The Crimson Campaign

  CHAPTER

  32

  Ricard Tumblar’s carriage jolted along the winding highway at the base of the Charwood Pile Mountain Range, headed north toward the Pan-Deliv Canal. Mountains rose above them immediately to the west, and there were more in the distance to the north, their white tops looking like frosting on peaked cakes. The carriage thumped, then clattered over a stone bridge crossing a tributary of the Ad River and then it was back to the pitted dirt road.

  Adamat stared out the window and tried not to think of the jarring of the ground. The last thing he needed was to throw up all over the velvet interior.

  Five days in a carriage was no pleasant prospect, even one as fancy as Ricard’s. The undercarriage employed the very newest leaf-spring suspension and the thick, padded seats helped absorb some rocking of the road, but nothing prevented Adamat’s head from hitting the roof when they hit a particularly deep hole in the road.

  Damn these northern roads.

  At least Faye seemed to be enjoying herself, as much as she could under the circumstance. She had become even more withdrawn after her decision not to go after Josep. Her weeping had stopped, though, and she seemed more resolved to put on a good face for the other children.

  “We’ll have these roads fixed up better once the canal comes into more use,” Ricard was saying, his head craned out the window. “I’d like to see the whole thing cobbled, with a full-time union crew to tend to maintenance year-round.”

  Adamat longed to reach their destination. Just a couple hours away, or so Ricard had said. They’d be staying at the finest hotel in northern Adro. Room service, massages, hot running water. The hotel was brand-new, built to accommodate dignitaries and businessmen taking the canal over the Charwood Pile.

  “Couldn’t you just leave it to the Mountainwatch?” Adamat asked. “The maintenance, I mean. We’re in the foothills. That counts as their territory.”

  Ricard wagged a finger under his nose. “No! No, no, no. I fought tooth and nail for the canal to be a union project. The Mountainwatch wanted in on it. Claimed it was their jurisdiction, or some such tripe, but this is a union job! The union employs good, hardworking Adrans. Not the convicts and malcontents of forced labor like the Mountainwatch.”

  “Surely they’re guarding the pass,” Adamat said.

  “No,” Ricard said proudly. “Purely union, even down to the lock guards.”

  That surprised Adamat. The Mountainwatch was more than just a forced-labor institution. It had a long tradition of guarding the high places – they were the gatekeepers of Adro, and they’d proved that again in the recent defense of Shouldercrown Fortress.

  Adamat understood that Ricard was proud of his unions, but unionizing the defense of the country seemed strange.

  They stopped for a midday meal several miles south of the canal. Adamat and Faye dined with their children and their hired nannies while Ricard met with Fell about plans for the mountain. When lunch was over, Adamat wandered outside to stretch his legs.

  The inn sat next to a small stream – runoff from the mountains. Adamat listened to the bubbling sound it made as it meandered under the road and down toward the river, then looked north.

  Adamat could see the locks of the canal from where he stood. They worked their way up the side of the mountain like steps, the road zigzagging its way up beside them. The whole setup looked like a model at this distance, and even seeing it with his own eyes, he scarcely believed it to be real. A canal going over an entire mountain range!

  The locks themselves were a feat of engineering never before seen in this world. They were built purely by the labor of men, no sorcery at all, unless you count the few Knacked that the union no doubt employed for their various skills. Despite the rigors of the journey, Adamat knew that touring the locks prior to the grand opening was going to be worth the whole trip.

  Josep would have loved to have seen the canal.

  Ricard and Fell came outside, studying a map together and pointing at the road. He could hear them discussing the benefits of cobbles versus brick or poured concrete.

  Something on the mountainside caught Adamat’s eye. At this distance, he couldn’t be sure, but…

  “Ricard,” he said, interrupting the two, “do you have a looking glass?”

  Fell said, “I do.” She went back to the carriage and returned a moment later, handing Adamat a looking glass.

  “I thought you said that the grand opening wasn’t until tomorrow,” Adamat said to Ricard.

  Ricard squinted toward the canal. “It’s not.”

  “You’re not supposed to have any traffic on the canal?”

