“Why the secrecy if you aren’t hiding anything?” Adamat found himself on edge. Old friend or not, if Ricard was dealing behind Tamas’s back, friendship was cheap currency.
“I told you we might make a million members?”
“Yes.”
“Well, imagine if that could be ten million. Or a hundred million?”
“You’re talking every working man in all the Nine.”
Ricard nodded solemnly. “The Warriors sent a small delegation to Ipille. Nothing so underhanded as trying to sell out Adro, mind you. Simply a letter of intent that the Warriors want to spread outside Adro throughout the whole Nine. It’s well known the Kez outnumber us, but they don’t have anything to match our industry. We offered a number of small incentives if they let us start a chapter house in one of their cities.”
“I see,” Adamat said. He examined the inside of his wineglass. He understood perfectly why Ricard had done it in secrecy. With the war on, Tamas would not want even an inkling of anyone helping the Kez. And the Kez would have much to gain from the unions. Kez was primarily an agricultural country. They had yet to embrace industry, not the way Adro did, so they were behind in technology and production despite their immense population. If the Warriors spread to Kez, their knowledge of Adran manufacturing would spread with them. As Ricard said, the Kez could not match Adran industry. Yet.
“Have you received an answer?”
Ricard made a face. He looked around his desk, then on the shelves, and finally found what he was looking for underneath a crust of half-eaten bread. He tossed a paper into Adamat’s lap.
It bore the royal seal of King Ipille of Kez. Adamat ran his eyes across the contents.
“They rejected you.”
“With venom,” Ricard said. “My men were thrown from the palace by their belts. The Kez are fools. Idiots. They remain in the last century, while the rest of the world already looks to the next. Damned nobles.”
Adamat considered this. This lead was gone, anyway. Unless there were further negotiations going on beneath the surface—such a thing wasn’t unheard of. Adamat would dig deeper if need be. Ricard was not such a good friend that Adamat wouldn’t see whether his story held water.
Ricard drained the last of the wine straight from the bottle. He set it down on the desk on its side and spun it. “Maies left me last month, right after the coup.”
Maies was his sixth wife in twenty years. Adamat couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done this time.
“Are you all right?”
Ricard’s eyes were on the spinning bottle. “Doing fine. An office near the dockyards has its perks. I found a pair of twins…” He held his hands out in front of his chest. “I could introduce you—”
Adamat cut him off. “I’m a happily married man—and I want it to stay that way.” Ricard wasn’t the type of man to share. Adamat couldn’t even be sure what kind of an offer that was. “What do you think of the other councillors?” Adamat asked, changing the subject.
“Personally?”
“I don’t care if you like them. I care if you think one of them would plot against Tamas.”
“Charlemund,” Ricard said without hesitation. “That man’s a cave lion in the henhouse.” He shook his head. “You’ve heard stories about his villa, right? A pleasure villa for the high and mighty just outside of the city.”
“Rumors,” Adamat said. “Nothing more.”
“Oh, they’re true,” Ricard said. “Makes me blush, and I’m no innocent virgin. Any man with appetites like that has designs for the country. Mark my words.”
“Do you have any proof? Any solid suspicions?”
“No. Of course not. He’s a dangerous man. The Church already speaks out against the Warriors. Says we’re going against Kresimir’s will by not rolling over and letting the nobility work us to death for nothing. I’m not putting my nose in that.”
“What about Ondraus?” Adamat said.
Ricard became very still. “Watch that one,” he said. “He’s more than he seems.”
An odd warning from Ricard.
“Well, let me know if you get any evidence to convict the arch-diocel,” Adamat said, picking up his hat.
Ricard put his finger in the air. “Wait,” he said. “I just remembered something. There were rumors a few years back that Charlemund was involved in some kind of a cult.” He put his hand to his head. “I can’t for the life of me think of the name.”
“A cult,” Adamat said good-naturedly. Ricard was reaching. He obviously didn’t like the man. “Let me know if you remember. I’ll need access to your books, and to any property the union owns down by the docks.”
“Hmph,” Ricard said. “You’ll need an army to wade through all of that.”
