#### Chapter 7

Taniel eyed the mob moving systematically down the street and wondered if they’d give him much trouble. The city was in chaos; wagons overturned, buildings set ablaze, bodies left in the street to fall victim to looters and worse. The smoke hanging like a curtain over the city seemed as if it would never blow away.

Taniel flipped through his sketchbook randomly. The pages fell open to a portrait of Vlora. He paused there for just a moment before he gripped the spine of the book in one hand and tore the page out. He crumpled it up and threw it to the street. He stared at the jagged rip in his book and instantly regretted damaging it. He didn’t have money for a new sketchbook. He’d sold everything of value in order to buy a diamond ring in Fatrasta. That damned diamond ring he’d left nailed to a fop in Jileman. He could still see the blood spreading from the man’s shoulder, crimson dripping from the ring he’d slid on the man’s sword before he shoved it in. Taniel should have kept the ring. He could have pawned it. He forced a lump down in his throat. He regretted not saying something—anything—to Vlora as she stood in the bedroom door, sheets clutched to her chest.

He checked the time on a nearby clock tower. Four hours until his father’s soldiers would begin to reassert order. Any of the mob left out after midnight would have to deal with Field Marshal Tamas’s men. The soldiers might have a hard time of it. There were a lot of desperate people in Adopest these days.

“What do you think of these mercenaries?” Taniel asked. He bent over and picked up the rumpled sketch of Vlora and smoothed it on his leg, then folded it and tucked it into his sketchbook.

Ka‑poel shrugged. She watched the approaching mob. They were led by a big man, a farmer with worn, old overalls and a makeshift truncheon. Probably moved to the city to work in a factory but couldn’t join the union. He saw Taniel and Ka‑poel standing in the doorway of a closed shop and turned toward them, raising his truncheon. More victims to be had.

Taniel ran a finger along the fringe of his buckskin jacket and touched the butt of a pistol at his hip. “You don’t want any trouble here, friend,” he said. Ka‑poel’s hands tightened into little fists.

The farmer’s eyes fell to the silver powder keg pin on Taniel’s chest. He came up short and said something to the man behind him. They turned away suddenly. The rest followed, dark looks for Taniel, but none of them willing to get mixed up with a powder mage.

Taniel breathed a sigh of relief. “Those two hired thugs have been gone a long time.”

Julene, the Privileged mercenary, and Gothen, the magebreaker, had left to follow the Privileged’s trail almost an hour ago. She was close, they’d said, and they’d scout her out, then come back for Taniel and Ka‑poel. Taniel was beginning to think they’d been abandoned.

Ka‑poel jerked her thumb at her own chest and then shaded her eyes, thrusting her head out as if looking for something.

Taniel nodded. “Yeah, I know you can find her,” he said, “but I’ll let these mercs do the groundwork. That’s all they’re gonna be good for any—”

Taniel’s head cracked against the stone of the building at his back, his ears pounding from the sudden explosion. Ka‑poel rocked into him and he caught her before she could fall. He steadied her on her feet and shook his head to dispel the ringing in his ears.

He’d been half a mile from a munitions dump once when the powder caught fire. This had felt like that kind of explosion, but his Marked senses told him it wasn’t powder. It was sorcery.

A gout of flame shot into the air not two city blocks from them. As quickly as it was there, it was gone, and Taniel heard screams. He checked on Ka‑poel. Her eyes were wide, but she seemed unhurt. “Come on,” he said, and broke into a run.

He ran past the mob, all scattered on the cobbles like so many children’s toys knocked down by an angry fist, and turned the corner to head toward the explosion. He thumped into someone and was thrown off his feet. He hit the ground and immediately pushed himself up, sparing barely a glance for the person he’d run into.

He was two steps into running again when what he’d seen caught up with him: an older woman with gray hair, a plain brown jacket and skirt, and Privileged’s gloves.

Taniel whirled, drawing his pistol.

“Stop!” he shouted.

Ka‑poel careened around the corner, directly into his line of fire. He lowered his pistol and ran toward her. Over her small shoulder he watched the Privileged turn. Her fingers danced, and Taniel felt the heat of a flame as the Privileged touched the Else.

Taniel grabbed Ka‑poel and flung them both toward the ground. A fireball the size of his fist tore past his face, hot enough to curl his hair. He lifted his pistol and sighted, feeling the calm of the powder trance take him as he concentrated on the aim, the powder, and his target. He pulled the trigger.

