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

on his trousers and answered. Five guards stood on his porch, one holding a lantern. Ford rubbed his eyes and squinted as if he had been asleep for hours.

Sorry to disturb you, the guard with the lantern said.

Ford faked a yawn. What’s goin on?

Can we come in, sir? I’m afraid we’ve got some disturbing news.

The man’s accent was unidentifiable. The outlanders had brought with them a Babel of slang, inflections, and pronunciations. Listening to them made Ford’s head hurt. Still, he led the guards into his den and lit a couple of lamps. He gestured toward the furniture. They took their seats. He did not offer them water or food, though at least one looked at the carafe on the side table and licked his lips.

You’ll forgive my directness, Ford said, but it’s awful early, even for me. What can I do for you?

We need your help tracking a traitor, said the lantern-bearer.

Ford tried to look surprised. What traitor?

Recently a Troubler from Jack Hobbes’s zone confessed to meeting a higher-up in a resistance group.

Resistance group. You mean the Troublers?

No. A new one.

Ford arched his brows. Don’t sound likely. Ain’t never had that kind of problem here.

Well, you might have it now. Our contact was supposed to capture the traitor near Armstrong Park. We hung back so we wouldn’t spook them.

And your agent didn’t bring nobody in?

The guard looked embarrassed. We moved in, but by the time we arrived, our contact’s throat had been cut. She had also been shot in the back. We found the heathen’s horse in the streets just in time to watch it die. Its throat had been cut too.

Ford tensed, gritted his teeth, made fists. The gestures were pure theater, but he did not have to feign anger and grief. Troubler scum, he said. Tell me, what did this horse look like?

The lantern-bearer described Thess. Ford let his expression become more and more dismayed. Do you recognize the animal, sir?

Yes. He’s mine.

Now the guard looked surprised, as did his fellows. Sir?

I rode him this evenin. I hitched him on the street when I came in. Figured I’d ride him to work tomorrow. But when I looked outside, he was gone. I thought he just got loose and I’d find him in the mornin.

The traitor must have stolen him. That takes guts, considering you could track him to the ends of the earth, if what we’ve heard is true.

Troublers ain’t known for their brains. What else?

We think he killed your horse to slow us down. We searched the nearby alleys and found a smoldering pile of refuse. It looked like the remains of a saddle. Beyond that, the trail has run cold.

All that action, and nobody saw nothin.

That’s correct, sir.

Ford started pacing. He said nothing for a minute, perhaps two. Then he turned back to the guard. You want me to try to track him.

Yes, sir.

Fine. But if he stuck to the roads and he ain’t bleedin or somethin, I don’t know that I’ll have much to work with.

The lantern-bearer stood. The others joined him. We’d appreciate your efforts.

One more thing, said Ford. He looked at each of the guards as he spoke. If this traitor hurts any of my folks because you let him rabbit, you’ll answer to me.

The guard cleared his throat as the rest of them glanced at each other. We understand, sir. We’d also appreciate a list of anyone who might be sympathetic to Troublers.

Ford had started down the hall. Now he stopped and looked back. In my territory, you mean?

Yes, sir.

Ford stared at the man until he looked away. If I knew anybody like that, you’d have their names already. Now let me get dressed.

He returned three hours later, exhausted and heartsick. Riding on a borrowed horse beside the guards, Ford had explained how the High Temple staff kept a list of known Troublers and suspects, which was true, and that he had learned no new names since the list had last been revised, which was a lie. Under Royster’s definition, most Crusaders he knew would be labeled Troublers.

It hadn’t never occurred to me that lots of folks might be a little bit of both, or maybe even neither.

The outlanders had led him to the remains of his saddle and clothes. When he saw Thess’s blood all over the alley, he nearly wept again. Instead, he pretended to cast about for signs, leading the guards out of the alley, then north. Miming the body language of tracking, he took them up one street and down another, doubling back every now and then for effect, until, three miles away, he stood upright and shook his head.

What trail there was ends here, Ford said. Either this traitor got more careful, or the Troublers picked em up on horseback. All I’m gettin now is the usual wear and tear of a thoroughfare.

The guards looked at each other, probably wondering what clues he had followed this far but, after the warning back in his living room, they were too nervous to ask.

You’ll keep watch and report any suspicious activity? the lantern bearer asked.

Don’t ask me another question like that. Makes me think you don’t trust me.

The guard mumbled an apology. The group saluted. Ford turned the unfamiliar mount toward home in the early morning light as the city came to life.

I’m so sorry, Thess.

Now, back in his house, Ford removed his boots. Then he walked to the den and collapsed on the couch, where he slept for three hours. When he awoke, he sat for ten minutes and thought about how he had killed someone, had run from the Crusade, had lied to its representatives, had misled them, had misused his gifts and the power of his office. Yet no nightmares had troubled his sleep.

I reckon that’s my answer. I just hope it came from You, Father God.

At noon, Ford stopped by Audubon Park’s fields of corn and beans and peas and wheat. Stalks and plants reached for the sun like supplicants.