Sister Sable (The Mad Queen Book 1) by T. Mountebank

Author:T. Mountebank [Mountebank, T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Published: 2015-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

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In the King’s rooms, Girard saw Laudin’s pale face turn queasy. “Well, that just undid every promise I made.”

The King nodded. “It was an escalation.” He considered the threat of Sierra and the loss of the embassy. “But now was not the time for subtleties.”

Laudin had a hint of hysteria in his voice, “She just laid claim to three countries and called the religious into action.”

Remy smiled. “She did indeed, and in my name.”

Catherine smiled with him. Things were going to get interesting. She didn’t want to tell Remy what Sable had done, why she had appeared unannounced and untamed before the public with soldiers at her back. By the end, Sable had them so enthralled it was hardly noticeable, but it was going to be questioned all over Erria, highlighted by Sable’s critics, and parodied by the skeptics. The clergy and the army were working together to keep Mother Maisa alive and deliver her to a military hospital, the hair sticks still lodged in her chest, stabbing her heart with every angry beat.

“We will of course shield her,” Maisa had frankly dismissed the General’s vaguely spoken suggestions for discretion. “We have never betrayed one of our own.”

Catherine need only think of a good reason why Sable was speaking with blood on her hand, and she might very well turn that over to her Propaganda and Information Team as well. Known as the PIT, they had the world abuzz today with conspiracies showing President Pavlović’s administration had organized the beating of the religious that had gathered outside the Erentrude Embassy. Catherine would never have let her agents get caught out by something so obvious and simple. She stressed the details. Her agents and agitators would blend all the way down to the litter in their pockets, or their station chiefs would be entering data in a cubicle for the rest of their lives. Had fifty of her agents shown up with matching black boots, cudgels, and haircuts, she’d have killed them all herself. It was going to be the undoing of Pavlović that she could prove ten of them were retired military and three of them worked for government contract security; and if she could prove the three today, she’d have all fifty within the week.

But the crew of the PIT didn’t have to prove a thing. They could say whatever unfounded, outrageous thing they liked. They turned the whole of their considerable focus to the issue. They bantered in live chats, forums, games, and even dating sites about the heinous, underhanded act of President Pavlović. If someone tried to defend the administration, the PIT would swarm and burn the defender to the ground with scorn, irony, and abuse. When the landscape was blackened, a reasonable voice would emerge to extinguish the smoldering remains with a rational conclusion, designed to align judgment with the realm. Their presence online was intended to dominate, and to set public opinion was played like a game.

Catherine was thinking they would not yet address Sable’s bloody hand.

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