Powder Mage: The Autumn Republic Part 22

"I should have been here for them. Led them into battle," Tamas muttered.

"Sir?" one of his guards asked.

"Nothing. Have either of you any idea where Captain Vlora has bunked down?"

"No sir," they both answered.

Tamas found Olem's tent not far from his own. Several of the Riflejacks still sat around the fire. One was reading by lamplight, while another whittled at a piece of wood. They all stood when Tamas approached.

"At ease," he said with a sigh. He gestured to Olem's tent. "Just here to see the colonel."

Two of the Riflejacks exchanged looks. A third, a woman of about thirty with blond hair cropped short, cleared her throat. "I think he's asleep," she said.

Tamas squinted at her. "He's a Knacked. He doesn't need sleep." Everyone knew about Olem's Knack. What was she going on about?

"I... I think I saw him leave earlier," one of the others said.

Tamas sprinkled a bit of powder on his tongue and headed over to Olem's tent. "Olem, are you...?" The vision in his powder trance allowed him to see the inside as if it were day, despite the lack of lamps. Tamas thought he heard a giggle, and then a curse, and Olem sat up in his cot. He was stripped to the waist.

"Sir?"

Tamas eyed the lump in the cot next to him and couldn't help but crack a smile. Perhaps Olem had reconnected with the pretty laundress. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"No problem at all, sir."

"I was just looking for Vlora."

Olem cleared his throat. "Er..."

"I'm right here." Vlora sat up in the cot next to Olem and brushed her hair out of her face with one hand.

"Ah," Tamas said. "I, uh, will wait outside."

He retreated to the campfire, where the Riflejacks studiously avoided his gaze. Tamas tapped his foot, trying to think of something to say to Vlora other than "fraternization between ranks."

"Sorry, sir," one of the Riflejacks mumbled. Another one kicked him in the s.h.i.+ns.

"It's all right," Tamas said. Part of him wanted to laugh. "I'd expect nothing less from one of them"-he thrust his thumb at his guards-"if I had someone in the sack." That brought out a m.u.f.fled snort from the same Riflejack. He received another kick for it.

Vlora stepped out of Olem's tent a moment later, pulling her jacket on over her half-b.u.t.toned s.h.i.+rt. Her boots were still unlaced, and she paused to do them up while Tamas waited, then followed him away from the campfire.

"I'm not sorry, sir," she said when they were out of earshot of Olem and the Riflejacks.

"Hmm? Sorry for what?"

Vlora stiffened and Tamas turned to her with a sigh. "It's life, Vlora. You said that to me yourself. I'm glad you can still find something in each other's arms. I wish I had that same luxury."

"Sir?" Vlora stared back at him openmouthed, and Tamas smothered a small smile. He could still surprise people. That was good to know. Vlora continued, "Do you mean...?"

"I'm not here to reprimand you or anything. I wanted to find you for something else. Fraternization between ranks is still an offense, mind you. But I don't have the energy for that right now."

"Thank you, sir." Vlora regarded him with guarded eyes, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. "You're giving mixed signals, sir."

"I know. Sorry. I wish life were a little more direct, but I think I've come around since our last talk on this particular subject."

Vlora tilted her head to one side. "Olem thought you promoted him just to keep us from being lovers."

"He did? Huh. Wish I had thought of that. But I didn't. I promoted him because the circ.u.mstance called for it and he's one of the few people I can trust completely." He sighed, dismissing the subject with a wave of his hand, fighting the urge to say something else. He still didn't approve of the relations.h.i.+p, but he no longer felt it was his place to say. "Speaking of which, I'm promoting you."

Vlora blinked at him. "I'm sorry?"

"I said I'm promoting you. To colonel, actually. For now, you'll be on special a.s.signment, just like Olem, but I intend on putting you in charge of your own regiment before the end of the war."

"I don't understand. I haven't done anything to deserve that."

"You haven't? Captain-I mean, Colonel-I have spent the last two days poring over reports of the battle and of your actions. They were, in a word, brilliant."

"I was only working with your instructions," Vlora mumbled.

"No battle plan is perfect. Not even mine. Over a dozen critical situations required your response, without my guidance, and you handled each one exactly as I would have. In the case of sending the two companies to relieve the Wings' camp, you did it even better. I would have let them burn, then cleaned up the mess after the chaos died down, which would have been the wrong thing to do."

