The soldier with a ponytail staggered and fell out of line, hitting the ground hard. Two of his companions stopped to help him.
"Head up the line," Tamas said. "Call for rest. The men need a sit-down."
Only too grateful to get away, Olem spurred his mount on, calling out, "Field Marshal orders the column to halt! Fall out!"
Tamas could hear the order repeated farther up the column. Slowly, the line of soldiers came to a stop. Some men went looking for the closest stream, some men relieved themselves in the woods, and others slumped to the ground where they were, too exhausted to move.
Tamas opened his canteen and drained the last few drops. The water was hot and tasted of the metal. "Soldier," Tamas said, pointing to a man who looked the least worse for the wear. "Find me some clean, cold water and fill this, then tell your sergeant you're off latrine duty tonight."
The soldier took the canteen. "Aye, sir."
Tamas climbed down from his charger and hung the reins from a tree limb. He paced the width of the road, trying to work some feeling back into his legs after riding half the day. He stopped once and looked south. No sign of the Kez. The woods were too thick. According to the latest reports, the head of the Kez column was ten miles back. They had dragoons ranging in the area in between, trying to catch Adran stragglers and harass the end of the Adran column, but what mattered to Tamas was where the bulk of the cavalry were.
He was going to need that heavy lead.
"Sir."
Tamas turned to find Vlora standing next to his charger. Her uniform was dirty, jacket loosened at the neck, her black hair tied back behind her head. He had the brief image of her naked beneath the waterfall, leaning in to kiss Olem. He willed the image away, trying not to let his embarrassment show on his face.
"Captain."
"How is the leg, sir?"
Tamas flexed the muscles in his leg, felt them twinge. Riding hadn't helped it loosen at all, but the pain wasn't too bad. "It's fine, thank you. Any luck hunting?"
"The deer are keeping well away from the column. If we range more than a mile or two from the road, we won't be able to carry our prey back. A few squirrels and rabbits. Enough to keep the powder mages fed."
At least his mages were keeping up their strength. He felt his stomach twist at the mention of rabbit.
"If we camped for more than one night, or even slowed down a bit, we might be able to bag some deer."
"Sorry, Captain. I can't allow that. We have to reach the Fingers well ahead of the Kez."
"The scouts say we'll be there in two days, sir."
"That's right," Tamas said. "Once we cross the first river, we'll burn the bridge and take it easy for a couple of days. Rest and restock."
"I certainly hope so, sir. The men are looking poor."
Tamas turned his attention to the soldier who had fainted. He was sitting up now, drinking out of a canteen, talking to one of his fellows. Tamas clasped his hands behind his back and faced Vlora.
"Captain, you and I both know that what happened the other day was completely out of order."
Vlora didn't even blink. "You mean, when you watched me bathe?"
Tamas could have slapped her for that. Damned girl. She knew what he wanted to say, and she wasn't going to make it easy.
"You and Olem … "
"Sir, I don't think that's any of your business. With all due respect."
"I am your commanding officer -"
"Yes, sir. And you've always made it very clear that what two soldiers want to do in their spare time is up to them, as long as it doesn't break convention between the ranks."
"This is different." This was different, Tamas told himself. "I won't have one of my Marked gallivanting around with my bodyguard, do you understand? I won't have my bodyguard going around with … with … "
"A whore?"
She had spoken quietly, but Tamas felt the breath taken from him.
"That's what you want to say, isn't it, sir? You want to call me a whore for what I did to Taniel? A slut? I can hear the words on the tip of your tongue, even if you don't speak them."
"Watch your tone, soldier," Tamas warned.
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Permission denied."
Vlora ignored him. "You don't think I know what I did to Taniel? You don't think it kills me inside knowing that I threw away everything we had for a few months of passion with some idiot?"
"Permission denied, Captain."
"You don't hear the men talk." Vlora's voice rose. "You don't hear what everyone says about me behind my back – even to my face. You don't see the sneers. ‘Vlora, she'll spread her legs for anyone now.' You don't hear them whisper that outside your tent at night, placing bets on who can be the first to get me on my back."
