He mentally checked himself. He had more important things to worry about.
He heard steps coming down the hallway. The door opened, and an older Deliv gentleman in a servant’s evening jacket stood in the doorway. He seemed startled to find Tamas there and glanced between Hailona and Tamas quickly. He tensed, as if ready to spring between them.
“It’s all right, Ruper,” Hailona said. “How is everyone?”
“Ferhulia will die before the night is over,” Ruper said. His voice had the educated politeness of a butler. “Inel might make it, but we have to move him. We can’t stay here. They’ll come for us.”
“Who?” Tamas demanded. “Who is coming for you?”
“The general in command of the…” She hesitated just a moment before saying, “Adran army. His name is Saulkin. We tried to kill him tonight but it was a trap. He saw me clearly when we retreated and he knows who I am.”
“We could have barely minutes, ma’am,” Ruper said.
The glass door to the observatory portico opened. Demasolin strode through the door. He removed black gloves and threw them to the table, only to freeze in place when he saw Tamas.
“Who is this?” His gaze cut through Tamas, his eyes narrowed. Tamas was able to see him better now. Demasolin was in his thirties, perhaps, with a clean-shaven face and strong jawline. He had the bearing of a duke, Tamas decided.
“An old… friend,” Hailona said. “Did you catch the intruder?”
Demasolin continued to stare at Tamas. “Apparently not.” His nose twitched as he sniffed. “She got away,” he said. “Leapt the garden wall like it was nothing. A powder mage. I’d bet my life on it.” Another sniff. “As is this one.”
In one quick motion Demasolin discarded his pistol and a belt of powder charges, throwing them away from Tamas. He drew his sword. “Powder mage or not, I will gut you. Remove your weapons.”
“You think you can?” Tamas asked quietly.
Tamas was tired. He’d made this entire trek north just to reach Alvation, where he thought he’d find succor, only to find the city held by the enemy and the very people that he’d looked to for help now suspicious of him.
He knew he should disarm. Let them see he wasn’t a threat. Take the time to explain himself.
But if what Ruper said was true, more soldiers would arrive any minute. Tamas would not disarm for one man with a sword.
Tamas laid a hand gently on the hilt of his sword.
Demasolin darted forward.
Tamas drew his sword and set his back foot in less time than it took to blink. Demasolin came on quickly.
“Stop! He’ll kill you!”
Demasolin slowed. Tamas relaxed, suddenly wary. Was Hailona talking to him? She knew who he was. What he was capable of.
“Demasolin,” Hailona said. “Please, wait. He’ll kill you.”
“I’ve killed powder mages before,” Demasolin said between gritted teeth. “I’ve killed a Privileged. I am the duke of Vindren!” He said it like the name would mean something to Tamas.
It did, finally. A tickle in the back of his memory. Vindren. A man with a Knack for smells. Nose like a bloodhound. Quick as a powder mage in full trance.
Tamas lowered his sword.
“You surrender?” Demasolin said.
“No.”
Demasolin took another step forward.
“I feel like this is a waste of our time,” Tamas said.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” Hailona suddenly said. “Outside in the street. Who killed all of those soldiers. I told you it was a powder mage,” she said to her brother-in-law.
“I only saw a shadow,” Demasolin said. The tip of his sword wavered.
“It was I,” Tamas said. “Do you want a demonstration?”
“I don’t take well to threats, old man.”
Tamas examined Demasolin. Muscles taut, ready to lunge. His bearing, confidence, and stance all said that he was a gifted swordsman.
A young woman suddenly burst through the door. She wore her hair up, a greatcoat over her shoulders, and Tamas could sense two pistols under the coat. “Ma’am,” she said, with only one quick glance at the two men pointing their swords at each other, “there are soldiers in the street.”
“Put your swords up!” Hailona hissed at Tamas and Demasolin. To the young woman, she said, “How many?”
“Eight, ma’am, but…”
“What is it?”
“They’re all dead, ma’am. Freshly dead.”
Hailona looked at Tamas.
Tamas shrugged. “I only killed the ones chasing you.”