The bullet would have hit the woman’s heart had she not stumbled at that moment. Instead it took her in the shoulder. She twitched with the impact and snarled at him.

Taniel looked around. He needed someplace to take cover and reload. An old brick warehouse twenty paces away would do. “Time to go,” Taniel said to Ka‑poel. He jerked her to her feet and ran for the warehouse.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched the Privileged’s fingers dance. It was a fascinating thing, watching a Privileged touch the Else—if that Privileged wasn’t trying to kill you. With their mastery of the elements a skilled Privileged could throw a fireball or call lightning.

Taniel felt the ground shudder. They got behind cover of the warehouse, but the building rumbled. He felt the scream wrench itself from his throat in anticipation of the powers that would tear through the building and destroy them.

The building cracked, jerked, but it didn’t explode. Smoke billowed from sudden cracks in the mortar. An audible wump split the air. Then everything was still. They were alive. Something had stopped whatever sorcery the Privileged had been about to throw at them.

Taniel glanced at Ka‑poel. He felt a shaky breath escape him. “Was that you?”

Ka‑poel gave him an unreadable look. She pointed.

“After her. Right. Come on.”

He sprinted out into the street, switching his spent pistol for a loaded one. He paused a moment when he saw Julene and Gothen running toward them.

Julene looked like a keg of powder had exploded in her face. Her hair was scorched, her clothes blackened. Even Gothen had a wild look in his eyes and black marks on his shirt, and sorcery wasn’t supposed to be able to touch him. The sword in his hand was missing a foot of blade.

“What the pit did you two do?” Taniel said. “You were supposed to come back and get me before going after her.”

“We don’t need a damned Marked getting in our way,” Julene replied with a rude gesture.

“She shouldn’t have known we were there,” Gothen said. He gave Taniel a sheepish look. “But she did.”

“And she did that?” Taniel pointed at Gothen’s broken blade.

Gothen frowned. “Oh, for pit’s sake.” He threw the half sword on the ground.

“We stand here talking and we’ll lose her,” Taniel said. “Now, Julene, try to flank her, I’ll—”

“I don’t take orders from you,” Julene said, leaning forward. “I’ll go straight down her throat.” She tugged at her gloves and took off running down the street.

“Damn it!” Taniel slapped Gothen’s shoulder. “You’re with me.”

They headed down a side street, then onto the next main thoroughfare, running parallel to Julene.

“What the pit happened?” Taniel asked.

“We found her in an astronomer’s shop,” Gothen said between gasps as he ran, swords, buckles, and pistols rattling. “We circled the place, checked all exits, and laid our trap. We were just getting ready to go in after her when the whole front of the building blew off. Julene barely shielded herself. I could feel the heat of the explosion! That’s not supposed to happen. I should be able to nullify any aura she can summon from the Else. No fire, no heat, no energy from it should reach me, but it did.”

“So she’s powerful.”

“Very,” Gothen said.

Taniel saw Julene sprint past an alleyway the next street over. He came up short and took a deep breath, motioning for Gothen to stop. Something was wrong. He turned around.

“Ka‑poel?”

She’d stopped in the mouth of the alley. She put a finger to her lips, her eyes half-lidded. She pointed down the alley.

Taniel gestured for Gothen to go first. He would void any traps or sorcery flung at them. Taniel lifted his pistol, keeping it aimed just over Gothen’s shoulder. The alley was filled with debris—trash, mud, and shit; a few half-rotted kegs. Nothing big enough for a person to hide behind. It was well lit by the noonday sun.

“There!” Gothen surged forward, and Taniel caught a movement in the alley up ahead. He blinked, trying to see clearly. It was as if light were turning in on itself, making a slight shadow where a person could hide.

Then the Privileged appeared. Her hands twitched and she leveled them at Gothen. Gothen braced himself.

The air shimmered, distorted by a furnace of impending sorcery. Gothen yelled, the veins on his neck standing out. Taniel fired.

The bullet glanced off her skin as if it were metal, ricocheting harmlessly down the alley. The Privileged threw her hands out. Gothen tumbled backward and fell to the ground.

