"Sir," Leone said, "we've taken the house, but the courtyard is filled with soldiers."
Tamas dropped a bullet down the barrel of one of his pistols and rammed cotton batting down to keep it stable. "I don't care," he said. "I have a man to kill."
Taniel sagged against the rough-hewn wood of the beam from which he hung, what little strength he had sapped from his struggles.
He'd tried to loosen his bonds. No amount of wiggling would get him out of them. What else could he do? He looked down. No use anyway, he supposed. Kez guards stood at the foot of the beam at the bottom of a fifty-foot drop. Could he survive that far of a fall? Would he land, only to have the Kez finish off his broken body?
How would Tamas have gotten out of this? The old bastard may have been mean, but he was clever, too.
Julene had watched him struggle for all of an hour. She seemed amused by it, if anything, and the madness in her eyes seemed to come and go.
"Why did he do this to you?" Taniel asked.
Julene gave that choking laugh again. "I ask myself that every day."
There'd be no help from her, Taniel decided. She was clearly as mad as the god who put her there. He looked up at the hook from which he hung, and then toward the Adran camp. Even at this distance, without a powder trance, he could tell that the General Staff was gathering. Equal commotion was going through the Kez camp. Both sides were preparing for a parlay.
Was that when Kresimir planned to kill them all?
"Kresimir didn't want to come back," Julene said.
Taniel turned his head sharply toward her. The madness was gone from her, and her eyes were suddenly lucid.
"He wouldn't have, if I hadn't summoned him like I did," she went on. "He doesn't care that Tamas killed Manhouch. The fate of the mortals of this world don't concern him. I was so wrong." Julene coughed, then swallowed hard, her broken face somehow twisting to look more bitter. "If I live another twenty thousand years, I could not possibly make a mistake again like I did by summoning Kresimir." Her whole body shuddered, and she threw back her head, moaning in agony.
Taniel turned away. He couldn't look at that. Cruelty for the sake of cruelty. Gods, it seemed, were capable of pettiness just as much as the next man.
Taniel scanned the Adran camp, looking for familiar faces. It was too far to make out individuals.
By now Ka-poel would know what had happened to him.
If she was still alive.
Taniel flexed his arms and pulled against his rope. He lifted a few inches, and then fell back. His struggling all morning had exhausted him.
"What are you doing, powder mage?" Julene said.
"Trying to get away." He pulled himself up again. He gained an inch. Maybe two.
"You can't. You fall from here and you'll break your legs."
"Maybe I can shimmy down."
Julene rasped out a laugh. "They'll just put you back up."
Taniel spotted a movement in the Kez camp. It wasn't significant, and he knew not what drew his eye in that direction. He willed himself to see farther.
A small figure was winding its way through the soldiers. A hooded shape – it could have been a child. But Taniel knew that build. He knew how to read the sway of the walk, from long familiarity.
Ka-poel. What was she doing here? She had to get out, to leave the camp before she was caught!
No one paid her any mind. The soldiers were preparing for something big. She was a few hundred yards away, just working her way through the camp in no particular hurry.
Taniel flexed again. He lifted himself up until his face nearly touched the hook. Every fiber of his body trembled from the effort, his bruised flesh crying out in pain.
"What do you plan to do, powder mage?" Julene's voice was steady. The rasp was gone. A glance in her direction showed her staring intently at him.
Taniel let himself drop, gasping at the effort. "I'm going to kill Kresimir."
Ka-poel was getting closer. What did she plan on doing when she got to him? Her sorcery couldn't get him off this beam.
In the distance, in the no-man's-land between the armies, Taniel saw a lone figure head out from the Adran camp. Tall and fat, wearing a white apron. Mihali.
It only took a moment of searching before Taniel found Kresimir standing at the head of the Kez lines. The god had changed his bloody clothes for clean ones and still wore his mask. He, too, began heading toward the middle of the field.
Taniel lifted himself up until he reached the hook. Inch by inch, he felt with his fingers. His struggles had loosened his bonds. Perhaps not enough to slip out of them, but …
Taniel grasped the hook with both hands and placed his feet flat against the beam. He pressed with his legs, working his toes against the wood like the feet of a clamp. Firmly braced on the beam, he pushed up, willing even more strength from his already burning thighs. Just a couple inches was all he needed …
And he was there! He worked his bonds along the curve of the hook until suddenly the rope was free. A wave of giddiness swept over him, nearly making him fall. He was free of the hook! He could drop from this height anytime he wanted.