There was a low knock on the glass door to the portico. Everyone looked that way. From Tamas’s position he could see Vlora. She was carrying something large. He gestured her in.
She kicked the door open and swung through, tossing a body to the observatory floor with a thump. “This might answer your questions,” she said.
“One of my captains,” Tamas said by way of introduction. “Vlora, meet Lady Hailona, former governor of Alvation.”
Vlora spared Hailona a look. “Taniel told me about her. One of your past lovers. She was pretty back then, wasn’t she?”
Hailona gasped. Tamas groaned. Demasolin spun toward Tamas.
“Field Marshal Tamas,” Demasolin roared. “On guard, you dog!”
He leapt at Tamas with startling speed. Tamas was barely able to bring the point of his sword up in time. Immediately on the retreat, he parried twice and danced backward. He could feel his leg protest in sudden agony when he twisted away from a particularly savage thrust.
Tamas was suddenly falling. He landed on his ass, crashing into a potted plant and knocking it over. He kept his sword up in a defensive position as Demasolin pressed forward.
A pistol fired, bringing Demasolin up short. Tamas stared at the tip of Demasolin’s sword, barely able to register how fast the man moved. It was like fighting a Warden, with all their speed and none of their clumsiness.
Vlora held a smoking pistol pointed at the ceiling in one hand. In the other, a loaded pistol aimed at Demasolin. Plaster drifted down from the ceiling. “Stop,” she said. “Drop the sword. I won’t miss.”
Demasolin looked once at Vlora, then once at Tamas, lying as he was at a disadvantage on the ground. Tamas tried not to let his pain reach his eyes.
Show no weakness.
Demasolin threw his sword to the floor with a snort of disgust.
Tamas heard several sets of footsteps in the hallway outside. Faces appeared at the door. Swords and pistols were drawn. Vlora kept her pistol trained on Demasolin.
Hailona made a calming gesture with both hands. To the people at the door, she said, “Everything is fine here. Prepare to leave. We have to get out of the manor.”
Vlora nudged the body at her feet with one toe. It was a man in an Adran coat, with brown hair and a mustache. He was alive, his eyes wide, looking at Vlora in fear. “This one can answer some questions,” Vlora said.
Demasolin crossed the room and grabbed the front of the man’s coat with both hands, pulling him into a sitting position on the floor. The soldier’s hands had been tied with his own belt.
“Why are his boots missing?” Demasolin said.
Vlora lowered her pistol. “Less willing to run if he doesn’t have boots.”
Tamas slowly climbed to his feet while the attention was away from him. He couldn’t tell which hurt more—his leg or his pride. Too old for this. He tested the leg gently. It seemed to take weight. A momentary bout of weakness? He better not risk it.
He sheathed his sword and limped to the large desk in the middle of the room so he’d have something to lean on. Hailona watching him. Her eyes held something between suspicion and fear.
“Who,” Demasolin demanded of the prisoner, “are you?”
The man’s eyes remained wide as they flitted between the unfriendly faces in the room. He remained silent.
Demasolin shook him by the front of his coat and switched from Deli
v to Adran. “Who are you? Speak, now!”
Nothing.
Demasolin slapped the soldier, openhanded. The soldier suddenly struggled, grappling with Demasolin, trying to throw him off, only to stop immediately when Vlora set the barrel of her pistol against his neck.
Vlora leaned over the soldier. In Kez, she said, “Do you understand me?” It was a soft tone, almost seductive, and Tamas wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t in a powder trance still.
The soldier nodded.
“Do you value your life?”
He nodded emphatically.
“Darling, if you want to live through the night, you’ll answer the good man’s questions. If not…” She gently rubbed the end of the pistol barrel against the soldier’s neck.
Again with the tone, almost seductive. It was a side of Vlora Tamas had not seen before.
“I… I am Galhof of Adopest. Adran soldier,” the man said in Adran. His accent was thick, the words broken.
“Try again,” Vlora said in Kez. She hadn’t stopped caressing the soldier’s neck with her pistol. “You’ll either have to get a better Adran accent or develop a sudden immunity to bullets.”