There were handholds built into the brick side of the building for roof access. The Privileged climbed them with the ease and speed of someone far younger, and was over the roof two stories up before Taniel could reload one of his pistols. He took a snort of powder and climbed up after her.

“Don’t lose her!” Taniel shouted back to Gothen. Ka‑poel raced back out into the main street to track the Privileged’s progress.

Taniel made it to the roof and swung up over. The Privileged leapt to the next roof over and spun, throwing a fireball. The powder trance burned through Taniel. He could see the auras of her sorcery, could feel the path the fireball would take. He ducked and rolled, then came back to his feet. She fled, clattering and sliding across the clay-tiled roof.

Taniel cleared the next gap easily. He lost sight of the Privileged with the slant of the roof, then found her again as she crested the next roof over. He fired off a shot.

He hit her once again, but once again she didn’t go down. It had been a square shot, right to the spine. She should have been dead, or at the very least wounded and bleeding. She hardly stumbled.

Taniel snarled. He put away his pistols and swung his rifle into his hand. He fixed his bayonet. He’d do this the hard way.

A powder mage in a full trance could run down a horse. He was within feet of her in two more buildings. She leapt between roofs. Her toe barely caught the lip of the next. She slipped and fell, grabbing the tiles.

Taniel cleared the roof with space to spare. He skidded to a stop and turned, ready to put his bayonet through her eye. She let go of the roof and fell to the street below.

Taniel swore. He hesitated only a moment before jumping after her. Even in the height of a powder trance his knees ached and his body shivered when he hit the ground. He landed in a crouch next to the Privileged, who was already on her feet. He reacted on instinct, thrusting his bayonet. He felt it slide home.

The woman slumped above him, her gloved hand a mere foot from his head. She had the face of an aging woman who’d once been very beautiful, her skin now lined and weathered, crow’s‑feet in the corners of her eyes. She let out a gasp, then jerked herself off the end of Taniel’s bayonet.

“You’ve no idea what’s going on, boy.” Her voice was a deadly whisper.

Taniel heard the jingle of Gothen’s weapons as the magebreaker ran up beside him, his pistol leveled.

Taniel felt the earth rumble.

“Get down!” Gothen leapt between Taniel and the Privileged.

The ground splintered and cracked and fell out from under them. Taniel’s whole body screamed at the pressure released. He felt as if he’d been jammed into the bottom of a cannon and used as fuel for an explosion. His ears popped, he felt dizzy. His head pounded.

Masonry rained down all around them.

When the dust began to clear, Taniel saw Gothen still crouching over him, his face in a grimace. The magebreaker opened one eye. His lips moved, but Taniel couldn’t hear a thing. The whole world wavered. Taniel got to his feet and looked around. Ka‑poel approached him through the haze. Julene was not far behind. The buildings on either side of him were completely gone, leveled to their foundations, damp basements filled with rubble and hovering curtains of dust. There were smears of blood and bits of flesh in the debris. There had been people in those buildings—people who hadn’t had a magebreaker standing between them and the explosion.

Taniel drew a shaky breath.

Julene marched straight up to Taniel and knocked him off his trembling legs with a shove. Ka‑poel slid in between them, her silent glare driving Julene back a step. It was several moments before Taniel could hear well enough to know what Julene was shouting.

“… let her go! You let her get away! You bloody fool!”

Taniel climbed to his feet. He gently pushed Ka‑poel out of the way by the shoulder.

Julene stepped forward and punched him full in the face. His head jerked back. He reacted without thinking, grabbing her next blow out of the air and twisting her hand. He slapped her. “Back the pit off.” Taniel turned and spit blood. “She’s dead. There’s no way anyone could have lived through that.”

“She’s not dead.” Julene’s cheeks were flushed, but she made no move to continue the fight. “I can still feel her. She got away.”

“I ran her through with three spans of steel! She wasn’t walking away from that.”

“You think steel can hurt her? You think it can really hurt her? You don’t know shit.”

Taniel took a deep, calming breath, then a snort of powder. “Ka‑poel,” he said. “Is she still alive?”

Ka‑poel hefted the end of Taniel’s rifle in her small hands and drew her finger through the blood along the bayonet’s edge. She smeared it between her fingers. After a moment she nodded.

“Can you track her?”

Ka‑poel nodded again.