Tamas hadn't meant to go on, but he found the words tumbling out of him. "These are, of course, extraordinary circ.u.mstances. We lost a lot of officers over the last couple of months, and not all of them to death or wounds." Hilanska's betrayal and Ket's thievery and flight still rankled. "There will be hundreds of promotions in the next week, and you won't be the only one to skip ranks. I'd always meant to keep my powder mages as marksmen and soldiers, but I see now that I need to promote those with the talent."

"Andriya should be promoted too."

"He will be, as soon as he arrives with the Deliv king. But Andriya is too hotheaded. Too vengeful. He's always been better with small groups, which is why he's been in command of the cabal since Sabon. But you've always had a talent for seeing the bigger picture and you proved it the other day."

"Thank you, sir."

Tamas nodded. "This war isn't won yet, Colonel. Don't thank me until it is."

They stood in silence for several minutes, and it was Vlora who spoke first.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"May I go?"

"Oh. Oh, yes! Go on. Wait, take these." Tamas put the gold bars into her hand, then folded her fingers over them. He had the sudden urge to bend and kiss her on the forehead gently, a blessing for a daughter, but he stifled it just long enough for her to lunge forward and hug him. Tamas found himself returning the embrace. Then she was off, and Tamas watched her for a moment.

"Uh, sir," a voice said.

Tamas turned to find a secretary waiting nearby. "What is it?"

"Inspector Adamat is waiting for you."

"Ah. Yes. Of course. I'll come right away." He tossed one more glance in Vlora's direction, but she was already gone.

Adamat s.h.i.+fted from one foot to the other and stifled a yawn. It was almost midnight, and there was still no sign of the field marshal. Should he go? Should he wait?

No doubt that Tamas wanted to question him about the series of events that culminated in Vetas's death. It had all been in his report, of course, but a report was never as good as the real thing. Tamas was the kind of man who liked to be thorough. Adamat just hoped he wasn't going to be too thorough.

Any questions about Josep, Adamat had already decided, would be evaded as well as possible.

Adamat ran his hand through his hair and scratched at his bald spot. He'd spent countless hours examining that Warden in his mind and he had come to the conclusion that a perfect memory was most certainly a curse. Without it, he may have convinced himself that it was just a trick of the light: That Warden was nothing like his son, and the missing ring finger was simply a coincidence.

But the more Adamat considered the deformed back and twisted but still boyish jaw and the smooth cheeks, he was convinced that his boy had been turned into a Warden.

What had they done to his innocent boy? First a captive, then a powder mage sold into slavery, and now this. Adamat tried to remember everything he knew about Wardens. They were regular men transformed by Kez sorcery into twisted creatures devoid of anything but rudimentary intelligence and brainwashed to obey Kez commanders. These new Black Wardens, created out of powder mages, were only a recent development. Some of the soldiers whispered that they had been created by Kresimir himself, as none of the other Privileged would be powerful enough to twist a powder mage.

What suffering had that caused? What pain had the villainous G.o.d forced upon Adamat's son? Adamat replayed the scene in his head over and over again, and examined the eyes of the creature. He expected, upon a closer look, to find anger and sorcery-fueled rage in those eyes.

But there was only fear, of the kind seen in a dumb ox being driven to slaughter.

"Inspector?"

Adamat heard the rustle of the tent flap, wiped hastily at his eyes, and straightened his coat. "Sir, I'm here."

"Inspector, what are you doing standing here in the dark?" Tamas asked. Adamat could hear the field marshal rummaging about on his desk, then a match was struck and a lantern lit.

"Just waiting. I didn't want to bother anyone."

"We can provide a light, man. I'm sorry to be so rude. I hope I didn't wake you."

Tamas peered closely at Adamat's face and Adamat flinched away. "You did not."

"Pit, you look as bad as I do. Have you been sleeping? Did they get you a proper tent and gear?"

"They did. Thank you."

"I'm sorry to keep you in the camp like this. You understand I've had a lot to catch up with."

"Of course. I do look forward to getting back to my family." Do I? How will I explain what I have seen-what Josep has become-to Faye? Adamat realized with a start that he had already considered his son as good as dead. But then, what else could he consider? He'd stared into those eyes in his memory for so long, he knew that the Josep he loved was no more.

"Are you certain everything is all right, Inspector?"

"It is."

