The Powder Mage Trilogy: Promise of Blood, The Crimson Campaign, The Autumn Republic

by McClellan, Brian

  Could he even afford to ask these questions? Adamat needed every man he could get on his side.

  “Get cleaned up,” Adamat said. “You left some clothes here.”

  “We going somewhere?”

  “I have to see a man about fifty thousand krana.”

  Adamat stepped out of the carriage in the Routs—the very best part of town, filled with large brick bankers’ houses. The streets were wide, paved with flat cobbles, and lined with towering elms. Adamat tilted his hat up and looked for the house he wanted.

  There—in between two of the immense city townhouses owned by the wealthy bankers sat a small, austere house with a well-kept garden. Adamat headed up the walk to the house, followed closely by SouSmith.

  “The Reeve, right?” SouSmith asked.

  “Yes.” Ondraus the Reeve. One of Tamas’s councillors, and an architect of the coup that overthrew Manhouch. He was a sour, unfriendly old man. Adamat did not relish a second meeting. He pounded on the door.

  He pounded for ten minutes before he finally heard the latch inside move, and the door opened a crack.

  “For a wealthy man,” Adamat said, “I’m surprised you answer the door yourself.”

  Ondraus the Reeve glared at Adamat through narrowed eyes. “Get off my front step, or I’ll have you jailed for harassment.” Ondraus was wearing a robe and slippers. His hair was unkempt.

  “I need money,” Adamat said. “Your accountants told me I’ve been cut off.”

  Ondraus sneered at him. “Tamas is dead. Whatever access to funds he promised you is gone. I’d suggest you find employment elsewhere.”

  “See, that’s a problem. May I come in?”

  “No.”

  Adamat leaned on the door. Ondraus started, reeling back into his tiny foyer.

  “Wait out here, please,” Adamat said to SouSmith. The boxer nodded.

  Ondraus stormed toward his office. Adamat drew the pistol from his pocket and cleared his throat.

  The Reeve froze when he saw the pistol. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

  Adamat drew his eyes across the room. It had changed little in the months since Adamat’s last visit. The mantel had been dusted, the fireplace cleaned, but the carpet showed no more wear and the smells were exactly the same. The house seemed almost unused.

  “I can see through the open door to your office there,” Adamat said, “a bell cord. Hardly worth noticing on my last visit, but I find myself wondering, in a house with three rooms and no servants, why you have a bell cord.” Adamat motioned toward the only chair beside the fireplace. Ondraus took a seat.

  “Are you here to rob me?” Ondraus said. “All my money is in investments. As you can see, there’s nothing of worth here. I don’t even keep a checkbook in my home.”

  “See,” Adamat continued without acknowledging the interruption, “my guess is that bell cord leads to a system of rooms beneath your house, and in one of those rooms you have a permanent staff of four large, dangerous men ready to come to your defense if you need it. And off of those rooms leads a tunnel, likely going to one of these nearby manors that you own under a false name. You don’t live in it, of course. You just use it to conceal your comings and goings under your other name.”

  Ondraus watched Adamat from the chair, saying nothing. His glare was less angry now and more… calculating. For some reason the change made him far more frightening.

  “You haven’t yet told me that I’m a dead man,” Adamat said. He considered Ondraus for a moment. “I suppose you’re not the type.”

  “What is your insurance?” Ondraus asked.

  “Letters. Sent to certain friends I have in the police force.”

  “Telling them that I am the Proprietor?”

  It was a thrill to hear Ondraus say it out loud. No denial. No admission. A simple statement, and it made the hair on the back of Adamat’s neck stand up. “No, of course not. Telling them that if I disappear, my body can be found beneath your house. No one wants to investigate the Proprietor. But my friends on the force will have no problem combing through the affairs of one accountant. You’re known as a shut-in. Shut-ins are always interesting. My friends might even find it fun. And when they find out about the rooms beneath your house, and the bodyguards, and the manor and the huge amounts of money in your portfolio, they will become extremely interested indeed.”

  Ondraus scoffed. “You think that will save you?”

