The Crimson Campaign(The Powder Mage Trilogy)(61)

"She was good," Bo said. "Real worthy of cabal membership. That's what I did to her. The other one  –  your backup  –  he wasn't that skilled. It only took a moment. And you." Bo tapped a gloved finger beneath Vetas's chin. "I don't like you. I saw that room you keep in the cellar. I've known men like that in the cabal. I was overjoyed to hear that Tamas had slaughtered them."

Bo stepped back and looked at Vetas thoughtfully. Vetas was still pinned to the wall by Bo's sorcery. Bo said, "I bet you were the type of child who tortured animals for fun. Tell me, did you ever pull the wings off of insects?"

Vetas didn't respond.

"Answer me!" Bo bellowed.

Vetas flinched. "Yes."

"That's what I thought. How does it feel?"

A single twitch of Bo's finger. That's all it took and Vetas's right arm was ripped off by invisible forces. Adamat didn't know who screamed louder: Vetas, from the pain, or Faye from the shock. Adamat clutched Faye to his chest, worried he'd fall at any moment, and his stomach felt like it might turn inside out.

Bo's finger twitched again. Vetas's other arm dropped to the ground beside him. There was a flare of fire at his shoulders.

"We'll cauterize those wounds," Bo said. "Wouldn't want you to die too quickly. That's the point among you types, isn't it? To keep them alive as long as possible?" Bo smacked Vetas once, then again. "Isn't it? Tell me! Isn't it?"

Adamat lurched forward and grabbed Bo's arm. Bo whirled on him, hands raised, fire in his eyes. Adamat did his best not to shy away. "That's enough, man! Enough!" He couldn't believe himself. Dashing forward to spare Vetas. An hour ago, Adamat was ready to do every pain in the world to Vetas. Now, he just felt ill.

Bo lowered his hands, nodding, muttering to himself. "Take them," he said, pointing to Faye and the boy. "Vetas isn't going anywhere. Get them out of here."

Adamat put an arm around Faye's waist, letting her take the weight off her ankle as he led her out of the smoldering ruin of a building.

The street was filled with people. Onlookers stood well back, a hundred paces at least, their curiosity warring with their fear of the sorcery. Immediately in front of the building, the eunuch's men had gathered with their wounded and prisoners, and some were heading inside now that the fire and smoke were gone. Adamat saw Sergeant Oldrich and Riplas, moving among them, giving orders.

Adamat gestured Riplas over. "The eunuch is dead," he said quietly.

The eunuch's second-in-command rocked back a step, eyes wide. "What? How?"

"It was Lord Vetas. He must have gotten away from Fell. Speaking of which … "

Fell emerged from the groups of onlookers. She held her arm carefully to one side, her body covered in cuts. She limped over to him.

"Vetas, he … "

"He's inside," Adamat said, choking back anger. Fell had told him she could hold Vetas. She had obviously been overpowered. Oldrich's soldiers had probably been killed as well. He didn't trust himself to say more.

When Fell returned, her cold demeanor was somewhat sobered.

"What are you going to do with him?"

"I want to know what he did with my boy …  other than that, I don't care."

Fell and Riplas seemed to size each other up for a moment. "You're the eunuch's second in command?" Fell asked.

"Yes."

"Let's talk." Fell jerked her head, and the two women moved aside for a private conference.

Adamat squeezed Faye, as if to reassure himself that she was still there. She nestled against his chest, her eyes closed, her face wet with tears.

"The children?" she asked suddenly.

"Safe," Adamat said. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."

"You came. That's all that matters."

Adamat fell to his knees beside her, pressing her hand to his lips. "I could die now. I have you back."

"Please," Faye said. "Not yet. My ankle hurts quite a lot."





CHAPTER




26




Taniel found Major Doravir in the Wine's End, an upper-class gentleman's club that had been appropriated for use by the army as an officers' mess hall. The room was lined with rich crimson damask and smelled heavily of cigar smoke. The armchairs scattered throughout the club had been upholstered with the furs of big cats from the Gurlish continent. In one corner, a sergeant was playing a grand piano. The conversation was somber and muted, though a few officers seemed to note Taniel's entrance.

