The Autumn Republic

It was still dark, not long after he’d left the camp, when one of the soldiers climbed from his bedroll and stumbled into the bushes. He returned a minute later and his sudden shouting told Taniel that he had discovered the artwork Taniel had made out of the squad’s air rifles. The rest of the infantry were up in seconds.

They were in a panic. Even from this distance Taniel could hear their hoarse arguments, the curses, and then a call of dismay when they found the first unconscious sentry.

It took them another fifteen minutes before a figure-probably their sergeant-made his way to the top of the waterfall and found the second sentry. They carried her down to the group and then huddled in conference, their backs to the cliffside in a defensive perimeter despite their lack of weapons.

The eastern sky was just getting light when they broke camp. Tired, their fright apparent from their body language, they made their way cautiously back down the valley. Taniel waited until he could continue his climb without the risk of being spotted, and then started the long journey back to Ka-poel.

He ducked inside the cave two hours later. His legs ached from the climb and his body sagged with exhaustion. Three times he had lost his footing, nearly falling down the steep side of the valley. His fingers were bleeding from the climb and his trousers and shirt resembled a beggar’s filthy rags.

His heart leapt into his throat at the sight of Ka-poel. She was curled up in one corner of the cave, his jacket draped over her, using her hands as a pillow. Taniel skirted the facsimile of Kresimir and knelt beside her.

“Pole,” he said, gently touching her shoulder.

Something pressed against his throat. He inhaled sharply and looked down his nose at the long needle clutched in Ka-poel’s hand.

“It’s me, Pole.”

One green eye regarded him for a moment and then the needle was withdrawn. She sat up, shaking the sleep from her head.

“Kresimir,” Taniel said urgently. “What has happened with Kresimir?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him for a moment and then her face lit up. She pointed at the doll of Kresimir, which was bound in the center of the cave. She walked her fingers through the air and then chopped the other hand viciously.

Taniel snorted. “He’s not going anywhere?”

Ka-poel nodded, a victorious smile on her lips.

“How?”

She tapped the side of her head, then pointed at the doll again.

For the first time, Taniel noticed the symbols written in the dust around the doll: a series of vague lines pointing away from Kresimir. They made little sense to him. “What do those mean?”

She made a fist and pointed.

“I don’t-” He stopped and frowned. Then he saw it. They weren’t symbols, but fingers. Kresimir lay in the palm of a hand-her hand, if Taniel wasn’t mistaken. “He’s in the palm of your hand. You don’t have to be awake to keep him under control?”

A nod.

“How the pit did you figure that out?”

Ka-poel rolled her eyes as if looking into one corner of the cave and made a vague gesture.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Both of her eyebrows rose and she gave him the flat look she always used when she was pretending not to understand him. He snatched her by the arm. “Pole, what the pit is that supposed to mean?” He couldn’t help the urgency in his voice. How did she know that Kresimir was still under control? How did she know what symbols held power?

She shrugged, then drew in the dust with one finger and spread the other hand out toward Kresimir’s doll.

“You were experimenting?”

A nod.

“With a god?”

She gave him a sheepish grin. Whatever sleep she’d managed while he was away had done her a world of good. The lines under her eyes had diminished. Her spirits seemed up. She hadn’t smiled in a week.

Taniel released his grip on her arm and ran a hand through his knotted, dirty hair. Several pine needles came away and he tossed them in the corner of the cave.

“How can you possibly know what might or might not work? Pit, I wish I understood something-anything-about your sorcery.”

She pointed to herself. Me too.

“You don’t know anything about your own sorcery?”

She gave him a half shrug, then held up five fingers. She drew in the dust for a moment, then pulled a finger across her throat.

“I didn’t catch any of that, Pole.”

She snorted angrily.

“Be careful experimenting with sorcery, Pole,” Taniel said. “I’ve heard of a few Privileged and powder mages teaching themselves the rudiments. But untrained adepts who try to go further just get themselves killed. They burn themselves to a crisp with the Else or blow themselves up or get powder blindness or… pit, I don’t know how your sorcery could kick back at you, but it will happen.” He rubbed his eyes. “You’re bloody well controlling a god. I’m not sure how you haven’t been strangled with your own powers yet.”

She made a gesture and a consoling smile. Me neither.

Just great.