Vlora. She was gone, and Tamas wondered if her coming to find him the night before had been just a fevered dream.
“She went looking for water for the horses, sir.”
Tamas looked behind him. Olem sat on a rock, carefully cleaning his carbine. He had saddlebags and canteens. Tamas rolled his tongue around inside his mouth. It felt dry and hot, his tongue two sizes too big.
“Canteen,” Tamas said.
Olem tossed him a canteen and Tamas drank hungrily.
“When did you catch up?”
“Just after dawn,” Olem said. He was looking at Tamas strangely. “You don’t look so well, sir.”
Tamas ran his hand through what was left of his hair and gingerly felt along the stitches in his scalp. “Lost my hat last night.”
“Ah.” Olem’s gaze seemed to say, What, we’re not going to mention you rode off like a madman last night? What the pit is wrong with you?
Tamas looked away. “There’s not much water on this damned plateau.”
“We passed an old river bed in the night,” Olem said. “I couldn’t tell if there was anything in the bottom. Vlora has gone to check.”
Tamas got to his feet and walked a few circles around the camp. He felt awful. His legs were sore and cramped—especially his bad one—his crotch chafed, his face wind-burned and hands raw. He had a pounding headache, from too little water and too little rest. Every time he stopped his circuit, he couldn’t help but look north, toward Alvation, then again to the south.
Vlora returned an hour later with the horses and full waterskins.
Late in the afternoon, they were joined by the rest of the powder mages and ten of Olem’s Riflejacks. Not long after that, several of the rangers caught up with them. Tamas immediately sent them out scouting to the north.
Late in the day, Tamas saw riders on the northern horizon, miles off. They never came closer, but Tamas could see they were wearing blue uniforms with silver trim. Who were these impostors? Were they Kez, as he suspected?
The army reached Tamas by late the next day. They pitched camp there, and Tamas’s first order of business was to find the Kez dragoons he’d fought two days earlier.
There were three of them. They were a ragged lot, their horses, weapons, supplies, and helmets confiscated. Their faces were burned from the sun. One of them walked with a heavy limp, and dried blood on his trousers said the wound was recent. Another was missing two front teeth.
The third was missing his boots. He’d wrapped the bloody remnants of his jacket around his feet.
One of their guards pointed at the man with his jacket wrapped around his feet. His white undershirt was stained brown and yellow from sweat and blood. He had short brown hair and large muttonchops. “That’s their lieutenant,” the guard said. “That’s what his jacket said, before he tore it.”
“Where are his boots?” Tamas asked.
“Took them away,” the guard said. “To try to get him to talk.”
Tamas sighed. “Go find them. No way to treat an officer, even a prisoner of war.” He turned to the lieutenant and spoke to him in his own language: “What is your name?”
The man stared past Tamas.
“Tell me your name, and I’ll give you your boots back.”
“What?” the man said with a thick Adran accent. “I don’t speak Kez.”
Tamas rolled his eyes. “I know you’re a Kez officer. Keep pretending to be Adran and I’ll have you shot for desertion.” He leaned forward. “I can do things to my own men that I can’t do to a prisoner of war.”
The man’s eyes flicked to Tamas. He flinched. “Lieutenant Mernoble,” he said. “The King’s Thirty-Fourth Dragoons.”
“What are you doing here, Mernoble?” Tamas asked. “We are in Deliv.”
“Weren’t in Deliv when you caught us,” Mernoble said.
“You came from the north. The only thing north at the time was Deliv.”
Mernoble returned his gaze to the spot over Tamas’s shoulder and didn’t speak. A few moments later, the guard returned with Mernoble’s boots. Tamas took them and handed them over to Mernoble.
Mernoble took the boots. “With your leave?”
Tamas nodded.
Mernoble sat on the ground and gingerly unwrapped his feet. Tamas winced at the sight. The lieutenant’s socks were torn and soaked with blood, his feet raw. It looked like he’d been walking without boots for miles. He slipped the boots on carefully, unable to suppress a groan when he returned to his feet.
