The Autumn Republic (33 page)

“Hello, my friend,” Adamat said. “Thank you for seeing me at such short notice.”

“Of course.” Uskan sat up and brushed the hair from his brow. “Anything for a government official.”

“It’s not like that,” Adamat said, feeling his heart skip a beat. Uskan hadn’t offered him a place to sit. His manner was forced, and his eyes were not trusting. Adamat knew his friend was politically conservative, but…

“It’s not? So they’re not calling you Tamas’s hound?”

“Not within earshot, anyway,” Adamat said. “I thought you knew I was working for Tamas.”

“Tamas’s reign has brought nothing but ruin to the university,” Uskan said. “The last time you were here, you told me you were involved, but not that you were running errands for our new dictator.”

“He’s not a dictator,” Adamat said.

“Oh?”

Adamat dropped into the chair in front of Uskan’s desk. He didn’t have the energy for this. “Tamas is reported dead, anyway.” He eyed Uskan, gauging his reaction to see if word had reached him yet of Tamas’s return. “It’s all in the past.”

“And because of him we’ll have no future.”

“I don’t want to talk politics with you. I just hoped you’d answer a few questions.”

“As I said, anything for a government stooge.”

“Uskan!”

“Adamat, I will help you, but I will not be happy about it!”

Adamat drummed his fingers on Uskan’s desk. “Where’s the vice-chancellor?”

“Away. Tamas put him in charge of the eastern front after South Pike erupted. Why, I have no idea. The man’s a scholar, not a warrior. And we desperately need him here helping us rebuild the university. Tamas has – had – taken it upon himself to ruin Adopest University and —”

Adamat cut him off. “He sent him because the vice-chancellor is a Privileged.”

“You’re joking.” Uskan seemed to find this genuinely funny, but his dry chuckle trailed off after a moment.

“I saw his gloves on Saint Adom’s Day,” Adamat said. “He’s a Privileged and even you, locked in here with your books, will have heard he’s one of Tamas’s councillors. You trust
him
, don’t you?”

“Of course! I’ve known Prime Lektor for most of my life.”

“And how much money have the Holy Warriors of Labor donated to the university since the midsummer?”

“What does that have to —”

“Just answer the question.”

“Several million krana. They’re the only ones who have really given us any support.”

“Well, right now I’m on a case for Ricard Tumblar, the head of the union, who is another one of Tamas’s councillors. Give Tamas a little credit. He’s trying to do good by all of us. Don’t blame everything on him. You have to look beyond your books, Uskan. If Tamas hadn’t been caught beyond enemy lines, I suspect he would have paid a little more attention to the disaster here.” Adamat would have liked to think so anyway. Was he saying all this to convince Uskan, or himself?

Uskan raised his nose indignantly. “You speak as if he’s still alive.”

“He is. I’ve seen him myself.”

“You just told me he was dead. And now that he is alive. What am I supposed to believe?”

“I only said that it was ‘reported’ he was dead.”

“To try to trick me into —” Uskan stopped himself with a frustrated sigh. “There’s no need for any of this. What was it you needed to know?”

“Do you know anything about why a person might not have a shadow?”

Uskan blinked at Adamat for several moments. “What? Well, no. I’ve never heard of that before.”

“That’s too bad.” Adamat tried not to let his disappointment show. Another dead end. Adamat had hoped Uskan, of all people, might have heard something in all his studies. “Could it be a side effect of being a Knacked or a Privileged? I know you’ve made a hobby of sorcery studies.”

Uskan rested his chin in the palm of his hand and stared at something above Adamat’s head. After several moments he finally said, “No. Nothing at all.”

Adamat hoped that his old friend was not withholding information just out of spite. “Anything in any of the books on sorcery in your library?”

“Many of those were destroyed or vandalized before you came looking after your last mystery. You’re welcome to look, but I doubt you’ll find anything. I can let you into the library, but I don’t have the time to help you look.”

“Thank you, but I’m here on more important business, to be honest. I’m curious if you’ve heard about anyone experimenting with black powder.”

“In what way?”

“Refining it. Creating something better, more destructive. More explosive.”

Uskan tapped a finger on his chin. “Now, that I can help you with.”