  “Yes, I do.” Adamat felt a crack in his confidence. What if Ondraus just didn’t care? A man with his connections could just disappear if an investigation started on him. “I think that my life is a trivial thing to spare, if it will save you even a few months’ worth of scrutiny and trouble.

  “If that is not the case,” Adamat added, “I have sent another letter to a friend in the publishing business, telling him I know who the Proprietor is. If I wind up dead, and he hears of an investigation of my death involving you, he’ll draw conclusions and, let me say, he’s not a very smart man. He values headlines far more than his own life.”

  Ondraus began to chuckle. It was a dry sound, and for a moment Adamat thought he was coughing. “Very clever,” he said.

  “If you’d given me help, instead of deciding to let me take Vetas on my own, I wouldn’t have even wondered about your identity.”

  “You’d have still wondered,” Ondraus said, waving one hand dismissively. “What do you want?”

  “Fifty—no, seventy-five thousand krana in cash, and your help killing Lord Vetas and rescuing my wife.”

  Ondraus steepled his fingers and leaned back. “You need to learn to get more out of your blackmail. I’m one of the richest men in the Nine.”

  “I’m not interested in your money. I just want to get Faye back.”

  “Vetas still has a Privileged.”

  “That’s what the money is for. If I have the money, I’ll have my own Privileged.”

  Ondraus mulled this over. “Resourceful. And if I decide to let you live once Vetas is dead?”

  “I’ll forget you exist.”

  “You surprise me, Adamat,” Ondraus said. His body was no longer tensed and angry. He lounged back in the chair, steepling his fingers. “The lengths you’re going to. I was warned years ago that you were the most principled, tenacious man on the Adopest police force. I actually have gone to a few small lengths to avoid you.”

  “Believe me,” Adamat said. “If this didn’t involve my family, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Well, in that case, I have a stipulation. After this is over, you promise to work for me when I have need of you.”

  “No.”

  Ondraus held up his hand to forestall the protest. “I’ll pay you, if it happens. The work will likely be dangerous. But agree to this, or I’ll kill you and SouSmith, and see what happens.”

  Adamat searched Ondraus’s eyes. There was an iron resolve there that told him Ondraus would do just that. And maybe… a hint of humor? A touch of a smile on his lips? Was Ondraus enjoying this?

  “Agreed,” Adamat said.

  “Wonderful.” Ondraus paused. “Does SouSmith know?”

  “He thinks I’m here to ask for money,” Adamat said. He left out that he’d told SouSmith he planned on blackmailing the Proprietor. SouSmith might make his own deductions, or he might not. If he did, he was smart enough to keep quiet. No need telling Ondraus any of that.

  “You’ll have it tomorrow,” Ondraus said. “I’ll have it delivered to…?”

  “I’ll meet your man in Elections Square. By the stains.”

  “You’re not to come here ever again,” Ondraus said. “Our contact will be through my eunuch. You may go now.”

  Adamat slid his pistol into his pocket with the sudden realization that he was no longer in control.

  “And Adamat,” Ondraus said, “if I ever have need to regret this, everyone you’ve ever loved will regret it too.”

  CHAPTER

  21

  At some point during the beating they’
d put a black hood over Taniel’s head and now he tripped and struggled as he was shoved through the camp by the provosts. He could hear their warning to those who passed to stay clear, and their quiet curses when he stumbled. Disoriented, he would have fallen but for the strong arms beneath his armpits. His head pounded, his body a knot of pain.

  They forced him up a set of stairs and dragged him inside a building. An inn? Officers’ mess? He didn’t know. He was thrown into a chair, then tied down. He tried to struggle. The effort earned him a cuff on the back of the head.

  Taniel slumped against his bonds and strained to hear some sound that would tell him his location. Nothing but the chatter of soldiers outside the building, too low to hear the voices. He might have been anywhere in the Adran camp.

  How much time passed, he couldn’t be sure. The air grew cooler, so it must have been night. His face was completely numb. They had to have beaten it into a mess. He felt along his teeth. All there. His shirt was soaked—probably his own blood, and as he sat there, it grew cold.