“Have they been given water?” Tamas asked. When the guard didn’t answer, Tamas turned to him. “Well? Water, or food?”
The guard shook his head.
“Damn it, man, go get them food. They’re soldiers, just like you.”
The guard scurried off.
“He’s getting you some food,” Tamas said in Kez.
Mernoble nodded gratefully.
“Why were you in Deliv?” Tamas asked again.
Mernoble took a deep breath and returned to staring past Tamas.
Tamas scowled. “Do you know who I am?”
The man shook his head.
“I am Field Marshal Tamas.”
Mernoble swallowed. Hard.
“Come with me,” Tamas said. To one of the other guards, “Where is General Beon’s tent?”
“Are you sure that’s wise, sir?” The guard seemed confused.
“What do you mean, man? Where is the general’s tent?”
“Just over there.”
Tamas walked through the camp until he found Beon sitting beside a low fire of twigs and old horse dung. The general struggled to stand when he saw Tamas. At the sight of the prisoner, his eyes narrowed.
“General Beon,” Tamas said, “I have gathered by your demeanor that you would be greatly interested in knowing who has been burning, raping, and robbing their way through the bean farms on the plateau.”
“I would,” Beon said. His tone was icy. “I discovered it last night, in fact. These men are Kez officers, pretending to be Adran.” He looked down at Mernoble’s feet. “Who gave him back his boots?”
Tamas looked from Beon to Mernoble. The lieutenant’s eyes were wide with fear, and suddenly Tamas understood. It had been Beon who ordered Mernoble’s boots taken away. Likely, he’d ordered the lieutenant be left unfed as well. Tamas’s own men would have been more than happy to go along with it. “I did.”
“I demand that this man’s boots be removed, and that you organize a firing squad. I want these men executed tomorrow morning for crimes against the people of Kez.”
Tamas bit back a reply. He’d not be ordered around by a prisoner, even if he did respect Beon. Instead, he turned to Mernoble. “It seems time to explain yourself, Lieutenant.”
Mernoble’s hands were shaking. “What would you like to know?”
“Everything,” Beon said. For his youth, his demeanor was commanding.
Tamas put a hand on Mernoble’s shoulder. “First, tell me where Gavril is. He was a big man. Captured by your unit two days ago, before you chased my ranger back to my camp.”
“They took him back to Alvation,” Mernoble said.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Tamas let out a small sigh. That was the first thing he needed to know. Now to find out the rest.
“Is that all, sir?”
“No. Start with your brigade,” Tamas said.
“I am with the Thirty-Fourth Dragoons, attached to the Nineteenth Brigade of His Majesty’s Grand Army,” Mernoble said. “We were sent north…”
“Who?” Tamas asked. “How many?”
“Two brigades. The Nineteenth and the Twenty-Fourth. We were sent north seven weeks ago with the aim of capturing the Deliv city of Alvation.”
“For what purpose?” Tamas asked. Now was his chance to ask questions. This man might clam up once he realized how his answers benefited the enemy.
“So that we could besiege the Mountainwatch above Alvation. We were to take Alvat
ion, then the Mountainwatch, then come over the Charwood Pile and down into Adro.”
“And the uniforms?” Tamas asked.
“A ruse. To make the Deliv think that an Adran army had sacked Alvation.”
Tamas’s breath caught in his throat. If the Kez attacked Deliv while masquerading as Adran, it might force Deliv into the war on the Kez side.
“Have you succeeded?”
Mernoble looked at Beon, but only got an icy stare for the effort. “We took Alvation,” he said. “About a week and a half ago. The Mountainwatch commander saw through our disguise, so we haven’t entered Adro yet. The Mountainwatch is under siege.”
“How do you explain this treatment of my people, Lieutenant?” Beon asked. “Of our people?”
“I’m not proud of it, sir,” Mernoble said, casting his eyes downward. “When we left the Grand Army, we were ordered to travel lightly and quickly. Live off the land with a limited supply caravan. Conscript as needed. The order came from His Majesty himself. When we found the Adran rangers, we were on a scouting mission, looking for more food and conscripts.”
