The Crimson Campaign

Tamas counted nearly four hundred paces, sloshing through mud, trying to keep his greatcoat from scraping the damp sides of the tunnel, before they ascended a set of stone steps and came out in a somewhat more spacious basement. It was a stone room, with a dust-covered wardrobe in one corner, a double bed, and an empty musket rack. At the opposite side of the room a spiral staircase led upward.

“This room and passage,” Ruper said, his first words since joining them, “were made as an escape route long ago, when unrest was common in this part of Deliv.” Ruper gestured toward the staircase. “That will take you up to the second floor. It comes out from behind a false bookshelf into the main office of the governor. I’ll return to my mistress now.”

Tamas caught Ruper by the shoulder before he could go back down into the passage. “Tell Halley that… tell her I’m truly sorry I never came back.”

Ruper pulled himself from Tamas’s grip and headed down into the passage with the only lantern, leaving Tamas and his mages in darkness.

Tamas took a small touch of powder to his tongue, letting him see ever so slightly in the utter blackness. He headed up the staircase slowly, as quietly as he could. It creaked beneath him as the wrought iron ground together beneath his weight.

At the top of the staircase there was light. It came in through a pair of holes just a couple inches too short for Tamas to look through comfortably. He set his face against the wall, gazing through the looking-holes.

He could see very little. A double door on the opposite side of the room. A candelabra. The top of a sofa. He opened his third eye.

There were blots of color in the Else. Just bright enough to be Wardens, but too far away from him to be inside the governor’s office. No sign of a Privileged.

Tamas pushed gently on the door.

It rolled forward silently, then slid to the side with nothing more than a touch of a finger. Tamas stepped out into the governor’s office. It was a large room, with dozens of gilded candelabras, shelves full of books, two magnificent fireplaces, and a grand window that looked out over the courtyard in front of the manor.

The room was empty.

Tamas let out a sigh of relief and called softly for his Marked to come up. They filed into the room, tracking mud on the pristine red carpets. He directed them with hand signals to cover the doors and windows.

They checked the adjoining rooms and the hallway immediately outside.

Vlora joined him by the bay window a few minutes later. “No one in these office suites, sir,” she said. “A couple of Wardens downstairs by the front door. Andriya says he can hear soldiers talking in the servants’ quarters on the first floor.”

“Good work.”

“What now?”

“We wait.”

“Are you sure Nikslaus will come back here, sir?”

“I have a good guess.”

Andriya returned to the room at that moment. “Sir, luggage in the master bedroom.”

Tamas checked his pocket watch. It was just after six o’clock. “Timing will be everything.”

Tamas watched out the bay window. There were a dozen or so soldiers in the yard. They stood at attention, facing the gate, muskets on their shoulders. Tamas spotted a Warden in one corner of the yard, barely visible from his vantage point.

He checked his watch every few minutes. Would Nikslaus come back here? Had the news already reached him that Tamas was coming for him? Maybe he’d read Nikslaus wrong. Maybe Nikslaus would rather flee than attempt to catch Tamas.

Tamas brought his attention back to the courtyard outside as several horsemen came through the front gate. They were followed closely by a carriage decked out with lace curtains and fine gilding. It pulled around the turnabout and came to a stop. Tamas was so close he could have tossed a rock through the window and hit the top of the carriage.

The door opened and a Deliv woman stepped out. She looked about sixteen. She wore a fine gown that displayed her ample bosom. Tamas felt a wave of disappointment as she got her feet on the gravel drive and looked around regally.

Not Nikslaus.

Tamas stepped away from the window.

“Sir!” Vlora motioned him back over. Someone else was getting out of the carriage. It seemed a struggle for him, leaning his forearms against the door frame. It was a man. He wore white Privileged’s gloves. A Warden appeared from the mansion, grasping one of the arms and helping the man down. His face was partially concealed by a tricorne hat.

Tamas prayed the Privileged would turn his head just a little bit so Tamas could get a look at his identity.

The Privileged stopped to talk to one of the soldiers. The voices were too low for Tamas to make out. The soldier gave the Privileged a brisk nod, then turned to the others. “We leave in two hours!” he said loudly. “Anyone who’s not ready to move out by dark will be shot.”

Tamas’s gaze was still locked on the Privileged in the tricorne. It had to be Nikslaus! But Tamas still couldn’t see his face. Whoever he was, he chatted amiably with the young lady beside him.