The Autumn Republic

Chapter 10

Nila guessed it to be around ten o’clock when they came within view of the mercenary camp. Their prisoner, Folkrot, walked along ahead of them, looking tired and dejected.

He’d tried to escape three times in the middle of the night, making a run to the south. Each time, Nila had chased after him and tackled him to the ground. On the third time Bo caught him with sorcery and all fight went out of the boy.

Nila’s feet hurt, her dress was filthy, and she wanted nothing more than a warm bed. Bo showed a dark shadow on his cheeks from not shaving but seemed otherwise unaffected by the lack of sleep.

The sentry was a young woman in the red-and-white uniform of a Wings soldier. She held a rifle on her shoulder and stood in the middle of the road to block traffic – of which there was none – and seemed rather bored. She watched them go past without comment.

“Shouldn’t she question us?” Nila asked.

“She’s there to watch for the enemy,” Bo said. “Soldiers, cavalry. That kind of thing. The next one will ask us our business.”

“Oh.”

“Do you want to know why?”

“I suppose?”

“Always ask why. It’s not enough to know the what of something. A Privileged always needs to know the why. It helps you learn how things work, which aids in your manipulation of the Else.”

“All right,” Nila said. “Then why?”

“Because the next sentry is a Privileged.”

Four mercenary soldiers stood on one side of the road and as Nila and Bo approached, three of them lowered their rifles, bayonets bristling.

“That’s far enough,” the fourth one said. An older woman, she stood off to one side of the others and held her hands out in front of her so they could clearly see the gloves on her hands. “I know what you are, boy. Explain your presence here immediately.”

Bo leaned over to Nila. “The Wings employ several dozen low-strength Privileged. They’re good for intimidation, and some of them have skill, but few if any have the strength of a cabal sorcerer. There’s a kind of pecking order among Privileged. If I had more time, I might strut and scoff, but now…” He held up both hands ungloved. “I’m here to see Brigadier Abrax,” he told the woman.

At the sight of the Privileged, Folkrot had backed away until he bumped into Nila. He turned, panic in his eyes, and would have fled had Nila not snatched him by the collar.

“On what business?”

“My own,” Bo said.

The four sentries conversed among themselves.

“Don’t open your third eye,” Bo whispered. “She’ll sense it.”

“Can’t she see me in the Else?”

“No. You haven’t interacted enough with it yet to have an aura. A few months, maybe as much as a year, and you will.”

Nila had been about to open her third eye. She wanted to see what another Privileged – other than Bo – would look like. Even without doing so, she thought she could feel… something different about the woman. Perhaps she was imagining it.

“Surrender your gloves,” the Wings Privileged finally said. “And submit to a search. Then we’ll take you into the camp. Brigadier Abrax isn’t here, but you can ask for a meeting with Lady Winceslav.”

Bo’s face immediately lit up. “The Lady is here? Wonderful!”

He submitted to the search with far less annoyance than Nila would have expected, and even handed over all three pairs of his gloves without comment. One of the sentries turned to Nila.

“I’m unarmed,” Nila said when he raised his hands.

“I should anyway, ma’am.”

Nila squared her jaw and bit her tongue as the man patted his hands down her sides and in the small of her back. When he reached between her legs, she let fly without hesitation, slapping him full across the face.

The soldier stumbled backward. “Bloody pit!”

Bo’s eyes glinted dangerously, and Nila saw him tense.

The mercenary Privileged let out a laugh. “Oh, that’s grand. Leave off it, she’s unarmed. Let’s take them in.”

They were escorted to the church in the center of the town by two rifle-armed soldiers. Just outside the building, a secretary was called over.

“Where is Lady Winceslav?” Bo asked.

The secretary’s eyes flicked to the house just down the lane. “The Lady is unavailable right now. I can ask if she has an appointment…”

Bo pushed past the secretary. “No need!” He was off down the lane without another word.

“Hey!” One of their escorts took off after Bo. Nila put out a foot, hooking his boot, and the man sprawled into the mud. She immediately grabbed him by the arm.

“I am so sorry! That was awfully clumsy of me.”

The other escort cursed under his breath and rushed off, but Bo was already disappearing inside the front door of the house the secretary had glanced at. Nila left the first soldier in the mud and followed Bo inside, dragging Folkrot along with her.

Bo was just coming out of the dining room when Nila arrived, their angry escort brandishing his rifle in Bo’s face.

“Put that away,” Bo said peevishly, shoving the rifle out of his face. “My lady! My lady!”

The soldier shoved the stock of his rifle against Bo’s chest. “Outside! Now! Don’t make me–”

“Make you do what?” Bo flipped the cuffs of his jacket inside out and slid his hands smoothly into the pair of gloves hidden within. He touched a finger to the soldier’s throat and all color drained from the man’s face.

