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

about as dangerous as a dead fly on a windowsill. He had driven Troy away. He had made her doubt her faith, the state of her soul. Babb had watched it all, approved it. He had taken his morning toast and tea with the scent of starving children’s rabbitlike turds in his nostrils. And now they wanted more. Well, I’m done. Let em lock me in the tower. Somebody else will have to kill Jack or Ernie or whoever they’re scared of now. She looked Royster in the eye but said nothing else.

You speak true, Madame Weaponsmith, the envoy said. But your work is not yet done.

So what’s next? she asked. When you name another one of my friends, I’ll spit in your eye.

The city still needs a lord of order, Royster said. Troy was unfit, and Santonio Ford has refused the office. Thus, this cup passes to you.

Royster was still smiling that shark’s smile, his hands folded on the desk. Even Babb grinned, revealing his crooked yellow old man’s teeth. Long sat in her chair, thunderstruck. She had expected another arrest order or even an assassination, but in some ways, Royster had named an even worse fate.

I don’t know what to say. My duties—

City records indicate you have often spent days at a time scouring the city and outlying areas for Troubler nests, which proves you are already familiar with strategy and procedure. It also indicates you can delegate. I assure you that you may continue to inspect your forges at will.

I just don’t know—

LaShanda, Babb said, we raised you better than this. The Most High’s will—

Royster held up a hand, frowning. Babb shut up.

Let me be frank, the envoy said. This is not a request. Mister Ford has refused, claiming he must concentrate on feeding the populace. Perhaps his people are not as well trained as yours. We cannot give the position to Mister Boudreaux. We are grooming him for different work.

What about Jack Hobbes or Ernie Tetweiller? They’ve both got seniority.

Babb looked away. Royster stopped smiling. Misters Hobbes and Tetweiller are no longer available.

Long’s stomach knotted. Her hands trembled. Are Jack and Ernie dead? And what’s this other work they got Gordy doin? He’s been scarce as hen’s teeth lately.

Can I ask what no longer available means?

Royster’s voice was flat and even. They have been placed under house arrest.

On what charge?

Sedition.

Not dead, thank God. Not dead. She did not know whether she could bear losing another close friend. I just can’t see that, she said.

Has everyone in this city lost their minds? Babb cried. We do not question the church’s edicts.

Please, Minister, Royster said, the edge in his voice belying the words. Madame, your faith in your friends is the reason you were not tasked with their arrest. But their taking office is out of the question. And Troy is dead. I could name someone new to the city, but I believe New Orleans’s citizens need continuity in leadership. Don’t you?

He smiled again.

Not for the first time, Long wondered whether she had ever seen an expression so insincere, so cold. He was thrusting this position at her as if it were fire and his own hair was catching. Who knew what might happen if she refused? House arrest at best, the towers or a bullet in the brain at worst. No choice. Some of us gotta stay free, don’t we? Or is that the devil talkin? Lord, it’s gettin so I can barely remember not bein all at sea.

Royster was waiting.

I reckon I accept, she sighed.

Finally, some sense, Babb said, raising his hands, eyes closed. Thank You, Lord.

Royster’s grin widened. He stood and stuck out his hand. Long got to her feet and shook it. Congratulations, Lord Long. May you smite the Troubler scourge wherever you find it.

I’ll do my best to serve with honor. But you’ll have to pardon me if I don’t thank you.

Royster let go of her hand and indicated her chair. They took their seats again. Royster patted his chest where he had been branded. Once our new prison is complete, you and Misters Ford and Boudreaux will take on the symbol of your earthly ascension so you may ride back to Washington marked as one of God’s greatest servants. As for tonight, we must discuss the city’s transition. Minister Babb, you may go.

The high minister bowed and shuffled out, leaving Long to wonder what she might be called to do in the coming days.

As she left the office, Benn and Clemens snapped to attention and saluted. Long returned the gesture but did not linger. She walked downstairs, thinking. Royster had not told her everything, of course. She would probably have to execute Hobbes or Tetweiller to earn that much confidence, which she would not do, no matter what. Still, the envoy had said enough. The Crusade’s great wall would be completed sooner than anyone had suspected. The combination of careful planning and nearly unlimited prisoner labor had expedited it. After its raising, she would take control of the prison, which meant supervising her guards as they shot anyone who tried to scale the wall or tunnel under it or blow it up or use the river as egress. But as brutal as that task seemed, it was illusory, for Royster had also confirmed that charges had been set at key waterways across the city. The envoy claimed they were a fail-safe in case of a full-scale revolt. That sounded plausible, but thanks to Lynn Stransky, Long knew better. That ordnance would bring the killing waters down on the damned and the saved alike. And with everyone dead, what need would the Crusade have for a lord of order? Or a warden? Or her colleagues?

If that’s the Crusade’s will, I should bow to it. Every lesson I was ever taught says so. Maybe that’s why I wounded Gabe. But a Purge. It’s one thing to read about the first one. It’s another to know I’m helpin kill tens of thousands of