“None that concern you.”
Adamat smoothed the front of his shirt again. “A turf war, maybe? Vetas is moving in on your sources of revenue? Stirring up trouble in the underworld? Stealing your manpower, maybe?” That would explain why Roja the Fox was one of the guards holding Adamat’s children hostage – but if Roja had gone over to Vetas without the Proprietor’s blessing, it meant that Roja thought Vetas the stronger of the two.
A scary thought indeed.
“None,” the Proprietor said, Amber’s translation somewhat icy, “that concern you. This meeting is over. You may leave.”
Adamat blinked at the abruptness of it. “You don’t want to hire me?”
“Not anymore.”
“And you’re not going to kill me?”
“No. Out.”
Adamat stood and examined the room once more, careful not to focus too much on the screen. Everything here was of a very fine quality, but not handcrafted. The paneling was milled, the candelabras secondhand. Even the desk looked like the kind that were made a dozen-a-day at a large carpenter’s workshop. Nothing here that could be traced.
Except the rug. Gurlish, by the design, and even to an inexperienced eye the fibers were finely woven.
Adamat fished inside his jacket for a handkerchief. He blew his nose noisily and dropped it, then bent and snatched it from the floor, making sure to look away from the Proprietor’s desk.
When he stood, Amber still had the expectant look on her face that told him he’d overstayed his welcome. She glanced toward the door and he nodded.
Outside, the eunuch stood by the door.
“Stay here,” he said, going into the Proprietor’s office.
Adamat took the moment alone to examine the fibers in between his fingers. There were only a few, all crinkled and dry. He couldn’t tell them from the lint in his pocket. But he knew a woman who might be able to identify them.
The eunuch emerged from the office, pulling the door closed behind him with a click. He seemed troubled. “You’re free to go,” he said. “Of course, we can’t just have you walk out the front door. Keep the clothes.”
Adamat opened his mouth to respond, when someone grabbed him from behind. A rag was shoved over his mouth and nose, and the last thing he remembered was the overpowering smell of ether.
Chapter 11
Taniel was awakened from his half doze at the reins by the distant report of cannon fire.
Dark thoughts swirled in his mind, thick as the clouds of smoke in the mala den. He could still see the Warden eating black powder. He could still feel the powder-enhanced strength in the monster’s twisted limbs. How could the Kez have made one of those creatures out of a powder mage? From what he knew of Wardens and Privileged, that seemed impossible.
Then again, so did stabbing a Warden with its own rib after ripping it from the creature’s chest.
The sudden sensation of falling made him grip the saddle horn in a panic, startling the horse. The world seemed to spin around him. He took several deep, ragged breaths. Even once he knew that he wasn’t actually falling, his heart still raced. Five days without mala. His hands shook, his mouth was dry, and his head pounded. The heat of the sun beating down didn’t help any of it.
A cool hand suddenly touched his cheek. Ka-poel sat in the saddle behind him, arms wrapped around his waist for most of the journey, for she didn’t know the first thing about riding a horse. It should have been terribly uncomfortable to have her clinging to him in this heat, but somehow it was the only thing that gave him relief.
Not that he’d admit it to her.
It was early afternoon and the mountains were closing in on either side as they traveled into Surkov’s Alley. They’d spent the night in Fendale, a large city of some hundred thousand that was swelled to four times that number with army reserves and the refugees from Budwiel.
What little sleep Taniel had managed in Fendale was restless and plagued with nightmares. He’d read once that the only way to sleep well after forming a mala addiction was with more mala.
Ka-poel removed her hand from his cheek, to his decidedly uncomfortable regret. What would he do with this girl? She seemed to think he belonged to her in some way. He could sleep with her, he supposed, but the thought of it made him feel… conflicted. She was a savage, and his servant. A companion and nothing more. There wasn’t a soul in polite Adran society who wouldn’t think it most improper.
When had he ever cared about what society thought proper, he reminded himself. And a savage? Taniel had seen Ka-poel’s sorcery. She’d saved his life on several occasions. She was anything but “just a savage girl.”
Taniel tried to blink away the fog that permeated his mind, but with little success. Drifting off like that could be dangerous. They would reach the front by tomorrow evening, and from there he’d have to find out if there were any other powder mages left in the army, and news of his father. And of course, he’d have to report to… to who? Taniel had never reported to anyone but Field Marshal Tamas.
Could Tamas really be dead? Taniel was a little surprised to feel a lump in the back of his throat at the idea. He loved Tamas, admired him even, but he didn’t like him, and they had never been especially close. After all, the old bastard had ordered him to kill his best friend. Taniel didn’t even know where Bo was now. Maybe he’d died on the mountain, or been executed by Tamas weeks ago.
Taniel hoped they were both alive – Tamas and Bo. There were still things that needed to be said.
As for Ka-poel… Respect. That’s all Taniel was feeling. And a feeling of hopelessness, for Tamas had been Adro’s best chance at winning the war.
They stopped to rest in one of the many little towns in Surkov’s Alley between Fendale and Budwiel. Normally a town like this would have a couple thousand residents. With the war on, it was overflowing. Supply trains flowed through the city, and infantry reserves walked the streets in their uniforms, enjoying a few days away from the front. Taniel watched as dozens of carts rolled by, carrying wounded and dead soldiers from the front. He’d seen hundreds of such carts since leaving Adopest. It didn’t bode well for the war.
“Captain, if you ignore me for another moment, I’ll have you flogged.”
Ka-poel, seated next to him on a grassy bank while they ate their lunch, elbowed Taniel in the ribs. Taniel looked up, feeling genuine surprise that someone was talking to him.
A colonel sat on horseback, his narrow features twisted in a scowl. He pointed his riding crop at Taniel. “Captain, what brigade are you with?” He gave Taniel a moment to answer, and then, “Wipe that stupid look off your face. Is that such a hard question?”
“I don’t have one,” Taniel said.
“Don’t have a… are you daft? Are you a captain in the Adran army or not? Be careful how you answer, son, or I’ll have you brought up on charges of impersonating an officer!”
Taniel fingered the captain’s stars on his lapel. They were gold, as he’d used his silver buttons to buy mala and these were the only replacements he could get on short notice. His powder-keg pin was in his pocket. Who the bloody pit was this man? Taniel had never answered to anyone other than the field marshal. He supposed that technically he was attached to a brigade. The Seventh, maybe?
Taniel shrugged.
The colonel’s face turned red. “Major!”
A woman in her midthirties rode up beside the colonel. “Sir?” She had long brown hair tied back behind her head in a single braid, and a thin face with a beauty mark on her left cheek. She saluted the colonel and then looked down at Taniel.
“Have this man arrested,” the colonel said.
“Charges, sir?”
“Disrespecting a superior officer. The man didn’t salute me, or answer my questions, or stand in my presence.”