Part 19 (1/2)

”Do you recognize that insignia?”

Every one of the men had a patch on his shoulder-a chevron with a powder horn below it. He remembered the same patch on the uniforms of the men who had been guarding him when he awoke from his coma. Someone had told him that they belonged to a special regiment called Riflejacks.

”They're not pointing their guns at you,” Bo said.

Riflejacks. That special regiment reported to Field Marshal Tamas's bodyguard.

”Privileged Borbador,” a voice called. ”If you would please remove your gloves.”

Bo's fingers twitched. Taniel could feel his sorcery tightening, like muscles moving beneath the skin. A wave of conflict flashed across Bo's face and he slowly stepped away from Taniel. From up on the ridge and down in the canyon, every rifle followed him. Taniel remembered the gaes that had held Bo, the one that would have forced him to kill Field Marshal Tamas.

”Don't do it, Bo,” Taniel said. He could see Bo's arms tense and his fingers wiggle in antic.i.p.ation. Taniel didn't know what he could do, but this would only end in a great deal of bloodshed if Bo unleashed his sorcery.

Ka-poel suddenly stood up, leaving Kresimir's casket on the ground. She strode around in front of Bo before Taniel could stop her, and held out one hand to him.

”You don't want to stand there, little sister.”

Ka-poel thrust her hand at him emphatically, palm up.

”Give her the gloves, Bo. I won't let them kill you,” Taniel said. And he wouldn't. He'd kill a hundred of his own countrymen if they came after Bo. He'd die by his friend's side if that was what it meant. He stared hard at Bo until the Privileged gave a barely perceptible nod, acknowledging that he had gotten Taniel's meaning.

Bo lowered his arms. He glared down the canyon as he plucked at the fingers of his gloves and then set them in Ka-poel's outstretched palm. She took the gloves and walked down the canyon until she reached the Adran soldiers. One of the men examined the gloves in her hands and gave a sharp nod, letting her pa.s.s.

She reappeared a moment later, and she wasn't alone.

Field Marshal Tamas walked stiffly up the canyon to Taniel. He seemed to have aged ten years in the last few months, and looked more frail than Taniel could ever have imagined him. By his gait, he was hiding a wound. A bad one.

”You look like the pit, Dad,” Taniel said.

”You don't look a d.a.m.ned sight better,” Tamas said. His back was rigid, and he examined Bo out of the corner of his eye as one might regard a cave lion sitting on one's porch, before he turned back to Taniel. Taniel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Last he'd heard, his father was presumed dead, and though there had been cause to consider his survival, Taniel had not had the time to either grieve or rejoice. A torrent of emotions rushed through him, and he struggled to hold them all in check, turning his face into a blank canvas.

”Glad to see you still alive,” Taniel said.

The old man's face was impa.s.sive. The pinnacle of military discipline.

But for the first time since his mother died, Taniel saw tears s.h.i.+ning in his father's eyes. ”You too, Captain.”

CHAPTER.

18.

Tamas gave orders to camp in the valley that night.

He put Olem in charge of setting up camp, but made the rounds himself, walking slowly through the tents, waving off salutes, and reminding the men that they had an early morning and a long ride ahead of them and that they should get some rest. When he had finished, he checked on the prisoners, then with the sentries.

”You need some rest, sir.”

Tamas jumped. Taniel stood behind him on the banks of the small river that ran down the center of the valley.

”I'm all right,” Tamas said.

”You've been fiddling since we stopped to make camp. Losing sleep won't get us back to the front any faster.”

Tamas glanced at his son. Taniel looked older. Lean from weeks of hunger, his cheeks gaunt, he still managed to retain a robust physical appearance. He had put on more muscle since the day Tamas had sent him up to South Pike with orders to kill Bo. That seemed like a lifetime ago. What had it been? Six months? Perhaps less?

”We should have ridden through the night,” Tamas said. He stifled a yawn. ”I left at too crucial a time.”

Taniel s.h.i.+fted from one leg to the other. ”Sorry to be such an inconvenience.”

”I didn't...” Tamas turned toward his son, suppressing a frustrated sigh. ”That's not what I meant. It's just, the battle. It was a terrible risk to leave it in others' hands.”

”You didn't need to come for me.”

”Well, I know that now.” Tamas chuckled. Even to him it sounded forced. ”I should have just left the whole thing to Bo and stayed at the front.”

”Indecision isn't becoming of you.” Taniel kicked a rock into the river.

Tamas wished he knew what to say. He'd never been a spectacular father, he knew that. But even he could tell that something had changed about Taniel. Something Tamas couldn't quite put his finger on. He could sense the sorcery clinging to him without even opening his third eye, though it was subtle stuff. Supposedly the work of that savage witch Taniel was so fond of. Tamas had his fair share of questions about that girl.

”Bo's not a threat to you anymore,” Taniel said. ”You don't have to keep him tied up, under guard. Give him back his gloves.”

Tamas rubbed at his temples. ”It's just until we get back.”

”If we get back,” Taniel said, ”and we need Bo's help against the Kez-which we will get. A little trust will go a long way.”

”I'm short on trust right now,” Tamas said. He rubbed at the wound that was itching beneath his coat. Only the constant buzz of a powder trance kept the pain away, and only just barely.

”Hilanska,” Taniel said.

Tamas cleared his throat to cover his surprise. ”How did you know?”

”When Kresimir captured me, he had Hilanska confirm my ident.i.ty. I know he was the one who sent those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.” He jerked his chin toward the makes.h.i.+ft stockade in the center of the camp that contained around a hundred and fifty of Hilanska's men.

Tamas considered it for a moment, then unb.u.t.toned his jacket. He lifted his s.h.i.+rt, exposing his flesh to the chill of the night. ”Stabbed me right between the ribs.”

”Looks bad.” Taniel inspected the wound from a respectful distance, aware how much his father's vulnerability meant to him.

”I'm lucky. It was a clean wound. Missed anything important.” He let his s.h.i.+rt fall and slowly b.u.t.toned up his jacket.

”You need a Privileged to look at it.”

”The Deliv king has a few healers with him. I'll get it taken care of when he arrives. It won't kill me before then. Hilanska. That b.l.o.o.d.y b.a.s.t.a.r.d. We've been friends for decades. He was a groomsman at my wedding. Was privy to all my plans with the coup.”

”That's the wound that won't heal,” Taniel said quietly.