What a miserable existence. Who could stomach putting their body through this kind of abuse? Adamat used his indignation to propel himself forward. This whole trip had been a waste. Taniel was likely dead, and it could be weeks or months until Bo returned to help Adamat look for Josep. If he returned at all. Why had he ever agreed to this in the first place?
And this whole affair between Hilanska and Ket. It would prove Adro’s undoing, he had no doubt. The more he thought over the map he’d seen in Hilanska’s command post, the more he was convinced that the general wasn’t just preparing for a fight – he was looking for one.
Would Ket really accuse Hilanska of being a traitor just to cover her own tracks? Perhaps she’d thought more of the General Staff would side with her? Or perhaps she’d thought to sway the Wings of Adom. Regardless, she would be crushed between Hilanska and the Kez.
Did she know that three brigades of Adran infantry would die because of her? Was she that selfish?
Adamat didn’t realize he’d stopped marching until he noticed the carriage and its escort some forty paces ahead of him. He ran to catch up, forcing himself to ignore the pain in his knees, and arrived at the back of the line just as the captain called for a stop.
Adamat shouldered his way through the soldiers, heading toward Etan’s carriage, and felt a hand on his chest.
“I didn’t say to fall out,” the captain said to him. “Back into line before I give you a beating.”
“I have to speak with the colonel,” Adamat said.
“You’ll do no such thing. Back in line!”
Adamat didn’t have time for this. His heart beat with a sudden urgency that had nothing to do with this quick march. “I’m not one of your damned soldiers and you know it,” Adamat said. “I appreciate your help, but get out of my damned face. I’m on assignment from Field Marshal Tamas himself.”
“Field Marshal Tamas is–” the captain started, drawing himself up.
“Captain,” a voice called from the carriage. “Settle down. Let the inspector ride with me.”
Adamat suppressed a triumphant grin. No need to antagonize the man further. He pushed past the captain and opened the door to the carriage, stepping inside.
In the darkness it was difficult to see any of Etan’s features. Adamat was certain he was a large man. He was propped in his seat – probably strapped in place, due to his condition – and leaned on a cane.
“You can get rid of the uniform now,” Etan said. “If someone comes after us now, it won’t be much of a disguise.”
Adamat removed the bearskin hat and the crimson jacket and breathed a sigh of relief. He immediately regretted it as the cold night air reached his soaked suit underneath, chilling him to the bone. “Thank you for this help, Colonel,” Adamat said.
“It’s the least I could do.” Etan thumped on the side of the carriage and they began to move again. “Taniel saved my life. He was a good friend. I know that you are trying to help him. I just wish we could all have done more.”
“There may be more we can do yet,” Adamat said, and quickly added, “for the army, that is.”
Etan made a noncommittal grunt.
“This affair between Ket and Hilanska could be the end of Adro,” Adamat said.
“I’ve washed my hands of the whole thing. I’m returning to the north, quietly going into retirement. No one has use for a crippled grenadier, whether or not we win the war.”
“But…”
“No ‘buts,’ Inspector. I’m glad to help you escape Hilanska’s machinations, but this is the end of it for me.”
“I understand.” Adamat smacked his fist into his palm in frustration.
Etan’s next words were hesitant. “If there’s anything I can do to speed you on your way, I’ll do it.”
“There is,” Adamat said, feeling a surge of renewed hope. “I could use a letter of introduction.”
“To whom?”
“Brigadier Abrax of the Wings of Adom. I think I know how to save General Ket’s troops.”
Chapter 6
Taniel watched the squad of Adran soldiers as they searched the canyon floor far beneath him.
He had been trailing them since they left the Veridi Valley, breaking off from the main company two days before. There were twelve of them in all, dressed in Adran blues and carrying a full kit on their backs and rifles under their arms. They proceeded warily up the valley, covering less than a mile a day and searching every deer trail and crevice along the way.
At this rate it would take them two more days to find Ka-poel’s hiding place.
Taniel fought the urge to stand up and shout. He wanted to rush down the side of the mountain, sliding on the scree, waving his arms to be seen. It had been weeks since he’d had a good meal and a soft bed. His skin was cracked and dirty, his body still aching from the beating at the hands of Kresimir’s soldiers.
He’d long since stopped noticing his own smell – a sure sign that he was too used to the foulness.
The only thing that kept him silent was the nagging doubt of suspicion. It was more than likely these men were looking for him; the mountains of southwest Adro were nigh impassable and their immense network of valleys led to nowhere important. Why else would Adran soldiers be up here? The real question was: why were they looking for him?
No one in command had reason to send two companies to find him. General Hilanska had betrayed Taniel, betrayed Tamas, and betrayed Adro. These could be his picked men. Or perhaps Tamas had returned and they were friendly.
Surely they would be shouting for him if they were friendly. He was wracked by indecision. At a mile away, it was impossible to recognize any of them. Taniel cursed quietly under his breath. If he’d had any black powder left, he could have seen them clearly from five miles away.
It took him several hours to move down the mountain with enough stealth to avoid notice. His boots were full of grit and his calves burned from the descent, and it was nearly dusk when Taniel finally crouched in the shadow of a boulder some hundred and fifty feet above the squad, his body hidden. Sweat poured from his brow. He swore again.
Each of the soldiers carried a rifle with the bayonet fixed. From a distance the rifles’ basic shape could be mistaken for any flintlock, but from here Taniel could very clearly make out the sleek, streamlined barrel and the rounded stock. These weren’t flintlocks. They were air rifles – they fired bullets not with the combustion of black powder but with compressed air.
They were delicate, unreliable weapons. Soldiers only carried air rifles when they needed to kill a powder mage.
Taniel waited in his hiding spot until after dark, watching the soldiers set up camp, and then headed back up the steep side of the mountain.
Taking goat paths, he crossed over the ridge and then followed it to the east for almost a mile, back into a narrow crevice wedged under two great, flat boulders.
Ka-poel sat cross-legged with her back against the wall of their cave. Her ashen freckles were obscured by mud, her long black duster ripped and worn. There were large, dark circles under her eyes. She looked up at Taniel and her head bobbed slightly from exhaustion.
“A squad of Adran soldiers,” Taniel said. “Armed to the teeth with air rifles.” He lowered himself down beside her, unwilling to look at the wax figure lying on the dirt before her. “No doubt Hilanska’s men.” He felt the fatigue deep in his bones. Every muscle ached and his hands shook from the lack of gunpowder. It was progress. A few days ago he had barely been able to stand from the withdrawal symptoms. “They’re working their way up the valley. They’ll reach the curve soon, then come up this direction. It won’t take them longer than two days. I can’t sense an ounce of powder on them.”
He forced a smile onto his face. Ka-poel leaned her head on his shoulder, and Taniel tried to sit up straight. He couldn’t show his own weariness. It wouldn’t be fair to her.