The soldier’s eyes almost seemed to bulge out of his head as he tried to look at the pistol touching his neck without turning his head. He cleared his throat. “My name is Galhof,” he said in Kez, “but… I am a Kez soldier.”
“What are you doing in Alvation?” Demasolin asked. “What are your orders?”
“We’re to take the Mountainwatch above the city.”
“Why the ruse, then? Why the Adran coats?”
“Don’t know, sir,” Galhof said. “I’m just a soldier.”
Tamas didn’t have time for this. “Guess,” he growled.
“So that Deliv blames Adro for the attack.”
“But,” Hailona spoke up suddenly, “how did they expect the ruse to hold? There are already suspicions.” She shot a glance at Demasolin. “I’ve been saying for a week I thought you were Kez.”
The soldier looked around the room again as if seeking allies. He said nothing.
Tamas felt a sudden dread in the pit of his stomach. It grew heavier as certainty within him grew. When he spoke, it came out a croak. “They plan on putting Alvation to the torch. Oh, pit. All of it. They’re going to burn it all, kill every man, woman, and child. They’ll leave behind just enough evidence to condemn Adro. By the time anyone has stopped to think about it, Deliv will already be at war with Adro.”
“Not even the Kez would stoop to that,” Demasolin said.
Tamas was certain now. “The man in command of this army is a monster.”
“Who?”
“Duke Nikslaus. The king’s favorite Privileged. He’ll stop at nothing to win this war.”
“I know that name,” Hailona said softly.
Tamas shot her a warning glance. Now was not the time to bring up his history with Nikslaus.
Ruper suddenly appeared in the doorway again. “Ma’am,” he said, “we have to go. The lookout has spotted soldiers coming down the main street. Over a hundred of them. We have to go now.”
“The wounded?” Hailona asked.
“We’ll have to carry them, or leave them for the Adrans.”
“They’re not Adrans,” Hailona said. “They are Kez. Quickly now. Get everyone to the cellar. We’ll take the old passage across the street to Wyn Manor and go to Millertown.”
The butler didn’t even blink at the correction. “Very good, ma’am.” Ruper disappeared again.
Demasolin retrieved his sword from the floor and stopped beside Tamas. “We’re not done, old man,” he said, sliding it into its sheath with a click. “They call you a savior in the Adran papers. I name you a butcher and a traitor to your own crown.”
“I’m all of them,” Tamas said with a shrug.
Demasolin seemed taken aback by that. He strode from the room.
Tamas looked over at the Kez soldier. “He knows where we’re going,” he said.
“Right,” Vlora said. She grabbed the soldier by the back of the neck and forced him outside.
Haliona put a hand to her mouth. “That man…”
A shot rang out on the porch.
“A soldier’s lot in life is to die for his country,” Tamas said.
“He was our prisoner.”
“He’s spent the last couple of weeks terrorizing your city, along with his countrymen. Justice must fall swiftly, or it might not fall at all.”
“Is that what you said about the Adran nobility when you sent them to the guillotine?”
“Yes.”
“You always said you were a soldier,” Hailona said. Her voice was accusing. “Do you accept your own death as inevitable?”
Tamas leaned over to rub his leg. “Death is always inevitable. I gave up on the idea I’d die surrounded by my grandchildren earlier this year.” He couldn’t help but look toward the door Vlora had just left by. His thoughts leapt to Taniel. Was he alive? Had he come out of the coma? So far away. Nothing Tamas could do. “One day,” he said, “I’ll die for my country. I’d rather it be on the battlefield than at the hands of a Kez headsman.”
“You really believe it, don’t you?”
“What?” Tamas asked.
“That you are in the right.”
“Of course.”
“Could there have been a better way than killing all those people?”
“Likely,” Tamas said. “But I didn’t take it.”
Tell her, something said inside of him. Tell her about Sabon’s death. It has to happen sooner or later. Better she find out from him than from someone else.
“I need your help,” Hailona said.
