A man stepped out on a boulder just ahead of their trail. He held a bow, strung, with arrow at the ready, aimed at Tamas. He sighted along one eye, because the other eye was covered by a white patch of cloth. The man was older than Tamas, his face weathered by battles. He wore a brown-and-green patched cloak to blend in with the forest.
“Brigadier Ryze,” Tamas said.
Olem tossed Tamas a pistol and brought about his rifle, moving with the speed of a seasoned soldier. Tamas caught the pistol and leveled it at the brigadier, not bothering to cock it. A powder mage didn’t need to.
“Lower the weapon,” Brigadier Ryze said. His aim with the bow didn’t waver. He took a half step forward, his footing sure on the boulder. His cloak rippled, revealing the scarlet colors of the hunt underneath.
“I’ll kill you right now,” Tamas warned.
“Maybe,” Ryze said, “But not all of us.”
Tamas kept his eyes locked on Ryze. “Olem?” he said.
“We’re surrounded, sir,” Olem responded glumly. “All of them are carrying bows. Fifteen. But there may be more in the woods.”
“There are,” Brigadier Ryze said.
“Do you know who I am?” Charlemund demanded. Tamas didn’t have to look to know Charlemund had drawn his smallsword. Little good it would do against yeomen far above them.
“We know, Arch-Diocel,” Brigadier Ryze said. “And you won’t be harmed as long as Field Marshal Tamas comes with us. None of you will be harmed.”
“I will destroy you,” Charlemund snarled.
“I’m sure you will,” Brigadier Ryze said without emotion. “Field Marshal, if you please?”
Tamas took a mental inventory of his weapons. A dozen bullets. Not nearly enough to kill fifteen men by scattering the shot, even at his best. He considered Ricard up on one of the boulders and wondered if he was up there because he had sensed a trap or because he’d set the trap in the first place.
“I don’t seem to have a choice,” Tamas said.
“That’s right,” Ryze said. His lone eye traveled around the group slowly. “Let’s go.”
Tamas reached out again with his senses. None of the men had a granule of gunpowder on them. They’d been very careful. He pushed his senses farther into the woods, trying to find out if there were any more armed with powder. He froze. There was a Privileged in the forest.
“Why did you sell out to Manhouch?” Tamas said. “Lady Winceslav trusted you.”
Ryze gave a slight shake of his head. “This has nothing to do with the Kez. I serve Adro and Lady Winceslav.”
“Then why is there a Privileged in the woods over there?” Tamas asked, pointing north.
Brigadier Ryze’s eye widened slightly. “This has nothing to do with the Kez,” he said again. “Now, come with us, or we’ll take you all down and sort it out later.” Ryze’s fingers twitched on the bow. It was said Ryze was a perfect shot with bow, crossbow, rifle, or pistol. He had a reputation for action and brutality—when necessary. He wasn’t stupid, either. There was a reason he’d risen to be a brigadier of the Wings of Adom.
Tamas urged his hunter forward.
“Dismounted,” Ryze said, gesturing to the ground with the tip of his arrow. “Hand your extra powder charges to your bodyguard. Same with the pistol. Leave the horse tied up to a tree.”
Tamas did as he was told and approached Brigadier Ryze.
“You bastard,” Olem said. “You filthy bastard. I’ll take out that other eye.”
“Quiet your dog,” Ryze said.
“Olem, it’s all right,” Tamas said. He paused next to Gaben and glanced up. The man was expressionless. “I take it this is one of yours,” Tamas said to Ryze.
“He is,” Ryze said. “He’ll guide the rest back to the hunt.”
“Go to the pit,” Tamas said. “Olem, take everyone back safely. You said you played here as a boy. Can you get out?”
“Yes,” Olem said. He sounded miserable.
“That’s an order, then,” Tamas said. “Don’t come back for me until everyone is out of the forest.”
“If you follow us,” Ryze said, “I’ll cut his throat.” The brigadier leapt from the boulder, landing on the ground with a hollow-sounding thump.
He edged Tamas into step before him. They were soon flanked by a pair of woodsmen, then two more. Tamas saw that they weren’t wearing hunt colors under their cloaks. They’d probably been in place for hours.
“Ryze,” someone called suddenly. Tamas turned with the brigadier. It was Brigadier Sabastenien, the quiet commander. His voice was calm, collected. “We’ll have your head for this betrayal,” he said. “The Lady will not stand for it.”
