The Crimson Campaign(The Powder Mage Trilogy)(74)

"Yes, ma'am."

"And close the camp to the Adran provosts and stifle any rumors going around."

"Of course. Anything else?"

"Stay close. I'm sure I'll need something."

Abrax returned to the tent a moment later. Taniel thought to stand, and realized that he'd taken Ka-poel's hand at some point. He decided to stay by her side.

"Thank you," he said.

"Believe me this," Abrax said, her face flushed, her brow furrowed. "If you've lied to me, I'll put the noose around your neck myself. But I won't see a man lose his life because he defended himself and his loved one."

The doctor came moments later. Taniel refused to leave the tent, but did avert his eyes as the doctor examined Ka-poel. She struggled a little  –  he hoped that was a good sign.

"I've given her something to help her sleep," the doctor said after her examination. She glared at Taniel. "She's suffered a brutal assault."

"It wasn't him," Abrax snapped.

The doctor's glare lost its bite. "She wasn't raped, and she had blood beneath her nails, and her knuckles are bruised. She gave them a good fight. That might help you catch them."

"They're dead already," Taniel said flatly.

"Good. Her languid state is from exhaustion. She might have fought them for hours. Her left arm is broken, and she might lose an ear. No concussion, though, and that's remarkable."

Taniel returned to Ka-poel's side, barely noticing that Abrax lowered herself into a chair nearby to watch them.

Taniel wasn't sure how late it was when he heard angry shouting outside the tent. Abrax lifted herself warily from her chair and went outside.

"What did I say about a closed camp?" Abrax demanded.

"Brigadier Abrax," a sharp voice said.

Taniel put his head in his hands. Doravir.

"You're harboring a man wanted for the murder of four infantrymen and a captain of the Third Brigade. Release him to our custody now."





CHAPTER




31




Nila felt her fingers shaking as she tried to position the needle beside her target.

"Don't be nervous," Bo said. His voice was soft and soothing. He sat cross-legged on a faded pillow in one corner of the room beside the only window, a musty old tome of a book cradled in his lap while he watched her. "If you mess up, it's all right. I'll only be burned from the inside out by otherworldly fire, consumed like a bale of hay soaked in lantern oil."

"You're not making this any easier," Nila said. She took a deep breath and stabbed the needle into one of his Privileged's gloves. The positioning looked right. It had to be perfect for the gloves to work properly.

"I know," Bo said. She could hear his grin in his tone.

"Why can't you do this yourself?"

"Because I hate sewing. And you're a laundress. You're probably far better at it than I am anyway."

And Nila owed him. Even if he didn't say it, Nila was certain it had crossed his mind.

She was painfully aware that Bo had offered to shelter her and Jakob for three days. That had been nine days ago, and she wasn't entirely certain why he hadn't forced them out into the street. A Privileged seemed the last type of person to whom she would want to owe a favor, so when he mentioned that he had several pairs of ripped gloves that needed mending, she volunteered.

That was before she knew that the stitching on Privileged's gloves had to be perfect. Absolutely perfect.

She wondered why else he'd let them stay. Perhaps he expected to bed her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he was watching her. He seemed to do that a lot, but only when he thought she wouldn't notice. It made her nervous.

But he'd given her and Jakob food, shelter, and the first pleasant company she'd had in a long time. He was calm, quiet, and hadn't tried to force himself on her. Yet.

Every time she started to wonder what it would be like to let herself sleep with him, she had to remind herself of Dourford, splattered across the street. Bo wasn't just a man. He was a Privileged. Privileged were dangerous people.

"This requires a skilled seamstress," Nila said. "I can sew, but this is -"

"You're doing fine."

She returned to her task. She'd managed to finish three of the twelve gloves he'd stashed away for repair. Whether any of them could be used …

"Will you really burn from the inside out if I do these wrong?" Nila asked.

"No."

"You git!"

"They won't work, though. Which is just as likely to get me killed." Bo set his book to one side and climbed to his feet, joining her at the table. He put on one of the finished gloves and snapped his fingers. "Nothing. This one won't do." He tried on another glove. "Nor this." He tossed the two useless gloves in their own pile and put on the third. Again, he snapped his fingers.

