Promise of Blood

“When did he say he’d come back down?”

“He didn’t.”

Taniel scratched his jaw. He’d not shaved since starting his hunt for the Privileged in Adopest. The thick curls on his neck itched. “Why’d he go up?”

Fesnik shook his head.

Taniel felt a sharp fear run up his spine. Bo knew that Tamas would send someone to kill him.

“And he told you to tell only me?”

“Yeah. He’s told us a lot about you. Said you two have been chums for years.”

That felt like a knife thrust to Taniel’s gut. He clenched his teeth and forced a smile on his face. Psychological warfare on Bo’s part? Or just drunken chatter? “That’s right. How long does it take to reach the top of the mountain?”

“Well, he won’t have gone all the way to the top,” Fesnik said. “There’s a monastery up there for the pilgrims, a couple miles short of Kresim Kurga. He’ll have stopped there.”

Kresim Kurga. The Holy City. It was a name out of legends. Taniel hadn’t heard the name since his nurse had taken him weekly to Kresimir’s chapel when he was a child. Even then, he’d never believed it really existed.

Taniel brought himself back to the present. He couldn’t wait here. He would have to go up after Bo and leave him buried in the snow. Taniel would be back in Adopest before they discovered Bo was dead.

“I’ll go up and see him,” Taniel said.

“This time of year?” Fesnik shook his head. “Not even a seasoned Watcher will guide you up, and believe me, without a guide you’ll walk into a snowstorm and never come out. The roads are treacherous well up until early summer.”

“My father mentioned a man named Gavril,” Taniel said. “Old friend of his. Said he was the best mountain man in the Nine. What?”

Fesnik had started to laugh. “Gavril, he might do it. If he’s sober enough to see but drunk enough not to think straight. I’ll try to find him for you.”

Fesnik went off into the barroom crowd. Taniel returned to the street, where he found Julene glaring at Ka-poel. Ka-poel was staring up at the mountain above them.

“Bo’s up there,” Taniel said, pointing to the mountain. “We’re going up after him.”

Julene’s eyes narrowed. “It’s probably a trap. He must know Tamas would send someone.”

“He does. But he told the Watchers to let me know where he was if I came. No one else. That means he trusts me.”

“Or he trusts himself to kill you before you can get off a shot.”

“I know Bo. It means he trusts me.” He took a deep breath. “Worse luck for him.”

“We’ll need supplies and mountain gear,” Julene said. “And winter clothing.”

“You’re not coming.”

“What?” Julene stared at him hard.

“You almost got me killed more than once,” Taniel said.

“How dare you.”

“Shut up. I’m going up there with Pole; we’re going to do in my best friend and come right back down. Carefully, quietly. You start throwing around sorcery up there and not only will the entire Mountainwatch know what we’re doing but you’ll likely bring an avalanche down on us.”

Julene sneered. “I don’t trust you. You’re weak. You won’t be able to pull the trigger.”

“Killing Privileged is my specialty,” Taniel said. He took a hit of powder. A small one, just to calm his nerves. He took a second hit. “Bo’s a danger. I know how to deal with a danger. Now, shut the pit up and go find yourself a room to hole up in. There’s another reason I’m leaving you down here. If Bo gets the drop on me or slips by me somehow, I want you watching. Kill him on sight. Can you do that, lady?”

Julene’s arms trembled. She looked as if she wanted to leap on Taniel and tear his throat out with her teeth. Without a powder trance Taniel might have been intimidated. With a powder trance, Taniel didn’t give a damn.

“Well?” he asked. “Can you damn well do it?”

Julene whirled and stalked away from him, down the street.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The door to the tavern opened and Fesnik stepped out, shrugging into a knee-length deerskin coat. He was followed by one of the biggest men Taniel had ever seen. He wore thick leathers and furs soaked with sweat and beer, and he struggled to focus his eyes on Taniel even as he toppled against the side of the building. He shook his head and slurred, “I’m Gavril.”

Taniel looked him up and down. “Fantastic.”

Taniel paused to adjust the furs protecting his face as a freezing wind spattered him with snow. He flinched away from the biting cold, turning his face from the wind, even though Gavril had warned him that to do so could mean death—always one foot in front of the other, eyes on the snowbank ahead of you or you might step into a half-hidden fissure or off the edge of a cliff.

Right now, Taniel didn’t much care. Ten thousand feet below them, farmers tilled their fields as the spring weather warmed. A few more weeks and it would be warm enough to go swimming in the Adsea. Yet here he was, nearing the top of the highest mountain in all the Nine—some said the world—with snowshoes strapped to his feet, armed with rifle and pistols that were probably too frozen to work, on his way to kill his best friend, with a drunk as a guide.