The Crimson Campaign (73 page)
“Sorry? What for? You saved a Deliv city, Tamas. I am greatly in your debt.”
“The gunpowder?”
“You and your powder mages stopped it before too much damage could be dealt. There were casualties, of course, but the city remains and with it a debt of gratitude.”
“I see” – Tamas glanced over his shoulder at the baggage train – ”that you’ve supplied us for our journey. For that,
I
am grateful.”
There was a twinkle in Sulem’s eye, and for the first time since the carriage, a smile crept onto the old king’s face. “Supplies and more,” he said.
“More?”
“Field Marshal,” Sulem said, “this is the vanguard. We’re coming over the mountains with fifty thousand men. There would be more if I hadn’t sent the better part of my army down the Great Northern Road into Kez. You have my soldiers at your service, and I intend to see you through this war. The kind of treachery plotted by Nikslaus and Ipille does not befit a brother king.” Sulem’s smile disappeared, his voice gaining a dangerous edge. “You may have sent Manhouch to the guillotine, and I do not approve, but Ipille made an attack upon my people.”
Fifty thousand Deliv troops!
That
, Tamas knew, could send the Kez reeling. Tamas felt his heart soar. This would turn the tide of the war. Adro had more than just a chance now, they had an ally.
For the first time in weeks his step was light. He neared the Alvation Mountainwatch feeling as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
There was a clamor on the walls of the Mountainwatch fortress, and a horseman suddenly burst through the gate at a reckless speed. The messenger saw Tamas and sawed at the reins, bringing his mount to a stop in a spray of gravel. The man leapt from horseback.
“Sir,” he said. His cheeks were red, frost-burned from navigating the cold heights at great speeds, and his hand trembled as he saluted.
“Breathe, soldier,” Tamas said.
“Sir,” the messenger gasped, “we have word from one of our posts on the eastern side of the mountains. Adopest, sir. It’s burning.”
Privileged Borbador stood on the front step of a medium-sized house in the Adran suburbs and wondered when the last time was that he’d asked someone for help. It wasn’t something most Privileged were accustomed to doing. They either did everything themselves or they gave orders.
An explosion rocked the evening air, causing Bo to flinch. Another church. Those Brudanian bastards had been demolishing religious buildings all over the city. They’d dragged priests out into the street and beat them to death in public, and the Adran people had just stood by and watched it all happen. They were too shell-shocked by the war, too relieved that the Brudanians hadn’t sacked the city, to do anything to stop it.
Some had even joined in.
Bo didn’t like the Kresim Church very much, but he hated the idea of standing by and watching while a foreign army destroyed the cultural icons of the city. He’d been in the crowd, watching while they tore down the Kresim Cathedral. He’d listened to Claremonte’s speech and seen the Trading Company army come onshore, unopposed by people who should have been defending their city.
It made Bo nervous for the Trading Company Privileged to be in the city. He’d spent every day since their arrival going to great lengths to avoid them. At best, they’d try to press him into service, thinking he had no allegiances left to Adro. At worse, they’d see him as a loose end and do their best to kill him.
Bo might have thrown his all at them the day they arrived, sinking several of the ships – maybe even killing Claremonte – before being put down by the Brudanian Privileged. But he was finished with other people’s crusades. He had his own problems to worry about now.
A friend and brother to save.
The sound of children’s laughter reached him from inside the house. It almost made him pause. Almost.
Bo rapped on the door. The laughter stopped.
“Stay here, children,” a nervous voice commanded. Floorboards creaked as someone came down the front hall of the house. Bo’s third eye told him it was the very Knacked he was coming to see. He could sense someone peering through the eyehole at him, and then a deadbolt was turned. The door opened a crack.
“Privileged Borbador,” Adamat said.
Bo bowed his head. “Inspector Adamat.”
Adamat’s eyes searched the street, slightly wild, as if looking for a trap. “To what do I owe the pleasure? I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“I brought gifts,” Bo said, indicating the paper-wrapped packages beneath his arms. “May I come in?”
Adamat scanned the street once more. Conflict raged across his face. He was a nervous man these days, it seemed. Bo could relate.
And nobody wanted to invite a Privileged into their home.
“Love,” a woman’s voice came, “who is it?”
“Privileged Borbador.”
The door opened the rest of the way and Bo saw Faye standing in the hallway. She looked somewhat better than that day in Vetas’s manor. She’d gotten some sleep, and though Bo guessed from the red in the corner of her eyes that she’d been crying recently, she hid it well.
“Privileged,” Faye said, “please come in.”
Bo brought his bundle of packages inside with him and deposited them in the living room. “Call me Bo,” he said. “I brought gifts for your family.”
“You shouldn’t have,” Faye said, giving him a gracious smile.
Adamat looked less pleased with the idea. There was a wariness in his eyes. He didn’t trust Bo.
Bo couldn’t exactly blame him for that.
