They exchanged information about the landscape in northern Kez and the position of the infantry brigades under Beon's brother. The Kez returned to their camp, noses raised, proud even in defeat.
"My father hates you," Beon said as they walked back to the Adran camp. "There isn't a chance in the pit he'd trade my life for those of your army. Especially after my failure here."
"I know." Tamas stopped and turned to Beon. "You will be accorded every respect due to a prisoner of your status. I expect your word of honor that you will not attempt to escape my camp and that you will not attempt to transfer information about the disposition of my army to your own. In exchange, you will be given a tent, full freedom of the camp, and the choice of any two menservants from your own army."
"I give my word of honor," Beon said.
"Very good."
Beon was escorted to the stockade to select his menservants, leaving Tamas alone with Gavril.
"You really trust him?" Gavril asked.
"Yes."
"Then why are you keeping him here?"
Tamas removed his hat and gingerly touched at the fresh stitches on his scalp. It would be months before the hair grew back properly to conceal the wound. In the meantime, he would look like some half-mad fool.
"He's the only one of Ipille's sons worth anything as a human being. I intend to return to Adro and throw back Ipille's army. According to them" – he jerked his head in the direction of the retreating Kez officers – "Ipille is personally in Adro. If I can manage to kill him and his two oldest sons, Beon will be king of Kez and he might actually listen to reason and help me end this war."
"Ah." Gavril scratched at his beard. "What else did you find out about Adro?"
"Last the Kez cavalry heard, Ipille had burned Budwiel and was slowly but steadily advancing up Surkov's Alley. Hilanska and the rest of the generals are holding fast with the help of the Wings of Adom. Supposedly, Kresimir himself is there, but he's not using his powers to aid the Kez army."
"I thought Kresimir was dead."
"That's not what the Kez think. After South Pike collapsed, Privileged Borbador told me that you can't kill a god."
"If he's alive," Gavril reasoned, "he probably wants whoever shot him in the face."
"I know," Tamas said. "We march tomorrow afternoon. I need to get back to Adro and put myself between the Kez army and my son. If Kresimir is alive, I'll make him wish he had been destroyed at South Pike."
Adamat stopped with his hand on the door to a decommissioned grain mill in the factory district of Adopest. He looked over his shoulder and tried to tell himself he was no longer at risk of being followed. Lord Vetas was captured, his men taken or scattered, Adamat's family now safe. He was being paranoid, he reasoned, and pushed the door in.
Or was he? He made his way past a secretary's desk, long empty and half-rotted, and past the millworkers' bunk rooms, which smelled like an animal had made a nest in them and then died.
Adamat had successfully blackmailed the Proprietor. Lord Vetas's master, Lord Claremonte, might have other spies in the city. And there was still the Kez army pushing its way north through Surkov's Alley.
Would Adamat and his family ever really be safe again?
He went through another door that led to the mill's main workroom. The room was several hundred feet long with over a dozen millstones placed at intervals along one wall. Most of them were either broken or missing completely, the machinery left to rot when the mill was abandoned. The sound of the river, over which this portion of the mill was suspended, filled the room.
Bo sat with his chair tilted back on two legs, leaning against the wall next to the door. Beside him, Fell held a pipe between her lips and stared at something in the distance. Her shirtsleeves were rolled up, and there were flecks of blood on her arms.
"You missed the morning's festivities," Bo said to Adamat.
"You call torturing a man ‘festivities'?" Adamat asked.
"I'm not a good person," Bo said.
Adamat cast a glance over Bo's clothes. "You've blood on your shoes."
Bo swore, then licked his thumb and ran it over the top of one of his shoes.
"How is your wife?" Fell asked, taking the pipe from her mouth.
Adamat hesitated. "She has … had a rough time of things." That was as much of an understatement as Adamat had ever made. Faye had been beaten and abused. She'd cried for two days straight and wouldn't allow any of the children out of her sight for more than a few minutes. She grew from melancholy to cheerful and back again in seconds, but Adamat wouldn't expect anything different from someone who'd been through what she had. "She's strong," Adamat said. "She'll be fine."
