The Autumn Republic

The Kez nobleman seemed to know he was being dismissed. He stood, brushing his hands together, eyeing Nila. She met his gaze, and Tamas chuckled inwardly. He had known that there would be a day when the Adran Cabal would need to be rebuilt. He had secretly hoped it would be long after his death. But he could do a lot worse than having Borbador and Nila as its foundation.

With Beon gone, Tamas climbed to his feet and rebuttoned his jacket. “Olem, have you created a cavalry regiment for your Riflejacks yet?”

“Yes sir. Six hundred dragoons and three hundred cuirassiers.”

“Excellent. Take another five hundred cuirassiers-the Fifteenth won’t miss them-and hunt this Gurlish magebreaker down.”

Olem straightened. “Sir!”

“You wanted a command, Olem. You’ve got it now. Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t, sir!” Olem grinned proudly, his shoulders squared.

“And Privileged Nila.”

Nila swallowed hard, but she met Tamas’s eye. He held his hands behind his back so that she couldn’t see his nervousness, and wondered if he was making the right decision.

“You’re going with Olem. Burn those bastards to the ground.”

He had the brief satisfaction of her eyes growing wide before he strode out into the sunlight to let his men know they would be leaving at first light.

CHAPTER 32

A few hours into her ride, as her legs began to cramp and her ass began to hurt worse than anything she’d ever felt, Nila wondered if Tamas would have allowed her to say no.

Perhaps he might have, if it had occurred to her to refuse. She had her doubts. It seemed likely that few people told Tamas no. This was the same man who had slaughtered the Adran royal cabal in their sleep and then guillotined his own king. One didn’t say no to a man like that. Instead of refusing what sounded like a horribly dangerous mission, she had asked him to give a hastily written note to Privileged Borbador. Tamas had seemed slightly put off by the request, but Nila didn’t know who else in the camp she could have asked, and in the end, Tamas agreed.

She had an ever-growing notion that this expedition was a terrible idea and that it would end with her corpse lying in some farmer’s field. The darkness on the horizon that sorcery could not penetrate, the darkness that had tied her stomach in knots, had been a magebreaker, and she was now riding toward him.

“What the pit good am I going to do?” she asked, trying not to let the pain come through in her tone. Back straight. Act like the Privileged you want to be.

Olem stood in his stirrups, looking annoyingly at ease in the saddle, his eyes scanning the horizon. “The idea,” he said, “is that we go straight for the throat. We identify and kill the magebreaker and then you unleash your sorcery on his cavalry.”

Behind them, a trail of dust rose over thirteen hundred Adran cavalry. They were a stunning sight, she had to admit. The uniforms of the dragoons were dirty and rumpled from the road, but their swords were held straight and their carbines laid across their saddle horns, while the breastplates of the cuirassiers shone in the setting sunlight. She now wore a uniform that matched the dragoons-Adran blues with silver trim and red cuffs, and pants, which were so much better for riding than a dress.

“Didn’t the Deliv already think of that?”

“Likely,” Olem said.

“And they failed.”

“We’ll just have to succeed where they failed.”

“Are you going to get me killed?”

Olem stroked his beard and lowered himself back into his saddle. She wondered briefly how her life would be different if she had let him court her and had given up on her obsession to protect Jakob Eldaminse. Would she still be just Nila the laundress, another soldier’s lover, toiling with the rest of the camp followers? Or would she have been captured along with so many others when Budwiel fell, and now be either dead or enslaved?

“I’ll try not to,” Olem said. He began to roll a cigarette. “If-when-we catch these bastards, I want you to stay near the middle of the column, where it’s safest.” He paused to lick his rolling paper. “To be honest, nowhere is safest in a cavalry skirmish, but that’ll have to do. The magebreaker will have heard about the Battle of Ned’s Creek, but if we’re lucky, he won’t suspect that we have a Privileged with us.”

And he won’t see my glow in the Else because of my limited experience, Nila finished silently. “What if I can’t do sorcery?”

“Keep your head down.”

“Easy for you to say. You have a sword.”

“And a pistol and carbine,” Olem said.

“You’re very reassuring.”

“That’s what Tamas says, strangely enough.”

“Tamas? Are you on a first-name basis with the field marshal?”

Olem grunted. “That was inappropriate of me. Sorry. Nerves are a bit frayed. I’ve ridden with cavalry before, even been in a few skirmishes, but this is my first command.”

“Oh, now that is reassuring.”

Olem flinched, and Nila wished she could take it back. “You’ll do fine.”