“You’ve saved the life of the closest heir to the throne,” Rozalia said. “Baronies have been gifted to the common folk for less.”
Nila swallowed and tried not to imagine herself baroness of some barony in northern Adro. This kind of thing didn’t happen to her. She could feel the Privileged’s eyes studying her.
“You think we’re going to lose,” Rozalia said. She waited a moment for Nila’s response, and then somewhat impatiently added, “Speak up, you can talk to me.”
Nila did look up then. “Field Marshal Tamas has every advantage,” she said. “He won’t execute half the nobility only to put Jakob on the throne. Within a few weeks he’ll have torn down the barricades and sent Jakob and all the nobles that backed him to the guillotine. I would like to be gone before that happens. I don’t want to see it.” She wondered, not for the first time, if it had been a mistake to bring Jakob to General Westeven. She could have fled with him to Kez. The silver she took from the townhouse would have more than paid for the trip.
“Smart girl,” Rozalia said, placing a finger on her chin.
Nila folded her arms across her chest.
“What will you do?” Rozalia asked. “Once you’ve gotten past Tamas’s blockade and made your way out of the city?”
What interest could a Privileged possibly have in that? Nila realized that she didn’t know what she’d do. She had the silver. Most of it, anyway. She had needed new clothes and some medicine for Jakob, and a place to hide during the riots. “I can join up with the army. They always need laundresses, and the pay is good,” she said.
“At best you’ll wind up a soldier’s wife,” Rozalia said. “What a waste.”
“It’s better that,” Nila said quietly, “than to die here for a lost cause.”
“What did you think Tamas’s soldiers would have done if they’d have caught you smuggling Jakob out of the duke’s residence? You have courage, child, and don’t try to pretend that you don’t love that little boy. If you cared only for yourself, you’d be halfway to Brudania by now.
“Stay here,” Rozalia continued. “Watch over Jakob. If the parley tomorrow goes well, you’ll wind up a rich woman. If it doesn’t… you may need to save his life again.”
If she stayed by Jakob’s side, she could, like Rozalia said, become a wealthy woman. Or follow him to the guillotine block. She remembered the soldier’s hands holding her down, the feelings of helplessness and horror. No bearded sergeant would save her the next time Tamas’s soldiers came through a door. She had silver buried in the corner of a graveyard just outside of the city. She would never have to feel that fear again.
Nila couldn’t help but wonder if Rozalia had other motives for wanting her to stay. A Privileged used the common folk. She didn’t help them. There had to be a reason she was showing such interest in Nila.
Jakob came into sight over Rozalia’s shoulder. His pallor had improved despite the stress of the last two weeks. Rozalia had done something for his cough. He smiled and waved to Nila, then was distracted by a butterfly flitting through the rubble of a building knocked over by the earthquake. She watched him dance off after the insect, followed by a pair of vigilant Hielmen.
“I’ll stay,” she said. “For now.”
“You can end this quickly,” Julene said.
Tamas examined the woman lounging in the chair on the other side of his desk. She’d come alone on her own initiative, leaving Taniel and the magebreaker who knew where. She wore a low-cut shirt that revealed enough cleavage to get the imagination going but that was tight enough for her to move quickly when she wanted. Tamas knew the effect was not accidental. Yet he was not a man to make the same mistake twice. Julene was a dangerous woman. She was the type to use any weapon available to her in order to get ahead. He looked away from her chest and at the scar running from the corner of her mouth to her brow.
He wondered at that scar. There were Privileged who dealt in healing sorcery. It was a tricky art, and they were rare, but with the amount Julene charged for her mercenary services, she could easily afford it. Perhaps she just liked looking deadly.
“How?”
“Assassins,” she said. “Send men behind the barricades. Wipe out all their leadership and the rest will surrender easily.”
Tamas snorted. “I’ve been trying my best to scrape together Manhouch’s old spy network with little success and you want me to find enough assassins to bring down those barricades? You’re mad.”
“Use the Black Street Barbers,” Julene said.
“The street gang?”
Julene nodded. “They will be expensive, but they’re the best at what they do. They’ll end this civil war.”
“Gangs can’t be controlled.”
“They can with the right amount of money,” Julene said. “The Barbers are different. More organized. They report to Ricard Tumblar. He uses them to police the docks.”
“Assassination is risky. It could turn the people against me.”
“You’re being a fool.”
“Careful.”
“If you won’t consider that, then you need me at the parley.”
“Why?” Tamas checked his watch. The parley was set for ten o’clock. Two hours from now.
“Because General Westeven is in league with this Privileged we’re hunting. She’ll be there. It wouldn’t surprise me if she makes a move against you.”
“I have my powder mages for that,” Tamas said.
“Your boy has shot her three times and put an arm’s length of steel through her stomach. Do your other Marked have anything new to bring to the table?”
This confirmed Taniel’s reports. This Privileged was something else. Something more.
“You know her, don’t you?” he said. “This is personal. I can tell by the way you talk. You want this woman dead.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“I’ve had you kill seven Privileged in the last two years. Each time you’ve been cold, mechanical.”
“And each time I’ve been able to kill them within a day or two,” Julene said. “This is getting personal. I want the bitch dead.”
“So you don’t know her?”
“Of course not.”
She was lying. Tamas could tell by the way her eyes hardened when she spoke. It was a small tell, and he’d only recently figured it out, but Julene put a little extra fire into her lies when she wanted to be believed. Now, why wouldn’t she tell the truth?
“You think you can handle her if she tries something?” Tamas said.
“Of course. Every time we’ve begun to fight, she’s run. At the very least I will scare her off.”
“Be there,” Tamas said. “In an hour. Bring Gothen and Taniel and his pet savage. And don’t do anything stupid.”
“I’ll only be there to protect you,” Julene said.
Tamas stood next to a repaired field gun and watched a line of men make their way over the barricade under a white flag. Olem was on the other side of the gun, leaning against the barrel, speaking quietly to Sabon. Vlora stood somewhere behind him with Brigadiers Ryze and Sabastenien, the only two mercenary commanders posted in the city. From a building across the street Taniel trained his rifle on the barricades. Julene tugged idly at her gloves, her magebreaker partner beside her. A whole company of Adran soldiers stood at attention twenty paces back. Tamas wanted General Westeven to know exactly how bad his odds were.
This would be a crucial meeting. Tamas felt he held most of the cards, but General Westeven was an incredibly capable commander. He could ruin Tamas’s plans simply by protracting the civil war.
“A sorry lot, sir,” Olem said, motioning toward the approaching royalists.
Tamas withheld judgment. The royalists had been crouching behind their barricades for eight days. They were dirty and disheveled, but they showed no signs of imminent starvation or even fatigue. Behind ramshackle barricades they may be, but General Westeven would see that every man and woman at his disposal slept on a good bed and had plenty to eat – not hard, when they had captured the city’s main granaries. The royalists were eating better than most of the city right now.