Taniel paused in the doorway and adjusted the collar of his dress uniform  –  a gift from Mihali. Most of his possessions had been lost when South Pike collapsed, including his various uniforms. Somehow the fat chef had gotten Taniel's measurements and had had a new one made for him. It even had the proper silver buttons with powder kegs on them.

He examined the room slowly, hat tucked under his arm, and tried not to think about the provosts waiting outside for him. If he failed to apologize, he imagined they'd take him straight back to his quarters.

Taniel spotted Major Doravir near the bar, playing cards with an older officer of about fifty and two other majors. He took a deep breath and crossed the room, weaving his way through the chairs, giving a small nod to the few men who called out to him.

Major Doravir, her back to the wall, couldn't possibly have missed his presence, but she didn't bother to look up when Taniel stopped beside her table.
 
 

 

The older officer  –  a colonel by his uniform, though Taniel couldn't place the face  –  was speaking.

"And I said to them, it's the lack of noble blood. I understand Tamas's cull was a political thing, but there's no arguing that the lack of nobility among his officers has cheapened the whole army. By Kresimir, if he couldn't … " The old officer paused, frowning at Taniel. "Ah, Captain. Fetch me another beer. Now, where was I? If he couldn't …  get to it, Captain, I'm thirsty."

Taniel ignored the colonel. "Major Doravir," Taniel said.

Doravir glanced up from her cards. "You're being rude to Colonel Bertthur."

Bertthur? Where did he know that name from? "My apologies, Colonel"  –  Taniel didn't look at the man  –  "but I must speak with Major Doravir."

"It's ‘Colonel' now," Doravir said, touching the bars at her collar. "And whatever you have to say to me"  –  she set her cards facedown on the table and leaned back in her chair  –  "can be said in public."

Taniel swallowed a mouthful of bile. "Congratulations on your promotion, Colonel."

"I say," Bertthur stood up.

"Sit down, sir," Taniel snapped. "This has nothing to do with you. Colonel Doravir, I'd like to offer my deepest apologies for any"  –  Taniel rolled the sentence around in his head, trying not to spit it out  –  "insult I may have given you with my recent conduct."

Taniel couldn't help but notice that the murmur of conversation had completely disappeared. It felt as if a hundred sets of eyes were staring at him. They probably were.

"Colonel Bertthur is my husband," Doravir said. "Apologize to him."

Husband? The man must have been twenty years her senior.

"I did," Taniel said. "And I apologized to you. Now if you'll excuse me." Taniel turned on his heel.

He paused when Bertthur cleared his throat. "Was that Taniel? Tamas's brat?"

Keep walking, Taniel told himself.

"Two-Shot," Bertthur said. "Come back here this instant. Colonel Etan!"

Taniel froze. Etan was here?

"Colonel, isn't this the man who got you crippled?"

"He's the man who saved my life," Etan's voice returned.

"He saved my life, too!" someone shouted.

"And mine!"

"Bah. I remember you now, Two-Shot," Bertthur said. "It must have been five, six years ago. A whiny little bastard. A piss-poor soldier. You'd rather run off with that dark-haired whore of yours, neglecting your training. I never saw anything in you. Huh. Looks like she didn't either."

A whore? Vlora? He might have wanted to call her that and worse when he'd caught her with that fop at the university, but Taniel would be damned if he'd let some fool officer go on about his love life. He balled his hands into fists and slowly took a breath to calm himself. He didn't have to listen to this. He could just walk away.

"Bertthur, I think you've had enough," Etan's voice said. "Perhaps it's time to retire for the evening."

"Go to the pit, Etan," Bertthur went on. "Taniel, I can see that things haven't changed. No respect for authority. No military decorum. You've just traded one whore for another."

"Bertthur!" Etan's voice held some warning.

"But now it's a savage whore! What will he think of next? I bet your father is rolling over in his grave every time you bed that bitch."

Taniel's whole body shook. The fury threatened to overwhelm him. He forced himself to remain calm. Slowly, he turned around.

"Bertthur," Taniel said. "I don't remember a Colonel Bertthur. I remember a Captain Bertthur. An ass of a man who held his rank only because he was the bastard son of a duke. Field Marshal Tamas swore that man would never hold a higher rank as long as he was left alive."