“It belonged to your son,” Lord Vetas said helpfully.
“I know who it belonged to!” Adamat couldn’t help but shout. He took hold of Lord Vetas’s suit coat with both hands and threw the man down the hall. He drew his cane sword from the cane holder by the door and bared the blade. He thrust it under Lord Vetas’s chin. Lord Vetas didn’t even tremble.
“If he’s dead…”
Lord Vetas looked at the point of the sword like a man examining a harmless peculiarity beneath his nose. “Oh, he’s quite alive. That’s the thing with using people as leverage. They aren’t leverage if they’re dead.”
“I will kill you.”
“Kill me, and my master will simply send another. One who will bring a slightly bigger box. It will contain your daughter’s head.”
Adamat’s blade drew a drop of blood at Lord Vetas’s throat. Lord Vetas produced a hanky and dabbed the blood away.
“Why shouldn’t I kill you now?” Adamat whispered.
“I just told you.” Lord Vetas gave a sympathetic smile. “You’re very emotional right now. I understand. Take a moment to calm down and think things over.”
Adamat wanted nothing more than to run the man through. He strained to keep himself in check. A slight twitch and the man’s life blood would be on the hallway rug.
SouSmith had appeared at the top of the stairs in his nightclothes. Adamat waved him away.
“What does your master want to know?”
“Everything,” Lord Vetas said. “Whatever Tamas has told you; whatever you discover through your investigation. Starting now.”
Adamat sighed, the fight draining out of him. Fear filled the empty space. “Nothing. I know nothing.”
A hint of annoyance betrayed itself on Lord Vetas’s face.
“My investigation has yet to draw any conclusions.” Adamat struggled to gather his scattered thoughts. Josep was still alive, he kept reminding himself. Everything would be fine. As long as he played along with Lord Vetas.
“Let’s start at the beginning,” Lord Vetas said. “Tell me all about your investigations. Both of them.”
Adamat found himself talking. The words tumbled over themselves, as if each one was the brick in a wall of safety he was building around his family. He slumped at some point, returning his cane sword to the cane and leaning upon it heavily.
He told Lord Vetas everything he knew about Kresimir’s Promise and his and Tamas’s conclusion about the Promise being nothing but rubbish. He told him about the night at the Skyline Palace, and about his meeting with Uskan. He included details he’d not meant to say. He went on, recounting his meetings with Ricard Tumblar and Lady Winceslav. Through it all Lord Vetas remained quiet. Adamat could read nothing on the man’s face; he absorbed the information impassively.
Adamat spoke so quickly that it did not even occur to him to fudge the truth or lie outright until afterward. When he finished, he fell to sit on the stairs, his hands shaking, and he felt drained. It seemed his age had caught up to him then, and far surpassed him.
Lord Vetas took a moment to think. “Two months of investigation, and this is all you have?”
Adamat narrowed his eyes. “I’ve been doing the work of twenty men.”
“And these are all the details, you’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” Adamat said. “I do not forget things.”
“Ah, yes. Your Knack. Tell me more about this… pending destruction of Adro,” Lord Vetas said.
“I know very little.” Adamat was tired. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into a hole. “It is a prophecy that Kresimir will return. It implies a great deal of violence accompanying his return. An old legend.”
Lord Vetas remained thoughtful. He dabbed at his neck one last time to remove the blood there and put on his hat. “I’ll be back,” he said. “I hope you’ll have something of greater interest for me when I do. If not…” His eyes flicked to the box in Adamat’s robe pocket.
CHAPTER
25
Taniel wiped the blood from his face and watched a pair of women drag another Watcher away from the bulwark. The man’s skull had been creased by a bullet, not a minute after he and Taniel had shared a flagon of wine behind the relative safety of the bastion walls. Taniel closed his eyes and tried to remember the man’s face. He’d sketch it later tonight.
Blood was everywhere; new blood, old blood. Fresh splatters of red on the ground and on Taniel’s coat; old rusty stains on everything. The whole bastion smelled of salty iron. The sickly, clogging scent of death wafted up from below and warred with the clouds of black powder for Taniel’s senses.