  “Not yet. I mean, they’ve been tested, but no commercial traffic until after the grand opening. Why, what do you see?”

  Adamat put the looking glass to his eye and found the locks. They came into focus, and then he saw what had caught his eye.

  Each of those locks held a ship – and not just any ships, but oceangoing merchantmen with rows of cannon and tall masts. There had to be dozens of them, and he could see the tiny figures of men working the locks as the entire row of ships slowly descended the side of the mountain.

  The ships bore green-and-white-striped flags, marked in the center with a laurel wreath. Adamat felt his legs grow weak and a growing dread in the pit of his stomach.

  He thrust the looking glass into Fell’s hands. “Get the children back in the carriages. We’re going back to Adopest. Now!”

  “What?” Ricard demanded, snatching the looking glass. “What is wrong with you? The grand opening is tomorrow, we’re…” He fell silent as he put the looking glass to his eye.

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t let the Mountainwatch guard your canal,” Adamat shouted over his shoulder as he ran toward the inn. “Otherwise it would have been harder for the Brudania-Gurla Trading Company to bring their whole damn fleet across it.”

  “They’re going to send me to Adopest,” Taniel said.

  One of Ka-poel’s eyes opened. The one that wasn’t swollen shut.

  Taniel went on. “General Ket says this is a civil matter because I’m no longer in the Adran army and I’m not officially in the Wings of Adom yet. I’m to be sent back to Adopest under house arrest to await trial.” Taniel paced the short length of the tent. He held in his hand a note from Brigadier Abrax telling him the conditions of his house arrest. “That could take months. The war might be over by then, and we’ll have lost.”

  Taniel stopped pacing and dropped onto his cot. What could he do? He’d spent the last hour arguing with Abrax. The brigadier claimed her hands were tied, that she could do nothing but provide Taniel with a small house in Adopest. The Wings of Adom’s charter did not allow them to admit anyone awaiting trial.

  “I’m going to kill her,” Taniel said.

  Ka-poel struggled to sit up in her cot. They’d been given a tent in the corner of the Wings’ camp at the farthest point from the Adran army. Her green eyes were wet. Taniel suspected she’d cried during the night.

  He thought that perhaps his rage would fade as the days passed and Ka-poel was sitting up and able to move. If anything, seeing her wounds heal slowly made him even angrier. Her lips were swollen and cracked, her face still bruised.

  She spread her hands, awkwardly because her arm was in a sling. Who?

  “General Ket. She must have ordered what they… what they did to you. She must have known she wouldn’t be able to send me to the noose so easily. Those men had you for hours.”

  Ka-poel shook her head.

  “No? ‘No’ what? The doctor said you fought back. That you…”

  Another emphatic shake of her head. She motioned with her thumb over her shoulder and then made a snatching motion. She pointed to herself.

  “They caught you?”

  She thought for a moment, and then made a walking motion with her fingers.

  “Followed you?”

  A nod.

  She reached for her satchel and winced. Taniel lifted it for her. She
took it from him and began to rummage around inside.

  Ka-poel began to lay out dolls on the cot. They were instantly recognizable: General Hilanska, General Ket; the entire General Staff of the Adran army.

  Taniel stared at the dolls. Each time he saw one, he was amazed by the detail she put into the wax, but here it was something more. He knew all of these people. Some of them, like Hilanska, he’d known since childhood. Bits of real hair protruded from the wax in places. A drop of blood was rubbed on one of them. It made his skin crawl.

  “Why were you making dolls for them?” Taniel asked.

  Ka-poel tilted her head to the side as if to tell him it was a stupid question.

  “Just in case, right?”

  A nod.

  “And the Dredgers caught you while you were getting something of Ket’s to use in her doll?”

  Another nod.

  If she wasn’t already bruised, Taniel would have smacked her. What she’d done was incredibly dangerous. If people suspected the nature of her sorcery and saw her skulking about the general’s quarters, she could have been beaten and locked up.

  “Still,” he went on, “they said that she’d told them they could have you.” The anger ebbed. Only a little, but it was enough to make his muscles relax. He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands over his face. “I should still kill her.”

