“The house, too,” Bo said. “The one we’re in now. If you decide to stay in Adro, the house is yours. I’ve already put the title in your name.”
She couldn’t help but stare at Bo. Who was this man? Why was he doing this? He was a Privileged of a royal cabal—some of the most powerful men in all the Nine. People like that didn’t take notice of orphan boys or lonely laundresses.
“Why?” she asked.
Bo shrugged. Several moments passed before Nila realized that she wasn’t going to get a real answer. She dried the tears in the corners of her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
“Thank you,” she said.
Bo was looking at his feet. He seemed uncomfortable with the thanks, as if he didn’t feel he deserved it. Another shrug.
“Where are we going?” Nila asked.
“When I was a boy,” Bo said, apparently happy to change the subject—he lifted his finger to the carriage curtain to look at the darkening sky outside—“Field Marshal Tamas took me in off the streets. He didn’t want Taniel playing with an uneducated ruffian. He gave me a place to sleep and hired tutors for me and Taniel.”
Nila remembered watching Field Marshal Tamas sleep, her knife ready to kill the man who’d brought so much suffering to Adro and killed the king, before she’d been distracted by Captain Olem. “That seems very kind of him,” she said.
“I hated those damn tutors. I abhorred reading and writing, but Tamas told me I had to practice my letters. So I did. By copying all of his correspondence while he slept. His old ones, his new ones. Tamas kept all his letters in a strongbox, the lock of which I picked easily.”
Nila couldn’t help but give a shocked laugh at that.
Bo smiled too. “I kept all the copies I made. Just in case. I’ve always been good at planning ahead. Part of being a successful street rat, I suppose. Anyway, in one of those letters, from when he was a young man, Tamas talked about forcing the nobility out of the army in order to combat corruption. It seems that many of the nobles were purchasing supplies with government money and then selling them elsewhere in order to line their own pockets.”
“And what does this have to do with me?” Nila asked. Bo had spoken at length over the last week about his quest to find evidence of profiteering among the General Staff in order to exonerate Taniel Two-Shot after his court-martial. Nila was willing to help if she could, but it worried her to leave Jakob by himself.
“Tamas’s letter mentioned one name in particular. Duke Eldaminse.”
Nila breathed in sharply.
“We’re going to Duke Eldaminse’s manor,” Bo said. “Or what’s left of it, anyway.”
Nila hadn’t been back to the Eldaminse manor since the night the soldiers had come and taken away Lord and Lady Eldaminse. Nila had barely escaped being raped before taking Jakob and fleeing into the darkness of the early morning. “I… don’t know how I can help you.”
“Well, I hope you can,” Bo said. “I’ve not heard word from the south since finding out that Taniel was being court-martialed. At best he’s in prison. At worst, he’s already dead. I need evidence to condemn the General Staff that court-martialed him, or I’m going to have to go down there and kill a lot of soldiers to get him out.” Bo scowled at his ungloved hands. “I’d rather not do that. So inconvenient.”
They arrived at the manor an hour later. The sun had set and the streets were dark. Rows of city manor houses rose like ghosts of ages past out of the shadows. Less than six months ago this street had been well lit and home to dozens of noble families and hundreds of servants. Now the windows were dark, the yards silent. A chill went up Nila’s spine at the sight of the Eldaminse manor. Even in the darkness she could tell that fire had destroyed part of the roof, and one of the chimneys had collapsed.
“Are you all right,” Bo asked. She felt his hand touch her shoulder. He was wearing his Privileged’s gloves.
Nila cleared her throat. “Yes.”
He handed her a lantern and then lifted his own, lighting it with the snap of his fingers.
“Thank you,” Nila said. The light illuminated the drive and threw the yard into deeper shadows. Somehow, it reassured her. “This way.”
She led him up the front drive and in through the main door. The grand hall had been ransacked. The paintings and sculptures were gone or defaced, and the chandelier had been cut down and stripped of semiprecious stones. Someone had written illegible words on the wall with what might have been feces. The house smelled like a farmyard.