A small flame appeared at the tips of his fingers. The flame went out and he removed the glove, putting it in his pocket. "This will. Excellent."

"Do you want me to … " Nila reached for the two useless gloves.

"Don't worry about it. I'll dispose of those ones."

For a moment she thought he was going to return to his pillow and his book. Instead, he pulled out a chair and sat down. He kicked out another chair with his feet and put them up, leaning back with his hands folded behind his head. "Where's the boy? I haven't heard a peep out of him all day."

"He's playing in his room. I told him to keep quiet so that you could read."

"Very considerate of you."

Nila made a mistake in her stitching. She cursed under her breath and pulled the needle back out to try again. Why was he watching her? What did he want?

"You're a very good-looking girl. Did you know that?"

Oh. That was why. Nila felt her heart skip a beat. She'd heard rumors that Privilegeds had a powerful sex drive. That cabal Privileged each had several concubines, and that few women could resist them.

"I've been told that before," Nila said.

"You should wear your hair back more often. It helps display those cheekbones."

Nila didn't trust herself to speak. Had he asked about Jakob because he was hoping to get her alone? Would he give her an ultimatum: Either get out or come to my bed? Nila resolved not to do it. She still had her silver hidden outside the city. She'd been thinking about this ever since Bo first took them in. She'd get the silver and take Jakob northeast into Novi. They would head to the capital and get a small house there, and she'd take up as a laundress.

Bo opened his mouth.

Here it comes, Nila thought.

"Do your parents live in the city?"

"I won't … ! What?"

"Your parents," Bo said. "Do they live in the city?"

Nila was taken aback by the question. "My parents are dead," she answered curtly. This wasn't what she'd expected him to say. "I'm an orphan."
 
 

 

"Oh," Bo said. "Sorry to hear that."

"I never knew them."

Bo was staring at the ceiling. His tone was wistful. "I knew my father a little before he died. I spent some time in an orphanage, too. Then out on the streets for me."

Nila almost laughed. Was this how he'd try to get her to bed? Make them feel some kind of kinship? "And then the royal cabal?"

"No. First Taniel Two-Shot. And then his father, Tamas, took me in. That's where the dowsers found me. Did you ever get tested as a child?"

Bo knew Field Marshal Tamas? He'd been adopted by him? That seemed far-fetched. "Tested?"

"By the cabal dowsers. For ability."

Nila saw another mistake she'd made. She pulled out the needle and used the tip to pick out the thread. "Of course. They came to the orphanage every year."

"You should try again," Bo said. He removed a pair of gloves from his pockets and tossed them on the table. "Sometimes the dowsers miss someone."

Nila wanted to roll her eyes. He was still flirting with her. She could tell by the tiny smile at the corners of his mouth, and by the playful tone of his voice. "I don't think so."

"Suit yourself." Bo put the gloves back in his pocket.

There were several blissful minutes of silence while Nila sewed and Bo sat in his chair, rocking back on two legs and staring at the ceiling. Nila's mind began to wander. Maybe she shouldn't go to Novi. Perhaps she should head across the ocean to faraway Fatrasta. Less likely she or Jakob would ever be found or recognized.

"Jakob," Bo suddenly said. "His last name was Eldaminse, right?"

"Yes."

"And you worked for his family?"

Nila nodded. The Eldaminse house. That seemed like so long ago. Had it really only been four months? Memories of that place felt like visions of a world from a dream.

"Did you know anything about his father's business?"

"I was a laundress."

"Servants hear everything. That's why so many of them spy for the cabals."

Nila blinked. "They do?"

"Well. Indirectly. They don't know who they're spying for, they just know they're being paid for information."

"I never did. I was taught never to snoop."

"Pity." Bo rocked his chair down onto all four legs and stood up. "Jakob," he called, heading down a short hall toward the room Nila and Jakob were sharing.

Nila paused in her sewing and cocked her head to one side.

"Jakob," Bo said, his voice muffled, "do you remember if your father was ever visited by any military men?"