The Autumn Republic

Tamas leaned back. Every vein in his head seemed to throb, and the pain from the wound at his side had surfaced through his powder trance. There was so much that needed to be done. Could he allow himself any rest? He looked cautiously at Vlora and Olem out of the corner of his eye. Olem’s brow was furrowed as Vlora regarded the whole affair with a look of bemusement. Tamas wondered if she knew that Olem had courted the girl just a few months ago. But then, the two of them were over, weren’t they?

“So she’s with you?” he asked Adamat.

“No sir,” Adamat said, coughing into one hand.

Tamas raised his eyebrows at the laundress. “Well?”

“I’m Privileged Borbador’s apprentice, sir,” Nila said with another curtsy.

“You’re a Privileged?” Olem asked.

“Yes. Field Marshal, if I may ask? Where is Borbador?”

“Ah,” Tamas said. He forced himself to get to his feet. “That’s another important matter. Adamat, I understand you were witness to Privileged Borbador ridding himself of his gaes-the one that compelled him to kill me.”

“That is true. I saw him remove the gem with my own eyes.”

Tamas felt the relief of another small weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Good. Thank you, Inspector. Olem, would you show Nila to her master and release Bo from our custody? They are allowed to leave, but I would be grateful if Borbador would come and see me before he does.”

Olem escorted Nila out of the tent, and at a nod from Tamas, Adamat followed them out. Tamas found a seat once again and lowered himself into it with a sigh.

“Sir,” Vlora said, “you should get some rest.”

Tamas leaned back, pressing one palm to the wound at his side, and closed his eyes. “We have work to do.”

“You’ve earned the rest, sir. If you don’t mind me saying so.”

“Not quite yet.”

“What do you intend to do?”

Tamas opened one eye. Vlora was lacing up her boots. “I’m going to drive the Kez from my country once and for all. I’m going to break their army and then I’m going to break their king. And then we’ll see about this army that holds Adopest.”

CHAPTER 19

Nila and Olem wound their way through the camp with silence between them, Olem greeting men as he walked, saluting officers, and nodding to infantrymen. Nila was still fuzzy-headed, the smell of an officer’s breakfast-ham and eggs, if she wasn’t mistaken-made her stomach growl. She had not slept well in two days, her dreams haunted by the screams of the dying, the report of artillery fire, and the smell of burned flesh.

“You understand that it’s vital the men think that Tamas was here for the entire battle,” Olem said, his voice low.

These were the first words he’d spoken to her since they left the tent. She felt her emotional defenses pull tight, and quickly said, “Of course. I won’t say a word.” What were they talking about again? Oh yes, Tamas’s absence. What did it matter if Tamas had been gone for the battle, if they had won? The mercenary brigadier seemed angry enough about it.

“Thank you.” Olem stopped them near the edge of the camp, out of earshot of the closest sentries, and looked off into the predawn darkness. “They should be here anytime now.”

“Who?”

“Our expedition. We took two hundred men with us to find the field marshal’s son. We found him, Privileged Borbador, and over a hundred prisoners. Once we had secured the prisoners and made sure Taniel was safe, I and the field marshal rode ahead to sneak into the camp to make it look like we’ve been here the whole time. The rest will be along shortly.”

“Won’t word get out? If two people know a secret, everyone else does too.” Nila remembered a time at the Eldaminse house when one of the maids had been caught sleeping with the head butler-caught by the butler’s wife. They’d tried to avoid a scandal by keeping it quiet, but the maid gossiped and the butler was dismissed.

Olem removed a rolling paper from his jacket and began to roll a cigarette. “Of course. Rumors will spread. But as you said, we won the battle and it doesn’t really matter now. As long as the Wings don’t decide to make an issue of it, it’ll stay nothing more than rumor.”

He finished rolling his cigarette and held it out to her.

“No thank you.”

He nodded and lit it with a match, smoking silently. Nila examined the side of his face and wondered what he had gone through during the last several months. She had thought him dead when she heard about the field marshal being caught behind enemy lines. But here he was, and didn’t seem much the worse for the wear-a new scar above one eye, his beard longer.

It was strange to think he had courted her. Had things gone differently, they might have become lovers.

She clung to that bit of nostalgia to silence the voices in the back of her head-the voices of all those men she’d murdered in a wave of fire.

“You’ve certainly come a long way in life in the last few months,” Olem said suddenly.

Nila ducked her head. “And you. I heard someone call you a colonel. Congratulations.”

“That’s temporary,” Olem said.

“Oh? They can do temporary promotions?”