The Autumn Republic

Adamat found Bo sitting outside the farmhouse, his back to the stone wall and the tails of his jacket in the mud. Adamat grabbed him under the elbow. “Come on.”

“Leave me be.”

“Come on,” Adamat insisted, pulling him up. He spoke in a fierce whisper to get Bo’s attention, leading him away from Hilanska’s guards. “We still have work to do.”

“Bugger it all. You heard him. Taniel’s dead.” Bo jerked away from Adamat.

“Quiet down! He may not be dead.”

Bo looked as if he’d been slapped. “What do you mean?”

Adamat felt instant guilt at giving Bo any false sense of hope. “Well, let’s at least confirm Hilanska’s story before you go into mourning. Taniel may be a Kez captive, or he may have escaped, or…” He trailed off. Bo regarded him with suspicious skepticism.

“Why the optimism?” Bo asked. “Shouldn’t you be hoping that Taniel’s dead so we can go about finding your boy? Or are you just afraid that I’ll go back on my word?”

Adamat was afraid that Bo would go back on his word. “Something is bothering me about Hilanska. The maps on his table.” Adamat pictured them in his mind, turned them around, and considered them before speaking. “The only experience I have with battle planning is from my time at the academy, but I’d bet my pension that Hilanska is planning on sandwiching Ket’s force between his own and the Kez.”

“It would be sound reasoning on his part,” Bo said.

“Not if he’s trying to reunite the brigades, as he claims.”

Bo shrugged and looked off into the distance, his face sullen.

“Bo,” Adamat said. “Bo!” He reached around and grabbed Bo by the front of his jacket, turning them face-to-face. Bo jerked his jacket out of Adamat’s hands and stepped back. Adamat followed him forward and slapped Bo across the face.

A thrill of fear went up his spine. He’d just slapped a Privileged. Holy pit. What had he done? “Pull yourself together,” he said, trying not to let his voice quake.

Bo’s mouth hung open, one Privileged glove in his hand ready to be pulled over his fingers. “I’ve killed men for less.”

“You have?”

“Well. I’ve thought about it. I’m sure other Privileged have. You have seconds to tell me why you thought that necessary.”

“Because we have a duty here. This is bigger than one man. This is the fate of our family and our friends and our country.”

“You don’t understand why I’m here, do you, Inspector?” Bo said. “I’m here because Taniel Two-shot is my only friend. He’s my only family. Privileged normally do not have the luxury of either, and I’ll be damned if you think this country means more to me than that.”

Adamat took a deep breath, relieved that Bo didn’t try to kill him then and there. He whispered, “If Hilanska butchers these proceedings, my children will wind up as slaves to the Kez. I have to try and make sure that doesn’t happen. If the best way to do that is to help you find your friend, then so be it. You need to get a hold of yourself and discreetly ask around about Taniel. I’m going to look into Hilanska.”

Bo blinked several times, taking shaky breaths, and seemed to regain some of his composure. “We’re forgetting the mercenaries.”

The turn of conversation was so quick it took Adamat a moment to catch up. Of course. The Wings of Adom, the mercenary company in the employ of Adro. They should have had several brigades on the front. Adamat pictured Hilanska’s map once more, looking for the flags: a saint’s halo with gold wings. There they were, up in the corner. “They’re camped about ten miles from here. Probably trying to keep out of this internal spat.”

“Smart of them.”

Bo flexed his jaw and stuffed his Privileged glove back into his pocket. “Start asking around. Find something out, and do it quickly. Or I’m going to go back in there and question Hilanska my way.”

“Are you all right?”

“My cheek is a little sore.”

“I meant about Taniel.”

Bo looked as if he’d swallowed something sour. “A moment of weakness, that’s all. I’ll be fine. And Adamat…?”

“Yes?”

“If you lay your hands on me again, I’ll turn you inside out.”

CHAPTER 4

Nila waited beside the carriage for Bo and Adamat to return from their meeting with General Hilanska.

Downhill from her a small stream wound its way through the camp, its banks muddied from the tramp of a thousand boots. Nila watched as a laundress filled a bucket with the dirty water and hauled it back to her fire, where the uniforms of half a dozen soldiers sat piled on her bench. The woman filled her washing pot with the water and sat back to wait for it to boil, drawing a soiled hand across her brow.

A different choice sometime in the last few months and Nila knew that might have been her. She glanced down at her hands. For years they had been cracked and worn by the soap, water, and lye she’d used to do laundry. Now they seemed remarkably smooth to the touch and, Bo told her, they would be put to better use.

A Privileged. She still couldn’t believe it, not even after seeing the fire spring from her own fingertips the first time and during all their practice since.