bit about leavin my people here that really worries me, Troy said. Makin em start over out in the muck like the folks they’ve always fought. We’re gonna lose our crops, our shelter. Only the Lord knows how many diseases we’ll face.

For the first time, the man named Clemens spoke, his voice dripping with insolence. That’s your problem. You aren’t the lord of hot meals and afternoon naps.

Despite himself, Troy’s temper blazed. Ain’t you a peach. You gents sure this fella’s Christian?

Clemens started to rise.

Gentlemen, please, Babb said, sounding strangled.

Royster stood. Deputy Envoy Clemens, he bellowed. Clemens froze. You will address Lord Troy by his title, and you will show him respect. Do you understand?

Clemens sat, but he stared at Troy like a wild dog eyeing a lamb. Yes, sir. Forgive me, Lord Troy. His tone could have cut throats.

Troy said nothing. Babb mopped his brow with a handkerchief. After a moment, he took his seat.

You must overlook Mister Clemens’s lack of manners, Royster said. The road has been long and stressful. As for your concerns, I understand them, but we have our orders.

When are we supposed to evacuate?

I see no reason to displace anyone yet.

Ain’t that sweet.

Your people will not be abandoned. And neither will you.

Royster’s eyes flicked to the left as he spoke. Twice.

Liar. Boudreaux shifted again. Gordy saw it too. Good.

If that is all for now, Royster said, please describe how you’ve divided the city’s responsibilities. And then, considering how tired and dirty we are, perhaps someone could show us to our quarters.

All right, Troy said.

Mister Benn, take notes, please.

Benn pulled a sheaf of papers and a chewed-up pencil from his back pocket. He scooted up to Troy’s desk and smoothed out the wrinkled paper.

Okay, said Troy. I reckon our day-to-day work ain’t much different than what you’d find anywhere. I got the final say in everything except Jerold’s ministrations, but my deputies and officials run most everything in my name. Their subordinates oversee specific neighborhoods and jobs—the plantin and reapin of a certain crop, the manufacture of a particular weapon, and so forth. Anything you say to me, I can relay to my people, and they’ll relay it to theirs, all the way down the line.

Royster nodded. Yes, it sounds as if you follow protocols.

Of course we do, Babb said.

Troy frowned at the high minister. If Babb bent over any further for the envoy, he might fall over.

As for peacekeepin, Gordy runs everything south of the river. It’s a lot of territory, but he’s the youngest and most energetic. Benn wrote it all down. After a bit, Royster whirled a finger in the air, a please continue gesture, so Troy said, I personally oversee the Vieux Carré.

Very good, said Royster. The lord of order belongs near the High Temple.

Troy opened a drawer. He pulled out a city map and spread it over the desk. Royster got up and leaned over it. Benn kept writing, sweat pouring off his brow.

This here’s the river, Troy said, tracing a blue squiggle with his finger. My territory stretches north from the river to Rampart, and from Canal Street to Esplanade Avenue.

Ah, yes, Royster said. Benn sketched a crude map on his own paper.

LaShanda Long’s in charge east of Esplanade and Wisner Boulevard, includin the neighborhoods of Faubourg Marigny, Treme, and Mid-City. She’s our weaponsmith and ammo expert.

And where is her main forge?

Troy pointed at the map. Here. The ancients called it the Lakefront Arena. Now, Jack Hobbes runs everything west of Esplanade all the way to North Causeway Boulevard. That includes the Central Business District, the Arts District, and Lakeview.

Royster concentrated, as if he planned to memorize everything. Why did he bother with having Benn take notes? Continue, he said, whirling his finger again.

Everything west of the causeway is Santonio Ford’s territory. He’s our chief hunter and gatherer, and he also runs the parks and waterways. Anyplace you can plant a crop or hunt or fish, we defer to him.

And what of Mr. Tetweiller?

Retired. He lives over in Metairie, not too far from where you hit town. That’s in Ford’s territory. Sometimes Ernie helps us out, but he ain’t in charge of nothin but his own self.

Very well. Tell me, what do you think of Jonas Strickland’s decision to continue using the ancients’ names for things? Our streets, our parks? Our histories tell us he did it to help the Great Purge’s survivors feel more at ease with the