The Crimson Campaign (54 page)

Ka-poel shook her head.

“No? ‘No’ what? The doctor said you fought back. That you…”

Another emphatic shake of her head. She motioned with her thumb over her shoulder and then made a snatching motion. She pointed to herself.

“They caught you?”

She thought for a moment, and then made a walking motion with her fingers.

“Followed you?”

A nod.

She reached for her satchel and winced. Taniel lifted it for her. She took it from him and began to rummage around inside.

Ka-poel began to lay out dolls on the cot. They were instantly recognizable: General Hilanska, General Ket; the entire General Staff of the Adran army.

Taniel stared at the dolls. Each time he saw one, he was amazed by the detail she put into the wax, but here it was something more. He
knew
all of these people. Some of them, like Hilanska, he’d known since childhood. Bits of real hair protruded from the wax in places. A drop of blood was rubbed on one of them. It made his skin crawl.

“Why were you making dolls for them?” Taniel asked.

Ka-poel tilted her head to the side as if to tell him it was a stupid question.

“Just in case, right?”

A nod.

“And the Dredgers caught you while you were getting something of Ket’s to use in her doll?”

Another nod.

If she wasn’t already bruised, Taniel would have smacked her. What she’d done was incredibly dangerous. If people suspected the nature of her sorcery and saw her skulking about the general’s quarters, she could have been beaten
and
locked up.

“Still,” he went on, “they said that she’d told them they could have you.” The anger ebbed. Only a little, but it was enough to make his muscles relax. He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands over his face. “I should still kill her.”

Ka-poel thrust her thumb at herself.
I will.
A flat hand, as if to stop, and she mouthed the words “
If I need to.
”

“Pit, Pole, I —”

“Knock, knock!” The voice came from outside the front of the tent. “May I come in?”

Mihali. The damned chef. If it weren’t for him, none of this would have ever happened. Taniel would still be in the Adran army and Ka-poel would never have been beaten by Ket’s thugs.

“Go to – !” Taniel started, when Ka-poel lay a soft hand on his arm.

She nodded. Taniel took a deep, calming breath. It didn’t help.

“Yes,” he called.

The flap was swept back and Mihali ducked into the tent, carrying a wide platter. Steam rose from beneath the platter cover with the smell of warm bread and, what was that? Eggs.

Taniel looked away. He wouldn’t give Mihali the satisfaction of eating his food.

Mihali set the platter on Taniel’s cot and removed the lid. He leaned over it, wafting the smell of it toward him. “Warm cornmeal cake with a sweet crust drizzled in maple honey with poached eggs on the side.”

Ka-poel’s face lit up. Cornmeal cake was a Fatrastan staple, uncommon in the Nine. She snatched one up immediately, tossing it between her hands until it cooled enough to hold.

Taniel smiled, though he tried to cover it with a cough. He wasn’t about to let Mihali see him pleased.

“What do you want, Adom?”

“Oh, please,” Mihali said. “Call me Mihali. ‘Adom’ has such a high-and-mighty connotation.”

“Well” – Taniel’s mouth watered at the smell of the cornbread – ”what do you want?”

“I’ve come to apologize,” Mihali said.

Ka-poel patted the cot beside her.

“Thank you!” Mihali took a seat, and Taniel felt a stab of jealousy.

“Apologize? For telling me to make amends with Doravir and getting me kicked out of the Adran army?”

Mihali’s eyebrows rose. “Heavens, no. That needed to happen.”

“It
what
?” Taniel sputtered.

Mihali waved a hand as if it were of little consequence.

“I came to apologize because I told you that I would not help you kill Kresimir and that I did not think he needed to die.”

Taniel couldn’t help it any longer. His hand reached out, as if it had a mind of its own, and took a piece of cornbread. He bit in and was instantly glad. The cornbread was soft and moist, seemingly melting in his mouth, and the honey tasted as if it were straight from the comb.

“You changed your mind?” Taniel asked around bites.

“I wish,” Mihali said, plucking a piece of cornbread from the platter and smearing it with fruit spread, “that this could be solved amicably. Or even at all. A couple of months ago I made a deal with Kresimir that neither of us would contribute to the war directly. Since then it’s gone badly for the Adran side – as you can tell – but things are not well in the Kez camp either.” Mihali paused to lick honey and crumbs off his fingertips. “Kresimir has taken to killing his own people at an alarming rate.”

