The Autumn Republic

Vlora’s cheeks flushed, but she only lifted her chin. “I’m here to help. We’re going after those bastards.”

“I can’t give orders to a colonel,” Taniel said. “And I don’t think you should lead the expedition.” The words came out harsher than Taniel had meant, but he had wanted them to sting. It felt like years had passed, but she’d been his fiancée less than seven months ago, when he found her in the arms of another man. Ka-poel’s capture already had him on edge. He wasn’t ready to deal with Vlora.

“You’ve been promoted as well, Colonel,” she said, holding out her hand.

He took the colonel’s pin and held it up to the light. “First major, then this? I don’t deserve it.”

“The field marshal feels otherwise. And he needs to fill spots from officer casualties, so…” She trailed off. “You’re in command, Colonel.”

Taniel pinned the bars to his lapel with some reluctance.

He put Vlora out of his mind to examine the rest of the group. Gavril, the Watchmaster, which was a surprise. Taniel hadn’t seen him since he left the South Pike Mountainwatch to pursue Julene and the Kez cabal. In addition to Gavril there were three more powder mages, and a dozen more soldiers wearing the emblem of Olem’s Riflejacks. The Seventh and Ninth must have arrived not long after Taniel left, and Tamas had sent his best men.

The despair began to melt away and Taniel felt his resolve harden.

This wasn’t a hopeless cause anymore. He could-he would-get Ka-poel back.

CHAPTER 24

Tamas was livid.

He guided his horse through the Adran camp at a walk, only half listening to Olem as he gave his morning report.

Ipille had betrayed him under a white flag. There were certain rules of war that Tamas found idiotic and others he found snobbish. He would openly flout such rules if it suited him, but the white flag of parley was sacrosanct. It was how peace was made, and for Ipille to have attacked Tamas’s camp even while he sat in truce with Tamas was…

Tamas couldn’t find words to express his anger.

The remnants of the Seventh and Ninth that had survived their march through Kez had arrived just an hour after Taniel had left. Colonel-now General, as of his arrival at the camp-Arbor had double-marched the men throughout the afternoon and much of the night to arrive far ahead of schedule. Tamas had immediately taken volunteers from among his best men and powder mages and sent them after Taniel, and now the rest of his two best brigades were sleeping off their long march as he tried to decide what to do with them.

Tamas drew up on his reins. Olem had stopped talking. “Go on,” he said.

Olem immediately drew a cigarette from his pocket and clenched it with his lips. “You’re doing that thing you do, sir.” He produced a match and lit his cigarette.

“What thing?”

“Where you pretend you’re listening but you’re thinking about something else.”

“I was not.”

Olem puffed on his cigarette. “Whatever you say, sir.”

“One of these days I’m going to have you shot for that insubordinate tone, Olem.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Pit, you’re insufferable.”

“You did make me a colonel.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’ve met a lot of colonels, sir. They’re all insufferable.”

Tamas waved some cigarette smoke away from his face. “What about Arbor? He was a colonel until a few hours ago, and you always seemed to like him.”

“Have you played cards with General Arbor, sir?”

“No.”

“He’s insufferable too. Likable, but insufferable.”

“Can one be both?”

“He is.”

“Pit. I don’t have time for this. What were you telling me before?”

“A report on our powder stores, sir.”

“Do we have enough for an extended campaign against the Kez?”

“Yes. Barely. Despite the Brudanians holding Adro, we’re still getting shipments from Ricard’s businesses. Even more now that General Ket isn’t there to skim off the top.”

“Good. Then skip the report. Anything else important this morning?”

Olem addressed the stack of notes in his hand. He flipped through them, grumbling to himself. “Beon je Ipille arrived with the Seventh and Ninth. He’d like to meet with you at your convenience.”

“It can wait. If I see one of Ipille’s spawn right now, I’d probably shoot him in the heart. And I actually like Beon. Have all of my promotions gone through?”

“Most of them,” Olem said. “All senior officers will be waiting for you in your tent at eight o’clock.”

Tamas checked his pocket watch. “We’d better finish this quickly, then.”

“Of course, sir.” Olem shuffled through his papers and cleared his throat.

“What is it?” Tamas’s mind was already drifting back to Ipille. He could feel the bile in the back of his throat, and it wasn’t hard to envision putting his bayonet through Ipille’s prodigious gut.

“There’s one more thing, sir.”

“Spit it out!”

“Me, sir.”

“What in the Nine are you talking about?”

Olem put his papers away in his saddlebag. “Things are a bit confusing, sir.”

“You’re my bodyguard, aren’t you?”

“Yes sir. That’s what’s confusing.” Olem shifted in his saddle and cleared his throat.

Tamas’s patience was wearing thin. “Get to it.”