The Crimson Campaign

The union undersecretary was a handsome woman. Far too severe for Taniel. With her hair back and thin face she reminded him of a governess he’d once had. He watched her for several moments through half-closed eyes, wondering what she was thinking. She didn’t seem to notice that Taniel was awake. She was staring across the room. Taniel shifted in his hammock to see what Fell was looking at.

Ka-poel. Of course. She sat next to the stairs, forming a wax figurine with her fingers. Her satchel sat on her lap. She glanced up at the undersecretary every so often. She was making a doll. Of Fell.

Taniel wondered if the undersecretary seemed enough of a threat to her to warrant a doll, or if she had just started making one for every person they met. She was going to run out of room in her satchel if the latter proved to be the case.

The last four days were a blur. Taniel reached into his memory, but the only thing he found was mala smoke and the ceiling of Kin’s mala den. Before that…

Ricard Tumblar wanted Taniel to run for the First Ministry with him.

That meant politics.

Taniel hated politics. He had witnessed firsthand the power grabs of the mercantile elite in Fatrasta as their war for independence marched toward success; the backstabbing, the conniving. Ricard claimed that none of that was to happen. Ricard claimed that these would be elections, open and fair to the public; that the government would be chosen by the people.

Ricard, like most politicians, couldn’t be trusted.

But that didn’t seem enough for a four-day mala binge. Why would Taniel come back to this hole and -

Oh yes. Ricard had mentioned something about informing Field Marshal Tamas that Taniel was awake and doing well. Ricard, no matter what Taniel had said, did not seem to understand that Tamas would demand Taniel’s immediate presence on the front lines.

That was a good thing, Taniel tried to tell himself. He was useful. He could get back there and help defend his country.

By killing. The one thing Taniel seemed to be any good at. Pit, he’d even killed a god. Not that anyone believed it.

He shifted in his hammock, reaching for his mala pipe and the enormous ball of the sticky substance Kin had left him.

The mala was gone.

“Awake?” Fell said, her attention leaving Ka-poel.

Taniel pushed himself up. He checked his coat pocket — he still had a coat, that was good — then his trousers and the lip of the hammock.

“What are you looking for?” Fell asked. By her expression, she knew exactly what Taniel was looking for.

“Where’s my mala?”

“From what Kin said, you smoked it all. You ran out sometime last night.” Fell tossed something into her mouth and crunched. “Cashews?” she asked, holding out a paper bag made from an old newspaper toward Taniel.

Taniel shook his head. He checked the mala pipe. Nothing left. Then the floor. “That thieving Gurlish must have taken the rest of the ball. I got enough to last me weeks.”

“I know the rate you were smoking that stuff,” Fell said. “I don’t think Kin gypped you. He knows where the money came from.”

Taniel frowned. Where had the money come from? He looked up at Fell. Ah, that’s right. Ricard.

“You know,” Fell said, “Ricard’s mala den has much better quality mala. The mats are silk, and the entertainment is better than Kin’s daughter.”

Taniel felt his stomach lurch. He fell back into his hammock. Kin’s daughter. Taniel didn’t remember anything. “Did I…?”

Fell shrugged and looked to Ka-poel. Ka-poel gave a slight shake of her head.

Taniel let out a small sigh. The last thing he needed to do right now was bed a Gurlish mala-den owner’s daughter.

“What do you want?” he asked Fell.

Fell tapped her pipe out on her shoe and put it in her pocket, then tossed more cashews into her mouth. “We got word from your father today.”

Taniel sat up straight. “And?”

“A few things of note to report. The Kez were preparing to attack the next day. That would be three days ago. He was planning on leading a counteroffensive with his best men.”

“How many Kez soldiers?”

“Rumors say a million. Tamas didn’t say.”

His best soldiers meant the Seventh and Ninth brigades. And rumors of a million? That was twice the size of the army at the Battle of Shouldercrown. Even if it were exaggerated ten times, Tamas was still leading ten thousand men against a hundred thousand. Bloody brash fool.

It somehow made it worse that Tamas would probably win.

“Oh,” Fell added, as if as an afterthought. “He asked after you.”

Taniel sniffed. “‘Where’s my damned useless son? I need him on the line.’ Something like that?”

“He asked if you’d made any recovery and if the doctors thought his presence would help in any way.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” Taniel said. “Tamas wouldn’t leave a battlefield for anyone.” Not even me. Especially not me.

“He’s been very worried. We sent word that you seemed better, but who knows if it reached him before the battle.” Fell reached into her paper bag for another cashew, a small smile on her lips.

“But you didn’t tell him I’m awake?”