"It makes you no less a beast," Tamas said. He glanced sideways at the Warden. "No less a beast than the ones who made this."

Nikslaus's eyes narrowed. "Says the powder mage. Your kind are more monstrous than Wardens by far." He looked at the ceiling. "I'll never understand the minds of such as you, Tamas. We've both got our prejudices, I suppose." He snorted. "Had you been born a Privileged, you would have made a formidable ally."

"Or opponent," Tamas said.

"No," Nikslaus said. "Not an opponent. Our antagonism toward one another is based solely upon your being a powder mage."

"I'm Adran," Tamas said quietly. "You're Kez."

"And the Adran Cabal would have been enfolded into the Kez Cabal, had the Accords been signed. As they should have been."

"Does Ipille really expect to rule Adro?"

Nikslaus blinked at Tamas. "Of course."

Tamas could see in Nikslaus's eyes that there was no doubt there. What arrogance.

"I've wondered," Nikslaus said, "ever since news came of your coup, what finally did it? Is it simply revenge? Or do you honestly think you have the best interests of Adro at heart?"

"Do you honestly think it is in Adro's best interest to bow to Kez?" Tamas countered. "No, don't answer. I can see it in your face. You're as blind a nobleman and monarchal stooge as any of those that I sent to the guillotine. Do you not read the papers? Do you not hear of uprisings in Gurla? I know you felt the sting of rebellion when Fatrasta rose up and threw your armies out."

"Fools, all of them," Nikslaus said.

Tamas persisted. "The world is changing. People do not exist to serve their governments or their kings. Governments exist to serve the people, so the people should have a say in those governments."

Nikslaus scoffed. "Impossible. Decisions should not be left to the rabble."

"One people should not be ruled by another," Tamas said.

Nikslaus steepled his fingers. The gesture was often one of significance when a Privileged was involved-especially when he wore his gloves. "You're either playing me, or you're a naive fool. You served in Gurla, in Fatrasta, and half a dozen other savage countries where members of the Nine have claimed land. As did I. The peasants and savages need to be tamed. As Adro and the powder mages need to be tamed."

"We learned two different things from our experiences, you and I," Tamas said.

Nikslaus wore a look that said he wasn't that interested in hearing what Tamas learned.

"Who betrayed me?" Tamas asked. He had answers of his own to find.

Nikslaus gave him a glance. "Do you think I'd risk telling you?" He shook his head. "No. Perhaps when the guillotine blade is about to fall, I'll whisper it in your ear. Not a moment before that."

Tamas opened his mouth, about to taunt Nikslaus with the knowledge that Brigadier Barat was a traitor. He stopped himself. Was Nikslaus really worried he'd escape? Did he really think Tamas had a chance? Tamas was bereft of his abilities, his leg unusable. How could he possibly escape?

Nikslaus shifted in his seat. He moved the curtain enough to look out, then sat back, an annoyed look on his face.

"Are we being followed?" Tamas asked, his voice as casual as he could make it.

"You know," Nikslaus said, ignoring Tamas's question and glancing out the window again, "many in the royal court are happy about your coup."

"I'm sure," Tamas said. "If you take Adro, you'll split the land we confiscated from the nobility."

"Confiscated?" Nikslaus said. "Stole. Land and possessions will return to any living relations of the nobility. Titles will be restored. There will be a tax, but a hand of brotherhood must be extended to the ravished nobility."

"So Ipille is not as big a fool as I thought," Tamas said. "Nor greedy."

Nikslaus looked for a moment as if he'd strike Tamas. He seemed to think better of it, simply raising his nose. "What mistake of breeding gave you such disrespect for your betters? Such disdain for the God-chosen king?"

"A god didn't choose Ipille," Tamas snorted. "Or that god is a fool."

"I draw the line at blasphemy," Nikslaus said. "This conversation is over."

The day drew on, morning giving way to afternoon and the carriage grew very warm. Tamas loosened the collar on his sweat-stained riding shirt. His riding coat had been discarded for an inconspicuous brown overcoat. It was hot and close in the tight quarters, and he wished Nikslaus would open the window. The Privileged and the Warden alike seemed unaffected.

He could tell when they crossed the canal. The bridge was stone on steel over a long, tall span, and the wagon wheels rolled over easily. They were getting close to the harbor. He could smell it.

Nikslaus kept glancing out the window. Tamas wondered what Nikslaus sensed with his sorcery. Was Sabon on their trail? Or was Nikslaus simply nervous about their proximity to the city garrison? Tamas took a deep breath and studied Nikslaus. Nervous? Yes. Near to panic? No, not even close. And panic he would, if he thought any of the powder cabal were getting close.