Adamat perked up. A lead? “Oh?”

“There’s a chemical company out on the west side of the city. They make and import gunpowder for the Adran army, and they employ several chemists who make powder of various consistencies and burning temperatures. Very important for artillery, bombs, and all that. I heard earlier this summer that they were working on something called ‘blasting oil.’ Something they want to use in mining.”

“Do you remember their name?”

“The Flerring Powder Company.”

“Excellent.” Adamat got to his feet. This was exactly what he was looking for.

“There’s something else,” Uskan said.

Adamat paused, concerned by the sudden bleakness of Uskan’s voice. “What is it, my friend?”

Uskan stared at his fingers for several moments before answering. “The vice-chancellor – Prime Lektor – has fled the country.”

“He
what
?”

“He fled. I caught him here about three weeks ago, collecting things from his office. He cleaned everything out, sold his home in the countryside, and left. He told me that I should flee too.”

“Why on earth would he do that?”

“He said that Adom was dead. Kresimir was coming back and with him something worse. And that we’d all burn for Tamas’s mistakes.” Uskan rubbed his sleeve across his eyes. “The man was my idol, Adamat. I’ve known him for decades and he’s been calm, unflappable Prime. But when I saw him that night, he looked like a madman on the verge of hysterics. He left me here, alone. He said I was the new vice-chancellor if I wanted to be, but told me I’d be dead within months if I decided to stay.”

“Uskan, I’m sorry.”

Uskan sniffed and wiped his eyes once more, sitting up straight. “Nothing to be sorry for. You’re right, I need to look beyond my books. I’ve been rather fraught since the battle on the campus, but I thought we’d rebuild. I figured Prime would help us create everything anew. And now he’s gone.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“If Tamas is still alive… well, put in a good word for the university.”

“Of course.”

Adamat rounded the desk to put a hand on Uskan’s shoulder. “You’re right, you know. I shouldn’t have gotten involved in any of this. It’s hurt the people I love in so many ways.”

“I don’t think it’s your fault,” Uskan said.

“Thank you for that.”

SouSmith, still leaning on the door frame of the tiny office, cleared his throat.

“Yes,” Adamat said. “Well, I should get going.”

“Wait.”

Adamat stopped just outside the office and turned back to Uskan.

“You should check a private library,” Uskan said. “Someone who will have books not accessible to us or to the Public Archives.”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

“Charlemund’s manor,” Uskan said. “The Arch-Diocel had an enormous library before he was arrested. It’s meant to be split between Adopest University, the Public Archives, and Jileman University, but we haven’t had the time to work on it.”

“And it’s at his manor still?”

“Under guard, I think. But not inaccessible to someone with friends in high places.” Uskan gave him a lopsided smile.

“I’ll look into it. Thank you very much.”

Out in the hallway, SouSmith fell in beside Adamat as they headed back toward their carriage. “Anything?” he asked.

“I have two leads now,” Adamat said. “We’ll sniff it out. I know we will.”

“What was that about the vice-chancellor?”

“He fled the country, apparently.” Adamat fiddled with the head of his cane. “I’m curious what he knows that we don’t.”

T
amas sat brooding in a cloth folding chair in front of the tent his soldiers had set up for him to take his lunch.

His last report from Olem arrived twenty-four hours ago, letting him know that they were going into Brude’s Hideaway to hunt the Gurlish magebreaker and his Kez cavalry. Tamas couldn’t help but glance to the northwest, wondering why Olem hadn’t sent his morning report. Two a day, Tamas had ordered. It was vital that he be kept abreast of the situation on the western plains if he was to proceed against the Kez armies to his south.

The messenger’s horse may have thrown a shoe, or he might have been sent off a few hours late. Tamas chewed on the inside of his cheek. Olem may have been defeated in battle, for all he knew. Whether it was a portent of ill or not, he didn’t like the lag in communication.

“Olem!” he shouted.

“Olem’s not here, sir.” Andriya, one of Tamas’s powder mages, appeared from inside his tent. He was a tall man with scraggly blond hair and a pockmarked face.

“Bloody pit.” Tamas rubbed at his temples. “How many times is that?”