  Ka-poel thrust her thumb at herself. I will. A flat hand, as if to stop, and she mouthed the words “If I need to.”

  “Pit, Pole, I —”

  “Knock, knock!” The voice came from outside the front of the tent. “May I come in?”

  Mihali. The damned chef. If it weren’t for him, none of this would have ever happened. Taniel would still be in the Adran army and Ka-poel would never have been beaten by Ket’s thugs.

  “Go to – !” Taniel started, when Ka-poel lay a soft hand on his arm.

  She nodded. Taniel took a deep, calming breath. It didn’t help.

  “Yes,” he called.

  The flap was swept back and Mihali ducked into the tent, carrying a wide platter. Steam rose from beneath the platter cover with the smell of warm bread and, what was that? Eggs.

  Taniel looked away. He wouldn’t give Mihali the satisfaction of eating his food.

  Mihali set the platter on Taniel’s cot and removed the lid. He leaned over it, wafting the smell of it toward him. “Warm cornmeal cake with a sweet crust drizzled in maple honey with poached eggs on the side.”

  Ka-poel’s face lit up. Cornmeal cake was a Fatrastan staple, uncommon in the Nine. She snatched one up immediately, tossing it between her hands until it cooled enough to hold.

  Taniel smiled, though he tried to cover it with a cough. He wasn’t about to let Mihali see him pleased.

  “What do you want, Adom?”

  “Oh, please,” Mihali said. “Call me Mihali. ‘Adom’ has such a high-and-mighty connotation.”

  “Well” – Taniel’s mouth watered at the smell of the cornbread – ”what do you want?”

  “I’ve come to apologize,” Mihali said.

  Ka-poel patted the cot beside her.

  “Thank you!” Mihali took a seat, and Taniel felt a stab of jealousy.

  “Apologize? For telling me to make amends with Doravir and getting me kicked out of the Adran army?”

  Mihali’s eyebrows rose. “Heavens, no. That needed to happen.”

  “It what?” Taniel sputtered.

  Mihali waved a hand as if it were of little consequence.

  “I came to apologize because I told you that I would not help you kill Kresimir and that I did not think he needed to die.”

  Taniel couldn’t help it any longer. His hand reached out, as if it had a mind of its own, and took a piece of cornbread. He bit in and was instantly glad. The cornbread was soft and moist, seemingly melting in his mouth, and the honey tasted as if it were straight from the comb.

  “You changed your mind?” Taniel asked around bites.

  “I wish,” Mihali said, plucking a piece of cornbread from the platter and smearing it with fruit spread, “that this could be solved amicably. Or even at all. A couple of months ago I made a deal with Kresimir that neither of us would contribute to the war directly. Since then it’s gone badly for the Adran side – as you can tell – but things are not well in the Kez camp either.” Mihali paused to lick honey and crumbs off his fingertips. “Kresimir has taken to killing his own people at an alarming rate.”

  “Good,” Taniel snorted.

  “No,” Mihali said. “Not good. I speak with Kresimir often. We can bridge space for that purpose, and when we do, I can see a bit into his mind. He’s going mad.” Mihali swallowed and looked down at his cornbread sadly. “Quite thoroughly mad.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Taniel, how long do you think a mad god would stick to killing his own people? He might very well try to destroy the Nine. Perhaps even the whole world. I don’t think he could – not even Kresimir is that powerful – but if he tried, it would probably kill every living thing in this part of the world.”

  “I already stopped him once,” Taniel said.

  “Which makes you particularly suited to the task.”

  “Couldn’t you stop him?”

  “Sorcery is predictable in some ways,” Mihali said. “There are patterns that all Privileged use, from the lowliest sorcerer all the way up to Kresimir. I can predict those patterns and counter them. However, if Kresimir lashes out in his madness, it will be completely random. I could protect myself, but no one else.”

  Taniel thought on this for a few moments. Could a god actually go mad?

  “It’s from the bullet, isn’t it?”