“I know,” Brigadier Ryze responded. There was a hint of sadness to his voice. He turned his back on Sabastenien and led Tamas into the woods. As soon as they were out of sight of the other group, Brigadier Ryze broke into a trot, urging Tamas forward with the tip of a dagger. He did it absently, though, as if almost forgetting that Tamas was his prisoner. Tamas glanced over his shoulder, gauging the brigadier.
“Why are you doing this?” Tamas said.
“Quiet,” Ryze said, his voice not unkind. “You don’t even know what ‘this’ is. You say there’s a Privileged in the forest?”
Tamas stopped suddenly. He spun on Brigadier Ryze, grabbing the wrist with the dagger. Ryze gripped tightly, one hand going to Tamas’s shoulder. They struggled silently for a moment, neither man the stronger, until one of Ryze’s men stepped up and struck Tamas in the small of the back. Tamas grunted, letting go of Ryze’s wrist. He dropped to his knees.
“Back off,” Ryze snarled at his man. He grasped Tamas by the forearm and helped him up. “I’ve been betrayed,” he said quietly, only for Tamas to hear.
“So have I.” Tamas glared at the brigadier. There was a time Tamas considered Ryze a colleague, though never close enough to be a friend. Decades ago, postings had seen them together overseas.
“Not the way you think.” Ryze stepped back and lowered his dagger. “I’m not here to kill you, Field Marshal, nor to hand you over to the Kez.”
“Then what is this charade?” Tamas wondered if he should go for Ryze again. He might get the upper hand, but Ryze’s men watched from nearby.
“To warn you,” Ryze said. “I’ve brought my most trusted men, but apparently that was not enough. You’re sure there’s a Privileged in the forest?”
“Yes,” Tamas said slowly. He opened his third eye. “He’s getting closer. He has Wardens with him.” The thought chilled him. Brigadier Ryze seemed in earnest, but Tamas was not ready to trust him. He might only be delaying, waiting for the Privileged to catch up.
Ryze swore. “Kah! Loadio! Take positions there and there.” He pointed upward to a pair of boulders. The two men nodded and climbed onto the rocks. “Kill the sorcerer,” he said. Ryze turned to Tamas. “Run!”
Tamas wondered whether he should break away, take the opportunity to escape. He hesitated for just a moment before following Ryze into the forest. As they went, Ryze called out the names of his men, pairing them up and placing them between himself and the sorcerer. Tamas glanced over his shoulder now and then, watching for the pastel glow of a Privileged in his third sight. The Privileged was coming on quickly, along with dimmer glows of power. Privileged didn’t move that fast unless they were being carried by a Warden.
Ryze turned to bark an order to one of his men and stopped. Tamas nearly ran into him. Ryze drew a dagger and fell into a fighting stance.
Tamas turned. Only two of Ryze’s men were left nearby. One of them was a yeoman, bow slung over his arm. He toppled onto a bed of dead leaves, a crimson slash across his throat. The other man was Gaben. He wiped the dagger calmly on the yeoman’s cloak and faced Ryze.
“Your father…” Ryze said.
“Is a damned fool who should never have followed this traitor,” Gaben said, gesturing at Tamas. He readied himself, squaring with his own dagger against Ryze. “All I have to do is keep you occ
upied until the duke arrives.”
The old brigadier threw himself forward, dagger in hand. He parried, slashed, then leapt upon Gaben, driving his dagger into the man’s chest. It hadn’t even been a contest. Ryze stood up, his lone eye red with anger, and looked back the way they’d come. Tamas heard the report of sorcery in the forest, and the crash of a falling tree.
“I’ve left my men to their deaths,” Ryze said. He squeezed his eye shut, dropping his dagger. Tamas noticed that there was blood on his yeoman’s cloak. Ryze touched the wound. “Lucky jab,” he said, gesturing at the dead whipper-in.
Tamas helped Ryze to a clear spot on the forest floor, leaning him up against a log. “Tell me what you have to say,” he said, “before all this is for nothing.” The sound of sorcery was getting closer.
