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

seemed to agree on what they wanted. They might set a fire and burn down whole neighborhoods. But let the Crusade start any improvement project—which, of course, always had to begin with destruction of some kind, a fire or a building demolition—and the Troublers would drive off the workers. They want whatever seems diametrically opposed to the Crusade. They are that simple and that tenacious. Watching them drown will be like standing at the pearly gates as the wicked are cast into the lake of fire. Their screams will be music, their deaths a balm for this world’s soul. And if Lord Troy keeps asking the wrong questions and making demands, Mister Clemens will be happy to slip a knife between his ribs ahead of schedule.

From below came the sound of many boots on the stairs. So Clemens had found everyone. Royster crossed quickly to Troy’s desk—his desk now—and sat. He folded his hands and smiled. And when the door opened and Clemens ushered in Santonio Ford, LaShanda Long, and Gordon Boudreaux, Royster clapped his hands together like a child who has been given a rare treat.

Boudreaux and Ford flanked LaShanda Long. Benn brought in a steaming kettle of tea and poured it into chipped cups and handed them out. Boudreaux sipped, squinting against the steam.

Royster looked them over. You three are the youngest of Lord Troy’s lieutenants.

As the senior official present, Ford would do the talking, so Boudreaux looked to him. Yes, sir, the hunter said.

Good, good. Tell me, young men and lady. Are you loyal to the Bright Crusade or to your lord of order?

Boudreaux clenched his jaw. Here it comes.

But if the question bothered Ford, he gave no sign. Instead, he took what struck Boudreaux as the most practical course—feigned ignorance. I don’t get your meanin, sir. Is there a difference?

In theory, there shouldn’t be, but for the moment, let us consider the possibility. What would you do if Gabriel Troy tried to hinder the Crusade’s goals and Matthew Rook’s written orders?

Sweet Father. He expects us to cast Gabe out just like that, after all these years.

Can’t imagine that, Ford said, his face expressionless. The Crusade’s his whole life.

Of course. I am simply asking if you would side with the Crusade against all enemies, regardless of who they might be.

Ford never blinked. We do what’s right around here. Always have. Always will.

Royster smiled, put one hand over his heart, bowed his head a moment. Splendid. That will be all for now. We shall call on you again, should the need arise. He stood up and stuck out his hand.

Ford shook it, looking Royster in the eye. Anytime.

Benn and Clemens herded them toward the door.

Don’t look back, Boudreaux thought. Don’t give him a reason to wonder about you too.

The deputy envoys escorted them outside the Temple and shut the doors without so much as a good evening. Boudreaux opened his mouth, but Long put her hand on his shoulder and cut her eyes toward the guards, and he shut it again.

After dark, under an overcast sky as black as coal, Ford met Troy on the bench by the river.

I told Sister Sarah what Royster’s plannin, Troy said as Ford sat. She wants to get her people out.

Ford scratched his head. If all the Catholics leave, Royster will know somebody talked. He might figure it was you.

I reckon he might.

We can’t do this without you. I don’t know if we can do it at all.

You can. If a Troubler had shot me in the back last month, you or Jack would be in charge anyway. What happened at your meetin?

Royster asked what we’d do if you turned traitor. If I’d have answered wrong, there’d be three bodies in the river right now. Theirs or ours.

Troy turned to the water. Ford let him ponder for a while. The Crusade lied to us, the hunter thought. By omission and by outright deception. Now we’re lyin to help people, but also to stay alive. Sin for sin, we’re matchin each other.

So, Troy said. He thinks me, Jack, and Ernie are too far gone to reach.

I ain’t much of an expert on what Royster thinks. But that seems about right.

And y’all said what?

That we’d do our duty.

Good. That should keep y’all outta the towers. If you hear anything we can use, stop by my house for dinner or invite me out for some night fishin. In the meantime, we better get back.

He patted Ford on the shoulder, stood, and slipped away into the darkness.

Ford bowed his head. Father God, keep us strong and on Your path. Give each of us the wisdom to know what’s right and the strength to act on it.

When he left, he took a different route, just in case.

12

The Westbank Expressway’s pavement crumbled under Royster’s horse’s hooves. Troublers knotted the roads and sidewalks. Chained together at the ankles, they sat or walked in sunburnt, mosquito-stung misery, dragged along by those in front of them, kicked by those behind. At night, they slept shoulder to shoulder and in great stinking piles. Soon their decamping in the city proper would begin. The great wall grew daily, the sections thirty-five feet high by thirty feet long by ten feet deep, wood reinforced with iron, snaking around the city as crews worked both ends. When head finally met tail and every Troubler had been herded inside, Royster’s task would be complete, and he could return to Washington.

Clemens trotted up on a jet-black mare with rippling muscles, its sheen so dark it looked wet. The deputy reined in beside Royster and fanned himself with his hat, wiping his sweating forehead on his shirtsleeve. He nodded at the masses stomping and clanking away on the roads.

It’s like the Sermon on the Mount, he said. Nothing but sinners as far as the eye can see.

Royster smiled. It’s quite a sight.

So what’s next?

The envoy grunted. What next, indeed? On the surface, everything proceeds apace. Even if Gabriel