The Autumn Republic

Taniel nodded in response. He looked haggard and tired. His uniform was dirty and rumpled, but he’d managed to brush out most of the dirt and his boots were polished. Tamas noted a distinct absence of Taniel’s usual Hrusch rifle, but he did have two pistols in his belt.

“Where have you been?” Tamas asked.

“Hiding. Gavril make it to you?”

“Yes. He’s at the back of the column.”

Taniel gave a relieved sigh. “Vlora’s dead.”

“What?” Tamas had to grab his saddle horn as a wave of dizziness swept over him. “No. Surely not.”

“She is. At least, I think she is. We tracked the Privileged and Ka-poel to the city and got into a fight in High Talien. Whether the Privileged had reinforcements waiting for her or we were just unlucky, I don’t know. We were trying to escape into the city drains when the building came down on her.”

“Oh, pit.” The words came out a whisper. Tamas swayed in his saddle. Another powder mage. Another friend. Pit, Vlora was family. He wanted to let out a sob, but he forced himself to fight it down, maintaining his stony demeanor. Claremonte’s men were watching. He could feel hostile eyes upon him and he couldn’t-he wouldn’t-show weakness.

“Promoting me was a bad idea.”

Tamas glanced out of the corner of his eye. Taniel’s jaw trembled and his eyes were bloodshot. He was barely holding it together. “That’s not true. That’s… Look. You tracked them this far. I’m proud of you.”

Taniel didn’t look like he believed him, and Tamas had to admit that the words were halfhearted. Taniel had gotten Vlora, two powder mages, and a dozen Riflejacks killed. He should have known better! Walking into a trap and…

No. No, no, no. Tamas could feel the grief turn to anger, could feel the corners of his mouth turn down in a scowl. He couldn’t do that. Not now. Not to Taniel.

“Have you found Ka-poel?” Tamas asked.

“Claremonte’s headquarters are in Skyline Palace. He’s renting it from the city. It’s crawling with soldiers and Privileged. I think I glimpsed her aura in the Else, but it was hard to tell at a distance. She must still be alive.”

“Or else Kresimir would have killed us all by now, I suppose.”

Taniel gave him a queer look. “Is the war over?”

“Yes. It’s in negotiations right now.”

“Do you have Kresimir’s body?”

“I do.”

Taniel nodded to himself. “Good. What about Claremonte?”

“I’m going to proceed cautiously. Are you coming to my council meeting?”

“Will Ricard be there?”

“I imagine so.”

“I probably shouldn’t, then.”

“You can’t run from being Second Minister,” Tamas said. “You gave your word.”

“I was bullied into it.”

Tamas set his teeth, trying to rein in his anger. “You took advantage of what avenue of escape was available at the time. You’ll follow through on your word.”

“Or what?” There was defiance in Taniel’s eyes.

“Or no one will ever respect you.”

Taniel looked away.

“It’s part of the game,” Tamas said, trying to soften his tone. “Part of life. You think I wanted to be the Iron King’s lapdog when I was not much older than you? No. But I did what I had to do to survive. We’re here. Come upstairs.”

They had arrived at the western entrance to the People’s Court, Sablethorn looming over them from across Elections Square. Tamas dismounted, and his soldiers took their places by the doors, Gavril in command, while a core group of them followed him inside.

It had been only a few months since he last set foot in the cavernous building, but it felt like half a lifetime. He didn’t recognize most of the staff they passed in the halls, and the corridors felt vaguely alien, as if he were walking them for the first time.

They climbed to the sixth floor and approached Manhouch’s former office, and Tamas could hear shouting from a hundred paces down the hall. He doubled his pace.

He pushed open the door to find Ondraus sitting in one of the wingback chairs in the corner, looking crossly over his reading glasses at Ricard Tumblar. Ricard was red in the face, his beard unkempt as he shook his fist beneath Ondraus’s nose. Lady Winceslav stood behind Ricard with a fan in one hand, trying to look dignified.

“You damned dirty traitor!” Ricard was shouting. “You prig! You villain! I’ll kill you with my own hands!” Lady Winceslav leapt forward to grab Ricard’s arm, pulling him away from Ondraus.

“What’s going on here?” Tamas demanded.

Lady Winceslav opened her mouth, but Ricard cut her off, thrusting a finger at Ondraus. “He’s gone over to the other side! He’s put his support behind Claremonte. He’s running as Claremonte’s Second Minister!”

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this,” Lady Winceslav said.

Ricard rounded on her. “Don’t get me started on you, Lady. Your people abandoned the army before the war was over. Do you know how that looks to public perception? We’re supposed to be a unified face!”

“I had every right.” Winceslav drew herself up. “My advisers felt that Field Marshal Tamas had lost his perspective, and his series of blunders had given us-I’m sorry, Tamas, I don’t mean this to be personal.”