Brian McCLELLAN - The Autumn Republic

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Field Marshal Tamas has finally returned to Adopest, only to find the capital in the hands of a foreign power. With his son Taniel presumed dead, Tamas must gather his beleaguered forces and formulate a plan to defeat the Kez – no easy task when you're outnumbered and can't tell friend from foe.
The army is divided . . . With their enemy bearing down on them, the Adran command is in disarray. Someone, it seems, is selling secrets to the Kez. Inspector Adamat is determined to flush out the traitor, but as the conspiracy unravels, he will learn a horrifying truth.
And all hope rests with one man . . . Taniel Two-Shot, the powder mage who shot a god in the eye, is on the run. He possesses the sole means of defeating the Kez, but to do so he must evade treachery at every turn. If he fails, Adro will fall.

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“We should find out what’s going on,” Adamat said.

“How?” Bo demanded. “We will only know what’s happening by riding into that camp. Which we have to do, by the way. If I want to save Taniel – pit, if he’s even still alive – and if you want my help saving your son, then we’re heading down there.”

Bo strode off toward the waiting carriage.

Nila remained, looking between Oldrich and Adamat.

“If this thing goes bad,” Oldrich said to Nila, “will he back us up?”

Nila turned to watch Bo. “I think so.”

“You ‘think’?”

Nila shrugged. “He might also burn his way through a few companies of soldiers and leave us in the wreckage.”

Oldrich asked, “What did you say you do?”

“I’m Bo’s – the counselor’s – secretary,” Nila said.

“And before that?”

“I was a laundress.”

“Ah.”

They returned to the carriage and were soon moving again, heading over the hill, where the sight took Adamat’s breath away. The Adran camp spread out across the plain in a sea of white tents. It seemed to move and wriggle, like an anthill viewed from above, thousands of soldiers and camp followers going about their day.

The carriage came to a stop once more a mile later as they reached the camp’s pickets. Adamat heard one of the guards call out to Oldrich.

“Reinforcements?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Eh? No, escorting a lawyer down here on the orders of the interim council.”

“A lawyer? What for?”

“No idea. I’m supposed to bring the lawyer down here and convene a meeting of the General Staff.”

Bo had his head near the window, listening intently to the conversation. He had pulled his Privileged gloves back on, though he held them below the window, and his fingers twitched ever so slightly.

“Well,” the guard said, her voice bored, “that’s going to be harder than you think.”

Oldrich groaned. “What’s happened this time?”

“Uh, well…” The guard cleared her throat, and what she said next was too low for Adamat to hear. Across from him, Nila had a look of concentration on her face.

Oldrich whistled in return. “Thanks for the warning.” A moment later and the carriage rumbled on. Adamat cursed under his breath.

“What’s happening?” he asked Bo. “Did you hear that?”

Instead of answering, Bo looked at Nila. “Did you listen like I showed you?”

“Yes,” Nila said. She ran her hands over her skirt and stared hard out the window. “It seems,” she said to Adamat, “that General Ket has been accused of being a traitor. She has taken three brigades with her and split off from the main army. The army is now in a state of civil war.”

The General Staff command post was a commandeered farmhouse about a mile from the main highway. It sat at the center of the army, some six brigades strong, white soldiers’ tents spiraling outward in an organized but ultimately loose formation of a camp.

Adamat and Bo were left waiting, confined to their carriage, for almost three hours before they were finally led inside. Their guards made it clear that the General Staff were all very busy and that their appointment would take up no more than five minutes of the general’s time.

The farmhouse consisted of just one large room with stone walls, a squat fireplace at one end and two neatly made sleeping pallets in the corner. The table in the center of the room had one leg too short, and there were no chairs to be seen. Several maps lay on the table, their corners weighted by pistols. Adamat glanced over the maps briefly, committing them to his perfect memory, where he could study them later at his leisure.

“Inspector Adamat.”

Adamat recognized General Hilanska from a portrait he’d seen once in the royal gallery. He was not a tall man, and significantly overweight due to complications resulting from the loss of his arm when he was a young soldier. Well into his forties, Hilanska was a celebrated hero who had made his name as an artillery commander in the Gurlish Wars. Rumor had it he was one of Tamas’s most trusted generals.

Adamat nodded to the general and stepped forward to clasp his remaining hand. “This is Counselor Mattias,” he said, introducing Bo. “We’ve come on urgent business from Adopest.”

Bo swept off his hat and gave the general a deep bow, but Hilanska barely graced him with a glance.

“That’s what I’ve been told,” Hilanska said. “You should know that we are still at war. I’ve turned away dozens of messengers from Adro because I simply don’t have time to deal with domestic issues. You’re only here now because I know you were on special assignment from Field Marshal Tamas before he died. I certainly hope you have something important to tell me. Sergeant Oldrich was rather sparse on the details, I’m afraid, so if you could–”

Bo moved forward quickly, cutting Adamat off. “Of course, General,” he said, drawing a sheaf of documents from the case hanging from his shoulder. He flipped through several papers before producing one signed and stamped by Ricard Tumblar and the judges in Adopest. “I’m sorry we couldn’t provide your men with more details, but this is a delicate matter. You’ll see here that we have a warrant for the arrest of General Ket and her sister, Major Doravir.”

Hilanska took the paper from Bo and looked it over for several moments. He handed it back. “Adopest has not been apprised of the situation here?” he asked.

“What situation?” Adamat said.

“I have sent several messengers over the course of the last two weeks. Surely you’ve been informed…”

“We have not, sir,” Adamat said.

“The army has gone to war with itself. General Ket has taken three brigades under her command and split with the main army.”

Though Nila had told Adamat exactly that, he still didn’t have to fake the shock on his face. “How? Why?”

“Ket has accused me of treason,” Hilanska said. “She called me a traitor. Said that I was in league with the enemy, and when the rest of the General Staff stood behind me, she took her men and broke with us.”

Bo stiffened at Hilanska’s words and his hands twitched toward his pockets – to his gloves, no doubt. “And there is no basis for this accusation? No evidence?”

“Of course not!” Hilanska snatched his cane and climbed to his feet. “She based her claim on the report of an infantryman who said he saw me conspiring with enemy messengers.”

“And were you?” Bo asked. Adamat shot him a look, but the damage had been done.

Hilanska snapped back, “Of course not. It was one of her Dredgers, a convict from the Mountainwatch. The worst kind of scum. To think she believed him over me…” He shook his head sadly. “Ket and I have known one another for decades. We’ve never been friends, but we certainly haven’t been enemies. I never thought she would make such a baseless accusation. Unless…” He held his hand out for the arrest warrant and Bo obliged him. His eyes skimmed the page. “Unless she’s trying to cover her tracks.”

Adamat exchanged a glance with Bo. “We came to a similar conclusion ourselves, but in regard to the court-martial of Taniel Two-Shot. Taniel sent Ricard Tumblar a message asking him to look into Ket’s accounts, and it was what put us onto her track.”

“Tamas’s boy did that? He’s twice as clever as Ket thought him. Incredibly sad, that.”

Bo slipped to one side of Hilanska, moving casually, a hand dipping into his pocket. “What’s sad about it?”

“Taniel was captured by the Kez,” Hilanska said. “Raised above their army like a trophy.”

“No.” Bo swallowed hard, his hand coming out of his pocket without his gloves.

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