“What are we looking for?” she asked.
“A safe,” Bo said. “Somewhere Eldaminse would have kept his correspondence and books.”
Nila lifted her lantern high and headed toward the stairs. “It’ll be gone already. Everything of value has been looted.”
“I have to try.”
The rest of the house looked much like the grand hall. The furniture was smashed or missing, everything of value removed, the walls covered in graffiti. Nila couldn’t help but feel sorrow at that. The house had once been a happy place, full of life and riches. Jakob had once run down these halls, chasing the servants with a wooden musket. She was glad Bo had left the boy in his bed.
The duke’s office was on the second floor in the southeastern corner of the house. The moment she entered the room, she knew they weren’t going to find anything. The room was covered in scorch marks, and part of the floor and outer wall were missing. Someone had tried blowing open the safe with gunpowder. They’d used a lot, by the looks of it. The duke’s desk had been reduced to splinters by the explosion.
She pointed to the mangled lump of metal over a dozen paces from where the safe had once sat.
“That’s it,” she said. “The duke’s safe.”
Bo stooped to examine the safe. Anything that had been inside it would have been destroyed by the explosion, or stolen after. He kicked the metal, then swore, hopping around the room on one foot while he held his toe. “Pit, pit, pit!” Bo stumbled toward the hole in the floor and Nila found herself grabbing him by the back of his jacket, pulling him back before he could fall.
He let out an exasperated sigh. “Ten days of work and this was my best lead.” He dropped onto the floor, cross-legged. “Are you sure there’s nothing else?”
“I was just a laundress,” Nila said. “I’ve only been in this office a couple of times, and I was always trying to think of a way to keep Eldaminse from taking me to his bed.”
Bo pounded a fist on the floor. “Damn!”
“Can’t you just go down south and…” She made a gesture with her hands.
“And what? Magic Taniel out of whatever cell they’ve locked him in? It’s a bit more involved than that.”
Nila sat on the floor next to Bo.
“If I don’t have the evidence to convict the General Staff, I’ll have to use sorcery,” Bo said. “Well, I’ll start with bribes. Bribes might work, but they’re notoriously unreliable. Someone is just as likely to take your money and then turn you in as they are to help you. If bribes don’t work, I’ll have to kill people. I don’t actually enjoy killing people, despite what some might think of royal cabalists. And I certainly don’t want to kill Adran soldiers. Taniel wouldn’t ever forgive me.”
Bo stared at the floor, looking angry and sad all at the same time.
“Wait!” Nila got to her feet.
“What…?”
“I came in here once and Lord Eldaminse was kneeling by the fire.”
“Most people do,” Bo said, his tone a little annoyed.
“No. Eldaminse always sat by the fire. He had this great big chair.” Nila skirted the hole in the floor and approached the fireplace. “Right here. And he never put the wood in himself. Always summoned a servant to do it. So when I saw him kneeling there, I thought it was strange.”
Bo was on his feet now, too. “A lockbox, you think? Hidden under the flagstones?”
“Maybe,” Nila said. It had to be. It was all Bo had left, and Nila sudden
ly found herself wanting him to find the answers he needed. She dropped to her knees beside the fireplace and began trying to squeeze her fingers between the cracks. She searched for a hidden switch or a recess she could grab to move the stone. Nothing.
“Move,” Bo said. He tugged on his Privileged’s gloves and raised his hands. Nila scrambled out of the way. The flagstone suddenly cracked, and the pieces—each far bigger than Nila could have lifted herself—flew to the side. Bo grinned down at the floor. Beneath the flagstone, untouched by the explosion that had destroyed the safe, was a small lockbox. She grabbed it by the straps on the sides and lifted it out.
Bo destroyed the lock with a flick of his gloved fingers and the lid sprang open. Inside were several leather-bound books, each about the size of a pocket ledger, and Nila realized that could very well be what they were.
Bo opened one of the books and flipped through it. The grin on his face grew wider. “Yes,” he said. “This is exactly what I needed.” He dropped the book back into the lockbox. Then he closed his eyes, hands flat on the lid of the lockbox. He almost looked like he was praying.