Tamas lowered himself into a seat, looking far worse for the wear, and Adamat pulled his mind off his own troubles to examine the field marshal. Troubled by a dozen wounds, or so it seemed, Tamas had aged ten years in the last three months. What little trace of black might have remained in his mustache was gone, and he moved carefully, painfully, favoring his right side.

Adamat had seen that kind of behavior before in men in the Adran police force. Tamas had a knife wound-between the ribs, lucky enough to miss anything vital, but painful as all pit and likely to fester. There were rumors that Hilanska had stabbed Tamas before he fled. They certainly fit.

"Inspector?"

Adamat snapped out of his own thoughts. Tamas had been talking. "I'm very sorry, sir. Could you repeat that?"

Tamas tilted his head to one side, a twitch of anger crossing his face. "I asked if you know why I didn't arrest you after you confessed your treachery."

"I don't." Adamat felt a bead of cold sweat on his forehead and his jacket was suddenly too tight. It was something he'd asked himself, though he hadn't dwelt on it. There was too much to do, too much at stake.

"I didn't arrest you because that's what the enemy would have expected." Tamas climbed to his feet and crossed to his desk, pouring water into a gla.s.s. He didn't offer any to Adamat. "It was a feint, to throw him off your trail. You mentioned in your report that Vetas thought you had been imprisoned."

"So I did," Adamat said, his throat dry. "It worked."

Tamas took a sip of water, watching Adamat with a look that Adamat had seen on men deciding whether to put down a lame dog. "Yes."

"And now?"

"I still hold you responsible for Sabon's death, Inspector," Tamas said. "I had told myself that you would stand trial when all this was over. That you would face the consequences of your actions."

Adamat suddenly felt a fire in his belly. The consequences? He, who brought me into this whole mess, has the gall to speak to me about consequences? I've faced the consequences of my actions a hundred times over during the last six months. Adamat had to bite his tongue to hold his peace.

"I had told myself that-right up until the moment I had to choose between leading my men into battle and rescuing my son from being murdered in the wilderness by traitors. You're a good man, Adamat, and you did what you could. There are so few good men left, and I will not send one to the guillotine. But I need your help."

Adamat barely trusted himself to breathe. "My help?"

"There is more work to be done."

Adamat felt his chest tighten. Of course. Always more to do. What would Faye say to this, were she here with him? She would tell the field marshal to stuff his consequences in his a.s.s and to toss himself into the pit.

"Something funny, Inspector?"

"I was just thinking of what my wife would say if she were here."

"Oh? And what was that?"

"She'd ask, 'What can I do to help, Field Marshal?' So. What can I do to help?" There was nothing else to say. Tamas would expect nothing short of obedience. It was the same arrogance that Adamat had seen for decades among the n.o.bility whom he'd served.

Tamas seemed thrown for a moment. "I see. I still have to finish this war, and when it is done, I'll need to deal with the Brudanian army that holds Adopest. Some kind of contact needs to be made. You shall be my liaison with Lord Claremonte. Find out what he wants. What are his goals? What will make him go away and, if that is not within our reach, discover his secrets and weaknesses and report them to me so I may destroy him and give our country the republic it deserves."

Adamat felt something niggling deep inside his bowels. It felt an awful lot like despair. He'd dealt with the servant Lord Vetas, and now he had to deal with the master, who could only be many times the worse? It would undo him. "I will not put my family in that danger again, Field Marshal. Not for my life."

"Your country needs you."

Adamat wondered if Tamas knew how hollow the words sounded. "You cannot entrust me with this. Not possibly. Lord Claremonte, through his agent, used my family against me once and he will do it again. And if he does that, I will betray you again, I promise you that."

"Your family is no longer in the equation. There is nothing Claremonte would gain by threatening them. You will be a politician and nothing more."

"He can compel me to give you misinformation."

"You have my guarantee of their safety."

Adamat found himself standing once more. "You cannot make that guarantee! This man is a beast and will use any means necessary to win his twisted game. I have seen his machinations!"

"And that, Inspector, is why I need you so badly. You are the only one who knows anything about him. You are the only one who hates him enough to be ready to destroy him on a moment's notice. Your family will be safe, Adamat. I swear it. You will hear no such guarantees from Claremonte while he holds the city." Tamas took another sip of his water.

"I'm sorry, Field Marshal, but I must refuse."