The Crimson Campaign(The Powder Mage Trilogy)(89)

On the parapet, Taniel padded quietly toward Kresimir's tower. He could make out other guards on the opposite walls of the keep, all of them looking down toward the source of the scream. None of them seemed to have noticed him.

He reached the tower and swore. No door on this level. He looked up. Another fifty feet of climbing, in full view of the guards on the parapet. Wait. A window, not fifteen feet above him.

Taniel threw himself up the stone wall, climbing as quickly as he dared, and in only a few moments he was through the window.

He found himself in the spiral staircase of the tower. He glanced back the way he'd come and had to stop to blink away a dizzy spell.

It was a long way to fall.

Taniel climbed the tower stairs until the stairs ended in a thick iron-bound door. He paused there and wondered what kind of a ward a god would put on his bedroom. He looked down and was grateful that his hands were not shaking. No sound of footsteps below him. No breathing from inside the room. Kresimir must be out.

Taniel pressed gently on the door. It opened with a single long creak that made him cringe.

He paused at the sight of the room.

Taniel had expected something like he'd seen in Kresimir's palace on South Pike: a fine bed with expensive silk and lush carpeting and wall hangings, preserved against nature and time. But this …  this was not the opulent quarters of a god.

The rug was nothing more than a soiled sheet. The curtains  –  perhaps once fine  –  were now torn and bedraggled. There was a full body mirror, shattered. A four-poster bed lay slanted against one wall, two of the posts destroyed.

Was this really Kresimir's room? It showed signs of habitation. There was a table by one window, set with a meal. Taniel crossed to that and glanced out. He was just above the Addown. On the table was a tankard, half full of beer. A mouse, unafraid of Taniel, nibbled on the bread.

This had to be a mistake. Taniel had seen Kresimir's palace. He'd seen Kresimir's city. The god who created those things would not live in a tower like this.

What could he do? Goutlit must have lied to him. Taniel gritted his teeth. He'd climb back down and go skin that worm. Half the night, wasted, just because …

His eyes fell on the bed. The sheets were covered in blood; spattered rust-colored stains.

Taniel opened his third eye.

He dropped to his knees, staggered by the kaleidoscope of colors within the Else. Thousands of pastels swirled and moved, as if sorcery itself was born in this room. Taniel had to breathe deeply, suppressing the urge to vomit. The whole mountainside of South Pike hadn't looked like this after months of Kez Privileged slinging their strongest sorcery at Shouldercrown Fortress.

Taniel forced his third eye to close and slowly got back to his feet. He drew his dagger and staggered to the bed.

He grabbed the sheet and tore it off the bed. One or two long strips would do it. He could wrap them around his waist, beneath his jacket, and be out the window in less than a minute.

Taniel stopped. He'd heard something. Just the wind, or …

Footsteps on the stairs.

He finished his cuts and grabbed a handful of bloody linens. He made a dash for the window.

The door opened.

A Prielight Guard stood in the door, a platter with fresh bread and cheese and a bottle of wine. He stopped, mouth open in surprise, at the sight of Taniel.

The silence was broken as the guard threw the platter to the floor and drew his sword, running forward with a shout.





CHAPTER




39




Tamas wasn't sure which bothered him more: the look of sudden fear in Hailona's eyes, or what she said immediately afterward.

"It's true. Adro has invaded Deliv!" The words came out as a gasp. Hailona put one hand to her mouth. "You're here, so it must be true." She rocked back in her seat, and for a moment Tamas thought she might fall.

He rushed to her side and tried to take her hand, but she pulled back as if it were a serpent.

"Get back," she said breathlessly.

"It's not true," he said. "None of that."

"How can I be sure? Where is Sabon?"

The question Tamas dreaded the most. He evaded it. "Look at me. Am I in uniform? Have you seen me in public since this army took Alvation? They're not my men!"

Hailona stared at him as if in shock.

Tamas went on. "Do you think I'd be stupid enough to attack Deliv? To risk them joining the war when Kez has sacked Budwiel and threatens the very heart of Adro? No, Hailona, this is a plot by the Kez to turn our nations against each other."

Hailona visibly steeled herself. She stood, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. Some of her old regality returned then and she seemed younger.

"Explain yourself," she said. Her gaze was hard, accusing.