The Kez were carrying the wounded down the mountainside at an alarming rate. Men were pushed and passed along like sacks of grain to make room for new soldiers. A week ago they’d constructed a V-shaped slide of lumber that went all the way down to Mopenhague. The dead were dumped in and prodded down by men with sticks, their faces wrapped in linen scarves. The wood had long since turned a brownish red. Taniel didn’t even want to imagine what that slide smelled like. He could see great pits on the plains below where the bodies were being dumped.
Taniel sat with his back against the bulwark, cleaning and reloading his rifle. A regular bullet this time—he was running low on redstripes. Beside him, Ka-poel wore her long black duster and hat. A bullet had taken a piece out of one lapel. She returned his worried look with a cryptic tilt of her head. He got up on one knee and looked over the bastion wall.
The redoubts had fallen weeks ago. No attempt had been made to retake them. Kez soldiers hid on the far side of their walls and waited there for orders. Taniel caught a soldier peeking too far around the wall and took his shot. The man grabbed for his face and yelled. He lost his footing. With a stumble he was rolling down the hill, taking two of his comrades with him as he grabbed blindly to arrest his fall.
If he survived the tumble, he’d be disfigured for life.
Taniel pushed the thought from his mind and turned around to reload. A bullet glanced off the wall near him just a moment after he ducked down. He took a deep breath and began reloading. “Find me a Privileged,” he told Ka-poel. She gave a nod and peeked over the top of the wall.
There’d been weeks of this. Kez soldiers held the mountainside just beyond the first redoubt. They piled soil high on the road to give themselves cover and cowered behind rocks and dirt and whatever they could find. Artillery had been moved up. Blasted remains had tumbled down the mountainside not long after, destroyed by the Watch cannons. More artillery moved up, accompanied by shielded Privilegeds. After countless tries, they’d formed a beachhead, and now artillery thumped away at the bulwark from at least fifteen cleared spots on the mountainside.
Every few hours they rushed the bulwark—like clockwork they formed behind their barriers and readied their weapons. A horn would sound. They’d charge up the hill, only to meet with withering fire. Taniel could practically see the promises of glory in their officers’ eyes before he gunned them down. It turned his stomach.
Each rush failed, yet each time they inched a little closer to the fortress. The Watch was losing men too. Canister shot pierced Bo’s tentative shields of sorcery above them. Bullets took musketmen between the eyes when they lined up to take a shot. Even some sorcery was beginning to make it through. A man had been burned alive by a sliver of Privileged fire yesterday. The bastion still smelled of charred flesh.
Taniel finished loading his rifle with a redstripe and took a few deep breaths. Ka-poel flashed a hand signal. Target found. Eleven o’clock from his position. He pictured it in his mind. One of the gun emplacements.
His rise to take a shot was arrested by the arrival of Gavril. The big Watchmaster scurried toward Taniel, head down, a bottle of wine in one hand and a pewter mug in the other. He fell down beside Taniel, back thumping against the bulwark, and waved the bottle under Taniel’s nose.
“How are things on the front, Marked?” he asked.
Ka-poel tapped Taniel’s shoulder. Repeated the hand
motions. He took a deep breath and stood up at the wall. Less than a second to line up his shot. He pulled the trigger and dropped back down, breathing deep of the powder smoke. Ka-poel watched. She gave him a nod, but moved her hand, horizontally at her waist. He’d hit the Privileged, but not a killing shot.
Taniel gave Gavril his best scowl. “Shot full of holes. Why are you so happy?”
“Saint Adom’s Festival wine!” Gavril held up the bottle. “They’ve sent enough from Adopest to get the whole Kez army drunk. Pity there’s a war on. Late spring is the only time of year I can abide Adopest. The festival wine certainly helps.” He paused to fill the pewter cup and offered it to Taniel. Taniel waved him off.
“Already had a lick,” he said. “Five minutes ago.”
Ka-poel took the wine bottle from Gavril’s hand. She upended the bottle, taking deep gulps. Taniel took it from her. “Not too much, girl,” he said. She snatched the bottle back, taking another draw from it.