Tamas listened to the sounds outside the carriage, trying to place their location. Somewhere near the docks and the canal. If they had taken the Roan Bridge, they were very close indeed. They could take a smuggler boat out of any of the pier warehouses. Nikslaus wouldn't wait for anything fancy. He'd want to be off with his prize as quickly as possible.

The carriage rolled to a stop. Nikslaus lifted the curtain and smiled at what he saw. Tamas's heart fell. They were here.

Tamas didn't know which startled him more: the explosion, or the screaming horses that followed it. The whole carriage rocked, slamming Tamas against his chains. He bit his tongue against a scream as his weight-and the weight of the Warden-threw his bad leg against the side of the carriage.

Nikslaus kicked open the door. "Kill him if they take me," he told the Warden as he leapt from the carriage. The echo of sorcery clapped the side of the carriage, shaking it more than the explosion had.

Tamas shared a glance with the Warden. The Warden positioned himself in Nikslaus's seat, drawing a knife.

More explosions followed. People screamed. Women and children's voices were mixed in. Tamas felt ill. People were dying out there. Bystanders, caught out on their weekend errands by a crossfire made in the pit. A volley of gunfire erupted, followed by the nearly inaudible pops of the Wardens returning fire with air rifles. A bullet shattered the window and left a hole in the other side of the carriage, passing right between Tamas and the Warden. The Warden's eyes grew just a little bit wider.

"Clear the way!" Tamas heard the driver yell. "We'll make a run for it."

Tamas gritted his teeth. He wanted to strike, to reach out and wrestle the knife from the Warden's hands. He'd have lost without powder, but at least he'd have done something. With both hands and legs chained and his magery gone, he could do nothing but sit and listen, grimacing when sorcery or explosions rocked the carriage.

They began to move suddenly. Whatever obstacle had obstructed the road-probably a burning carriage, one filled with Wardens-was now gone. The driver whipped the horses into a frenzy, galloping down the street to the sound of yells. Gunfire and sorcery fell away behind them. The carriage rocked violently. The Warden held on to the sides with both hands, steadying himself without expression. Tamas jolted back and forth, unable to do the same in his chains, and listened to his own whimpers every time his leg jolted.

The Warden watched out the window. "Almost there," he said. He produced a key, and despite the violent thrashing of the carriage, managed to unlock Tamas's chains. He left the wrist and leg irons on. He brandished the knife, and said in heavily accented Adran, "You give me any trouble and I'll bury this in your chest."

The carriage rolled to a stop. The driver leapt from his post, thumping to the ground outside, and pulled the door open. The Warden turned to get out and froze.

It took just a split second for the Warden to turn on Tamas, knife at the ready. Tamas caught the thrust between his wrists and used the leverage of his irons to twist the blade away. Then he was on his back on the carriage bench, lights swimming before his eyes, his ears ringing. He barely even registered the pain in his leg.

It took him a moment to climb to a sitting position. Every inch was an eternity of agony. His leg screamed. He felt blood on the side of his face; he'd not avoided the knife altogether after all. He braced himself against the side of the carriage, the smell of gunpowder in his nostrils.

The Warden was gone. There was a Warden-sized hole in the carriage, opposite the door. His body was on the ground outside, one leg still up on the edge of the carriage, caught by a splinter of wood.

Tamas looked down as Olem deposited a hand cannon on the floor of the carriage. He grunted from the weight, then looked up at Tamas. There was relief in his eyes. "So I stole the right carriage," he said.

Olem helped Tamas out of the carriage. They were in an alleyway between two brick buildings. The strong smell of the sea and the sound of waves said they were very close to the water. Adran soldiers filed into the alley within seconds. One tried to take Tamas's weight from Olem. Olem waved him off.

"Where's Sabon?" Tamas asked.

"Chasing the Privileged, with Vlora," Olem said. He sounded tired. Could he get tired? "The bastard cut and run when he saw how many of us there were."

Tamas's eyes grew wide as more soldiers filed into the alley. There were more in the streets. "You brought the whole garrison?"

"As many as were close by," Olem said.

"How the pit did you find me?"

Olem smiled. He glanced down, and for the first time Tamas noticed the hound sitting at his feet, eyes bigger than teacups looking up at him. His tail wagged. Tamas found he couldn't speak. He leaned over, despite the pain, and patted Hrusch on the head.