“My father sanctioned this treatment?” Beon growled the question.
Mernoble nodded.
“Who is the general in charge of the Nineteenth?”
“It was Field Marshal—I mean, General Tine,” Mernoble said.
General, after being demoted because of his failure to take the South Pike Mountainwatch. “Was?” Tamas asked. Tine was a capable commander, but pragmatic and often cavalier with his men’s lives. Tamas would not have been surprised to see him act in this manner.
“He was hanged, sir. For treason.”
“Hanged?” Beon said.
“That’s what I heard, sir. And I saw the body. Last week.”
“He was a general,” Tamas said. “The orders would have had to come straight from Ipille.” He stepped away, taking a deep breath of the evening air. This was strange. Very strange. Ipille was a tyrant, but he was no idiot. He wouldn’t have wanted to provoke war with Deliv.
Tamas returned to the pair. “Who the pit would convince Ipille it’s a good idea to attack Alvation?”
“I don’t know sir, I…”
“Yes?”
“Well, I’m not privy to that information, but I had heard rumors.”
“Go on.”
“It was the Privileged.”
“What Privileged?” Tamas felt his hackles rise. Most of the Kez Cabal had died on South Pike, or so he’d been told.
“Rumors were he came out of Adro. His Majesty’s own envoy. Only took him two days to convince His Majesty to attack Deliv.”
Tamas put his hands on Mernoble’s shoulders, feeling suddenly desperate. “His name, damn it. What was it?”
“He’s the same that hanged Field Marshal Tine. The same in Alvation right now.”
“Tell me his bloody name.”
“Duke Nikslaus, sir.”
Adamat paced his living room and tried to decide what to do with his family.
It had taken them four days’ hard travel to return to Adopest. He’d not seen Ricard since that afternoon when Adamat had spotted Brudania-Gurla Trading Company ships coming down the canal lock system. Ricard had insisted on going to find out what the devil was going on, while Adamat had taken his family back to Adopest right away.
He feared that Ricard had been captured.
Adamat tried to remind himself that he had far too little information with which to make informed decisions. Perhaps there was another explanation for the Trading Company ships. But his mind kept going back to one thing: Adro had been invaded by Brudania.
It was as if all of Adamat’s nightmares were coming true. Claremonte was bringing the might of the Trading Company fleet down on Adopest. With the entire army tied up against the Kez in southern Adro, the capital city was completely defenseless. The Mountainwatch had been muscled out of defending the canal by Ricard himself. There was absolutely nothing to stop Claremonte from sailing down the Ad River and taking the city.
How long had Claremonte been planning this? He must have quietly captured the lock system weeks ago, and bribed the Deliv navy to let him sail his fleet up the canal from the ocean.
What did Claremonte want with Adro? To conquer it? Did he want their resources? Was the Brudania-Gurla Trading Company in the employ of the Kez? Or were they operating on their own? Adamat found the latter thought somehow more terrifying than the former. If both Brudania and Kez wanted Adro, Adopest would be torn apart between them.
He had to get his family out of the city. Who knew what an occupying army would do?
But where to go?
They were trapped. One army to the south, one to the north.
He could send them to Novi. Adamat didn’t know anyone in Novi. Perhaps he could…
There was a knock on the door. Adamat snatched the pistol from his desk and took a sip of wine before heading to the front hallway.
“Stay upstairs,” he said when he saw Astrit looking curiously down from the landing.
He opened the door to find a servant there. Adamat recognized him, though he’d never heard the man’s name. One of Ricard’s.
“Inspector Adamat?” the servant said.
“Yes?” Adamat said cautiously.
“Mr. Tumblar requests you at the Warriors’ headquarters, sir. There’s a carriage waiting.”
“He’s back?”
“Arrived less than an hour ago, sir,” the servant said.
Could this be a trap? Were agents of Lord Claremonte there now, waiting to kill Adamat when he showed his face? Or was Adamat just being paranoid? “Did he say anything else?”