  Mihali seemed to think on this for a moment. “I have heard reports – when I lurk about the generals’ staff meetings – from their spies. There is a rumor in the Kez camp that Kresimir coughs blood into his pillow. That he wanders the halls of his compound at night and accosts his own guards, demanding to know whether they are the eye behind the flintlock.”

  Taniel’s mouth went dry. The eye behind the flintlock. Who else could it possibly be but him? Kresimir was looking for him in his madness. The words felt like bile coming out, but Taniel asked, “Can he be healed? At least enough to see reason?”

  “I don’t know,” Mihali said. “I broached the subject with him last night. He was furious. The explosion over in Budwiel? You must have heard it. That was him. It killed thousands of Kez camp followers.”

  “No great loss.”

  Mihali scowled. Taniel felt a flicker at the edge of his senses, like sorcery was being used. He suddenly wondered whether he should be this close to Mihali.

  “Those people,” Mihali said, visibly restraining himself, “were not soldiers. They were laundresses and bakers and boot makers. Their lives were snuffed out in an instant because I asked Kresimir the wrong question and he grew angry.” Mihali shook his head. “I understand that killing is your profession, but every loss of life is great. Especially so many, and all on the…”

  Mihali fell silent. He helped himself to another piece of cornbread and chewed thoughtfully. His eyes fell on the dolls laid out opposite him by Ka-poel, and his fingers twitched as if he were nervous.

  “He’s coherent enough to create these Powder Wardens,” Taniel said.

  Mihali said, “It’s the only thing that gives me hope for his recovery. He’s not all gone. I might be able to heal him. I would need to restrain Kresimir, though, and I can’t do that on my own.”

  Mihali was looking at Ka-poel when he said that. Taniel didn’t like it one bit.

  “How?”

  “She can do it,” Mihali said, nodding at Ka-poel. “I think I mentioned that in my varied lives I have had some contact with Bone-eyes. Their magic is uniquely suited to fighting, harming, protecting, and even controlling individuals. I’ve never known one with even a fraction of Ka-poel’s power. And to think, she taught herself to do all this…” Mihali trailed off. He was breathless, his face flushed
.

  Controlling individuals, Mihali had said. Did Ka-poel control Taniel? He knew that she had protected him before, and he’d seen what she could do with those dolls of hers.

  “And if he’s healed?” Taniel asked. “Will he end this war? Leave Adro alone?”

  “I believe so. He’s not been well.”

  “You believe so? Or you know so? He made a promise to destroy Adro.”

  “A promise that will not be kept. I’ll see to it.” Mihali spread his pudgy hands, looking from Ka-poel to Taniel. “Please. Help me. Help my brother.”

  Ka-poel pointed to her broken arm, and then to Mihali.

  Mihali’s eyebrows went up. “Of course. I’ve been remiss.” He closed his eyes, and Ka-poel suddenly gasped.

  Taniel lurched forward, putting his arm behind her back so that she wouldn’t fall. “What did you do to her?”

  Ka-poel shrugged Taniel away from her and undid the sling around her arm. She flexed and moved it, nodding to herself. He looked at her face. The bruises were gone.

  “I can heal your wounds as well,” Mihali said.

  Taniel flinched away. “I’ll keep them, thank you.” Silently, Taniel called himself a fool. Why refuse the healing powers of a god? Was he afraid of Mihali’s sorcery? Or perhaps afraid of owing someone else? Abrax and Ricard has already done Taniel favors that would require years to pay off.

  Taniel touched his fingers to the tender swelling on his face from the beatings given to him by Ket’s gendarmes. “I’ll keep it as a reminder.”

  “I ask,” Mihali said, standing up, “that you consider my request. In exchange, I have a gift – freely given.”

  Taniel was wary of any gift given by a god. After all, nothing was free. “What?”

  Mihali removed a handkerchief and a knife from his pocket. He pressed one thumb against his knife, then into the handkerchief for a moment, and then handed it to Ka-poel.

  His blood. The blood of a god. Taniel felt his heart beat a little faster. What could Ka-poel do with this? Could she control Mihali? Kill him?