“Seventeen in the last four days.”

“Sorry. Habit, I suppose. Damn bodyguard has been with me less than a year and I’m already doing that.”

Andriya picked at his teeth with one fingernail and turned to spit. “Funny, sir, but when Cenka died and you got Olem to replace him, you never confused the two.”

“Surely I must have.”

Andriya shrugged. “Maybe. That’s fine, I never liked Cenka anyway.”

“You don’t like anyone.”

“I liked Erika,” Andriya said after a moment of introspection.

“My late wife saved you from the hangman’s noose in Kez. I certainly hope you liked her.”

“It wasn’t just that,” Andriya said. “She had a certain” – he made a rolling motion with one hand – “something about her.”

“I know,” Tamas said quietly.

If Andriya noticed Tamas’s discomfort, he didn’t show it. He leaned on his rifle and began to pick at his nails again. “Messenger coming in, sir.”

Tamas stood up and stretched, trying not to look too eager. Had Olem’s man finally arrived? Tamas needed to know what was going on at his flank. He couldn’t meet the Kez infantry in battle with that Gurlish Wolf at his heels.

Tamas’s heart fell. The messenger coming in was not one of Olem’s. He was an outrider, a scout with the Second Brigade, keeping track of the Kez movements to the south. Someone was following the scout. As they drew closer, Tamas could see it was a woman in a gray woolen dress and a tan apron. Tamas knew that uniform. It was the clothing given to camp followers in the Kez army.

The scout said something to the woman and she stopped a ways off while the scout approached. He saluted. “Sir. Found this woman early this morning making her way toward our camp. She said she has news, and it’s urgent.”

“And you brought her to me?” Did chain of command mean nothing in this army anymore?

“She wouldn’t talk to anyone else. She had the right passwords.”

“Passwords?”

“I’m one of your spies, you daft man,” the woman said in Kez, her voice husky, her tone impatient.

Andriya let out a laugh. Tamas silenced him with a glance and looked at his other bodyguards. Andriya seemed to be the only one present who spoke Kez, other than Tamas himself. The rest hadn’t understood her. “Let her through.”

The woman approached. She looked about thirty, with raven hair, brown eyes, and hollow cheeks – she could have fit in anywhere in the Kez countryside. Her dress was well kept but covered in stains, her knees and elbows caked with mud, likely from crouching in the long grasses on her flight from the Kez camp.

“Would you like to clean up?”

“No time, but I could damn well use a drink.” Her switch to Adran was so flawless that Tamas wondered if he’d imagined her speaking Kez a moment ago.

“Get her some water,” he told Andriya.

“Wine.”

Tamas rolled his eyes but nodded. “All right. I didn’t know we had any spies left in the Kez army.”

“There are few enough,” she said. “There was a purge about seven weeks ago. Like someone gave them a Kresimir-damned list of names. It was pure luck that I didn’t get nabbed as well. I haven’t been able to use any of our normal channels to send reports – you’ve gotten nothing from me for weeks and for that I’m sorry.”

Tamas put his hands behind his back and gave a sharp nod. “Glad you made it out alive.” Inside, he was seething. General Hilanska, no doubt. When this whole thing was over, he was going to drop Hilanska into the deepest part of the Adsea and see how long he could swim with that one arm. “What’s so urgent that you had to leave your cover?”

The woman took an offered wineskin from Andriya and drained half of it before answering. “Aside from the intelligence I haven’t been able to pass on for the last month? I slept with General Fulicote last night. You know who he is?”

Tamas nodded. One of Ipille’s many infantry commanders. As far as Kez command went, he was a decent commander. He’d commanded a brigade in the Gurlish Wars twenty years ago.

“Then you know he’s a teetotaler, like you. Well, last night he was piss drunk.”

“Why?”

“Ipille has ordered the entire Grand Army to make a stand at the mouth of Surkov’s Alley.”

“So? That doesn’t seem like an unreasonable order.”

“So?” the woman retorted, before draining the rest of the wineskin. “So Ipille doesn’t think he can win. He’s been with the army for the last two months and now he’s turning tail and running back to Kez. General Fulicote and all the rest have been ordered on what they know is a suicide mission. Ipille told them that any man who runs from the battle will be caught and publicly flayed.”

