The Autumn Republic

Inside the camp, men fell into ranks. Taniel’s heart fell as he watched them. Dozens and dozens fell in with their kits at their hips and their air rifles on their shoulders. Bayonets flashed in the sunlight.

They weren’t breaking camp.

A group of between eighty and a hundred-it was hard to tell at this distance-left the camp at a slow march. They were heading deliberately toward Taniel’s canyon.

No mistaking their intentions now.

Taniel had begun to prepare for this eventuality from the time he’d first laid eyes on the company trudging their way up the Veridi Valley.

They would proceed slowly, no doubt, but the strength of numbers would give them confidence and they would move faster than the previous searchers. A regular march, with scouts and sentries at all times, would take the group no more than thirty or forty hours to reach the apex of the canyon and from there they would find Ka-poel’s cave within hours.

Taniel considered the lay of the canyon, picturing it in his mind. There were three choke points where a single man could hold against an entire army. There were five spots steep and rubble-strewn enough that he could start a rockslide. There were over a dozen prime sniping locations.

But they’d just shoot him in a choke point, the rockslide would give away his position, and he didn’t have a rifle.

“Ka-poel,” he said, swinging himself into their cave. “We have to go.”

She crouched above the doll of Kresimir, her eyes unfathomable as a cat’s and a frown on her face. She shook her head slightly.

“They’re coming for us,” he said. “About eighty infantry, all armed with air rifles. We have two days before they find us here-if we’re lucky. There’s no way I could possibly fight that many.”

Ka-poel shook her head again emphatically.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

She pointed at the doll, then walked her fingers through the air. He can’t be moved.

“We have to move him. If we stay here, we die.”

Ka-poel stared at the doll for several moments and then rocked back on her haunches, brow furrowed. She scratched in the dirt with the tip of one of her long needles. She cupped her hand and tapped her palm with one finger, as if indicating a pocket watch.

I need time.

“All right, Pole,” Taniel said. “But if they get close enough to turn this into a real chase, neither of us will survive it.”

CHAPTER 10

Nila guessed it to be around ten o’clock when they came within view of the mercenary camp. Their prisoner, Folkrot, walked along ahead of them, looking tired and dejected.

He’d tried to escape three times in the middle of the night, making a run to the south. Each time, Nila had chased after him and tackled him to the ground. On the third time Bo caught him with sorcery and all fight went out of the boy.

Nila’s feet hurt, her dress was filthy, and she wanted nothing more than a warm bed. Bo showed a dark shadow on his cheeks from not shaving but seemed otherwise unaffected by the lack of sleep.

The sentry was a young woman in the red-and-white uniform of a Wings soldier. She held a rifle on her shoulder and stood in the middle of the road to block traffic-of which there was none-and seemed rather bored. She watched them go past without comment.

“Shouldn’t she question us?” Nila asked.

“She’s there to watch for the enemy,” Bo said. “Soldiers, cavalry. That kind of thing. The next one will ask us our business.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want to know why?”

“I suppose?”

“Always ask why. It’s not enough to know the what of something. A Privileged always needs to know the why. It helps you learn how things work, which aids in your manipulation of the Else.”

“All right,” Nila said. “Then why?”

“Because the next sentry is a Privileged.”

Four mercenary soldiers stood on one side of the road and as Nila and Bo approached, three of them lowered their rifles, bayonets bristling.

“That’s far enough,” the fourth one said. An older woman, she stood off to one side of the others and held her hands out in front of her so they could clearly see the gloves on her hands. “I know what you are, boy. Explain your presence here immediately.”

Bo leaned over to Nila. “The Wings employ several dozen low-strength Privileged. They’re good for intimidation, and some of them have skill, but few if any have the strength of a cabal sorcerer. There’s a kind of pecking order among Privileged. If I had more time, I might strut and scoff, but now…” He held up both hands ungloved. “I’m here to see Brigadier Abrax,” he told the woman.

At the sight of the Privileged, Folkrot had backed away until he bumped into Nila. He turned, panic in his eyes, and would have fled had Nila not snatched him by the collar.

“On what business?”

“My own,” Bo said.

The four sentries conversed among themselves.

“Don’t open your third eye,” Bo whispered. “She’ll sense it.”

“Can’t she see me in the Else?”

“No. You haven’t interacted enough with it yet to have an aura. A few months, maybe as much as a year, and you will.”