“If they can kill,” Gavril said, “they can drink. This girl’s plenty grown up, Taniel. Just save enough for me, lass.” Gavril took the bottle back and drained the last of it in one long draft. He smacked his lips, thick cheeks flushed, and Taniel wondered how many bottles the Watchmaster had already put away. He felt a little concern—rumor had it that Gavril had started drinking heavily again during the nights. He hoped it wasn’t true.
It wasn’t the only rumor to concern him. “Wine’s all good,” Taniel said. “But I’d rather have gunpowder. Any word on the shortage?” They’d gone through their stores at an alarming rate. What should have lasted a year’s siege was spent in just a few weeks. The Kez just had too many soldiers.
Gavril shook his head. “Nothing from Adopest. The last courier said the army still has plenty. Even still, they shorted us two whole cartloads last week.” He scowled. “I ordered the artillery to go easy the next few days. I have the feeling we’ll be seeing hand-to-hand soon.”
“You really think they’ll make it over the bulwark?”
“Eventually.” Gavril suddenly looked very tired. His bulk sagged a little, and his face revealed a man fighting a war of attrition he felt he might lose. “We’ve killed twenty thousand men already. Wounded as many more, and yet they keep coming. They say there’s a million down on that plain below, each one with words of glory and promises of riches in their ears.”
“I heard Ipille has offered a whole duchy to the officer who leads the charge that breaks us.”
“Heard the same thing,” Gavril said. “And they’ll make officers of the first thousand soldiers who follow him in.”
“That’s a lot of incentive.”
“Aye. Gives us a lot to shoot at.”
“They have more men than we have bullets.”
“How many Privileged you think you’ve killed?”
Taniel ran his fingers along the notches on the butt of his rifle. “Thirteen dead. Wounded twice that many.”
“That’s a sizable chunk of their royal cabal.”
“Not enough,” Taniel said.
“Well, I want you to keep an eye on something else.”
Taniel frowned. “What’s more important than Privileged?”
“Sappers,” Gavril said.
Taniel remembered the sappers. They’d tried to start digging their first day on the mountainside, and gunshots had sent them back down the hill with their tails between their legs, not to be seen since. Well, not until the other day. They were back at it again, down below the last redoubt—well behind the Kez front line. They were deep enough already that artillery wasn’t bothering them, though a couple of cannons had been blasting away at their position.
“Are you really worried about them?” Taniel asked. “It’ll take them years to dig the distance all the way up to us. If they break through, all we do is point a cannon down that hole and fill it with grapeshot.”
“Wish it were that easy,” Gavril said. “Bo says they’ve got help. Privileged. And Julene.”
Taniel felt his hands begin to shake a little. He stilled them by rubbing them together. “Whatever she feels like helping with can’t be good news for us. Still. You want me to shoot at sappers?”
“Not the sappers themselves. Watch for the Privileged helping them.”
“Gavril!”
Bo joined them at the bulwark, crossing the yard at a dead run. He dropped down on the other side of Taniel, breathing hard. Taniel could tell he was exhausted. His cheeks were sunken, all traces of fat gone, and his hair dirty and scraggly. There was mud on his face, from Kresimir-knew-what.
“They’re planning something big,” Bo said.
“The sappers?” Gavril asked. “We know about them.”
“No,” Bo snapped. “Right now. The…” He stopped as the sound of enemy artillery suddenly fell off. There was a moment of silence before a Watch cannon fired, followed by the cracks of muskets. There was no return from the Kez side. Bo went on. “All their Privileged are gathered just below the last redoubt, near their sappers.”
Taniel shrugged.
“Over a hundred!” Bo said. “They don’t get together like that for a picnic. There’s officers there, too, I wouldn’t doubt. They’re getting ready for a big push.”
Gavril stood up, looking over the bulwark. Taniel closed his eyes and waited.
“Shit,” Gavril said, dropping back down. “You might be right. They’ve got men coming up all quiet on the road. Lots of them. I saw a few black jackets among them.”
“Wardens?” Taniel said. “Pit.”
Gavril climbed to his feet and was away, barking orders at the Watchers, yelling for every able-bodied man.
“How can you miss that?” Bo said after Gavril was gone. “Aren’t you shooting at the bastards?”