“Good,” Taniel snorted.

“No,” Mihali said. “Not good. I speak with Kresimir often. We can bridge space for that purpose, and when we do, I can see a bit into his mind. He’s going mad.” Mihali swallowed and looked down at his cornbread sadly. “Quite thoroughly mad.”

“I don’t care.”

“Taniel, how long do you think a mad god would stick to killing his own people? He might very well try to destroy the Nine. Perhaps even the whole world. I don’t think he could – not even Kresimir is that powerful – but if he tried, it would probably kill every living thing in this part of the world.”

“I already stopped him once,” Taniel said.

“Which makes you particularly suited to the task.”

“Couldn’t you stop him?”

“Sorcery is predictable in some ways,” Mihali said. “There are patterns that all Privileged use, from the lowliest sorcerer all the way up to Kresimir. I can predict those patterns and counter them. However, if Kresimir lashes out in his madness, it will be completely random. I could protect myself, but no one else.”

Taniel thought on this for a few moments. Could a god actually go mad?

“It’s from the bullet, isn’t it?”

Mihali seemed to think on this for a moment. “I have heard reports – when I lurk about the generals’ staff meetings – from their spies. There is a rumor in the Kez camp that Kresimir coughs blood into his pillow. That he wanders the halls of his compound at night and accosts his own guards, demanding to know whether they are the eye behind the flintlock.”

Taniel’s mouth went dry. The eye behind the flintlock. Who else could it possibly be but him? Kresimir was looking for him in his madness. The words felt like bile coming out, but Taniel asked, “Can he be healed? At least enough to see reason?”

“I don’t know,” Mihali said. “I broached the subject with him last night. He was furious. The explosion over in Budwiel? You must have heard it. That was him. It killed thousands of Kez camp followers.”

“No great loss.”

Mihali scowled. Taniel felt a flicker at the edge of his senses, like sorcery was being used. He suddenly wondered whether he should be this close to Mihali.

“Those people,” Mihali said, visibly restraining himself, “were not soldiers. They were laundresses and bakers and boot makers. Their lives were snuffed out in an instant because I asked Kresimir the wrong question and he grew angry.” Mihali shook his head. “I understand that killing is your profession, but every loss of life is great. Especially so many, and all on the…”

Mihali fell silent. He helped himself to another piece of cornbread and chewed thoughtfully. His eyes fell on the dolls laid out opposite him by Ka-poel, and his fingers twitched as if he were nervous.

“He’s coherent enough to create these Powder Wardens,” Taniel said.

Mihali said, “It’s the only thing that gives me hope for his recovery. He’s not all gone. I might be able to heal him. I would need to restrain Kresimir, though, and I can’t do that on my own.”

Mihali was looking at Ka-poel when he said that. Taniel didn’t like it one bit.

“How?”

“She can do it,” Mihali said, nodding at Ka-poel. “I think I mentioned that in my varied lives I have had some contact with Bone-eyes. Their magic is uniquely suited to fighting, harming, protecting, and even controlling individuals. I’ve never known one with even a fraction of Ka-poel’s power. And to think, she taught herself to do all this…” Mihali trailed off. He was breathless, his face flushed.

Controlling individuals
, Mihali had said. Did Ka-poel control Taniel? He knew that she had protected him before, and he’d seen what she could do with those dolls of hers.

“And if he’s healed?” Taniel asked. “Will he end this war? Leave Adro alone?”

“I believe so. He’s not been well.”

“You
believe
so? Or you
know
so? He made a promise to destroy Adro.”

“A promise that will not be kept. I’ll see to it.” Mihali spread his pudgy hands, looking from Ka-poel to Taniel. “Please. Help me. Help my brother.”

Ka-poel pointed to her broken arm, and then to Mihali.

Mihali’s eyebrows went up. “Of course. I’ve been remiss.” He closed his eyes, and Ka-poel suddenly gasped.

Taniel lurched forward, putting his arm behind her back so that she wouldn’t fall. “What did you do to her?”

Ka-poel shrugged Taniel away from her and undid the sling around her arm. She flexed and moved it, nodding to herself. He looked at her face. The bruises were gone.

“I can heal your wounds as well,” Mihali said.

