Part 24 (1/2)
”Pity.”
”A word, my lady?” Tamas asked.
They both led their horses off to the side and Tamas leaned over to her. ”Will the Wings of Adom continue their support of this battle?”
”I'm having serious doubts as to the mental fort.i.tude of the Adran field marshal,” Lady Winceslav said, looking him up and down.
”Oh? And you've made better decisions in the recent past? Shall I bring up a certain scandal among your brigadiers that's only a few months old?”
Lady Winceslav pursed her lips. ”Tell me, can you count the number of younger women you've slept with on one hand? On two? How about we include toes?”
”This bickering is unbecoming,” Tamas said, giving her a tight smile.
”Is that the best you've got? Where's that famous grin you used to bag them all with?” Lady Winceslav shook her head before he could answer. ”I'm here in my capacity as a member of your council. Not as the head of the Wings of Adom. We took impossible losses last week and we haven't yet decided what to do about it.” Tamas opened his mouth, but Lady Winceslav leaned close and whispered, ”We're going to withdraw. But I won't make that announcement for a couple of days. As far as this parley is concerned, we will provide a unified front.”
Tamas's throat was dry. ”Thank you,” he said back quietly. Louder, ”Well. I'll look forward to hearing your answer.” He was not happy to hear her decision. If Ipille continued the war, he would need her mercenaries more than ever. But he couldn't make an issue of it now.
Tamas noted that someone else had ridden in just behind Lady Winceslav's escort. He frowned and wheeled his mount toward the approaching rider.
”Nila, was it?”
The laundress-turned-Privileged nodded her head. She kept a white-knuckle grip on the saddle horn, and scowled at the roan stepping nervously beneath her.
”Been riding long?”
”No, actually. This is only my third time.”
”I see. You're doing remarkably well, if that's the case.”
”Thank you.”
”Nila, may I ask what you're doing here?”
”It's Privileged Nila, sir. And yes. I've been sent by Privileged Borbador.”
”Have you now, Privileged Nila?”
”Indeed.”
”For what?”
”Why, to attend the negotiations.”
Tamas blinked at this. ”I don't mean to be rude, but you're a laundress who has only recently become a Privileged apprentice. What makes Bo think you belong at a negotiation between nations?”
”He said I should get used to it.”
”Did he? Well, you can go back to Bo and tell him that this is not appropriate.”
The smile wavered, but to the girl's credit she did not flinch. ”I won't do that, sir.”
”Even if I order it?”
”With all due respect, I am not under your command, sir.”
He could see the nervousness in her eyes now. The slight shake of her hands on the reins. What was this, some kind of test that Bo had put her to? Face down Field Marshal Tamas?
”It is within my power to bar you from the negotiations.”
”You can't, sir. I have every right to be here as the representative of the Adran Republic Cabal.”
”The what? Taniel!” Tamas whirled his horse and beckoned impatiently for his son. Taniel arrived a moment later. ”What the pit is your friend playing at?”
”What friend?”
”Don't act coy with me. Borbador. What is this business about the Adran Republic Cabal?”
Taniel looked at Nila, then at Tamas, suppressing a chuckle. ”He's not playing at anything, sir. You've asked him to help with the war effort and he's the last trained Privileged left in Adro. Nila is his apprentice and, from what Bo tells me, she is even stronger than he is. Those two are the Adran Cabal now, and since we're trying to be a republic, he thought it pointless to continue calling it the royal cabal.”
Tamas opened his mouth once, then closed it, trying to think of an argument against this that didn't end with him saying ”because I say so.” He couldn't come up with one. Bo was, technically, still a government Privileged.
”Don't say a b.l.o.o.d.y word,” Tamas said, pointing at Nila. ”I'm grateful for what you did at the battle last week and it's earned you my goodwill. But I will not have a former laundress arguing points of politics with the b.l.o.o.d.y king of Kez.”
Nila's ingratiating smile returned. ”Of course, Field Marshal. I'm only here as a representative.”
Tamas spurred his horse back to Olem. ”The laundress is going with us.”
”Yes sir. It's almost the appointed time.”
Tamas gave a silent prayer of thanks that Olem had accepted the news without comment. ”Send a man ahead. Vlora, you have command until I return. If anything happens, kill Ipille's Privileged first, and then Ipille.”
”Yes sir.”
Tamas led his delegation across the lonely field to the outskirts of the town, where they waited for their messenger to return and tell them that Ipille was already in the chapel. They dismounted and left their horses tied beside one of the small houses, then walked the last hundred yards of the journey.
Two of the Kez royal guard flanked the chapel. Tamas looked them up and down-they wore gold on black, with gray trim. Their feathered, flat-top hats were tipped forward, chin straps hugging their jaws. Dark, unflinching eyes gazed back at Tamas, and he wished he had his powder cabal with him. The Kez royal guard was not to be trifled with. He doubted even Olem's Riflejacks measured up to them.
”I'm here to see your king,” Tamas said.
One of them snapped a nod and turned sharply on his heel to open the chapel door. Olem left two men, one for each of the Kez, and then went first, followed by Lady Winceslav and Nila. Three of Tamas's generals, two colonels, and a lawyer who had come along with Lady Winceslav filed inside.
Taniel hung back, a sour look on his face as if he'd swallowed a lime whole.
Tamas waited patiently for Taniel to finally come forward. ”It's time to end this,” Tamas said.
A muscle jumped in Taniel's jaw. For a moment, Tamas thought his son's discipline would fail him, but ever the soldier, Taniel gave a sharp nod and headed in, leaving Tamas to steel his own emotions before he followed to complete the delegation.
The chapel was poorly lit by a single window on the eastern side. It was one large room, only about twenty feet by thirty. The pews had been stacked along the walls and a large table brought in, covered with a gold cloth and a small feast of fruits and desserts. Candelabras had been lit and artwork hung along the walls-no doubt, additions made by Ipille's retinue to give some semblance of royalty to the place.
A small group of politicians occupied the far end of the table. Field Marshal Goutlit sat on one side with a pair of generals Tamas did not recognize. On the other was a thin woman with delicate, birdlike features in the official tan-and-green robe of the Kez royal cabal. Beside her sat a pale, limp-looking fellow named Duke Regalish-Ipille's closest adviser. A few other n.o.blemen stood along the back wall.