The Autumn Republic

That’s what the wards are for, dummy. She could hear Bo’s voice in the back of her head. A lick of flame summoned from the Else, directed at that cabal camp, and all the pit would come crashing down on her head.

On a whim, Nila changed course and worked her way around the cordoned cabal camp. Perhaps she should have told the woman that she was Bo’s apprentice-that she was a Privileged, not some commoner to be treated like trash. Maybe she would have gotten a little more respect.

Then again, that woman shouldn’t treat anyone like that.

Nila caught sight of a break in the Privileged’s tents and saw the smokeless flames rising from a fire pit. A guard eyed her inquisitive glances but said nothing as she stood on her toes and looked for some sign of Bo. There were a few Privileged and two or three times as many cabal soldiers in their heavy armor, carrying heavy pikes and sabers. She wondered that there weren’t more muskets, then remembered Bo mentioning that most Privileged were allergic to black powder and avoided it when possible.

She felt a smile touch her lips as she caught sight of white skin among the various shades of black and brown. There was Bo, sitting next to the fire, staring disconnectedly into the flames. He looked very pale but otherwise unharmed. Nila took a breath, a shout on the tip of her tongue, but it caught in her throat as the Deliv Privileged-the same one who had dismissed her so rudely-emerged from a nearby pavilion and approached Bo.

He said something to her, but she just shook her head, then stepped over to him and pressed her lips to his. He didn’t resist or protest-his cheeks flushed and he was soon kissing her back. She traced a finger down his chest and her hand dipped lower…

Nila was halfway back to the Adran camp before she had another rational thought, and she was already at Tamas’s command tent before she knew where she was going.

Field Marshal Tamas stood outside the front of his command tent, eyes shielded from the sun, and examined a pair of maps laid out on the dirt in front of him, the edges held down by several fist-sized rocks. A couple of his officers muttered as she approached, but no one stopped her.

“What happened to your dress?” Olem asked.

She looked down. It looked like she’d been smeared with soot. The bottom half of her dress had two black streaks, as if ink had dripped off her hands. She could smell singed cotton. “Nothing,” she snapped. “When are we leaving?”

Tamas snorted, bending down over his maps, but didn’t say anything.

“We’re camped here for the night,” Olem said. “We’ll leave in the morning.”

“Oh. Right. When will we meet the Kez on the field?”

“Sooner than you may wish,” Tamas muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nila,” Olem said, a note of warning in his voice.

“It’s all right, Olem,” Tamas said, still not looking up from his maps. “She’s learning how to be a real Privileged, and the insolence goes with it. It means, Privileged Nila, that you are woefully underprepared for what I’m going to ask you to do.”

“What’s that?”

“Slaughter thousands of Kez soldiers. Burn them like tinder. Listen to their screams as they wither beneath your sorcery.”

Nila balked at that. “Why do you say I’m unprepared? I did it once, didn’t I?” Nila was unprepared. She had blocked that battle out of her mind so thoroughly that she’d almost forgotten it, and she felt a wave of nausea at the memory.

“Because that’s what Bo said,” Olem interrupted.

“You’ve seen him?”

“An hour ago. He’s still alive, but he’s in no state to fight. He asked me to give you a warning-stay away from the Deliv cabal. We’re to keep your presence a secret until it’s absolutely necessary.”

Nila remembered that Deliv Privileged kissing Bo, her hand reaching between Bo’s legs. “I’m sure he did,” she said.

Tamas finally looked up, but it was only to exchange a glance with Olem.

“Another messenger coming in, sir,” Olem said.

“Of course.” Tamas gave a weary sigh.

A Deliv in his Kelly-green uniform rounded the tent on horseback, barely reining in before his mount trampled Tamas’s maps. “Sir,” the messenger panted. “We’ve been attacked!”

“The Deliv camp?”

“The baggage train,” he said.

Tamas leapt into his tent and returned, buckling his sword to his belt. “Rouse the troops!” he called to Olem.

“Sir, they’re already gone,” the messenger said.

“What do you mean?”

“They hit and left before we could mount a defense.”

“The baggage train?” Nila asked. A glance from Tamas urged caution. The Deliv weren’t supposed to know about her. She took a deep breath, fighting the anger and sense of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm her.

“Yes, ma’am,” the messenger said.

“How the pit did Kez dragoons get behind us?” Tamas demanded. “They shouldn’t be… Pit, is that sorcery?”