  The numbness in his body began to fade, along with his last powder trance, leaving him to feel the full pain of the beating, when he finally heard the door open. Multiple sets of heavy footsteps. Then another set. Lighter, but no less military.

  His hood was pulled off. A match was struck and the lanterns on the wall lit. The room was no bigger than three yards square and was bare but for two chairs and the lanterns on the wall.

  General Ket stood above him, arms crossed, her face impassive. She was flanked by two of her provosts. The men glared at him, cudgels held in such a way as if they were daring him to move.

  “You’ll need more men,” Taniel said.

  She seemed taken off guard that he spoke first. “What?”

  “If you’re going to beat me into submission, or whatever it is you’re here to do.”

  “Shut up, Two-Shot.” Ket scratched at the stub of her missing ear and then began to pace. “I should have you shot.”

  “You’ll have to hang me,” Taniel said. He couldn’t help but chuckle. Shot. These officers all acted like they knew everything, but you can’t put a powder mage in front of a firing squad. Not one armed with conventional rifles, anyway.

  One of the provosts put his full weight behind his fist and slammed it into Taniel’s jaw. Taniel’s head snapped to the side and his vision spun. The provost became a fuzzy blur. Taniel hawked a wad of bloody phlegm at the provost, and the man drew back for another punch.

  Ket held up a hand. “That’s not necessary, provost.” She rounded on Taniel. “Is this a joke to you? You’re looking at being executed!”

  “For what?” Taniel scoffed. “Holding the line?”

  “For what?” she echoed incredulously. Ket stopped her pacing to face him. “Insubordination, conduct unfitting an officer, disobeying direct orders. Physically assaulting an officer. The way you act verges on treason.”

  “Go to the pit,” Taniel said. He was proud when he didn’t flinch at the provost coming toward him.

  Ket stopped the man again.

  “Keep it up,” Taniel said. “I can do this all night. Treason? Is it treason to be the only officer in this bloody army that seems to care about winning a battle? Is it treason to rally the men? Give them something to stand up for? You talk to me about treason, when the trumpets sound a retreat every time we’re about to win a battle.”

  “That’s a lie!” Ket stepped forward, and for a moment Taniel thought she’d hit him herself. “We sound the alarm when the battle goes against us. You’re down on the lines. You don’t see the desperation of the fight where you are.”

  Taniel leaned forward, straining at his bonds. “I don’t see it because I’m winning.” He leaned back. “You’re scared of me. Have you gone over to the Kez? Is that why? You’re scared I’ll—”

  Ket didn’t stop the provost this time. Taniel’s words were cut off by the blow, and he was genuinely surprised to find his teeth still there when his head stopped ringing.

  Taniel tasted blood. He swallowed. “Is that why you arrested me in secret?” Taniel spoke around a swollen tongue. “Had me dragged through the camp in a hood? So no one could see me?” Taniel snorted and looked the provost in the eye, daring him to hit again.

  General Ket scratched at her ear. “You are very popular,” she admitted as she began to pace again. “But even the popular—someone like you, who the common soldiers call a hero—need to be disciplined. Otherwise the army falls apart. It’s unfortunate, but that’s the way it is. I’d make you a public display, but the other generals don’t agree with me. They think if the men see you flogged, it’ll hurt morale and, Kresimir knows, it’s already low enough.”

  “So you’re not going to kill me.”

  “No. At least, not yet. This is your one and only warning.”

  “And you expect an apology?”

  “Indeed. Several, in fact. Starting with Major Doravir, and ending with me.”

  Taniel shrugged. “Not going to happen.”

  “Excuse me?” Ket’s eyebrows rose in genuine surprise.

  “I nearly killed a god. I’ve slaughtered dozens of Privileged. Maybe over a hundred. I’ve lost count. In the absence of Field Marshal Tamas—by the way, why was I told he was dead? I have it from the mouth of a god that he’s not. Ah, yes. The god we have in our own camp. The god that the high command are pretending doesn’t exist.

  “Where was I? In the absence of Tamas, I’m your best tool against the Kez. I’m rallying the men and killing the remaining Kez Privileged and Wardens. So no. I won’t bloody well apologize to anyone. My father didn’t abide fools. I may not like my father much, but we share that in common.”

