The Autumn Republic (6 page)

N
ila waited northwest of the Adran camp, her dress damp from the grass beneath her. The stars above were hidden by a veil of clouds, and despite the thousands of cook fires in the camp to the southeast and Bo’s warm body by her side, she felt utterly alone in the wilderness.

During the day she knew she would have seen the plains of southern Adopest stretching all the way to the mighty Black Tar Forest that skirted the Charwood Pile Mountain Range to their west. To the east was the Adsea, and the Adran Mountains to the south that separated Adro and Kez.

She had once been told that they were called the Adran Mountains by Adro and the Kresim Mountains by Kez. She rubbed her hands together to get them warm and wondered how these mountains were labeled in the maps of those outside of Adro or Kez. The autumn chill was here and the leaves would fall from their trees any week now. All her clothes were in the luggage on top of their carriage where they’d left it in the Adran camp.

And inside that was the corpse of an assassin with a melted face.

“Are you still going to help Adamat find his son?” she asked. It occurred to her, just after she’d spoken, that if Bo was willing to lie to Adamat, he wouldn’t hesitate to hide the truth from her.

Bo shifted beside her. They had slipped out of the camp with little trouble, some trick of Bo’s sorcery, stepping around soldiers and sentries as if they were invisible. He hadn’t said much since then.

“I keep my word,” Bo said. The slight hesitation. The regret in his voice.
He didn’t want to
.

“You’re thinking you shouldn’t have brought Adamat and Oldrich along in the first place,” Nila said quietly.

Bo snorted but said nothing.

“Well?”

“Of course I am. It proved nothing but a complication. Certainly it got us a meeting with Hilanska, but I only endangered their lives and made it harder for us to get anything done. On my own I could have slipped into the camp, tortured a few key people for information, and gotten out again.”

It was odd the way Bo expressed regret over endangering the lives of those men in one breath and spoke of torturing innocent soldiers in the next. In Nila’s mind those two items were mutually exclusive, and yet she still thought of Bo as a good man. Was she wrong, or was it more complicated than that?

Bo waved a hand dismissively, as if in response to something she didn’t say. “He’s out of harm’s way by now.”

“Can you be sure?”

“The missing prisoners have certainly been discovered,” Bo said. “If Hilanska wanted to make much ado about it, there would be search parties combing these fields already. Perhaps riders going after Colonel Etan. No. Hilanska will sweep it under the rug. Perhaps he doesn’t have the time or manpower to organize a search.” Bo’s head tilted toward Nila and she thought she could make out the shadow of a smile on his face. “Perhaps the assassin with a melted head has discouraged pursuit.”

Nila cleared her throat. She didn’t want to talk about that. Pit, she didn’t want to remember that. The feel of the man’s skull giving way beneath her burning hand would give her nightmares for months. She shuddered. “What are we watching for out here?”

“Spies,” he said.

She couldn’t help but scoff. “Spies? Out here? It’s pitch-black!”

“Don’t look toward the fires of the camp. Even at this distance they can damage your night vision.”

She had been doing just that, wishing she had someplace warm to sleep tonight. Her teeth began to chatter and she scooted a little closer to Bo. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere. Why would a spy come up here?”

“To circle around the sentries,” Bo said. She could see the shadow of his arm as he pointed. “Hilanska’s camp is down there. And over there,” he said, pointing due south, “about seven miles away is Ket’s camp. Beyond them are the Kez. And up there” – he pointed to the northwest – “are the Wings of Adom, a mercenary company in the employ of Adro.”

“They’re keeping their distance while their employers are fighting each other?”

“Exactly,” Bo said, sounding pleased. “Now, because of this schism in the army Hilanska probably doesn’t trust his own men, so his spy won’t go through the pickets to the south but rather head north, pretending to be a courier on his way to Adopest. He’ll leave the road a couple of miles north of the camp and cut across this direction, where he can go to either the Kez, the Adran, or the mercenary camps to meet with his liaison.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

Bo chuckled. “I grew up on the streets, and then in Field Marshal Tamas’s household. I have an education in strategic deduction and guessing that most Privileged never get. Now, stop asking questions. Open your third eye.”

Most everyone with magical ability could use their third eye to look into the Else. It allowed them to see the mark that sorcery had made upon the world and to see anyone else with magical ability. It had been the first thing Bo taught her: looking beyond that which was real to see the sorcery beneath it.

She took a few shallow breaths and let her eyes fall halfway shut, focusing on the muscles around her eyeballs. The process itself wasn’t all that different from crossing one’s eyes. A wave of nausea flowed over her, nearly making her double over, but she forced herself to hold on, opening her eyes all the way to look into the Else.

The world she now saw was faint, as if she were viewing it through a thick veil. She could make out the landscape even in the darkness, but it was as if it had been drawn carelessly in a series of pastel colors, like an artist’s sketch.

She turned toward the Adran camp, and for a moment it seemed as if the number of campfires had doubled. The glow of Knacked in the Else. The whole camp seemed almost a smudge.

“I’m going to throw up,” she said.

Bo whispered in her ear, startling her. “Don’t give in to it. The nausea lessens with practice.”

“Is this how we’re going to spot the spy in the dark?”

“Yes.”

“You think the spy will be a Privileged or a Knacked?”

“Not a Privileged,” Bo said. “Likely a Knacked. Many spies are. It gives them an edge. And even if they weren’t, it wouldn’t matter.”

“How so?”

“Powder mages can’t see regular people in the Else. Neither can Knacked.”

“But Privileged can?”

“Yes. It’s very faint. If a Privileged is a bonfire and a Knacked is a lantern, then a regular person is a lightning bug. Their color in the Else will be so faint that you might think you’re imagining it.”