“What is all this damned racket?” An old woman wearing a white soldier’s uniform with a golden sash came out of the sitting room. She stopped at the sight before her. “Privileged Borbador?”

Bo spun away from the soldier and slipped his gloves off and into his pockets. “My lady!”

“Bo!”

Nila could feel her mouth hanging open as the two embraced like old friends and kissed each other on the cheek.

The old woman – Lady Winceslav, Nila could only imagine – stepped away and looked Bo up and down. “Privileged Borbador, you’ve certainly grown.”

“And you’re looking more beautiful than ever.” Bo turned the full force of his boyish grin on Winceslav.

Lady Winceslav shooed off their escort and the flustered secretary who had caught up with them. “Come and sit with me! I’ll get us some tea. I’m so glad to see you alive. Tamas had assured me that you had not been included in his purges, but I was worried nonetheless.”

“I very nearly was anyway,” Bo said. “But I made it through. Lady, this is my new protégée, Nila. Nila, Lady Winceslav; owner of the Wings of Adom mercenary company and one of the finest people you will ever meet.”

The Lady offered Nila her hand, which Nila kissed. “My pleasure,” she said.

“Oh, she is a pretty one,” Winceslav said. Nila could have sworn the old woman winked at Bo. She felt her cheeks grow red. “And who is the boy?” Winceslav asked.

“Nobody,” Bo said. He snagged the secretary by the sleeve just as she was leaving. “Put the boy in your stocks for two days, then let him go. Feed him well and give him a fiver when he leaves.”

Bewildered, the secretary led Folkrot away.

“I’m sorry to cut the pleasantries short,” Bo said as they took their seats in the sitting room, “but you should call one of your code breakers right away.” He produced the letter he had taken from Folkrot and tossed it on the table.

“And what is that?”

“A missive,” Bo said. “From General Hilanska to the field marshal of the Kez army.”

The Lady sent for one of her code breakers before returning to her seat. “And how did you come about such a missive? Surely you shouldn’t be interrupting lines of communication between Hilanska and the Kez. They might be negotiating a peace treaty.”

Nila spoke up. “We took it from that boy at about two o’clock this morning. I somehow doubt, my lady, that he was negotiating a peace treaty at that hour.”

“Is this true?” Winceslav asked Bo.

“Yes.”

Winceslav shook her head and leaned back in her chair. She suddenly looked older. “Everything has gone to pit since Tamas disappeared. He was the one thing holding this all together, and…”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Bo said, “I don’t think Tamas is dead.”

“That’s awfully optimistic. He was caught with just two brigades behind enemy lines, in enemy territory. I’m no strategist, but the chances of him returning are close to nothing.”

Bo’s eyebrows danced mischievously, but he said nothing more on the matter, instead asking after Winceslav’s health and children. They went on like old friends, and Nila felt infinitely out of her depth.

How did Bo know this woman? Through Tamas, no doubt, but they weren’t acting like mere acquaintances. Bo clearly trusted her implicitly – not something the Privileged was wont to do. Nila knew by now that Bo flirted with everybody, so his grinning and compliments were no surprise, but Winceslav was acting a bit like a schoolgirl around him. Had he… had he slept with her?

“Something wrong?”

It took Nila a moment to realize Bo was talking to her. “Hmm?”

“Your cheeks are red.”

She fanned herself with a hand. “Just thinking about all the excitement.”

Bo gave a chuckle and a knowing smile. Pit! It was like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

It wasn’t long before the code breaker arrived with a satchel of papers under one arm. Bo directed him to the letter and continued his conversation with Lady Winceslav. Nila only listened partially to their conversation, as she was watching the code breaker closely.

He opened the letter and smoothed it flat on one of the tables, then turned to his satchel. He leafed through several dozen papers, stopping periodically to lay one flat next to the missive, only to return it a moment later. He finally seemed satisfied with one of them, leaving it next to the letter and then producing a clean sheet of paper and smoothing it out with one hand. “I have a match, ma’am,” he said, interrupting Bo. “A lesser-used code, but we have it in our records.”

“Go ahead,” Lady Winceslav said. “Go on, Bo.”

“I was saying it’s the curse of war, isn’t it? Weeks or even months of waiting for something – anything – to happen. Almost makes you beg for a battle.”

“It’s terribly boring,” Winceslav agreed, “although I wouldn’t beg for a battle. I came down here as soon as I heard about the schism in the army. I was just told this morning that no one in Adopest even knows what’s going on!” She shook her head. “I can’t possibly believe that.”

“It’s true,” Bo said. “May I ask who told you that?”

“A man by the name of Inspector Adamat.”

Nila turned away from watching the code breaker. “Adamat was here?”

“He was. He mentioned something about you, Bo, but I’m still surprised to see you here.”