  General Ket remained silent through the whole speech. Taniel was surprised by that. He expected to be cut off by a provost’s fist halfway in. He was ready to spit the words through his broken jaw if he had to.

  “Tamas is lost to us,” Ket said. “There’s no way he’ll survive in Kez. It’s better to assume he’s dead. And as for Mihali… if he wasn’t so popular among the men, we’d have him removed. He’s a very persuasive madman, nothing more.”

  “Then why are we fighting this war at all?” Taniel asked. “If Kresimir is on the Kez side, we can’t win. Unless. Ah. Unless you don’t think Kresimir is there at all. You don’t think any of this supernatural stuff is real.”

  “I believe what I see with my own eyes,” Ket said. “I see two opposing armies. If there was a god present, we’d all be dead. Now.” She paused to drag a chair over in front of Taniel and sat down, crossing her legs. “The threat of physical pain obviously means nothing to you. Death?” She examined him for a moment. “No, not that either.”

  She continued. “This is what’s going to happen: Your records will be transferred to the Third Brigade. You’ll keep your rank—but commanding a company of picked riflemen who will take on the tasks I assign. No more of this mucking about on the front line. You’re not an infantryman.”

  “You want your own pet powder mage, eh?”

  Ket went on as if she hadn’t noticed him speak. “You’ll apologize to Major Doravir. In public. After which you will read a prepared note—again, in public—that apologizes for your misconduct and swear on your father’s grave that you will keep the regulations of the Adran army.”

  “I’ll do no such thing.”

  “The savage girl is no longer to share your room. I don’t approve of such illicit relationships among my officers. Especially not with a savage.”

  Taniel sneered. “There’s nothing illicit going on.”

  “I wasn’t finished! The girl will be placed with the laundresses of the Third. You’ll be allowed to speak with her ten minutes each day. No more.”

  “That’s preposterous!” Taniel leaned forward. “She’s not Adran army, she’s—”

  He was silenced by the provost’s fist. The blow nearly knocked him over, but the other provost stepped up and held the chair steady.

  “Do not interrupt me a
gain,” Ket said coldly. “I’ve put up with your insubordination long enough. Rumors are the girl is some kind of sorcerer. I’ll have her watched. If she attempts to leave the camp, she’ll be beaten. If she attempts to find you, she’ll be beaten. Understand? Oh, and before you say anything—yes, I can keep her here. This is a time of war. Conscription is a reality.”

  Taniel waited for a few moments before speaking. “I’ll kill any man who lays a hand on her.”

  “You make any threat you want, but you can’t protect her all the time. You’ll do all these things for me, or I’ll hand your girl over to the Dredgers. You’ve heard of them, haven’t you? The scum of the Third. Men so low that the Mountainwatch wouldn’t take them. I reform such men, and if I don’t succeed, I execute them.” General Ket stood up and walked over until she was right next to Taniel. She whispered, “I don’t approve of rape, nor encourage it. But I understand it’s a powerful psychological tool, and don’t think I won’t give your little savage girl to the Dredgers to do with what they will.”

  Taniel wondered if he could kill her right then. He’d have to use his teeth to do it. Tear out her throat. The provosts could be fast enough to stop him. But it might be worth a try.

  “I’m not a monster, Captain. I’m not doing this on a whim. It is my duty to impose order upon this camp and I will do it even if it costs your little savage her innocence. Do you understand?”

  Taniel felt the fury leave him. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t subject Ka-poel to that.

  “Yes,” he said.

  General Ket headed toward the door. “Untie him. Clean him up. He’s confined to quarters until he apologizes to Major Doravir.”

  Tamas watched the slow march of his column as they emerged from the trees of Hune Dora Forest and onto the floodplain of the river known locally as the Big Finger.

  The plain was perhaps a half mile across, from the forest to the edge of the river. The ground was rocky, but not overly so, and filled with rich, sandy silt. During a wet summer it might have been impassable by large numbers of cavalry and so given them a greater advantage, but as it was, the plain was dry and hard.