Part 3 (2/2)

Except for her, apparently. And she was far from a G.o.d.

She had no doubt that if she said the word, Bo would send her back to Adopest today. This was her opportunity to run. She could fetch Jakob and go into hiding, using the funds that Bo had left for her. She would be able to get out of danger.

If she left now, she would never learn how to control her new powers. She would never find a Privileged as patient or thoughtful or just downright human as Bo. And she would never get the chance to repay him for the kindness he'd shown her and Jakob.

”What can I do?” Nila asked.

Nila waited inside the small wood-and-stone building that had, according to one of the soldiers, at one point been a stable.

The building barely had a roof, and the door was nothing more than a sc.r.a.p of cowhide, but it seemed that the quartermaster of the Twelfth Brigade was making do. The floors were covered in straw and every available s.p.a.ce was stacked with wooden crates and powder kegs.

Bo had told her to ask around about Taniel Two-shot, stifling her protests that his instructions were rather vague, and left her to her own devices. He wasn't exactly the image of rousing leaders.h.i.+p.

She didn't know how to go about asking soldiers about the death of their own. It seemed cra.s.s. So she thought she'd put what she did know to good use.

Despite the horror of being Lord Vetas's prisoner, she had learned many valuable lessons. One of those was the worth of good record keeping, and how it could be used against the very people who kept those records.

The cowhide was swept aside and a woman of about fifty ambled into the room wearing an Adran-blue army jacket with the quartermaster's pin on her collar. She was a slim woman, carrying most of her weight around her hips, and her graying hair was tucked into a bun behind her head.

”How can I help you, my dear?” she asked, dropping carelessly onto a powder keg.

”My name is Risara,” Nila said, smoothing the front of her skirt. ”I'm the secretary to Counselor Mattias of Adopest and I need access to the brigade records.”

”Well then.” The quartermaster sniffed. ”I'll have to clear that with General Hilanska.”

Nila produced an attache case from beneath her arm and opened it on her lap, taking great pains to leaf through the official-looking doc.u.ments within. She withdrew one in particular and handed it to the quartermaster. ”This is a warrant granting me access to whatever records I wish to see. Do you think this is something the general wants to deal with during the current turmoil?”

The quartermaster read the warrant over twice. Nila tried not to let her nervousness show. The warrant was perfectly valid, but Bo had warned her that the army operated outside civilian judicial purview-whether legal or not.

”All right,” the quartermaster said, handing the doc.u.ment back to Nila. ”What do you want to see?”

Nila tried not to show her surprise at being granted access so easily or to let on that she didn't actually know what she was looking for. What would help her track down Taniel? His movements before his reported death? ”Give me a copy of all requisition reports of the last two months.”

”All of them?” The quartermaster rocked back on her powder keg. ”That's several hundred pages.”

”Get a scribe in here. I'll wait.”

The quartermaster grumbled under her breath and began sorting through the crates piled in one corner. Nila waited, trying to put on as patient an air as possible. Lord Vetas had forced her to run many of his errands-not all of them strictly legal-and she had quickly learned that if she only acted like she belonged someplace most people would a.s.sume she did.

”Is there anything else you need?” the quartermaster said, wrist-deep in sheaves of paper. ”I don't want to have to go through all this again.”

”What records do you have on individual officers?”

The quartermaster lifted a pile of worn yellow paper almost as thick as Nila's hand was wide. ”You'd have to see the general's adjutant for that.”

”Of course.” Nila took the records from the quartermaster and leafed through them. ”Do you need to make copies?”

”They're all in triplicate. That's why the column for order signatures is blank. I'll have another copy made up when someone has time. Anything you're looking for in particular?”

Nila hesitated a moment. If she mentioned her goal, it might raise suspicion. But the idea of combing through all those reports was incredibly daunting. ”Do you know if Captain Taniel Two-shot made any requisition orders?”

”He did.” The quartermaster scratched her head for a minute as if to run through her memory. ”There are a few dozen, I think. I can't tell you the exact days, but any requests made by a powder mage are marked with a 'pm' in the order column.”

”You've been most helpful. Thank you. Do you mind if I look through the copies here?”

The quartermaster shrugged her bony shoulders. ”Fine by me. You'll have to excuse me for a moment, though. I'll just be takin' a p.i.s.s.”

Nila was left alone with the records. It took her a few minutes to get a feel for how the pages were organized. They were covered in small script and several columns. Names, dates, orders, and whether they were fulfilled. There were notes in half a dozen different handwritings-various quartermasters, she a.s.sumed. Once she found the first 'pm'-a request by Taniel for more powder, which was denied-it wasn't hard to spot more.

She had just found the fifth powder request when she heard the old quartermaster behind her.

”Right there,” the woman said. Nila glanced up out of politeness, only to see herself trapped in the small building by two big soldiers. The men wore dark-blue Adran uniforms with red trim and tall bearskin hats. Not regular soldiers. Grenadiers.

”Ma'am,” one of them said, ”would you come with us, please.”

Nila's heart was in her throat. ”Is something the matter?”

”Please,” he said again. ”Come with us.” He glanced behind him, as if nervous. ”Try not to make a ruckus, ma'am.”

Nila didn't see that she had much choice. She could yell and scream, with only a small chance of attracting Bo. But even then, what could Bo do? For the purpose of this mission they were not in a friendly camp. ”Of course, just let me gather my things.” Nila scooped up the requisition orders, securing the whole thing with a string, and forced them into her attache case before following the men out of the building.

”Stay with us, please,” one of the men said in a low voice before moving on ahead. The other, Nila noted, fell back some ten paces. It was almost as if they didn't want to be seen with her.

She was led past General Hilanska's headquarters and over a slight rise and into another part of the camp. She examined the various standards, trying to remember the brigades and regiments of the Adran army and failing completely. If not General Hilanska, who were they taking her to see? Or were they taking her straight to the stockade?

The man in front of her suddenly stopped beside a white-walled tent and turned as if taking up the guard. He gestured to the flap. ”Go on in.”

The other soldier had disappeared. Nila stared at the tent for a moment, both curious and fearful about what she'd find inside. She clenched her jaw. She was a Privileged now. She was going to have to get used to danger-and taking risks. She ducked inside.

A man sat in the middle of the tent, scribbling furiously in a notebook on his lap. He didn't look up when Nila entered, only pointed to the chair opposite him and continued to write. Nila looked around carefully. No sign of danger here, though that could all change in a moment in a camp full of soldiers. She took the offered seat.

By the size of the tent, Nila guessed that this man was an officer. He was a big man, well over six feet tall standing, with wide shoulders and thick arms. He had a face that looked like it had been punched one too many times, with a crooked nose and high cheekbones. His chair was wheeled, of the kind used by invalids.

She spotted the man's army jacket hanging in one corner, with two hawks over the Adran Mountains emblazoned on the shoulder. It also held four bars over a chevron-Nila knew enough to recognize he was a colonel. Had she read something in the newspaper recently about a colonel being paralyzed in a heroic action?

He finally stopped writing and pushed himself up straight in his chair. ”You're the girl that came in with the lawyer this afternoon?” he asked.

”I am Counselor Mattias's secretary.”

”How long have you been with the counselor?” The colonel watched her face intently.

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