Lord of Order, Brett Riley [e ink manga reader .TXT] 📗

harder to oversee efficiently. I know this decision has and will cause you personal heartbreak and trauma. Please realize that your sacrifice serves the Crusade and its people.

Prisoners are on the march, along with contingents of armed guards. Know I am also sending my representatives to oversee New Orleans’s transition. You are to extend them every courtesy.

Prior to their arrival, you will complete three tasks. First, you are to inventory the city’s explosive ordnance, including the gunpowder reserved for your peacekeeping ammunition. Prepare a list and be ready to present it to my envoys. Second, you will record the type and location of every seaworthy contrivance—ship, boat, canoe, raft, anything that floats. Third, you are to quash any dissent with all available force. Any Troubler activity should be met with lethal force. Any citizen who protests should be silenced, by whatever means necessary. Make no exceptions.

My prayers will be with you. I look forward to meeting you personally and commending you for the fine work you always do.

Yours,

Matthew Rook

Troy read the letter three times. Then he folded it and slipped it back into its envelope. He opened his closet and knelt in front of his safe, an old-fashioned gray monster with a rotary dial the size of an apple. He had no idea where it came from or which lord had installed it. He had inherited it, along with its combination and the rest of the house, from Ernie Tetweiller. Troy opened the safe, the hinges squeaking. He thrust the envelope inside and then shut the door. He highly doubted anyone would assault the house tonight, but with documents like these, he would take no chances.

He went to the bathroom and stared into the mirror for a long time—his olive complexion, brown eyes, straight dark hair, lines and wrinkles that had appeared in the last few years—and then cleaned his teeth. As usual, someone had filled his tub. The water crews hauled barrels and buckets all over the city every day, leaving every citizen a supply for drinking and bathing and cooking. Fuel crews replenished everyone’s firewood and kindling and dry leaves and coal and whatever else they could find that might burn. But along with their other responsibilities, the cleaning crews lit the stoves and boiled water for the lord and their deputies. Everyone else had to do for themselves. Yet the fresh water in the tub was one privilege Troy truly enjoyed. He liked baths in the dark, even in the summer months, the time when, as children, he and his friends had nothing more pressing to do than skulk through the city and dunk each other in the Mississippi. Now he closed his eyes and sank into the water up to his chin.

Usually the tensions of the day would slip away in his tub, but tonight he found no peace. The talk with Tetweiller had given the water time to cool. And then there were questions. What am I supposed to do now? I gotta tell Jack and Gordy. I know that much. And what of Ford and Long—even McClure? It was their city too. Gotta sleep, or tomorrow will crush me.

Later, in bed, he closed his eyes and tried not to think. A guard’s muffled cough drifted through the night.

The next day, Troy rode Japeth into the Temple’s courtyard, the orders in his pocket. Hobbes and Boudreaux sat their horses near the statue, their guns holstered and tied down. The grooms stood nearby. Go on, fellas, Troy said to them. We got business.

The grooms saluted and walked toward the stables. When they had passed out of earshot, Hobbes turned to Troy. What’s up?

Dwyer’s probably watchin. Let’s ride over to the river.

They ambled across the street, their horses sniffing air filled with the scent of cookfires. Around them, the city awakened. Workers milled along the sidewalks. Some rode horses or drove wagons, hauling hay and wood and cleaning supplies and food. Everyone nodded or waved or genuflected as Troy and the deputies passed. Troy nodded back and spoke to some, saluted others. Soon they reached the Riverwalk and looked out over the water stretching into the distance, light glistening on the surface. Here and there, a fish broke water in pursuit of bugs. A dozen turtles sunned themselves on a half-submerged log. A few citizens carrying fishing poles picked their way down the bank.

Troy pulled out the letter and passed it to Hobbes. Give it to Gordy when you’re done. Don’t make a show of it.

Hobbes took the paper and pressed it against his saddle and read. Then he folded it and handed it to Boudreaux. When he was done, Boudreaux passed it back to Troy, who returned it to his shirt pocket. A breeze rose off the water, cooling the sweat on their foreheads.

Thoughts? Troy asked.

Boudreaux looked sad. I don’t know what I think.

Stinks like rotten fish, Hobbes growled. Askin us to give em our defenses and half our means of travel and feedin ourselves.

Troy spat. We need to think about our next move, but if we don’t make these lists, we’ll be hanged as heretics. So we’re gonna start in the middle of town. You and Gordy go north. I’ll head south. If we ain’t figured out somethin by the time we hit the city limits, we deserve whatever happens to us.

Hang on, Boudreaux said. Are we talkin about buckin orders? Seriously?

Right now we’re tryin to figure out how to take care of this city and follow orders at the same time, Troy said. If you can’t handle that, tell me now.

Boudreaux looked at the ground. I just don’t wanna go to hell.

Nobody’s goin nowhere anytime soon. You two get started. I gotta run by Ernie’s, and then I’ll get goin on my end.

Ernie’s in on this? Boudreaux asked.

Ain’t nothin to be in on, said Hobbes. Not yet.

Boudreaux shook his head and shuddered.

Y’all swing by and talk to Santonio and LaShanda, Troy said. Tell em to be at Ernie’s house at three this