“No, sir. Just requested your presence.”
“I’ll be a moment.”
Adamat went out to the garden behind the house where Faye was sitting alone with a book. The sun shone down between the rooftops, and Faye had her head tilted back, face to the light, her book sitting in her lap.
“Love,” Adamat said gently.
Faye jumped. The book slid from her grasp, and she put a hand to her chest.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she said. “Was someone at the door?”
Adamat fetched the book and gave it back to her. “Yes. A messenger from Ricard. He’s asked to see me.”
“Well?”
“I want you to go to Novi,” he said.
“I will not.”
“Please, no more arguing.” They’d fought the entire trip back from the north over what she and the children should do. She wanted to stay in the city. He wanted her to get out. “You’ll be safer in Novi.”
“Just like I was safer in Nafolk?” she asked, bristling.
“Faye…”
“Don’t ‘Faye’ me,” she said. “We’ll stay together. No more sending us off for our own good. Me. The children. We’re not going anywhere.”
Adamat opened his mouth to protest, but couldn’t think of what to say. He wasn’t going to win, he knew that, but he still wanted to fight. Couldn’t she see it was better for her to be somewhere safe?
Adamat leaned forward to kiss the top of her head. “I’m going to see what Ricard has to say,” he said.
CHAPTER
35
Taniel crossed the no-man’s-land between the Adran and Kez armies under the cover of dark.
He supposed he could have done it during the day. He’d walked unseen through the Adran camp just to try out Mihali’s spell. It worked. But some deep reservation kept him from trusting Mihali completely.
He arrived just after midnight. There were sentries stationed a half mile out from the Kez camp. If the Kez operated anything like the Adran army, many of the sentries would be Knacked—men who could see in the dark or hear quiet noises and had the third eye. Taniel had forgotten to ask if the spell worked against the third eye.
Or if he made sounds when he walked.
He stopped a few dozen yards from the closest sentry and poured a measure of black powder across the back of his
hand. A single, long snort and the powder was gone.
Taniel dusted off his nose and crouched in a shallow streambed. There wasn’t much cover to speak of in the valley. What little brush there was had been stripped by the Adran camp for burning or to make space for tents or just because soldiers got bored. Taniel could smell that a latrine had been dug nearby.
He measured the space between the two closest sentries. Fifty paces, give or take. He headed for the gap.
A twig snapped beneath his foot, and one of the sentries turned toward Taniel.
“Password!” the sentry demanded in Kez.
The sentry waited for a few moments. The barrel of his musket wavered, and he squinted into the dark.
“Powell?” the sentry called. “Powell!”
“Heh?”
The reply came from less than ten feet away. Taniel could feel his heart beating in his throat.
“You see anyone out there?”
“What kind of fool question is that? I’d a-raised the alarm if I did.”
“I thought I heard something. Coulda been a spy.”
“Idiot. If it was a spy, he knows I’m here now.”
“Oh.” The first sentry seemed pleased with himself. “Then we scared him off, did we?”
“By Kresimir, you’re daft. Just watch the night.”
Taniel skirted the spot he’d heard the voice come from. Even with his Marked eyesight he couldn’t make out a figure in the darkness. The sentry must have been damned good at hiding.
Taniel passed a few dozen more sentries without incident and then he was in the heart of the Kez camp. He wasn’t sure when Mihali’s sorcerous invisibility would cease, so he did his best to keep low as he crept through the camp.
It was desolate. In the Adran camp there was always someone awake. Men telling stories or women doing laundry, no matter the hour. The fires were kept going most of the night, and there was always the hum of quiet voices. The Kez camp, however…
The tents were in perfectly straight lines, giving Taniel good vision down the aisles. He didn’t spot a soul for five minutes, when he finally caught sight of a squad of Kez guards. They marched double-time through the center of the camp, eyes straight ahead, muskets held over their heads. It looked more like they were being punished than that they were on guard duty.
The Powder Mage Trilogy: Promise of Blood, The Crimson Campaign, The Autumn Republic Page 95