A thought occurred to Nila. “Bo,” she said.
“Yes?” He didn’t open his eyes.
“Won’t they arrest you when they find out who you are?”
“More than likely.”
“And won’t they kill you if you try to rescue Taniel with sorcery?”
Bo’s eyes opened. “Almost certainly. I’ll be right back.” He left the room, hurrying like a man who had just realized he’d left the kettle on in the kitchen.
Nila listened to his footfalls down the hallway and then down the stairs. She could hear the sound of his boots crunching on the gravel drive outside.
She was alone now, in this great manor that had once been her home. She lifted her lantern and did a slow circuit of the duke’s office. Several minutes passed, and Nila began to wonder where Bo had gone. Had he abandoned her?
No. She realized that the lockbox was still sitting on the floor, and beside it a pair of Bo’s Privileged’s gloves.
She sat down next to the lockbox and flipped open the lid. Taking a book in one hand, she began to leaf through it slowly. She recognized the duke’s penmanship on each page. There were what appeared to be diary entries and then, later on, columns and figures. Once in a while there would be a name, underlined. None of it made any sense to her.
She put the book back. The next one was much the same, and again with the third. Bo would have to sort these out and find what he was looking for, but he seemed happy to have these. She picked up his gloves. Strange that he would leave them here.
Nila listened for the sound of his footfalls in the house or on the drive. Nothing.
She stared at the gloves by the light of the candle. This was one of the pairs she’d mended. She could tell by the coffee stain next to one of the runes. On an impulse, she slid the glove over her hand.
She’d expected a shock. Perhaps something that would hurt her. There were stories about Privilegeds who warded everything they owned so that other people couldn’t use them. But nothing happened when she put the glove on. She slid the other over her left hand.
They were too big for her by quite a bit. Why had Bo been so eager for her to put them on? She didn’t remember ever having to put on gloves when the Privileged dowsers had visited her orphanage when she was young.
Nila held her hand away from her face and shied away, closing her eyes. She snapped her fingers.
Again, nothing.
“I really thought that would work.”
Nila nearly leapt out of her skin. She tore the gloves off her hands and threw them on the floor.
Bo stood in the doorway, watching her.
“What?” Nila said, getting to her feet. “You thought what would work?”
Bo strolled into the room. How had he gotten back upstairs without making any sound? “You don’t have the glow in the Else,” Bo said, “but people who haven’t before tapped their potential rarely do. I thought there was something about you. Perhaps a Knack, or maybe even sorcery. I’ve been waiting almost two weeks for you to finally try on a pair of Privileged’s gloves.”
Nila smoothed the front of her dress and turned up her nose. Trickery! “Well, I’m not a Privileged,” she said. “Get that out of your head.”
Bo crossed the room quickly. She took a half step back, and suddenly she felt the sting of his palm across her cheek.
Fury rose up inside her. He had slapped her! Unprovoked. She drew back her fist.
“Wait!” Bo said.
Nila wasn’t sure why she’d stopped.
“Look.”
Nila looked at her hand, the one cocked back in a fist, ready to beat Bo to a pulp. It was wreathed in blue flame. She could feel the heat of the flame on her face but not on her hand. She gave a shout and leapt back, shaking the hand until the flame went out. What had happened? How had she done that?
“Sorry about the slap,” Bo said, his eyes both gleeful and wary at the same time. “I needed to elicit an emotional reaction from you.”
“You could have just kissed me,” Nila snapped.
“Oh? I’ll keep that in mind next time.” Bo rubbed his chin. “It appears, young lady, that you are a Privileged. You can tap into the Else. What’s more—and this is really interesting—you weren’t wearing gloves just then.”
CHAPTER
37
Tamas and Vlora slipped into Alvation under the cover of night.
The river was easy enough to cross—slippery and treacherous, and cold as Novi’s frosted toes, being runoff from the mountains—but no more than thigh-deep.