Holding her eyes on the Else was beginning to hurt. Her eyes felt dry and a headache had begun to form just behind her temples. “How can that possibly be of any use?”

“It takes a sharp eye,” Bo said. “And practice.”

“If this is practice, I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“I’ve always hated practicing,” Bo said, his voice warm in her ear. “But that’s how you get to be better. That’s how you become smarter and tougher than the people who will want to harm you. And when you’re a Privileged… that becomes everyone.”

Nila felt her insides shift uncomfortably. How could anyone keep this up for any length of time? The mere thought of it made her want to vomit.

“You remember how much you hated Lord Vetas?”

Nila nearly lost her grasp of the Else. She didn’t trust herself to answer.

“You remember how he made you feel so helpless?” Bo whispered. “Take all that hate and anger and ball it up and put it away. Don’t chew on it – that just makes you bitter. Put it aside and use it as a reminder of why you never want to be helpless again. Take your weakness and make it your strength. You’ll be a powerful Privileged, Nila. Stronger than anyone I’ve known. Stronger than me. But you have to work for it.”

Nila almost lost her focus again as she bit off a laugh. Powerful? Stronger than Bo? That seemed ridiculous. “How strong are you?”

“Reasonably so. I have my weaknesses, but I make up for them with cunning.”

“That doesn’t seem honest.”

“Lying and cheating are all fair game when your life is on the line. And it always is, in a royal cabal. I might have been cabal head someday. Especially after I learned a number of… secrets.”

“What kind of secrets?”

“Ancient sorcery. Like folding the Else upon itself so that other Privileged or Knacked can’t see me.”

“Who taught you that?”

There was amusement in his voice. “A very old woman. She taught me a lot of things that she probably shouldn’t have. It came back to bite her in the end.” Bo paused. “There’s something else you should know about being a Privileged.”

“Just one thing?”

“This is rather… personal.”

Nila’s heart skipped a beat. She had wondered when this would come up. “Oh?” She kept her third eye on the dark area north of the Adran camp, watching for anything that could be movement, and said a prayer of thanks that Bo couldn’t see her cheeks turning red.

“You’ll have urges.”

“What kinds of urges?” It was a stupid question. She knew exactly what he meant.

Bo went on in a purely businesslike tone. “You’re going to want to take everyone to bed. Constant contact with the Else makes a Privileged like a stag in rut. It affects both men and women, although women have a tendency to control it better.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You will.”

“Do you have any water?”

“Here.” Bo put a canteen in her hands. “Drop your third eye. You don’t want to pass out.”

Nila realized that her whole body was shaking from the effort of looking into the Else. She closed her third eye and took the canteen gratefully. When she finished drinking, she turned to Bo. “Have you had many women?”

“A few.”

“I’ve heard stories about Privileged…”

“Most of them are probably true.” A pause. She could feel him watching her. “Nila, if I catch a spy tonight or the night after, I’ll have to torture him.”

She felt relief at the change of subject, but only for a moment. “Do you have to?”

“I need information.”

“You can’t just magic the truth from him?”

“I wish that were the case.”

“There is no other choice?”

“I’m not a good person. No Privileged is.”

Nila didn’t like the implication. “I’m supposed to become a Privileged.”

“You
are
a Privileged. Even if you’ve only just begun your training.”

“And I have to do horrid things to survive in this world?”

“You already have. And you will again.”

She remembered the sticky feeling of the blood between her fingers, and the way that assassin’s skull had melted beneath her hand as easily as warm wax. “That’s the second time in as many minutes you’ve told me what I’ll end up doing. Do you know me so well, Privileged Borbador?”

She felt the feather touch of Bo’s gloved fingers on her cheek and then he pulled away.

They sat in silence for some time, listening to the wind rush across the open field. Somewhere nearby an owl hooted in the darkness. Bo stood up suddenly and removed his jacket, putting it over Nila’s shoulders.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“I can hear your teeth chattering.”

She could see the white of his Privileged gloves standing out against the black of the night as he walked down the hill. Struggling against the nausea, she opened her third eye. Was he touching the Else?

The color of his body in the Else nearly overwhelmed her with its brightness. He spread his arms and she waited to see something more, but he just stood there, his face in the wind.

“Bo!” she hissed.

He came back up the hill toward her. “Hmm?”

“I saw it! A movement.”

“Where?”

“To the southeast. Moving along the dip between hills. At least, I thought I saw it. Maybe —”

“No.” Bo’s voice was grim, and she heard him crack his knuckles. “I saw it too. Stay here.”

He headed off in the direction where she’d seen the ever-so-soft glow in the Else, striding with the confidence of a man in daylight despite the darkness. She took a few nervous breaths, feeling even more alone in the windy darkness. She looked toward the Adran camp, watching the distant embers of their fires, and wished once more she were in the safety and warmth of her own bedroll.

Bo would say that there was no place safe for a Privileged.

Had he told her to stay behind to spare her the horrors of watching him torture some poor soul? Or because he thought she was weak?

Perhaps both.

She
was
a Privileged, he’d told her. She couldn’t afford to be weak to survive in this world. With the power of sorcery came the expectations of others. People would expect her to use her powers – for king or country or wealth. People would try to use her. She wondered if her own power would give her hungers. Not just the sexual urgings Bo had spoken of but the hunger for riches, servants, and authority.

The fear of it niggled at her. What could she do? Flee to some distant land and hope that no one ever noticed her? Or learn to control her sorcery, embrace the power it brought her? She didn’t want to be an evil person, yet Bo spoke of Privileged as if they had no choice. She felt as if there were a war inside of her already and that it would determine the kind of person she would be.