The Crimson Campaign

Etan cut him off. “And he was right. He caught the bastard. Charlemund won’t see the light of day again, no matter what threats the Church makes.”

“Tamas might not have caught all the traitors,” Taniel said quietly.

“These generals were handpicked by Tamas. Every one of them has supported him for years, even through the coup — where the risks of failure were high, and they’d all be labeled traitors. They are capable and loyal.”

Taniel took a small pinch of powder and snorted it off the back of his hand. He fought to clear his mind. There was a time when the tiniest bit of powder would allow him to focus and think, but it seemed harder and harder to do so.

Powder. That was the other thing bothering him.

“Do you have access to quartermaster reports?” Taniel asked.

Etan finished writing another missive and set it on the table beside his bed. “For my regiment, certainly.”

“I don’t need them for your regiment. I need them for the entire army. Can you get them?”

“I’d need to pull some strings…”

“Do it.”

Etan’s mouth hardened into a flat line. “Because I’m so disposed to doing you favors right now.”

“Please?” Taniel said, sketching Etan’s shoulders.

“Why?”

“Something that’s been niggling in the back of my mind. I just want to see how much black powder the army has been using.”

“All right,” Etan agreed with a sigh. “I’ll see what I can do.” He fell silent and for several minutes there was nothing but the sound of Etan’s feather pen scratching away at the paper. Etan seemed enthralled by his work. Since his paralysis, Etan had rushed headlong into the administrative duties of his rank. He’d spent the last three days checking on supply reports, reading recruitment numbers, and leafing through dossiers of men who might be considered for rank advancement.

Taniel was glad Etan had something to do to keep his mind off his injury.

The sound of Etan’s pen suddenly stopped. “How do the Kez have so many bloody Black Wardens?” he asked. “Didn’t — doesn’t — your father have a hard time finding them as it is?”

“Can’t say for sure,” Taniel said as he gave a little more shape to Etan’s chin in his drawing. He’d wondered the same thing himself. “The Kez purge their countryside of powder mages every two years and make regular sweeps in the meantime. Tamas always assumed the mages they rounded up were executed. His spies never reported anything else.”

Etan tapped the feather pen on the paper. “You think that maybe the Kez have been imprisoning them?”

“That’s my thought,” Taniel said. “Kez has a much greater population than Adro, which could partly account for their numbers. And I think Kresimir is the one turning them into Powder Wardens. It can’t be coincidence that these new bastards appeared at the same time as Kresimir.”

Etan began to write again, only to stop a moment later. “Oh,” he said. “I got something for you.”

“Eh?”

Etan produced a silver snuffbox and handed it to Taniel. “I heard you lost your old one on South Pike. Thought you’d like it.”

Taniel flipped open the lid. Inside, it was engraved with the words “Taniel Two-Shot, the Unkillable.”

“The Unkillable?” Taniel scoffed.

“That’s what the boys have taken to calling you.”

“That’s absurd. Anyone can be killed.” He held out the snuffbox. “I can’t take this.”

Etan began to cough. He fell back with a grimace, clutching his side. “Take it, you stubborn bastard, or I’ll start screaming at you for being a coward again. You and that girl of yours saved our asses out there.”

“She’s not my girl.”

Etan snorted. “Oh, really? Rumors are getting around, Taniel.” Etan looked down at his hands. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but the General Staff wants you two separated. Says it’s bad for morale, having a war hero gallivanting around with a savage.”

“You believe all that? Agree with it?” Taniel stiffened. He didn’t have to sit here and listen to this drivel.

Etan made a calming motion. “I see your face when you look at her. Same way you used to look at Vlora.” Etan shrugged. “I won’t judge. Just warning you about the rumors.”

Taniel forced himself to relax. The way he used to look at Vlora? This was almost as preposterous as the grenadiers calling Taniel “unkillable.” “What should I do? I’m not going to send her away.”

“Marry her?”

Taniel laughed, shaking his head at the absurdity of the statement.

“I’m not joking,” Etan said. “The General Staff can say anything they want about propriety, but if she’s your wife, they have to stuff it.” He began to cough again, harder this time.

“You need rest,” Taniel said. Etan’s face had turned as pale as Taniel’s sketch paper. In the hours of the afternoon Taniel had almost forgotten the severity of Etan’s injury. His sudden frailty brought it all back.

“I need to write out more orders.”

“Rest.” Taniel took the paper and quill from Etan and set them beside the bed. He put the snuffbox there with them and headed for the door.

“Taniel.”

“Yes?”

Etan plucked the snuffbox off his bedside table and tossed it to Taniel, who caught it in one hand.

“Take it,” Etan said. “Or I’ll have you shot.”