Taniel pointed at Ka-poel. “She’s my spotter. I’m always behind cover.”
Ka-poel flashed a number of hand signals.
“She said they have only gathered in the last few minutes,” Taniel said.
“Well, be ready for whatever…”
Bo threw his hand up in a warding gesture. A second later a canister shot went off right above their heads, the echo of the blast ringing through the bastion. Bo’s shields flashed red as the bullets clattered off them, then fell harmlessly to the ground. Canisters exploded over the entire length of the bastion, the sound deafening. The wall at Taniel’s back shook with the impact of cannonballs. He glanced at Ka-poel. Her eyes were dark. She hadn’t even flinched.
“They must be firing every damned artillery they have!” Taniel said above the din. Bo ignored him. His face was strained, his hands flashing at an incredible speed as he worked sorcery to shield the air above the bastion.
The bombardment was withering. Bo’s eyes began to water, veins standing out on his forehead. Fire flashed above them, and Taniel knew that sorcery was backing up the Kez artillery.
Watchers rushed beneath Bo’s shields, flinching at the explosions above, carrying sacks and torches. One Watcher set a sack gently beside Taniel and was off for another after a quick glance at Bo and a muttered prayer. Taniel looked inside the sack. It was full of clay balls as large as a man’s fist. Grenados. They expected the Kez to get close today indeed.
“Fix bayonets!” Gavril’s bellow rose above the concussion of artillery. Taniel felt his heart beat faster. He pulled his ring bayonet from its leather case in his pack and slid it over the end of his rifle. With a twist it locked into place.
“Ready!” Gavril yelled.
Taniel checked his rifle—already loaded. He glanced at Bo. The Privileged was doing all he could do to stay standing while his fingers flashed commands to unseen elements. His shields were beginning to break down. On the other end of the bulwark a canister shot went off within the shield. Men screamed and fell, and a cannon lost its crew.
Taniel peeked over the edge of the bulwark as a trumpet sounded. The mountainside suddenly swarmed with Kez soldiers. They rushed up the road, they climbed the steep rocks. Every inch of mountai
nside was covered. Where had they been hiding all of these men so close to the fortress?
“Aim!”
Taniel picked out an officer near the front. The man’s white feather wriggled in the air as he ran up the road at the head of his men, waving his sword in the air. The Kez troops plowed on behind him, bayonets fixed on their muskets. A black coat among all the red and gold caught his eye and he changed targets. His heart beat loudly in his ears. Wardens. Lots of them, scattered among the troops. They carried big knives in their teeth like sailors as they scrambled over the rocks on the mountainside, heading straight for the slanted walls of the bulwark.
“Fire!”
Taniel pulled the trigger. He burned a little powder, giving extra oomph to the ball. A cloud of spent gunpowder burst into the air, obscuring his vision for a moment. It cleared, and yells of dismay echoed through the bastion.
Only one man fell from the volley: the Warden Taniel had shot right between the eyes with a redstripe. Bullets and grapeshot burst into sparks and fell harmlessly to the ground a few feet in front of the first ranks. The Kez charge didn’t even falter.
“They have Privileged in their ranks!” Taniel yelled.
“Fire at will!” came the order.
He snatched for his purse of redstripes and opened his third eye. A wave of nausea came over him, which he pushed away as he reloaded. He didn’t have time for powder. He simply dropped a redstripe down his muzzle and rammed cotton swabbing in after it. He sighted down the rifle, opened his third eye.
Pastel colors from the third sight made his head spin. The invisible shield the Kez Privileged were using became a translucent, yellow sheen partially obscuring all behind it. He struggled to pick through the colors beyond. Wardens glowed, and so did Knacked among the Kez troops. Taniel looked for the brightest colors—the Privileged. He picked one out and pulled the trigger. The man jerked and dropped, and Taniel loaded another redstripe.
He managed two more before the Kez reached the walls. The thunder of artillery suddenly dropped off.
Gavril’s voice shouted, “Hold!”
The Powder Mage Trilogy: Promise of Blood, The Crimson Campaign, The Autumn Republic Page 33