“Still…”
“Oh, you’re welcome to it. I’ll spread the word around with my boys that you’re not to be bothered and that your questions are to be answered.”
Adamat and SouSmith spent the rest of the day and much of the next walking the docks and warehouses. Nearly everyone in that district belonged to the Warriors of Labor, so Adamat asked a lot of questions. As he suspected, though, they took him nowhere. He wound up speaking to well over three hundred people. There had been suspicions and half-truths and lies and fingers pointed, but it all turned in on itself in a great big circle. Ricard had been right—it would take an army to sort through all of it.
The only thing he could confirm was that Kez agents had been coming into the country through these docks, over the Adsea. He dropped by Tamas’s military headquarters at the end of the second day and left a list of names and ships for Tamas’s soldiers to check out, but went home with nothing further in the search for Tamas’s traitor.
He knew his work may have helped avert another assassination attempt, but he couldn’t help but feel he was putting his hands into murky, shark-filled waters. He was but one man, and Tamas’s enemies could strike from anywhere and at any time.
Chapter 22
The pealing of the Watch bell brought Taniel out of a restless sleep and had him on his feet in moments. He snatched his rifle from beside his bed and sprinted for the door. Ka-poel began to stir from her cot in the corner of the room, and then Taniel was out and down the stairs.
The officers’ mess was empty. Taniel ran past the rows of tables, their chairs set upside down on top of them, and came out into the street.
He only paused there to pull on his shirt and adjust his rifle kit. Boots came on next, and by the time he was up, men and women poured from the rest of the buildings on the street. Taniel joined the flow of those heading toward the southern wall of the bastion.
“You heard the alarm?” Fesnik asked, dropping in beside Taniel. He’d taken a liking to Taniel in the two weeks since he’d come down off the mountain with Bo. Taniel couldn’t imagine why. He’d cracked one of the man’s teeth when he put a pistol in his mouth all those weeks ago.
Taniel rolled his eyes. Of course he heard it. Half of Adro heard it, and the damned bells were still going. “Yeah,” he said.
“Think it’s the big push?”
“Don’t know.”
The young Watcher looked far too excited for the prospect. They’d had nothing but potshots at the Kez soldiers since fire was first exchanged. The Kez army had simply lain out on the fields, readying itself for… something… out of range of artillery. Their Privileged had stayed completely out of sight—a fact that irked Taniel—though he’d had his share of shots at Wardens. Killing one of them in a single shot, though, took more luck than skill.
Taniel fell into a spot on the bulwark and got comfortable. He snorted a pinch of powder to sweep away the last of his sleep and squinted into the morning sun.
“They’ve got the sun with them,” Taniel said.
“Bastards,” Fesnik grunted.
Taniel said, “We’ve always known they’d attack in the morning. Their advantage will turn against them in the afternoon, when they’re looking up the mountain to make a shot.
”
The sun had barely begun peeking out from the distant hills. The morning air was chilly despite summer’s onset. The snow had disappeared from the lower parts of Pike’s skirt and the road up the southern side would be soggy—it’d be trampled to a mud-covered slide when Kez troops began their ascent. Taniel wondered at the Kez strategy.
The bells fell away from the town behind them. Quiet came, save for a few nervous whispers and the rattle of gear. Cannons were loaded, muskets readied. Men and heavy guns lined the entire bulwark with just enough room between them to work. Taniel did not envy the enemy.
“By Kresimir,” Fesnik said, squinting. “They’ve got enough troops to throw men and bullets at us until the end of times.”
“They’re welcome to try,” said a Watcher woman on Taniel’s right. He thought he recognized the voice and took a glance. It was Katerine, one of Bo’s women. She was a serious woman, not Bo’s type at all, tall and thin with raven hair and a severe voice. He gave her a nod. She responded in kind.
Taniel took a little more powder and tried to search the plains below for some kind of movement. Being a powder mage didn’t reduce the glare of the morning sun. He felt a tug on his sleeve. Ka-poel stood beside him and pointed down the slope.