As they made their way past the mills and into the tenement district, Tamas realized he’d never heard streets so quiet in the middle of the night. If he closed his eyes, he might imagine himself out on the plateau but for the infrequent step of boots on cobbles from patrolling Kez and the occasional bark of a dog. There was no one about but the patrols. He didn’t even hear the familiar slosh of chamber pots being emptied out of windows.
Nikslaus had the city under martial law, and from the look of the bodies hanging from the bell tower in the city center, he was serious about punishing infractions.
Tamas took note of the powder that Vlora had sensed. There did seem to be quite a lot of it scattered throughout the city, and not just in munition caches. They had enough to supply twenty brigades—which seemed strange, because there weren’t any Deliv soldiers around and it was far more than the Kez could carry.
As they passed through the market district, there was a sudden shout nearby. Tamas stopped to listen, and a moment later the crack of muskets filled the air.
Tamas motioned for Vlora to follow and sprinted toward the sound. It couldn’t have been more than two or three streets over. He climbed a nearby market building and headed quietly toward the edge.
The street below was a war zone.
Bodies littered the cobbles, no more than lumps in the darkness, lying in pools of their own blood.
An experienced eye told Tamas that the Deliv had sprung a trap on a Kez patrol. The initial volley had done its work, cutting down half the patrol, but the rest had taken the fight to the Deliv partisans and were making short work with their bayoneted muskets.
Tamas drew his pistols.
“Not our fight,” Vlora whispered urgently in his ear.
He hesitated a few moments, and that was long enough for the Kez patrol to finish cleaning up the partisans. What remained of the Deliv fled into the night. The patrol regrouped to tend to their dead and make prisoners of the wounded partisans.
Tamas descended from the rooftop and headed back down the street. When they’d gone far enough, he said, “An organized resistance. They’re trying to take back the city.”
Vlora had her nose to the wind, her ear cocked. She nodded slowly as her eyes searched the night. Like him, she was in a powder trance, listening, smelling—trying to get a bearing on the state of the city.
/> “But how organized?” she asked. “We’re trying to liberate the city in one day. Not help a small group of partisans.”
Of course she was right. Tamas needed to keep perspective. He had a goal for the night, and needed to reach it.
They passed out of the market district, then a small suburb of close-packed houses, before they reached a wealthier part of town. Along the way they passed two more fights between Deliv and false Adran soldiers. The houses became farther apart, most of them surrounded by gardens with high walls, and the street was wide enough for six carriages. Tamas felt like he finally knew where he was.
Hailona’s home was one of these manors.
Tamas heard the sudden sound of a man shouting. Another voice joined the first and then a musket blast. The racket grew louder—it was coming up the street behind them. Tamas cast about for someplace to hide but saw only the empty, wide street and walled yards.
“Quick,” Tamas said. He dropped to one knee, making a hammock of his fingers, and jerked his head at the wall beside them. Vlora put her foot in his hands, and he pushed her up and over the brick wall. She put her hand back down, but even when he jumped, it was well out of reach. Tamas looked back down the street.
A small group of Deliv appeared around the bend. There were eight—no, nine—of them. Most limped desperately as they fled from an unseen foe. They wore greatcoats and wide-brimmed hats, concealing their features. One stopped and fired a pistol around the corner of the walled yard they’d just rounded. He leapt back from returning fire.
Tamas dropped to the ground, pulling his legs up and covering his face with his coat and hat. The only place to hide was in plain sight. At best, they’d think him a drunk or vagrant.
He watched beneath the brim of his hat as the Deliv worked their way along the other side of the street, looking over their shoulders continuously.
The source of their fear revealed itself a few moments later. A man ducked around the corner behind them, aimed his musket, and fired. He wore the Adran blues—but he was no Adran. He was followed by more of the same. They ran across the street, taking cover behind the thick-grown trees beside the street, firing haphazardly at the Deliv as they retreated.
The Powder Mage Trilogy: Promise of Blood, The Crimson Campaign, The Autumn Republic Page 97