“I’ve not been able to get close to you for some time,” Ryze said. “This was a foolish plan, but understand me, sir, I was desperate. Brigadier Barat has betrayed us. He holds my youngest son captive. I’d hoped to convince you to leave the hunt and help me rescue him. We’d have had hours of a head start before he knew we were gone.” Ryze passed a hand over his face. Sweat rolled down his cheeks, mingled with tears. “I didn’t know we’d been betrayed.”
“Is he the traitor?” Tamas said. “Does Lady Winceslav know?”
“He’s not the only traitor,” Ryze said. “He’s working with someone inside your council. And no. The Lady has no idea. She’s blinded by love. Barat has seduced her. I’ve done my best to get him sent to the lines or out of the country, but she won’t hear of it. He is the only one with her ear right now.”
“Do you know who he’s working with?”
“No,” Ryze said. “Run!” Ryze lurched forward, shoving Tamas to the ground. The forest erupted in flames suddenly, heat searing Tamas’s face and hands. He hit the ground and rolled, pushing himself up to his feet and spinning toward Ryze. The old brigadier screamed as his skin peeled from his body and his flesh withered. Tamas dove behind a boulder, eyes wild for any sign of the Privileged and his Wardens. He heard a crack, and the last thing he remembered was the boulder exploding.
Chapter 24
What do you want?”
Lord Vetas stood on the front step of Adamat’s house. He was dressed sharply in a new black tailcoat with matching boots shiny enough to hurt Adamat’s eyes. He wore a scarlet vest beneath, and a black silk shirt. He held his hat in his hand, short black hair styled and flattened against his head. Adamat wiped the sleep from his eyes and adjusted his dressing gown. He glanced at the hall clock.
“It’s seven o’clock,” Adamat said flatly.
“May I come in?” Lord Vetas asked. His tone was polite.
“No. Why are you here?” He paused, suddenly suspicious. “And where are your goons?”
“I’ve no need to make threats today,” Lord Vetas said. “Last time, my men were only there to take care of Palagyi. I trust you had no problem disposing of the body?”
For all the concern he showed, he might have been asking about Adamat’s morning tea.
“Not too much, thank you,” Adamat said. “Now, tell me why you’re here.”
Lord Vetas seemed unruffled by Adamat’s brusque tone. “A gift,” he said. He held up a small black box. “I’ve not yet heard from you. I assume you have decided not to take our offer of employment?”
Adamat snatched the box. “Tell your master to stuff it. I dropped by that address on the card, an empty warehouse near the river. It was no good to me. And you,” he added. “You don’t exist. I haven’t had much time to hunt you down, but there is no ‘Lord’ Vetas.”
“Very astute,” Lord Vetas said. “But the address is quite valid. I’m surprised my men took no note of your visit. Impressed, in fact.” He raised his hands and clapped them together softly. “Your skills as an investigator are impressive. I have no doubt you will discover my identity eventually, and that of my master.”
“Why don’t you tell me who you are and save us both the time,” Adamat said.
Lord Vetas just smiled. “You’re conducting an investigation for Field Marshal Tamas into the likely traitor within his council.”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me, Adamat,” Lord Vetas said. “I already know as much.”
“Even if I were, I’d not discuss a current investigation,” Adamat said.
Lord Vetas said, “What are your conclusions so far?”
“Don’t you understand me?” Adamat asked. “I have nothing to discuss with you. Good day.” He made to close his door.
Lord Vetas held up his hand politely, like a clerk trying to get a superior’s attention.
“What?” Adamat said.
“Won’t you open your gift?”
Adamat frowned at the box in his hand. It was plain and black, tied with a silk ribbon in the middle like one might find at a jeweler’s. He undid the ribbon. Within was a finger. It had been severed at the knuckle, and experience with this sort of thing told Adamat it had come from a teenage boy. There was a ring on the finger. The ring had belonged to Adamat’s father. A ring Adamat had given to…
Adamat trembled as he put the lid back on the box and slipped it into his robe pocket. He snatched Lord Vetas by the front of his suit and yanked him through the door. Lord Vetas made no protest as Adamat kicked the door shut and slammed him against the wall. His breathing was steady as Adamat put his face close.
“It belonged to your son,” Lord Vetas said helpfully.
“I know who it belonged to!” Adamat couldn’t help but shout. He took hold of Lord Vetas’s suit coat with both hands and threw the man down the hall. He drew his cane sword from the cane holder by the door and bared the blade. He thrust it under Lord Vetas’s chin. Lord Vetas didn’t even tremble.