"That's impossible," he managed after a moment.

"Sabon trained Hrusch to find you under any circumstances. Trained him from birth, the damned pup. Had the help of an old farm witch north of the university, a Knacked who can train animals. Hrusch can pick up your scent anywhere, even if you are in a sealed box in the middle of the sea."

"I never knew," Tamas said.

"It was his little secret. A backup plan," Olem said. "I wish we'd never had to use it."

Tamas felt two days' worth of fear, anger, and anticipation melt under Olem's gaze. The bodyguard looked at him as a parent might at a child who'd gone missing. Anger warred with relief in his eyes. Soldiers crowded around with words of concern. Tamas gave them all a grateful smile. After a moment, he collapsed.

Chapter 27.

The office on the top floor of the House of Nobles seemed old and familiar to Tamas, though he'd occupied it for only a couple of months. It seemed like home, and he ran his fingers over the braided tassels at the edge of the sofa. His hands shook and he leaned heavily on a crutch. The room smelled of lemons. He wondered if it always had.

Olem watched him from the doorway. Knacked or not, it turned out Olem did need rest. His eyes fluttered like one who longs for sleep, and purple bruises had formed under them. His normally neatly trimmed beard was unruly, his hair a mess. On a regular day, Tamas might have chided him for lax regulation.

This was not a regular day.

I should tell him to get some rest. What was it Father used to tell me? "Rest is for the dead."

"Yes, sir," Olem said.

Tamas glanced at him. "Hmm?"

"You said, 'Rest is for the dead,'" Olem said.

"You look like the dead."

"Don't look so good yourself, sir." Olem struggled to put a smile on his face. Tamas could see worry in his eyes. "You should rest, sir," Olem said. "It almost killed you getting up all those stairs."

Olem had insisted on helping Tamas up every step, half carrying him at times.

"I don't need a nurse," Tamas said. "There's work to be done." He hobbled toward his desk, but halfway there he nearly fell.

Olem was at his side in a moment, a hand under his elbow. "Sit down, sir," he said. "Doctor Petrik will be here any minute." Olem helped Tamas onto the sofa.

"Bah," Tamas said. He motioned to a chair. "Have a seat."

"I think I'll stand, sir."

"Suit yourself." Tamas couldn't let Olem rest yet. He couldn't let himself rest yet. "I need to know how things went in my absence. How many people know of my capture?"

"Word spread quickly," Olem said. "I'm afraid I had other things on my mind. I sent for Sabon as soon as I got back to the hunt, and grabbed Hrusch." He nodded to the hound, fast asleep in the corner. "Charlemund did his best to keep things quiet. I wouldn't be surprised if his priestesses talked. I know Brigadier Sabastenien didn't."

"So everyone made it away from Nikslaus safely?"

Olem nodded. "I almost turned back when I heard the sorcery, sir," he said. He refused to look Tamas in the eye. "If you need my stripes..."

"Shut up," Tamas said. "I won't take your stripes."

"You gave me an order to see the others back to the hunt."

"I thought you had."

"Not quite, sir. I went on ahead, left the others to find their way back. I wouldn't wait."

"Had I been in your position, I wouldn't have followed that order. I can't fault a man for his instincts. Besides, you did your job. You did not turn back. Go on." Tamas swallowed. He wanted nothing more than to lay his head back and fall asleep, but things needed to be done first. He fought back exhaustion, pain, and nausea.

"Word has spread of Ryze's betrayal," Olem said. "Lady Winceslav wants answers. Rumors are flying."

"Put a stop to them," he said.

"What?" Olem looked startled.

"It's not true." Tamas struggled to get to his feet. Ryze was a good man. Tamas wouldn't let him take the blame for this. Olem put a hand on Tamas's shoulder, gently restraining him.

Olem said, "I watched him take you off."

"You found the bodies, didn't you?" Tamas asked.

Olem slowly shook his head. "Blood, yes, but no bodies."

"That sorcery you heard as you left-that wasn't me fighting back. That was Ryze's men holding off Duke Nikslaus so Ryze could warn me. Ryze was cooked alive."

"Are you sure...?"

"Go to the pit," Tamas growled. "Don't patronize me. I haven't gone mad in an afternoon."

"If Ryze wanted to warn you, why did he go to all the trouble?" Olem said. "He could have just sent you a note or come to see you in person."

Tamas rubbed his temples. "I don't remember. I remember he was scared. Angry. Barat had something on him to keep him silent."