Bo let his chair thump down onto four legs and stood up, stretching. "I'm happy to hear that."
Strangely enough, Bo sounded sincere. Privilegeds weren't known for their empathy.
"Hit me," Bo said to Fell.
A smile flickered across Fell's face. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a cashew, then tossed it in the air. Bo caught it in his mouth.
"I need to get back to Ricard," Fell said, gathering her bag of cashews and a leather satchel at her feet.
"Go on," Bo said. "We'll take it from here. It was good working with you this morning."
Adamat held up a hand. "A question."
"Yes?" Fell asked.
"Did either of you see a young woman or a boy after we vacated Vetas's manor?"
"The girl in the red dress?" Fell asked.
The one she'd let escape, along with Vetas, very nearly getting Faye killed? "Yes. Her."
Fell shook her head.
Bo hesitated a moment. "Maybe … no. No, I don't think I saw them."
"Pity," Adamat said. "Faye asked me to look for her. She was another prisoner of Vetas, and the boy may be a royal heir."
"I'll put my ear to the ground," Fell said. She gave them each a nod, her glance lingering on Bo, and then made her exit.
"How was the ‘work' this morning?" Adamat asked after Fell had left.
"She's very good at putting a man to the question," Bo said, either missing or ignoring the innuendo in Adamat's tone. He cracked his knuckles and headed down the long line of millstones. "Not as good as I am, but then, I am a cabal Privileged." Bo glanced over his shoulder as if to be sure Fell was gone, then said, "Don't trust that woman."
"I wasn't planning on it."
"Good. She's loyal to Ricard and to her precious Academy. Nothing else. And I'm not even sure if she's more loyal to Ricard than she is to the Academy."
"I imagine she'd say the same thing to me about you," Adamat said.
"Oh," Bo said, "I don't think you should trust me, either. But you only have to deal with me for another couple of days. As soon as this Vetas business is cleaned up and I think your family is safe, I'm in the wind."
Bo led Adamat down the stairs at the end of the room and into the wheel room beneath the mill. For each of the millstones above them, there was a wheel down here with one end dipped in the water. Or at least, there used to be. Most of them were missing, leaving an empty channel of water flowing through one side of the floor.
Lord Vetas was strapped to an upright gurney in one corner. His arms were missing – of course, Bo had taken those off two days ago. A bloody blanket covered his body; likely more for Adamat's sake than for Vetas's. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow.
Bo kicked the gurney and Vetas's eyes shot open. He immediately tried to recoil from Bo, but his bonds kept that from happening.
"You remember our friend Adamat?" Bo asked.
"Yes," Vetas whispered, not taking his eyes from Bo.
"He has a few questions. Answer them."
Adamat centered himself before his former tormentor and tried to force himself to remember what Vetas had done to his family. This pitiful creature before him didn't deserve pity or compassion.
"Where is my son?" Adamat asked.
"I don't know."
"What happened to him?"
"Sold him."
Adamat rocked back on his heels. "Sold him? What do you mean?"
"Slavers."
"There are no slavers in Adopest!"
A hideous giggle wormed its way up through Vetas's throat, only for him to swallow it when Bo took a step forward. "Kez smugglers," Vetas said, his voice still quiet. "Used to take powder mages out from under Tamas's nose and send them in to Kez."
"My boy is not a powder mage," Adamat said.
Vetas blinked back at him. His eyes, once serpentine and unfeeling, were now just … dead, was the only way to describe them. They showed fear when they glanced toward Bo, but other than that, nothing.
"Why would you sell him to the Kez?"
"My Privileged said he was a powder mage."
Adamat began to pace. Josep, a Marked? That seemed impossible. "How long ago?"
"A week."
"Have they taken him from the country?" Adamat felt his chest tighten as he began to panic. Smugglers dealing in human beings – especially powder mages – wouldn't wait to get their cargo out of the country. In all likelihood, Josep was gone already, far beyond Adamat's reach.
"I'd imagine," Vetas said.