“We…” Nila started.

“My lady!” The codebreaker had stood up, his copy of the letter in his trembling hands. “I’ve finished, my lady. This is urgent.”

“Well, go on!”

The code breaker licked his lips. “Hilanska is plotting with the Kez, my lady. He intends to destroy Ket’s brigades and then turn on us, working jointly with the enemy.”

“Give me that.” Bo snatched the translated missive from the code breaker and ran his eyes over it. His face grew grim and he handed the letter over to Lady Winceslav.

The Lady was already on her feet. “I’ve just sent Abrax and two companies of my men to treat with General Ket. I’ve sent them to their own end.” She paled slightly and then straightened, standing tall. “Send for my colonels. Mobilize the men. We march within the hour!”

The code breaker seemed startled by this. “Whom do you want to march, my lady?”

Winceslav made two fists and gritted her teeth. “Everyone.”

Nila put her hand up on the side of Lady Winceslav’s coach to keep her head from hitting the walls as they careened along the road together with well over twenty thousand marching soldiers of the Wings of Adom.

Lady Winceslav gazed intently out the window as they traveled, while Bo had become withdrawn almost as soon as the Lady had given the order to muster her troops. There had been no conversation in the coach for two hours already, and Nila wondered how long until they would reach General Ket’s camp.

“Do we expect fighting?” Nila asked, if only to break the silence.

Bo glanced toward her for a moment but didn’t speak. Lady Winceslav gave her a smile that was only slightly patronizing. “It certainly seems that way,” she said.

“Your soldiers mustered quickly,” Nila said. “I don’t have a lot of experience with armies, but I’d thought it took them longer to get on the march.” She had been impressed by their speed. Lady Winceslav had given the order and the first companies were leaving camp less than fifteen minutes later.

“The company has spent a lot of time in Gurla,” Lady Winceslav said. “Gurlish nomads have a penchant for appearing out of the desert at a moment’s notice to harass the camp. The men learn to fall in quickly, or die with their boots off.” She fell silent and went back to staring out the window.

“Bo,” Nila asked, desperate for a distraction from waiting to arrive, “when are you going to teach me about the elements?”

“When you’re ready,” Bo said. “Have you been practicing looking into the Else?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“You can’t just give me a basic lesson?”

Bo turned toward her, mumbling something under his breath, then lay his hand out flat in his lap and said, “Pay attention. A Privileged manipulates five different elements within the Else; air, water, fire, earth, and aether. Your main hand” – he wiggled his fingers – “can be used to summon those elements from the Else into our world. Your off-hand is used to direct them.”

“If I lose a hand,” Nila asked, “do I lose all access to sorcery?”

“The Else can be manipulated fully with just one hand, or your off-hand, it’s just much harder. Now, each of your fingers corresponds to one of the elements and determines how strong you are in each element, starting with your forefinger for the strongest, and ending with your thumb as the weakest. Do you follow?”

Nila nodded. This was simple enough so far. “How do I know what I’m strongest in?”

“Trial and error. There’s no clear way of testing it without having you rub your fingers together all day and pointing your hands at things. Considering the power I sense in you, that’s not a terribly good idea in any population centers. We’re going to have to figure it out slowly.”

“Oh.” Nila felt a little disappointed. She wanted to know what she could do now.

“I can tell you,” Bo continued, “that you’re strongest in fire and weakest in aether.”

“And how do you know that?”

“When you make a fist, and the fire spreads up your arm, it happens because you’ve touched the Else and brushed your thumb and forefinger together. You haven’t used air to carry the flame anywhere or water to make it behave like liquid fire or your off-hand to direct the elements and so it clings to you like a scared kitten.” He smiled at his own analogy.

Fire. She was strongest in flame. She felt a little thrill go up her spine at the thought. “I understand the fire, but what about the aether? And how do you know it’s my weakest?”

“Almost everyone is weakest in aether, and that’s the thumb. Aether is used to create and destroy bonds between objects and elements, so think of it as an ignition source. It’s the spark that starts your sorcery. Thumb to forefinger to begin fire and then moving on down the spectrum.”

Nila moved her fingers experimentally, being sure not to let them touch. She examined her middle finger, wondering what power it held. “You said almost everyone is weakest in aether?”

“Yes. With some exceptions. The ones who are stronger tend to be healers, as they can knit the bonds between flesh, bone – even blood vessels and brain matter.”

“I could never be a healer?” It had been a hope Nila had held on to, despite knowing how rare healers were. After all, being a healer meant she could help people instead of killing them.

Bo gave a shrug. “You can develop some basic skill in healing, but it takes decades of study and practice. I try to brush up on it myself every once in a while for an emergency. I can cauterize a wound competently or remove a bullet without damaging the tissue. Simple stuff. Much more and I’d probably do more damage than good.”