“Do you have proof of this?”

The woman removed a letter from her bodice and smoothed it against her skirt before handing it to Tamas. It bore the royal seal of the Kez king, hastily broken by a clumsy thumb. Tamas opened the letter and skimmed the contents. Ipille was ordering his men to make a stand, but the final threat at the end allowed Tamas to read between the lines, just as General Fulicote and this spy had done: The Kez army wasn’t meant as anything more than cannon fodder to slow down Tamas and the Deliv.

Tamas returned to his chair, deep in thought. “What could he possibly gain by this?” he muttered.

“The Kez have all been asking the same thing of you since you attacked after the parley.”

Tamas was up on his feet again. “
That
was Ipille. He broke that parley.”

“That’s not what his officers think. I’ve managed to spend the night with four senior Kez officers since then and not a single one of them thinks Ipille actually broke the parley. They’re convinced that you and the Deliv fabricated the whole thing so you could push into Kez and try to dethrone Ipille.”

“I would do no such thing.” Tamas shook his head. Why was he explaining himself to a spy? A niggle of doubt had entered his mind. If Ipille hadn’t launched the attack on his men during the parley in order to kidnap Ka-poel, then who had?

He didn’t have time to wonder. If Ipille was fleeing and throwing his whole army away, that meant he had some kind of plan. Whether he meant to force Ka-poel to awaken Kresimir or he planned to retreat to his capital and spend the winter raising levies and trying to forge alliances among the Nine, it didn’t matter. Tamas needed to end this quickly.

“Report to General Arbor, he’ll see that you get somewhere to rest,” he said over his shoulder. “Andriya, get my horse!” He ran into his tent and sorted through his maps until he found one of southern Adro.

Thirty minutes later he strode into Sulem’s command tent. The Deliv king was surrounded by half a dozen members of his royal cabal and five of his generals. “We need to speak,” Tamas said.

Sulem shushed the angry mutters of his generals and cabal with a raised hand. “Everyone out,” he said.

They were alone within moments. “Do you read Kez?” Tamas asked.

“Yes.”

Tamas handed him Ipille’s orders to his general. Sulem read the letter twice and examined the seal. “May I have my Privileged check the authenticity?”

“By all means.”

“Vivia!” Sulem called. The caramel-skinned Privileged arrived a moment later and took the letter with a few words of instruction before disappearing.

Tamas began to pace the tent, his mind racing. Royal seals always had the faint touch of sorcery to them, much like a ward. It allowed generals in the field to check for authenticity. Tamas had been able to sense it himself, but Sulem needed to be convinced as well.

“These are the words of a desperate man,” Sulem said. “You should be pleased.”

“He’s trying to buy time. He knows that we won’t advance into Kez while the snows fall.”

“So what if he does? My armies have by now ravaged the Amber Expanse. They shall retreat to Alvation for the winter and sharpen their bayonets. Come spring we will crush whatever resistance the Kez have left.”

Tamas paused in his pacing. He still did not want to explain to Sulem about Kresimir and Ka-poel. Nor did he think that Sulem cared much for the fact that a Brudanian army held Adopest. “He may be able to forge alliances. If Starland or Novi decides to enter the war on their side, this war will last for ages.”

“Novi wouldn’t dare,” Sulem said with a wave of his hand.

One flap of the tent parted as Vivia returned. She handed Sulem the letter. “It’s Ipille’s,” she said, and slipped back out the way she had come.

Tamas advanced to the table in the middle of Sulem’s tent and pushed several maps and correspondence out of the way, laying his own map of southern Adro down and rubbing it smooth. “I will not allow this war to last any longer.”

“You have a plan?” Sulem approached the table curiously.

“The Kez will likely gather here and prepare for our approach,” Tamas said, pointing to the northern entrance to Surkov’s Alley. “They’re less than half a day ahead of us. I propose that we march double-time into the night tonight and all day tomorrow and catch them unawares.”

The Kez king frowned at that. “You mean to stop them before they can secure a defensive position at Surkov’s Alley?”

Tamas smiled. “I mean to do much more than that.”