The Autumn Republic

“I do.” Gavril said, then rattled off a few sentences. The men seemed to perk up at this, and one of them answered. Gavril switched to Adran. “He says it’s just three Privileged, six grenadiers, and the savage.”

“Why the pit would they be speaking Brudanian?” Taniel asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Because they’re Brudanian,” Vlora said. “Like the army that’s holding Adopest right now.”

Gavril said, “Norrine and I followed fresh tracks, nine sets, north. We only turned back when we heard the fighting. They’re taking your girl to Adopest.”

“Bastards have pulled one over on our whole damn army,” Taniel said. “Tamas is fighting the wrong war.”

CHAPTER 30

Nila worked her way through the Adran and then the Deliv camps, slowly gathering her courage to approach the Deliv cabal.

She had not expected them to arrive so soon. Tamas had insisted she stay close in case he needed her magic-whatever good it could do him, considering she still couldn’t consistently pull sorcery from the Else-and hadn’t let her accompany Bo to the Privileged healers. He’d said Bo could be gone for too long to risk losing both of his Privileged for a possible fight.

But just two days later the Kez cabal had arrived. Had it been some kind of a trick to separate her and Bo? Or just a miscommunication?

Perhaps she was just being overly cautious.

Bo would be proud.

She threaded her way through Deliv soldiers, who watched her closely but kept their distance. She wore a blue dress too fine for a laundress but not fashionable enough for a lady, and she had done her hair in a borrowed mirror. She was just wondering why no one had asked for her credentials, when a dark-skinned Deliv slid up beside her.

She recognized the stripes of a captain on his lapels. He was a handsome man, quite tall with slender shoulders. He grinned at her. “Going somewhere, my lady?”

“Yes, thank you.” She could feel his hand hovering just behind the small of her back.

“Can I help you find where you’re going?” His hand brushed her ass gently. She turned toward him, a welcoming smile on her face, and punched him in the nose.

He reeled back with a high-pitched squeal, fumbling at his face. “Aii! Pit, woman!” Surprise turned to anger, which quickly progressed to fury. He wiped his nose with one sleeve, looking down at the trickle of blood on his cuff, then reached for his belt. “You made a mistake, lass.”

Nila realized that mistake just after her knuckles connected with his nose. She was in a foreign camp-she had no companion or chaperone, and she didn’t know the least thing about Deliv social mores. What’s more, this man had the stripes of a captain on his lapel. This wasn’t the Adran army-he was most likely a nobleman and could cause all sorts of trouble for her.

“No,” she said, advancing as her mind raced. Nothing to do now but follow through. “I’ll teach you a lesson, you ingrate. I’m looking for the Deliv cabal. If you touch me again, I’ll put that hand so far up your ass, you’ll be able to scratch your own nose.”

The Deliv captain retreated several feet. He visually searched her up and down, glancing repeatedly at her bare hands, looking for evidence that she was a Privileged. She could see his mind working for several moments, as if he was weighing his odds. Finally, he said in a nasally tone, “They’re sequestered just to the east.”

“Thank you.”

She turned her back on him though every instinct told her not to, and began heading in the indicated direction. This was another part to play, she reminded herself. No more dangerous than the parts she played for Lord Vetas. She was a lady, a Privileged, and she had to demand respect.

“Watch yourself, lass,” the Deliv’s voice called to her.

She wanted to make a rude gesture, but she thought perhaps that was beneath the dignity of a Privileged.

The Deliv cabal, it turned out, was not hard to spot. Immense tents of white and Kelly-green rose just beyond the next rise. While not as high as the tent belonging to the Deliv king, these were far wider and more numerous, with dozens of chambers seemingly interconnected by cloaked avenues to keep the Privileged’s comings and goings shielded from common eyes. The whole area was cordoned off from the rest of the camp by a fine green ribbon tied at intervals to tall wooden posts. Each post was covered in Deliv script and arcane symbols, which Bo had taught Nila enough to recognize as wards-and the warnings that accompanied them.

She followed the ribbon around to the south until she found an opening. Deliv cabal guards-immense men with broad shoulders, gleaming breastplates, and spiked helmets-stood at attention with muskets shouldered.

She stepped between them, only to find her way immediately blocked by those muskets.

“Step back,” one of the guards said in heavily accented Adran, the words laced with menace.

She did.