Part 10 (2/2)

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Lady Winceslav gazed intently out the window as they traveled, while Bo had become withdrawn almost as soon as the Lady had given the order to muster her troops.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 hara.s.s 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 a.n.a.logy.

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 h.o.a.rd 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 attache 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 a.s.sistants. Taniel visited Mihali in the late afternoon.”

”Did they say why?”

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