The Crimson Campaign

That wasn’t it, of course. There was some other reason why he was courting the Lady. Perhaps he wanted to hire the mercenaries as well, but his plans couldn’t be that simple. Nila didn’t care. She just wanted dinner to be over. It wouldn’t be, though. Not until Vetas said it was.

“You want to use her,” Nila said.

“Hmm?” Vetas lifted his wineglass to his lips.

“For whatever all this is about.” Nila gestured down the table. Aside from the place settings here at one end, the table was covered with papers — correspondence, receipts, lists; everything involved with Lord Vetas’s affairs. She’d read a few, when she’d gotten the chance. None of them seemed to mean anything.

Vetas smiled at Jakob. “The Lady Winceslav is an eligible widow and a very intelligent woman. She’d make a wonderful wife.”

“A wife?” The word came out in a burst of laughter. Nila covered her mouth, petrified at the outburst.

“Yes,” Vetas said, as if he’d not heard the disbelief in her voice. “A wife.” He leaned toward Jakob. “You understand that every lord needs a good wife, and it’s important to marry someone with connections.”

“Yes, Uncle Vetas.”

“Good child.”

“Uncle Vetas, I thought that the nobility of Adro no longer existed.”

Vetas gave the boy a nod. “The nobility of Adro is in hiding, my boy. Remember, you’re heir to the crown. Someday the nobility will return, and when it does, you will be at their head.”

Nila ceased moving the fork around her plate. This was the first she’d heard Vetas say anything about the nobility. She’d always assumed that Jakob, in his capacity as next in line for the crown, fit into Vetas’s plans somehow, but he’d never spoken of it.

She waited for Vetas to go on. Instead, Vetas took a sip of his wine.

Faye was still staring at the empty place setting across from her. She’d begun to rock back and forth slightly, her mouth hanging open, her forehead wrinkled.

“You’re just using everyone,” Nila said. “Me. Jakob. Lady Winceslav.” What is your plan? Nila wanted to shout. Why are you in Adopest?

Vetas looked slightly surprised. “Of course I am. That’s what nobles do. But,” he said, reaching over and patting Jakob affectionately on one hand, “it’s all for your protection. The duty of the nobility is to protect the people, no matter what kind of distasteful things they have to do.”

Nila slammed her hand down on the table, making Jakob jump. “Don’t!” she said. She gripped the lip of the table to keep herself from shaking.

“Don’t what?” Vetas asked innocently.

“Nila,” Jakob said, “why are you shouting at Uncle Vetas?”

Vetas gave Nila that tight smile again.

She would have snatched up her knife and leapt at Vetas then and there if Faye hadn’t spoken.

“Where is my son?”

Vetas’s fingers drummed once on the table. His attention shifted from Nila to Faye. “Nila,” he said without looking at her, “I think that you should take Jakob to his room, now.”

“Isn’t there dessert, Uncle Vetas?” Jakob asked.

“Of course, my child. I’ll have some brought up to you. Run along.”

Nila still wanted to grab that knife and leap at him. She waited, contemplating, wondering if she could move fast enough. “Jakob,” she said, getting up from her chair and holding out her hand. “Come along.”

She took Jakob upstairs and put him in his room, helping him get out a number of toys before going into her own room and rushing out into the hallway, stepping carefully to avoid the creakiest boards, until she reached the servants’ stairs that descended into the kitchens. She descended halfway down the stairs and pressed her ear to the wall.

“… was burned down,” Vetas was saying calmly, his voice muddled through the plaster. “There were eleven graves. Seems the fire took them all in their beds. The townspeople claimed there was nothing but bone and ash left.”

A loud sob startled Nila. It was followed by the low sound of crying. Faye.

Vetas went on as if he hadn’t noticed Faye’s reaction. “I won’t have time to go up and investigate it myself, but it seems as if your children are all dead.”

“Where is my son?” Faye demanded. The crying dried up, followed by a few sniffs.

“I’ve also received reliable word that your husband has been imprisoned by Tamas. It seems that he confessed to being blackmailed, and the field marshal plans on having him executed for treason.” Vetas’s voice droned on, as if he were talking about the weather. “My contacts within Sablethorn are few enough, but I should have better information within a week or so.”

“Where” — the table rattled as if someone had pounded it with a fist — “is my son?”

Vetas said, “With your husband arrested, you and your son are of no use to me anymore. I’ll keep you around for another couple of weeks, but I’ve sold your son to the Kez. He’ll be smuggled — ”

There was a sudden scream and then a crash. The walls rattled once, and then there was silence. Nila held her breath. Had Faye attacked Vetas? Had she succeeded?