The Crimson Campaign

She couldn’t help but stare at Bo. Who was this man? Why was he doing this? He was a Privileged of a royal cabal — some of the most powerful men in all the Nine. People like that didn’t take notice of orphan boys or lonely laundresses.

“Why?” she asked.

Bo shrugged. Several moments passed before Nila realized that she wasn’t going to get a real answer. She dried the tears in the corners of her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Thank you,” she said.

Bo was looking at his feet. He seemed uncomfortable with the thanks, as if he didn’t feel he deserved it. Another shrug.

“Where are we going?” Nila asked.

“When I was a boy,” Bo said, apparently happy to change the subject — he lifted his finger to the carriage curtain to look at the darkening sky outside — ”Field Marshal Tamas took me in off the streets. He didn’t want Taniel playing with an uneducated ruffian. He gave me a place to sleep and hired tutors for me and Taniel.”

Nila remembered watching Field Marshal Tamas sleep, her knife ready to kill the man who’d brought so much suffering to Adro and killed the king, before she’d been distracted by Captain Olem. “That seems very kind of him,” she said.

“I hated those damn tutors. I abhorred reading and writing, but Tamas told me I had to practice my letters. So I did. By copying all of his correspondence while he slept. His old ones, his new ones. Tamas kept all his letters in a strongbox, the lock of which I picked easily.”

Nila couldn’t help but give a shocked laugh at that.

Bo smiled too. “I kept all the copies I made. Just in case. I’ve always been good at planning ahead. Part of being a successful street rat, I suppose. Anyway, in one of those letters, from when he was a young man, Tamas talked about forcing the nobility out of the army in order to combat corruption. It seems that many of the nobles were purchasing supplies with government money and then selling them elsewhere in order to line their own pockets.”

“And what does this have to do with me?” Nila asked. Bo had spoken at length over the last week about his quest to find evidence of profiteering among the General Staff in order to exonerate Taniel Two-Shot after his court-martial. Nila was willing to help if she could, but it worried her to leave Jakob by himself.

“Tamas’s letter mentioned one name in particular. Duke Eldaminse.”

Nila breathed in sharply.

“We’re going to Duke Eldaminse’s manor,” Bo said. “Or what’s left of it, anyway.”

Nila hadn’t been back to the Eldaminse manor since the night the soldiers had come and taken away Lord and Lady Eldaminse. Nila had barely escaped being raped before taking Jakob and fleeing into the darkness of the early morning. “I… don’t know how I can help you.”

“Well, I hope you can,” Bo said. “I’ve not heard word from the south since finding out that Taniel was being court-martialed. At best he’s in prison. At worst, he’s already dead. I need evidence to condemn the General Staff that court-martialed him, or I’m going to have to go down there and kill a lot of soldiers to get him out.” Bo scowled at his ungloved hands. “I’d rather not do that. So inconvenient.”

They arrived at the manor an hour later. The sun had set and the streets were dark. Rows of city manor houses rose like ghosts of ages past out of the shadows. Less than six months ago this street had been well lit and home to dozens of noble families and hundreds of servants. Now the windows were dark, the yards silent. A chill went up Nila’s spine at the sight of the Eldaminse manor. Even in the darkness she could tell that fire had destroyed part of the roof, and one of the chimneys had collapsed.

“Are you all right,” Bo asked. She felt his hand touch her shoulder. He was wearing his Privileged’s gloves.

Nila cleared her throat. “Yes.”

He handed her a lantern and then lifted his own, lighting it with the snap of his fingers.

“Thank you,” Nila said. The light illuminated the drive and threw the yard into deeper shadows. Somehow, it reassured her. “This way.”

She led him up the front drive and in through the main door. The grand hall had been ransacked. The paintings and sculptures were gone or defaced, and the chandelier had been cut down and stripped of semiprecious stones. Someone had written illegible words on the wall with what might have been feces. The house smelled like a farmyard.

“What are we looking for?” she asked.

“A safe,” Bo said. “Somewhere Eldaminse would have kept his correspondence and books.”

Nila lifted her lantern high and headed toward the stairs. “It’ll be gone already. Everything of value has been looted.”

“I have to try.”

The rest of the house looked much like the grand hall. The furniture was smashed or missing, everything of value removed, the walls covered in graffiti. Nila couldn’t help but feel sorrow at that. The house had once been a happy place, full of life and riches. Jakob had once run down these halls, chasing the servants with a wooden musket. She was glad Bo had left the boy in his bed.