"Permission denied!" Tamas stepped forward. Any other soldier would have shrunk beneath the red fury in Tamas's eyes, but Vlora refused to back down.
"I spent eighteen months alone while Taniel was in Fatrasta because you sent him there. Taniel, the war hero. People talked about how every woman in Fatrasta was ready to throw themselves on him. And then to hear he had a little savage girl, following him everywhere. What was I supposed to think of that? No man would look twice at me at the university. They knew who I was. They were too afraid of Taniel to say any nice thing to me."
Vlora spat the words in Tamas's face, her voice dripping with bitterness, her whole body trembling with rage. "Then a man appears who doesn't care whose fiancée I am. He charms me, loves me, and assures me there's not another in the world that can make him so happy. I trusted him." Vlora's face twisted in disgust. "Then I find out he was bedding me just to make you look bad."
The pain in Vlora's eyes and the malice in her voice was more than Tamas could bear. Once, he had been her father, her friend, her mentor. But now he had become nothing more to her than an object of hatred, an enemy to despise.
"Get out of my sight, Captain. If we weren't at war, I'd have you court-martialed."
Vlora leaned forward, closer than anyone who didn't know Tamas as well as she did would have dared. Close enough to embrace him. Close enough to stick a knife in his ribs if she wanted. "Kill me yourself, if you want it done so badly," she said. "Don't hand the job over to lesser men."
She whirled on her heel and strode down the column. Soldiers stared openmouthed at her as she went past, then turned to look toward Tamas, waiting for his wrath to follow like thunder after lightning.
Tamas watched Vlora almost disappear around a bend in the road. She made an abrupt stop as Olem rode into view. The bodyguard leaned over his horse, said something to her. She put her hand on his thigh. He pushed it away gently and gave a meaningful glance at Tamas.
Vlora grabbed Olem by the belt and pulled him off his horse, pushing him into the woods off the trail. Tamas swore under his breath and took two steps down the column.
Someone cleared their throat. Tamas looked around.
It was the soldier he'd sent for water. "Your canteen, sir."
Tamas snatched the canteen. When he looked again, Olem and Vlora were gone.
He took several deep breaths and went back to his horse.
"Sir, you mind if I ask how long until we march again?" the soldier asked.
Tamas took a long draw of water. It was so frigid it seemed to burn his throat going down. It made his teeth hurt.
"Thirty minutes, damn it. Get some rest."
Adamat rapped on the door of the foreman's office in the textile mill. Below him, dozens of steam-powered looms thundered at full tilt throughout the day, creating a racket that drowned out all but the loudest shouts. Hundreds of workers tended the millworks, moving about the floor like so many insects.
Adamat let himself into the foreman's office. Inside, the sound was greatly reduced.
"Margy," he called.
The woman emerged from the back of the room and smiled when she saw Adamat. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
She stepped back from him in shock. "What in all the Nine have you done to yourself?"
"Fell down the stairs," Adamat said. His voice whined nasally, and his face still hurt as if the broken nose had happened only an hour ago.
Margy harrumphed. "Looks more like you got it punched in," she said. "I alway told you putting your nose in other people's business was going to get it broken."
Adamat threw his hands up in mock surrender. "I've only got a moment, Margy. I just dropped by to see if you had a lead on that rug."
"Fine, fine." Margy moved over to the desk beside her microscope and began leafing through papers. "I sent Faye a letter last week," she said.
"I'll ask if she got it." Adamat leaned against the doorpost and closed his eyes. His face hurt. His back hurt. His hands and his head hurt. Everything hurt, and he wasn't getting enough sleep. He couldn't recall the last time he'd eaten more than toast and tea. He opened his eyes again when Margy pushed a piece of paper into his hand.
"That's the buyer," she said. "I couldn't get a name, just the address from a check receipt."
"Thanks, Margy."
"Tell Faye to come visit soon, will you?"
"Of course."
Adamat left the textile mill and didn't look at the paper until he was outside. With no name, it would be more work for him to find out the owner of the address, and knowing the Proprietor, Adamat would have to go through several layers of fake names and addresses before he found the Proprietor's identity.