“If he’s dead…”
Lord Vetas looked at the point of the sword like a man examining a harmless peculiarity beneath his nose. “Oh, he’s quite alive. That’s the thing with using people as leverage. They aren’t leverage if they’re dead.”
“I will kill you.”
“Kill me, and my master will simply send another. One who will bring a slightly bigger box. It will contain your daughter’s head.”
Adamat’s blade drew a drop of blood at Lord Vetas’s throat. Lord Vetas produced a hanky and dabbed the blood away.
“Why shouldn’t I kill you now?” Adamat whispered.
“I just told you.” Lord Vetas gave a sympathetic smile. “You’re very emotional right now. I understand. Take a moment to calm down and think things over.”
Adamat wanted nothing more than to run the man through. He strained to keep himself in check. A slight twitch and the man’s life blood would be on the hallway rug.
SouSmith had appeared at the top of the stairs in his nightclothes. Adamat waved him away.
“What does your master want to know?”
“Everything,” Lord Vetas said. “Whatever Tamas has told you; whatever you discover through your investigation. Starting now.”
Adamat sighed, the fight draining out of him. Fear filled the empty space. “Nothing. I know nothing.”
A hint of annoyance betrayed itself on Lord Vetas’s face.
“My investigation has yet to draw any conclusions.” Adamat struggled to gather his scattered thoughts. Josep was still alive, he kept reminding himself. Everything would be fine. As long as he played along with Lord Vetas.
“Let’s start at the beginning,” Lord Vetas said. “Tell me all about your investigations. Both of them.”
Adamat found himself talking. The words tumbled over themselves, as if each one was the brick in a wall of safety he was building around his family. He slumped at some point, returning his cane sword to the cane and leaning upon it heavily.
He told Lord Vetas everything he knew about Kresimir’s Promise and his and Tamas’s conclusion about the Promise being nothing but rubbish. He told him about the night at the Skyline Palace, and about his meeting with Uskan. He included details he’d n
ot meant to say. He went on, recounting his meetings with Ricard Tumblar and Lady Winceslav. Through it all Lord Vetas remained quiet. Adamat could read nothing on the man’s face; he absorbed the information impassively.
Adamat spoke so quickly that it did not even occur to him to fudge the truth or lie outright until afterward. When he finished, he fell to sit on the stairs, his hands shaking, and he felt drained. It seemed his age had caught up to him then, and far surpassed him.
Lord Vetas took a moment to think. “Two months of investigation, and this is all you have?”
Adamat narrowed his eyes. “I’ve been doing the work of twenty men.”
“And these are all the details, you’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” Adamat said. “I do not forget things.”
“Ah, yes. Your Knack. Tell me more about this… pending destruction of Adro,” Lord Vetas said.
“I know very little.” Adamat was tired. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into a hole. “It is a prophecy that Kresimir will return. It implies a great deal of violence accompanying his return. An old legend.”
Lord Vetas remained thoughtful. He dabbed at his neck one last time to remove the blood there and put on his hat. “I’ll be back,” he said. “I hope you’ll have something of greater interest for me when I do. If not…” His eyes flicked to the box in Adamat’s robe pocket.
Chapter 25
Taniel wiped the blood from his face and watched a pair of women drag another Watcher away from the bulwark. The man’s skull had been creased by a bullet, not a minute after he and Taniel had shared a flagon of wine behind the relative safety of the bastion walls. Taniel closed his eyes and tried to remember the man’s face. He’d sketch it later tonight.
Blood was everywhere; new blood, old blood. Fresh splatters of red on the ground and on Taniel’s coat; old rusty stains on everything. The whole bastion smelled of salty iron. The sickly, clogging scent of death wafted up from below and warred with the clouds of black powder for Taniel’s senses.
The Kez were carrying the wounded down the mountainside at an alarming rate. Men were pushed and passed along like sacks of grain to make room for new soldiers. A week ago they’d constructed a V-shaped slide of lumber that went all the way down to Mopenhague. The dead were dumped in and prodded down by men with sticks, their faces wrapped in linen scarves. The wood had long since turned a brownish red. Taniel didn’t even want to imagine what that slide smelled like. He could see great pits on the plains below where the bodies were being dumped.
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