Taniel flinched away. “I’ll keep them, thank you.” Silently, Taniel called himself a fool. Why refuse the healing powers of a god? Was he afraid of Mihali’s sorcery? Or perhaps afraid of owing someone else? Abrax and Ricard has already done Taniel favors that would require years to pay off.

Taniel touched his fingers to the tender swelling on his face from the beatings given to him by Ket’s gendarmes. “I’ll keep it as a reminder.”

“I ask,” Mihali said, standing up, “that you consider my request. In exchange, I have a gift – freely given.”

Taniel was wary of any gift given by a god. After all, nothing was free. “What?”

Mihali removed a handkerchief and a knife from his pocket. He pressed one thumb against his knife, then into the handkerchief for a moment, and then handed it to Ka-poel.

His blood. The blood of a god. Taniel felt his heart beat a little faster. What could Ka-poel do with this? Could she control Mihali? Kill him?

Ka-poel tucked the handkerchief silently into her satchel, her face unreadable.

Mihali stepped away from them both and busied himself putting the remaining cornbread and eggs on a tin plate, which he handed to Ka-poel. He lifted his empty platter and gave a bow. “Please,” he said, “consider my request – my plea – for help.” He bowed low and then left.

Taniel took a shaky breath and looked down, only just realizing that he still held the letter regarding his house arrest. He was to be escorted to Adopest early in the morning. They’d assigned him eight provosts – four from the Wings of Adom, four from the Adran army.

There would be no fighting the Kez or killing their gods for Taniel.

Ka-poel reached out and touched Taniel’s chest. She thumped him several times above the heart.

“What?”

She pointed to him and then spread her hands, questioning. Then back at him.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, girl,” he said, trying to quell his frustration.

She indicated his heart again and pointed emphatically.

“What do I want?”

A nod.

Taniel took a deep breath. “I want to kill something right now. I’m furious. I should be out there fighting. I was born to fight – born to protect Adro.”

She pointed at him again, then at the floor.
What do you want now
?

“I want to protect you.”

Ka-poel smiled then, and Taniel felt his heart jump. She leaned toward him and pressed her lips to his.

“I’m going after Kresimir’s blood,” Taniel said.

Mihali paused over an immense pot of soup, the ladle halfway to his lips.

“I see.”

“Ka-poel has agreed to subdue him, but she needs his blood. I’ll need help getting into the Kez camp.”

Mihali considered this for a few moments before taking a sip of his soup. “Mmm. That’s good. Needs a little more pepper, though.” He brought a jar of whole peppercorns from his apron and poured a measure into the palm of his hand. He ground his hands together, watching the pepper fall into the pot. He stirred the soup, then took another sip. “Perfect.”

“It can be hard to take you seriously sometimes,” Taniel said. “No. I misspoke. All of the time.”

Mihali chuckled, but Taniel hadn’t been making a joke.

“The Kez camp,” Taniel urged.

“I can conceal you so that you walk right through the Kez sentries,” Mihali said, moving to a wide iron grill in the middle of the cooking yard. He began flipping turkey legs with practiced speed.

Taniel ducked as he heard the sound of a shout behind him. A glance over his shoulder told him it wasn’t directed at him. Walking through the Adran camp was dangerous, even in civilian clothes with a tricorn hat pulled down to conceal his face. He was supposed to be under guard by the provosts right now.

“They won’t notice you here, either. Have a turkey leg.” Mihali picked up a leg with his tongs and handed it to Taniel.

“That looks hot.”

“Nonsense. A chef would never give a guest something that would burn them.”

Taniel took the turkey leg with some trepidation. The bone was only warm, despite having just come off the flames, and when he bit into it, juice ran down his unshaved chin. He didn’t speak until he was done eating. “How can you make me unseen?” Taniel asked. “Before, you had to ask Ka-poel’s permission to touch my mind.”

“I just did,” Mihali said.

Taniel froze in the midst of picking the last bits of flavor off the turkey leg. He looked around. “I don’t feel unseen.” He glanced down at the turkey bone. “Did you…”

“Yes,” Mihali said. “Doing any kind of constructive sorcery directly to the human body is one of the most difficult things a Privileged can accomplish. That’s why healers are so rare. I figured out about a thousand years ago that the easiest way to get a spell into a person was through their stomach.” Mihali picked up a turkey leg and took a bite. A sudden look of worry crossed his face. “Let’s have that be our secret, hmm?”