The Autumn Republic

“We can take him with us to the Wings’ camp and hand him over to them,” Nila said. “We won’t have to kill him and he won’t be reporting to anyone.”

“I don’t like having a tagalong.”

“You let me bring Jakob.”

“Not here, I didn’t. We left him with Adamat’s family so he wouldn’t be a burden.”

“And we’ll only have this boy until we reach the Wings’ camp. Do you want more blood on your hands?”

Bo stared at his gloves for a moment before giving a curt nod. “Bring him. But we lose him at the Wings’ camp.”

CHAPTER 8

It was around seven o’clock in the morning, the tall grass still bathed in dew, when Adamat, Oldrich, and their fifteen soldiers trekked into the Wings of Adom mercenary camp.

The mercenaries were camped around a town called Billishire, not more than thirty miles from the edge of the Black Tar Forest. Their standard of a saint’s halo with gold wings on a red backdrop waved from the steeple of the town’s only church, and the entire camp had been fortified by a hastily built palisade wall and a ditch six feet deep.

Adamat forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, exhaustion weighing him down as the night retreated. He went straight for the first sentry he saw and came up short, letting the man eye him suspiciously for several moments before speaking.

“Inspector Adamat here to see Brigadier Abrax,” he said.

The sentry was a middle-aged man with a fixed bayonet. His red-and-white uniform was clean and pressed, and the gold trim glittered in the early light.

“I’ve no orders regarding you,” the sentry said. He eyed the small troop of soldiers and their trail through the grass that led off into the distance as if not quite sure what to make of them.

“I’m here on behalf of Field Marshal Tamas.”

The sentry’s skepticism deepened. “The field marshal is dead.”

“Is he now?” Adamat asked, giving the man his very best deadpan expression of annoyance. He imagined that it looked like a tired squint. “We’ve walked all night and I have urgent news for the brigadier. I have a letter of introduction from Colonel Etan of the Twelfth Grenadiers of the Adran army.”

The sentry regarded Adamat another moment before looking over Oldrich and his men. The soldiers had shed their grenadier disguises but kept the rifles, and despite not having slept for twenty-four hours, they looked sharp enough to play the part.

“I better escort you in, then,” the sentry said.

For the second time in as many days, Adamat was led into the heart of a military camp. They were handed off to another sentry, and then to a major’s adjutant-a young woman with blond hair and an easy smile-who took them to the church that Adamat had spotted earlier in the center of the town.

The camp was just beginning to stir, cookpots going over the fires and camp laundresses finishing their night’s work. The stillness gradually gave way to the bustle of camp life as the men crawled from their beds.

Adamat caught the sleeve of the adjutant just before they reached the church. “I’m the only one who needs to see the brigadier,” he said. “Is there any chance you could show some hospitality to my escort?”

The adjutant gave a quick nod and beckoned to Oldrich. “Take your men over to the Willow Inn, just past that house there. It serves as the officers’ mess in the evenings, but they’ll be happy to give you breakfast. Tell them that Brigadier Abrax will cover the tab.”

“My thanks,” Adamat said once the soldiers had gone off in search of the inn.

“Of course,” the adjutant said. “We show the same hospitality our brothers-in-arms have shown us. And Field Marshal Tamas has been good to us.”

Adamat wondered how, exactly, Tamas had been paying the Wings of Adom. The newspapers had whispered of bankruptcy in the capital for months.

Inside the church, Adamat was shown to one of the pews, and the adjutant disappeared. He sat quietly with his hands in his lap, examining the stained-glass windows behind the pulpit. The largest window depicted Kresimir floating high above South Pike Mountain, his arms spread over the whole of the Nine. His brothers and sisters gathered at his feet, helping him in the formation of the Nine Nations. Adamat wondered how being at war with Kresimir himself would change the Kresim religion in Adro.

“Inspector?”

The voice brought Adamat out of an uneasy sleep, and he realized he’d been leaning his head on the pew in front of him. He rubbed vigorously at his forehead to remove the red line it likely caused and got to his feet. “Yes?”

“The brigadier has just begun her breakfast. She’s asked you to join her.”

The idea of breakfast nearly made Adamat faint. He’d been so incredibly sore and sleep-deprived all night that he hadn’t thought of food, but the very mention of it made his stomach growl as loud as a cave lion.

He was taken across the street to what would have probably been the priest’s house, a two-story building with a brick façade and green shutters, and he was shown into the dining room.