He looked down and his stomach lurched. That didn't seem like such a good idea.
Grasping the hook, he turned himself around so that he was facing the beam.
"You're a stubborn bastard," Julene said.
Taniel didn't answer her. Slowly, he began working his way down the rough-hewn beam. He dug his fingernails and the toes of his boots into the wood as if he were scaling a cliff face. Every muscle protested in agony. There was no way he could scrape his fingernails the entire way down.
He worked down the first few feet and stopped, gasping for breath.
"Can you really do it?" Julene asked. "Kill Kresimir?"
Taniel worked his way down another foot.
"It's the savage, isn't it? By pit, her sorcery is potent. She might be able to kill him."
Taniel remained silent. Another foot. He could do it.
He looked down. There were four guards stationed around the base of the beam. None of them noticed his descent. He'd have to get near enough to the ground to drop on one of them, and then fight the other three – his hands still bound. Ka-poel would be there by now. She could …
She entered his line of vision suddenly, approaching one of the guards at a quick pace. The guard straightened and said something, holding out a hand. Her small fist darted out, slamming into his throat. The guard fell to his knees, gurgling blood.
Another foot. Taniel's heart thundered in his ears. He had to keep moving.
"Make me a promise," Julene said.
"Faster, faster, I have to go faster," Taniel whispered to himself.
"Promise you'll kill me. Shoot me in the head with one of those bullets you used to blind Kresimir. I won't survive that. Not in my weakened state. Consider it an act of vengeance, if you like."
Taniel looked down. Ka-poel was grappling with another guard. A third grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Promise me, Taniel."
Taniel was struck by the pleading in her voice. He stopped just long enough to look at her. "I promise," he said.
Julene gave a shrill laugh.
Below, the three guards had forced Ka-poel to the ground. Taniel took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
Then he let himself fall.
CHAPTER
44
Tamas followed Nikslaus through a side door of the mansion and out onto the lawn. The ground was soaked, rain coming down in thick sheets. Even though it was only half past six in the afternoon, the sky was darkening. A grandfather of a storm was blowing in.
The Privileged was just rounding the corner to the front of the mansion as Tamas came out the door. He set off in pursuit.
He reached the corner of the building and stopped. A quick glance showed fifty, maybe sixty soldiers in the courtyard. They hid behind carriages and sculptures, exchanging fire with the powder mages inside.
Nikslaus leapt onto the running board of a carriage, hooking one arm through a handstrap. Tamas could hear him yelling between the volleys of musket fire:
"Go!" Nikslaus pounded on the roof of the carriage with one stub and ducked inside. The carriage took off down the short drive and turned into the street.
A bullet took a chip out of the masonry just above Tamas's head. He flinched away. They'd spotted him.
Tamas examined the soldiers. Too many. Even at his best. Most of his powder was gone, used in that shot through the limestone. He checked the garden wall about fifty paces away. Too tall.
Tamas heard a commotion around the corner and risked a glance.
The powder horn of a Kez soldier suddenly exploded, ripping the man in half. Another followed, and then another. Men began to throw their muskets, horns, and charges away to avoid being killed. It had to be Vlora. Only she had the range igniting powder to kill men all the way by the gates. She must have gotten to a window, or had someone directing her. It was dangerously stupid to ignite powder blind, both for yourself and for your allies.
The front doors of the manor suddenly burst open. Andriya flew through them. He held a bayoneted rifle in both hands and was screaming at the top of his lungs. His eyes were wild, his hat gone, his greatcoat billowing around him. He leapt on the closest Kez soldier, skewering the man mercilessly.
It was the best Tamas was going to get for cover.
He set off at a sprint across the lawn, cutting behind the Kez soldiers. Most ignored him, their eyes all on Andriya.
Tamas neared the gate. A soldier turned toward Tamas, desperately trying to fix the bayonet to the end of his musket. Tamas sprinted toward the soldier, put his foot on a rock near the driveway, and launched himself in the air. He cracked the man in the chin with one boot and was past him and through the gate.