Tamas felt himself flinch. Fifteen years since they'd last spoken. How could he convince her?

"I have two brigades of men camped a day outside the city. We were trapped in Kez after the battle of Budwiel. My men are bloodied, tired, and starving. We came north for succor in Alvation. Imagine my surprise to see soldiers in Adran blue holding the city."
 
 

 

"Can you prove it?"

"Prove it? Those soldiers out there  –  I'd bet half of them only speak Kez. The ones who speak Adran do it with an accent thicker than my Deliv. I don't know what's happening here any more than you do, but I have my suspicions."

"You'll have to do better than ‘suspicions,'" Hailona said. "Demasolin will be back any moment. He won't believe you." She said the words as if she didn't believe him either.

"Who is he?" Tamas glanced toward the door Demasolin had taken to chase Vlora.

"My brother-in-law. The duke of Vindren."

"You remarried? I didn't know."

"Ten years ago. I asked Sabon not to tell you. Where is he? Demasolin will not trust him either, but a countryman is more believable than an Adran."

Tamas pulled back. He felt like he'd been slapped in the face. She'd asked Sabon not to tell him that she'd gotten remarried? Sabon was like a brother to Tamas. At one point, he'd been close to marrying Hailona and now she glossed past it like it wasn't any kind of issue.

He mentally checked himself. He had more important things to worry about.

He heard steps coming down the hallway. The door opened, and an older Deliv gentleman in a servant's evening jacket stood in the doorway. He seemed startled to find Tamas there and glanced between Hailona and Tamas quickly. He tensed, as if ready to spring between them.

"It's all right, Ruper," Hailona said. "How is everyone?"

"Ferhulia will die before the night is over," Ruper said. His voice had the educated politeness of a butler. "Inel might make it, but we have to move him. We can't stay here. They'll come for us."

"Who?" Tamas demanded. "Who is coming for you?"

"The general in command of the … " She hesitated just a moment before saying, "Adran army. His name is Saulkin. We tried to kill him tonight but it was a trap. He saw me clearly when we retreated and he knows who I am."

"We could have barely minutes, ma'am," Ruper said.

The glass door to the observatory portico opened. Demasolin strode through the door. He removed black gloves and threw them to the table, only to freeze in place when he saw Tamas.

"Who is this?" His gaze cut through Tamas, his eyes narrowed. Tamas was able to see him better now. Demasolin was in his thirties, perhaps, with a clean-shaven face and strong jawline. He had the bearing of a duke, Tamas decided.

"An old …  friend," Hailona said. "Did you catch the intruder?"

Demasolin continued to stare at Tamas. "Apparently not." His nose twitched as he sniffed. "She got away," he said. "Leapt the garden wall like it was nothing. A powder mage. I'd bet my life on it." Another sniff. "As is this one."

In one quick motion Demasolin discarded his pistol and a belt of powder charges, throwing them away from Tamas. He drew his sword. "Powder mage or not, I will gut you. Remove your weapons."

"You think you can?" Tamas asked quietly.

Tamas was tired. He'd made this entire trek north just to reach Alvation, where he thought he'd find succor, only to find the city held by the enemy and the very people that he'd looked to for help now suspicious of him.

He knew he should disarm. Let them see he wasn't a threat. Take the time to explain himself.

But if what Ruper said was true, more soldiers would arrive any minute. Tamas would not disarm for one man with a sword.

Tamas laid a hand gently on the hilt of his sword.

Demasolin darted forward.

Tamas drew his sword and set his back foot in less time than it took to blink. Demasolin came on quickly.

"Stop! He'll kill you!"

Demasolin slowed. Tamas relaxed, suddenly wary. Was Hailona talking to him? She knew who he was. What he was capable of.

"Demasolin," Hailona said. "Please, wait. He'll kill you."

"I've killed powder mages before," Demasolin said between gritted teeth. "I've killed a Privileged. I am the duke of Vindren!" He said it like the name would mean something to Tamas.

It did, finally. A tickle in the back of his memory. Vindren. A man with a Knack for smells. Nose like a bloodhound. Quick as a powder mage in full trance.

Tamas lowered his sword.

"You surrender?" Demasolin said.

"No."

Demasolin took another step forward.

"I feel like this is a waste of our time," Tamas said.