“Did you feel it?” Bo asked.
Adamat seemed taken aback. “Feel what?”
“It would have been an unexplained shock,” Bo said. “Like being alone in a room and a cold glass of water thrown in your face.”
Adamat slowly shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Strange, Bo thought, that Knacked couldn’t sense it when a god died. Mihali – Adom reborn – had been murdered six days ago. It wasn’t the same as when Taniel had shot Kresimir in the eye, though. This had felt more… permanent.
“Nothing,” Bo said. “No need to worry yourselves over it.”
“We were just having dinner,” Faye said, giving her husband a warning look. “Would you join us?”
“Thank you, but no. I was hoping to talk to your husband alone.”
Adamat cleared his throat. “Faye can hear anything I would,” he said.
Bo could tell at a glance that Faye wasn’t going to leave the room. So much for divide and conquer. He wondered if he should have brought Nila and Jakob inside with him. Bo had asked them to wait in the carriage, but now he thought their presence might have helped put Adamat at ease.
He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do with that girl. She was a Privileged, it seemed. A Privileged who didn’t need gloves. Bo didn’t think that she understood the gravity of what she really was. No Privileged in all the Nine could touch the Else without gloves. Not even the Predeii.
Only the so-called gods could do that.
“I need your help,” Bo said.
“I’m not for hire,” Adamat said, glancing at his wife. “My family has gone through greater trials the last few months than any family ought. I will not leave them for anything.”
Faye narrowed her eyes at Bo, her gracious welcome suddenly gone. To Bo it felt as if the warmth had been sucked out of the room.
“Two things,” Bo said, holding up his hands. He’d left his gloves off for this. The last thing he needed was for Adamat to think he was trying to threaten him. “First, I need you, Faye, to watch over Jakob Eldaminse for a time.”
“The boy’s alive?” Faye asked.
“Second,” Bo added, “I need Adamat to help me rescue my best friend – my only friend. I have evidence that condemns General Ket and her sister of selling army property for their own profit. I need you, Sergeant Oldrich, and Oldrich’s men to come with me to arrest General Ket and get Taniel Two-Shot released.”
This whole thing made Bo nervous. He’d not heard a word from the front since finding out that Taniel was being court-martialed. Taniel could be in prison, he could have been hanged. Bo cursed himself for not acting fast enough on this, but he’d had to find evidence before he could do anything about it. He should have left for the front as soon as he’d found evidence of Ket’s involvement a week ago, but he’d had to gather more evidence than just one dead noble’s records.
“Arresting a member of the General Staff during wartime?” Adamat scoffed. “That’s suicide. No. I won’t do it. As I said, I have a family to care for and protect. I am not for hire.”
“Please,” Faye said, her jaw stiff, “we’d like to get back to dinner with our children now.”
Bo ignored them. He hated himself, sometimes, for the things he had to do. For the killing, the lying and stealing. For having to manipulate people. “In exchange for your help, Adamat, I will give you one favor from myself.”
“What could I possibly…”
“One favor!” Bo said, holding up a finger. “Anything you want from the last living member of the Adran royal cabal.”
Faye frowned. Bo could see her mind working behind her eyes.
“No,” Adamat said. “I don’t think —”
“Love,” Faye said, tugging on Adamat’s arm.
Bo took a deep breath. “One favor,” he said again. “Anything you want. Even if it means I have to slaughter my way through Kez to find your missing son.”
There would be protestations. Arguments. They would try several more excuses, but Bo could see in their eyes that he had them.
Thanks to my fantastic agent, Caitlin Blasdell, for her editorial advice and her willingness to talk it out when I was having problems with the book – and of course for selling the book in the first place. To my editor, Devi Pillai, who had the patience and faith to let me work through the book at my own pace and kept pushing out the deadline so I could be truly happy with the final product.
My wife, Michele, was great during the whole process. She is always my first brainstormer and editor, and nothing gets to either Caitlin or Devi without Michele’s grudging approval.
Thanks to my parents, who have always been incredibly supportive of my writing and were no exception during the writing of this book. My dad was the first “fan” to give his stamp of approval on this book, reading most of the final draft in a single afternoon.
Thanks to Isaac Stewart, who did the maps and interior art for
Promise of Blood
. He not only did a fantastic job on yet another map for
The Crimson Campaign
but updated the old ones to better fit the narrative.
Thanks to all the awesome folks at Orbit for their support with Book One and Book Two: Susan Barnes, Lauren Panepinto, Alex Lencicki, Laura Fitzgerald, Ellen Wright, and everyone else. These books wouldn’t be the success they are without all their editing, artistic, and marketing wizardry.
Thanks to Ethan Kinney, who forced me to think about things from a different perspective due to all his damn questions about the powder mage universe.
Of course, thanks to all of my friends and family who supported me along the way, especially Sunny Morton for listening to me chatter about the process and gave great advice to a newly published author.