“I was about to say the same thing.”
Hailona frowned. “My husband—Demasolin’s brother—was taken by the Ad… the Kez. He’s being held in the city’s main prison. Tonight we tried to rescue him and free all the prisoners there. It was one of over twenty attacks all across the city we’ve been planning for over a week. We failed, and if our failure was any indication, so did the other attacks.”
“The prison—are they holding all of their prisoners there?” Tamas asked. “They captured one of my outriders on the edge of the plateau a few days ago. That’s why I came here with just Vlora. To try to rescue him.”
“I don’t know. Demasolin has eyes all around the city. You may ask him.”
But whether he’d answer a question from Tamas was another thing.
Tamas found Demasolin watching out the front door for any sign of the Kez. Tamas could hear the sound of soldiers in the street, beyond the manor walls. They were moving quietly, probably too low for Demasolin to hear.
The Deliv gave Tamas a glance filled with disdain.
Tamas ignored it.
“Four days ago,” Tamas said, “the Kez took one of my outriders as we crossed the plateau coming north. I came to the city to get him back. I understand your brother is a prisoner as well. I think we could help each other.”
Demasolin didn’t so much as look toward him. “I don’t think I want your help,” he said coldly.
Tamas bit back a retort, gritting his teeth. Shortsighted bastard. Typical nobleman.
“My son,” Tamas said quietly, “lies half-dead because he chose to save Adro instead of himself. He is in Adopest, and I don’t know whether he still lives. The man the Kez hold prisoner is my late wife’s brother. He may be the last kin I have left alive.”
Tamas went on. “You think me a beast. You might be right. But the Kez hold your brother, and they hold mine. I think if we work together we can get them both back.”
Demasolin didn’t reply. Tamas waited for a few heartbeats before turning away.
Nothing else he could say would sway the man.
“Wait,” Demasolin said suddenly. “Three days ago they brought in a prisoner by the south gate. A giant of a man, wearing a Mountainwatch Watchmaster’s vest.”
“That was him.”
“My contacts sa
y he’s in the same prison. I’ll help you.”
“Thank you,” Tamas said.
“I’ll help you, but I will not hesitate to kill you if I need to.”
CHAPTER
40
Taniel drew his knife and threw himself forward.
He grasped the Prielight Guard by the chest and pushed both himself and the guard backward through the door. They tumbled down the stairs, a jumble of limbs and grunts and curses. Taniel was able to arrest his own fall by grabbing onto the walls of the spiral staircase.
The Prielight went down a few more steps and landed with his back against the wall, dagger drawn. He wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.
“Guards!” the Prielight yelled.
The Prielight sprang upward, swinging his knife. Taniel dodged one blow and then another. Despite being at a disadvantage in the tower stairs, the Prielight was incredibly fast, forcing Taniel to dance away from quick jabs at his feet.
Taniel swung down for the Prielight’s head, only to have the guard move out of the way. The counterstrike sparked against the stone steps beside Taniel’s foot.
Taniel stomped on the Prielight’s wrist to trap his hand, and leaned over, stabbing quickly at the neck.
He felt the Prielight’s fist slam into his groin. Nausea swept through him as he fell with his back to the stairs. His stomach felt like it had flipped. The Prielight Guard scrambled up the stairs and raised his knife.
Taniel planted both feet on the Prielight’s chest and shoved.
The guard cried out in dismay as he tumbled back down the stairs.
Taniel turned to run back up to the tower when something caught his eye. There was a figure on the stairs, just down from where he and the Prielight were fighting. In the darkness it seemed no more than a shadow, and Taniel felt cold fingers creep up his spine.
The specter wore a mask with a single eyehole, and long white robes.
Kresimir.
Taniel flew up the stairs, propelled by fear. He slammed the tower door behind him and checked the far window. A straight drop into the Addown. No telling how deep the river was there. The fall could still kill him, and even if he survived it, he’d be swept down the river into Budwiel.
The Powder Mage Trilogy: Promise of Blood, The Crimson Campaign, The Autumn Republic Page 100