Taniel tried to follow her finger, searching the hillside and the plains below. Then he saw it. Down near Mopenhague. The town had long been abandoned in favor of a headquarters farther back. Not anymore. A tower had been erected during the night. It stood three stories high, made of wooden beams and sitting upon a sled, with a full team of oxen ready to pull it.
Taniel felt his heart jump. “A Privileged Tower,” he said. He opened his third eye to find out for certain. A glow surrounded the tower in the Else, thick enough to blot out individual auras.
“It’s just a pile of sticks,” Fesnik said. “One good shot from a big gun and it’s splinters.”
Ka-poel snorted. Taniel didn’t think she’d ever seen a Privileged Tower, but she could definitely sense the sorcery around the thing.
Katerine seemed worried. She gave Taniel an uncertain look.
“Don’t get your hopes up on that,” Taniel said. “Privileged Towers are more a bundle of sorcery than sticks.” He gave the thing a once-over. His third eye found a field of colors below, a thousand pastels all smeared together and mixed up. The tower glowed like a thousand torches. Looking at it gave him a headache. He closed his third eye. “They’ve been weaving wards into that thing for the last few weeks. I don’t think one of these has been built for a long time. It takes an entire royal cabal, and when it’s finished…”
“OK, but what the pit does it do?” Fesnik asked. Taniel gave the young Watcher a glance. Fesnik’s musket barrel wavered.
“It’ll protect the soldiers as they come up the hill,” Taniel said. “And the Privileged riding it.”
“I still can’t see the thing,” Fesnik said, shielding his eyes.
“You will soon enough.” Taniel lifted his rifle and spun about. “Any idea where Bo is?”
Fesnik shook his head.
“With Gavril,” Katerine said. “Above the gate.”
The largest of the bulwarks was above the southeast gate. It stuck out from the main wall, looming over the side of the mountain with twenty cannon and artillery pieces. Taniel found Gavril right out on the point of the bulwark, his eyes shaded against the sun, leaning out as if waiting for a bullet to strike him. Bo stood a few paces back, frowning at the hillside below.
“Privileged Tower,” Taniel said.
“I know. I’ve been wondering what they’re up to. Thought they were waiting for more men.” He grunted and tugged at his collar. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“I’ve never seen one before,” Taniel said. “Just heard stories.”
“I’d be surprised if you had. The last one made was oh, two hundred and fifteen years ago. A siege of a shah’s palace in Gurla by Kez forces. Allied with Adro, no less.” He snorted. “The Adran and Kez royal cabals worked together to build three Privileged Towers. Won them the battle, and the war.”
“Why’d they need them?” Taniel asked.
Bo gave him a long look. “Because the shah’s palace was guarded by a Gurlish god.”
Taniel felt a chill in his chest. It wasn’t caused by the wind. “You’re joking. A god?”
“Royal cabal secrets, my friend,” Bo said, tapping the side of his nose. “A young god. Young and naïve.” Bo’s voice was wistful.
“Not a story you’ll hear in the history books,” Gavril added. He climbed down from the bulwark and faced them, placing a looking glass back in his pocket. He wore the assorted furs of a mountain man with brown leather boots and a matching vest that barely fit across his chest. The vest was old and faded, and Taniel could practically smell the dust from it, as if it had been sitting in the back of a closet or bottom of a chest. On the left breast it had an emblem of the Mountainwatch—three triangles, a bigger one with a halo flanked by two smaller ones. A Watchmaster’s vest.
Gavril, the town drunk, was the Watchmaster. It still boggled Taniel’s mind.
“What do you think?” Bo said, nodding over the edge of the bulwark.
“I don’t like it.” Gavril rubbed at the stubble on his chin. He’d shaved off his beard since he took over as Watchmaster. It grew back in quickly, and he only bothered to shave every few days. “A Privileged Tower means they’ve got the whole cabal down there.”
“Or something worse,” Bo said.
“Julene,” Taniel said.
They exchanged unhappy glances.
“I’ve seen her unleash sorceries,” Taniel said. “Powerful stuff.”
“Bah,” Bo said. “She held back. You don’t know the half of it.”
