Part 35 (1/2)
”I'm looking for Privileged Borbador,” she said, pulling her foot back.
Neither of the men responded.
”He's an Adran Privileged. He was taken to your healers just two nights ago.”
Again, nothing.
”I'm here from Field Marshal Tamas. This is an important query,” Nila ventured. If invocation of Tamas's name meant anything to the cabal guards, they didn't show it. ”Is there someone I should see?” A cold sweat broke out on the back of Nila's neck. Did these men even know who Bo was? Had Bo reached the Kez cabal alive? The possibility that he had died on the way crept into her mind and she felt a rising panic.
What did she have to do to be allowed admittance to the cabal? She needed answers. Maybe if she set fire to their shoes, they wouldn't be able to ignore her any longer.
A quick glance at the polished bayonets of the guards, and she imagined that setting their shoes on fire would be a quick path to a disemboweling. She raised her hands. A demonstration of some kind seemed to be in order. There was nothing else for her to do. She still didn't know how to wield her powers. Without Bo she might as well go back to being a washerwoman.
”What do you want?”
Nila nearly jumped out of her skin. A woman had approached from behind one of the guards. Her caramel skin was lighter than most of the Deliv and her face was long but beautiful, with high cheekbones and a narrow chin. Her spine was straight, her head held high, and her hands were clasped at her waist, clothed in runed Privileged gloves.
”Make it quick,” the woman said impatiently before Nila could answer. She didn't look at Nila's face, but rather over her head, as if Nila herself was worth little more than a cursory glance.
”My name is Nila. I'm looking for Privileged Borbador.”
”He's not seeing anyone.”
Nila swallowed, her throat dry. ”I'm...” She stopped herself, a warning dancing across the back of her mind. ”Careful with any Privileged,” Bo had said, not long after discovering that Nila didn't require gloves for her sorcery. ”They detest change. Any change could bring the upset of their unrivaled power among the Nine. If a member of a rival cabal discovers your unique ability before you've learned to defend yourself, you may wind up being cut apart by Privileged surgeons in a dank room somewhere.”
”I need to see him,” Nila finished.
”You his wh.o.r.e?”
She nearly choked on this. ”Excuse me?”
The woman's eyes narrowed and she seemed to look at Nila for the first time. ”Bo's been letting himself slip. Your skin's too pale and you're too short. By Kresimir, his tastes have gotten worse.”
”I'm here from Field Marshal Tamas,” Nila said, biting her tongue. ”I need an update on Privileged Borbador.”
”Don't lie to me, wench. One of Tamas's men was here an hour ago. Pit, you must be new. Bo's always liked the clingy types more than he should. He's still alive, if that's what you're asking. If he still wants you, he'll find you in a couple of weeks. If he doesn't, you won't hear from him again. I suggest you go spread your legs for some Adran officer to occupy your time.”
Nila was near bursting. How could this woman, Privileged though she was, speak to her in such a manner? Even when she was nothing more than a laundress, the lord and the lady of the house had never been so contemptuous, and Lady Eldaminse had hated her.
The Privileged waved one gloved hand in dismissal. ”If you come around here anymore, I'll make sure he never sees you again.” There was no malice or threat in her tone of voice. It was just a statement, as casual as a cook might speak of cutting up a chicken. She turned around and strode off without another word, leaving Nila looking for something, anything, to say to her back.
Nila's hands clenched and unclenched behind her back, and she s.n.a.t.c.hed them to her sides before she caught her dress on fire. She took a step forward, only to find two muskets blocking her path again.
”You should go,” one of the guards said, a note of sympathy in his voice.
Nila whirled on the ball of her foot and stalked away, wondering if she had the power in her to set fire to the whole d.a.m.ned cabal pavilion before they knew what was happening. A ”wh.o.r.e,” that Privileged had called her! Spreading her legs for an Adran n.o.ble? She could feel the blue flames dancing on her fingertips, and balled her hands into fists.
That's what the wards are for, dummy. She could hear Bo's voice in the back of her head. A lick of flame summoned from the Else, directed at that cabal camp, and all the pit would come cras.h.i.+ng down on her head.
On a whim, Nila changed course and worked her way around the cordoned cabal camp. Perhaps she should have told the woman that she was Bo's apprentice-that she was a Privileged, not some commoner to be treated like trash. Maybe she would have gotten a little more respect.
Then again, that woman shouldn't treat anyone like that.
Nila caught sight of a break in the Privileged's tents and saw the smokeless flames rising from a fire pit. A guard eyed her inquisitive glances but said nothing as she stood on her toes and looked for some sign of Bo. There were a few Privileged and two or three times as many cabal soldiers in their heavy armor, carrying heavy pikes and sabers. She wondered that there weren't more muskets, then remembered Bo mentioning that most Privileged were allergic to black powder and avoided it when possible.
She felt a smile touch her lips as she caught sight of white skin among the various shades of black and brown. There was Bo, sitting next to the fire, staring disconnectedly into the flames. He looked very pale but otherwise unharmed. Nila took a breath, a shout on the tip of her tongue, but it caught in her throat as the Deliv Privileged-the same one who had dismissed her so rudely-emerged from a nearby pavilion and approached Bo.
He said something to her, but she just shook her head, then stepped over to him and pressed her lips to his. He didn't resist or protest-his cheeks flushed and he was soon kissing her back. She traced a finger down his chest and her hand dipped lower...
Nila was halfway back to the Adran camp before she had another rational thought, and she was already at Tamas's command tent before she knew where she was going.
Field Marshal Tamas stood outside the front of his command tent, eyes s.h.i.+elded from the sun, and examined a pair of maps laid out on the dirt in front of him, the edges held down by several fist-sized rocks. A couple of his officers muttered as she approached, but no one stopped her.
”What happened to your dress?” Olem asked.
She looked down. It looked like she'd been smeared with soot. The bottom half of her dress had two black streaks, as if ink had dripped off her hands. She could smell singed cotton. ”Nothing,” she snapped. ”When are we leaving?”
Tamas snorted, bending down over his maps, but didn't say anything.
”We're camped here for the night,” Olem said. ”We'll leave in the morning.”
”Oh. Right. When will we meet the Kez on the field?”
”Sooner than you may wish,” Tamas muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear.
”What's that supposed to mean?”
”Nila,” Olem said, a note of warning in his voice.
”It's all right, Olem,” Tamas said, still not looking up from his maps. ”She's learning how to be a real Privileged, and the insolence goes with it. It means, Privileged Nila, that you are woefully underprepared for what I'm going to ask you to do.”
”What's that?”
”Slaughter thousands of Kez soldiers. Burn them like tinder. Listen to their screams as they wither beneath your sorcery.”
Nila balked at that. ”Why do you say I'm unprepared? I did it once, didn't I?” Nila was unprepared. She had blocked that battle out of her mind so thoroughly that she'd almost forgotten it, and she felt a wave of nausea at the memory.
”Because that's what Bo said,” Olem interrupted.
”You've seen him?”
”An hour ago. He's still alive, but he's in no state to fight. He asked me to give you a warning-stay away from the Deliv cabal. We're to keep your presence a secret until it's absolutely necessary.”
Nila remembered that Deliv Privileged kissing Bo, her hand reaching between Bo's legs. ”I'm sure he did,” she said.