The Autumn Republic

Tamas reeled at this information. The Deliv weren’t known for stellar cavalry, but instead for their finely trained infantry. But that didn’t mean their cavalry were worthless. Far from it. How could this be possible?

“Not only that,” she continued, talking over Doranth’s rumbled warning, “but we’ve lost eight Privileged in those two days.”

“Eight Privileged!” Tamas couldn’t contain his outburst. “How?”

“This is none of the powder mage’s business,” Doranth said to Vivia, advancing on her quickly. Vivia made a warding motion with her hand, though neither of them wore their gloves.

“Sit down!” Sulem’s voice cut through the commotion. Both Vivia and Doranth returned to their places. The king sighed, like a schoolteacher taxed to his limit by unruly students. “The Kez dragoons have a magebreaker. A very, very powerful one. He can null the sorcery of my Privileged even at a distance, and his dragoons are better than any of the cavalry my generals have faced in Gurla. They’ve managed a raid against the main camp each of the last two nights, each time assassinating at least one Privileged.”

“No magebreaker is that good,” Tamas said.

“He has those blasted Black Wardens.”

Tamas thought he detected a hint of desperation in Doranth’s voice. It had not occurred to him that the Black Wardens would be that terrifying to a Privileged, but it made sense. Wardens had been created by the Kez cabal to hunt powder mages. Black Wardens had been made from powder mages. It couldn’t get much worse than that.

“Then go after him,” Tamas said. “I’ll bring up my cuirassiers and we’ll perform a sweep of the western plains and crush him together.” He fought down frustration even as he spoke. Ipille was outmaneuvering him. He had betrayed a flag of truce, moved his cavalry into position during the ensuing confusion, and now all he had to do was kill time until they could awake Kresimir. They were doing a damned good job of it.

Sulem climbed slowly to his feet and set his report on his desk. He removed his reading glasses, then gave Doranth a long look. The Deliv cabal head lifted his chin, and some silent communication passed between them. “Out,” Sulem finally said.

“My Liege…”

“Out,” Sulem said again.

Doranth left, his wide shoulder hitting Tamas on his way past.

“You, too,” Sulem said to Vivia. The Privileged woman bowed to her king and retreated after the cabal head.

Tamas searched Sulem’s face. Something was going on here, something under the surface. It wouldn’t bode well for either him or his men.

“My generals are terrified,” Sulem finally said. “This phantom of a dragoon has them jumping at shadows. They’ve never lost so many cavalry in so little time. He’s quick, he has perfect timing, and his ability to nullify the sorcery of my Privileged has everyone in the army on edge. ‘The Kez Wolf.’ ”

Tamas wasn’t sure whether to be more impressed by this Kez magebreaker or by the fact that the Deliv had managed to keep all of this a secret from him the past two days. After all, they were supposed to be working with Tamas. His own limitations had forced him to trust the Deliv entirely.

“In just two days, this magebreaker has shattered the confidence of my cavalry.”

“Losing over half their number will do that,” Olem commented quietly.

The king examined Olem for a moment, as if wondering why a commoner would address him in such a manner, then snorted laughter. “My Privileged will not send out any more riders. They absolutely refuse. You may have seen that battle on the horizon?”

“Yes,” Tamas said.

“That was five of my Privileged letting loose on a raid by the Kez Wolf, just to drive him away from our baggage.”

“Pit.”

“Exactly what I thought.” The king drummed his fingers on his desk. “Those five Privileged barely killed three-score Kez dragoons. The rest of the company escaped. My generals won’t pursue. They fear a trap.”

Tamas watched Sulem for several moments. Normally so serene, the Deliv king seemed uncharacteristically agitated. “We can’t stop to track him down,” he said. “We have to march for Budwiel. We can’t delay.”

“And let this brigand dog our heels?”

Tamas almost told him about Ka-poel and Kresimir. Sulem needed to know why Tamas was so desperate to march on Budwiel. But it wasn’t a tale he cared to explain, nor one that lent itself to believability. “I’ll deal with the Kez dragoons.”

“I…” Sulem spread his hands.

“I will deal with it.” Tamas understood that Sulem was not about to call his own men cowards. Sulem’s generals had rarely, if ever, experienced a battle in which they couldn’t rely on the power of their Privileged. Tamas had been training his men, and himself, to do so for decades-even when there was an Adran Cabal.

Tamas left the king’s tent. It was well past noon, his army was poised to march for the rest of the day, and he knew he had to do something about this immediately. “Olem, I…” He paused. Doranth stood nearby, his big arms crossed, face livid.