“What are you strongest in?”

Bo gave a little chuckle. “Careful whom you ask that. It can be a grave insult.”

“What? I just… oh. I didn’t know.” How was that an insult? It was just a question.

“You couldn’t have known,” Bo said. “Privileged love secrets. We hoard them like a squirrel does nuts and share them only sparingly. One of those secrets is our strengths and weaknesses. Now, over time, a healer will become known as a healer, or a fire Privileged known to do fire. But at the beginning, when you’re most vulnerable as a person, you’ll want to keep that information close to you. It could save your life in a duel with another Privileged.”

“I see,” Nila said. Except she didn’t, really. Were all Privileged so mistrustful?

Bo held up his forefinger. “My strongest is air. Then water, fire, earth, aether.”

“Well, wait,” Nila said crossly. “Why would you tell me that after–”

“Because I trust you,” Bo interrupted her. “And because I’m confident in myself and I have enough of a reputation that most Privileged already know my strengths and weaknesses. Once people have heard of you and had a chance to ask around, it’s hard to keep that kind of thing a secret.”

“Then why is it considered rude to ask them directly?” Nila demanded.

“Because,” Lady Winceslav spoke up suddenly, “you’re implying that they’re fool enough to tell you something that could leave them open to attack. Try to think with that pretty head of yours, girl.” Lady Winceslav crossed her legs and turned back toward the window.

Nila stuck her tongue out at her. When she looked back at Bo, he’d already settled back into his corner of the carriage, his mind far away.

Nila thought of trying to start a conversation once more, but neither of her companions seemed to be in the mood to speak. Her window showed nothing but hillside for almost a quarter of a mile, so she turned to the attaché case of papers she still clutched in her hands.

She had read most of the requisition reports from before Taniel was captured by the Kez. With only a few pages to go, she leafed through them slowly, scanning each line.

She had always thought that quartermasters must have the dullest task in an army, but the way the numbers read on the lines was almost mesmerizing. She imagined that with more experience, she could read these numbers and know exactly how many infantry or cavalry an army had, or the tactical tastes of a particular general.

One line caught her eye about halfway down the page. She read it over a second time, then a third, checking the date.

“Bo…” she said.

“Hmm?”

“Has anyone mentioned Taniel’s movements the day before he was hoisted above the Kez camp?”

Bo scratched one of his muttonchops. “I talked to one of the camp cooks – the ones that used to be Mihali’s assistants. Taniel visited Mihali in the late afternoon.”

“Did they say why?”

“No. But I can take a guess. He’s bloody stupid enough to go after Kresimir alone. That’s the only way he would have been captured, after all. And he probably went to Mihali for advice.”

“And he would have left immediately for the Kez camp?”

“Search me.” Bo shrugged. “Why?”

“It must be nothing.” Nila flipped the page, reading through the requisitions and dates, but there were no more requisitions reported by Taniel. She felt her breath quickening suddenly. “Bo…”

“What is it?” he asked, shaking his head peevishly as if his thoughts had been interrupted.

“Do you remember me telling you what Colonel Etan had told me? About the two companies of soldiers Hilanska had sent to the mountains?”

“Yes, yes. Get on with it.”

She handed Bo the report. “Look at this requisition made by Taniel, about halfway down the page.”

“I see it.” He ran his eyes over it several times before saying, “This doesn’t make any sense. Why the bloody pit would Taniel requisition three hundred air rifles?”

Nila leaned forward. “Back when I was Tamas’s laundress, I overheard him say that all the air rifles in Adro had been locked up in an armory in Adopest with strict orders that only a powder mage could order them. Look at the time!” She thrust her finger onto the page. “This was four o’clock in the morning. It had to have been after Taniel was captured. The requisition was falsified in his name!”

“Oh, bloody pit,” Bo said. He pounded on the roof. “Stop the carriage! Stop it now!”

“What are you doing?” Lady Winceslav asked as the coach came to a halt.

“I need two horses,” Bo said.

“Done. What’s going on?”

Bo leapt out of the carriage. “A traitor would know Taniel had been captured and that they could falsify the report.”

“To what end?”

“If he thought that Tamas might return, perhaps. It doesn’t matter. Hilanska has sent his men, armed with air rifles, to hunt down Taniel.”

“How do you know?” Nila asked.

“Three hundred air rifles are enough to outfit two companies of Adran soldiers. Two companies sent into the mountains on Hilanska’s orders. If that’s a coincidence, I’ll eat my hat. I have to go.”

“I’m coming with you,” Nila said.

“No. Stay with the Lady. No one must slow me down. I’m going to rain fire and earth down on those two companies, and anyone near me will be torn apart.”

“Then why two horses?”

Bo tugged on his Privileged gloves. “So that when one drops dead beneath me, I can keep riding.”