The Autumn Republic

The code breaker frowned, then took a deep breath and straightened, snapping out a salute. “I understand, sir.”

“Good. I’ll let Abrax know how well you did here today.”

Olem led the man outside and then returned a moment later with Vlora. She looked dusty and tired, but her step was crisp. He could tell by the smell of her that she had been burning a powder trance all morning.

“How goes it over in the Wings’ camp?” Tamas asked.

Vlora saluted, then dropped into a chair across from Tamas. “If the Kez still attack today, it’s going to be a rough thing. The Wings have three brigades pointed toward us. Abrax says if this ruse works, she’ll have time to wheel them around and be able to throw everything she has at the Kez by the middle of tomorrow morning.”

“And so we wait,” Tamas said.

Vlora nodded. “We wait.” She and Olem exchanged an unreadable glance. Tamas had been too focused on walking the line between going powder blind and managing the pain of his aching body with a powder trance during the mad ride from the Deliv border to Adopest. But whatever they had seemed to have cooled. “Has any word of my presence reached the Wings infantry?”

“Abrax is keeping it to herself and just two of her brigadiers. She agrees that we need to keep it a secret for as long as possible. A couple of the officers may have recognized me, but she’s keeping a tight lid on it.”

“Good.”

“Word’s already starting to spread here,” Olem said.

“Can’t be helped. They saw us ride in.”

“I’ve sealed the camp,” Olem added. “No one in or out without orders until morning.”

“Excellent work.”

Tamas noticed that Olem was fingering the colonel lapel pins that Tamas had given to him outside Alvation. He was going to bring it up again.

“Sir,” Olem said.

Tamas snorted. “I’m not going to demote you, Olem.”

“I would prefer if you did, sir.”

“It’s not like I’ve given you your own command-at least, not beyond the Riflejacks. You’re a colonel on special assignment. It’s not unheard of.”

“But still…”

Tamas raised his hand in a gesture that he hoped would put an end to the argument, though he knew that hope was vain. Olem was utterly convinced he was not colonel material. “I like having you in a position where you can give orders,” Tamas said. “Try not to be so glum about it. I won’t give you a large command until you’re ready for it. Mark my words, you’ll be a general-a proper one-within ten years.”

Olem looked as if he were about to laugh in Tamas’s face. He seemed to quell the urge. “I won’t shave, sir. Not even to make general.”

“I like the beard,” Vlora said. “More soldiers should have them.”

“Now, don’t you start.” Tamas pointed at her. “I’ll take that shit from him because he’s my last line of defense against assassination. I won’t take it from you.”

“Fine job he did with Hilanska.”

Olem bristled at that, his back stiffening and his face going slack. Tamas glanced at Vlora. That had been coldhearted-she knew Olem had been away, following orders. And Olem took his duties very seriously. Tamas opened his mouth for a rebuke, but closed it when he saw the look on Vlora’s face. She had paled slightly and was looking at the floor. She already regretted saying it.

“Sir, is there anything else I can do?” Olem asked woodenly.

“Stay close,” Tamas said. “But, speaking of Hilanska…”

“I’ve got a whole company after him already. They’ll catch him and his cohorts and bring them back in chains.”

“You did well, Olem. And this minor thing”-he gestured to where the knife wound was hidden beneath his coat-“will heal in time.” He felt a twinge of pain when he moved, despite his powder trance.

“Yes sir.” The words were stiff.

Tamas rubbed his eyes. He usually used this time before a battle to meet with his commanding officers and plan backup strategies, but he’d already given the orders he’d needed to give, and everything was banked on the Kez answer to his fake communiqué. If it worked, they’d have an extra day in which to plan. If it didn’t, battle would commence within the hour.

He knew he should be doing something. But he just couldn’t bring himself to get moving. He tried to tell himself it was just exhaustion from the road-a few moments of quiet and he would be ready to take on the road. But he wasn’t just exhausted. His bones ached; every wound new and old hurt; and his mind longed for sleep. Age had caught up with him over these last few months.

And the fact that he couldn’t focus on the task at hand meant that he was ignoring something more important.

“Sir,” Vlora said quietly, “what of Taniel? We know where Hilanska sent his men. Perhaps…” She trailed off.

That couldn’t be more important than the task at hand. Taniel might be his son, but he was merely one man. This day determined the fate of an entire country. “I know my duties, Captain,” Tamas said.