“Then she’ll sweep this fortress aside.”
“Don’t care who she is,” Gavril said. “She’ll not get rid of us so easily. Sorceries as old as she is anchor this fortress to the mountain. They’ve been woven into every brick and every handful of dirt and rock. This is the Mountainwatch.”
Bo gave Gavril an annoyed look. “She’s not to be underestimated either,” he said. “She may be weakened by our fight. She took a beating up on that mountaintop that would have killed half a royal cabal. Not to mention the fall. She probably left a crater in the ground where she hit.”
A murmur went through the troops lining the bulwark. Taniel went to the edge to look over. He was joined by Gavril and Bo.
Squinting through the glare, Taniel could see the foot of the mountain writhing with motion. The whole army had moved up during the night, just out of bombardment range. It seemed like one giant, unorganized mass, but as Taniel watched, it began to form into ranks. He saw them then, the banners of the Kez Cabal. They were huge as bedsheets beside a shirt compared with the banners of the nobility and the royal house. They rose, aided by sorcery, above the Kez ranks, untouched by wind, their broad sides pointed toward the Watch. They displayed a white snake in a field of grain that was the Kez symbol of power. The snake writhed and moved as Taniel watched. Sorcery again. The snake’s mouth opened, and it spit venom toward the mountain fortress.
Taniel glanced at Bo.
“Tricks,” Bo said. “Illusions. Nothing dangerous. Yet.”
“Right.”
The Privileged Tower began to creep up the road. Soldiers poured past it on either side, marching in step, the steady snare of the drummer boys reverberating up the mountain, the creak of harnesses as a thousand horses began to pull cannons. A trumpet sounded. The ascent began.
Up until now there had been feints and prods, a few companies of soldiers rushing the bulwark and then falling back to the relative safety of the natural breastworks created by the roads cut into the side of the mountain. Adran soldiers in the outer redoubts had retreated several times, but retaken their redoubts without a fight each time when the enemy fell back.
Taniel could tell this was no feint. The real attack had begun. There would be no rest until one side was destroye
d.
He felt a tug at his sleeve. Ka-poel pulled him to the side and offered him a satchel. It was the size of a cannonball and felt as heavy as one.
“What the pit, Pole? Ugh, what is this?” He set the bag on the ground and looked inside. It was full of bullets, enough for half a unit. He frowned at Ka-poel. “Thanks?”
Ka-poel rolled her eyes. She struck her fist to her chest—a symbol she used for Privileged, and then mimed shooting a rifle. Taniel felt a smile slowly spread on his face as he began to understand.
“What’s that?” Bo asked, looking over Ka-poel’s shoulder.
“Bullets,” Taniel said. He pulled one out and held it up to the light. It was a standard lead musket ball about the width of a man’s thumb. Upon closer inspection one could see a dark red band of color across the middle of the bullet. Bo reached for the ball, which Taniel snatched back. “You don’t want to touch this,” he said. “It’s a redstripe.”
Bo gave the bullet a skeptical look. “A what?”
“These have been charmed by a Bone-eye—the Dynize sorcerers,” Taniel said. “We used these in the Fatrastan war. Killed a number of Privileged with them.”
“How’s it charmed?” Bo said. He peered at the bullet, keeping his distance.
Taniel jerked his thumb at Ka-poel. “To cut through Privileged shields. Ask her if you want details. From what I understand, they take a lot of energy to make.” Taniel gave Ka-poel a look-over. He’d not known she could make these. They looked like the real article, and Ka-poel had bags under her eyes that indicated many nights spent working. Taniel realized he hadn’t seen her much the entire week. He’d been on the wall from sunup to sundown, eyes on the Kez.
Bo had the look of concentration he always had when he was using his third eye. “You said not to touch it,” he murmured, looking closer. “Do they do damage beyond, you know, the hole they make in a man’s head?”
“Yeah,” Taniel said. “One Fatrastan Privileged told me they burn at the touch. I can’t imagine that inside of you.”
Powder Mage Trilogy 01 - Promise of Blood Page 29