Julene scoffed. “I can’t even track her,” she said. “She’s covered her trail. Even wounded she’s far more powerful than you can know. This damned girl can’t find her.”

“Pole?”

Ka‑poel snorted and turned away. She paused a few moments to get her bearings, then pointed.

“We have a heading,” Taniel said. “Get yourself under control and watch how a real tracker does it.” He gestured to Ka‑poel. “Lead on.”

Taniel shaded his eyes from rain and looked up at Julene. She stood above him, arms folded, a belligerent smile twisting the scar on her face. “It’s been two days,” she said. “Admit your pet savage can’t track this bitch and we’ll get out of this rain and tell Tamas there’s a problem.”

“Giving up so easily, eh?” Taniel kept his hand in the gutter and tried not to think about the substance squelching between his fingers. Storm drains collected everything, from human waste to dead animals and whatever garbage and mud piled up in the streets. During a storm like this, all of it was swept down into the large sewers beneath the city. This drain was clogged, leaving Taniel up to his shoulder in rainwater and filth, and he was enjoying it just about as much as he was enjoying Julene’s constant badgering. “You know Tamas won’t pay you until the job’s done, don’t you?” he reminded her.

“We’ll find her,” Julene said. “Just not today. Not in this rain. She caused this storm. I can feel it. The auras swirl, summoned from the Else. It muddies her trail too much, but once the rain has cleared up, I’ll find her trail again.”

“Ka‑poel already has her trail.” Taniel stretched a little farther, his cheek touching the squalid puddle he lay in. He felt something hard, wrapped his hand around it, and pulled it out.

“She’s been scraping her fingernails between street cobbles and having you dig in every ditch between here and… what the pit is that?”

Taniel climbed to his feet. The glob of gray mud in his hand looked like the scrapings from a hundred boots. His stomach crawled at the smell of it and he held it at arm’s length. The whole mass clung to a long piece of wood. With a squelching, sucking sound the puddle at his feet slowly began to drain.

“Broken cane, I think,” Taniel said.

Ka‑poel came over to examine the stinking mud. She poked it with one finger, her head held up and away, scrutinizing the whole mass down the bridge of her nose. Her fingers darted in suddenly, then came out, pinched together.

Julene leaned forward. “What’s that?” She shook her head. “Nothing. Stupid girl.”

Taniel washed his arm in the cleanest puddle he could find, then took his shirt and buckskin coat from Gothen. To Julene, “You need sharper eyes. It’s a hair. The Privileged’s hair.”

“That’s impossible. To find a single hair from the Privileged in all this muck. Even if it did belong to her, what can your savage do with it?”

Taniel shrugged. “Find her.”

Ka‑poel walked away and opened her satchel. She worked with her back to them for a few moments. When she turned around, she straightened her satchel on her shoulder and gave a brisk nod. She tapped herself in the middle of the chest and then made a grasping motion.

Taniel grinned as he buttoned up his shirt. “We have her.”

They flagged down a hackney cab. Ka‑poel sat up with the driver to direct him, and Taniel, Julene, and Gothen climbed inside. Julene made a disgusted sound a moment after the door closed.

“You smell like filth,” she said. “I’d rather be in the rain than in here with you. I’ll be on the footboard.” She swung back outside. A moment passed, and then the carriage jerked forward.

“Ka‑poel can track the Privileged with a hair?” Gothen asked after they’d been moving for several minutes, his knees knocking uncomfortably close to Taniel’s.

“Hard to do it with one hair,” Taniel said. “Helps if there’s more. The blood from my bayonet, a discarded nail in the street—this Privileged bites her nails—an eyelash. One bit leads to the next. The more she has, the easier it is to track. If we want to sneak up on this Privileged, we need a precise location.”

Taniel opened his sketchbook and flipped through it, pausing briefly on the sketch of Vlora tucked between two pages, before moving on to a half-finished drawing of the Privileged. He was sketching from memory, but he’d been the only one of the four of them to get a good look at her. Gothen scanned the drawing for a few moments. When he finished, Taniel snapped the book shut, returning it to his jacket.

“How does Ka‑poel’s sorcery work?” Gothen asked.

“No idea,” Taniel said. “I’ve never seen her do magic. Not what we think of as magic, anyway. No fingers twitching, no summoning elemental auras.” He’d long ago stopped trying to figure out her sorcery.

Gothen cleared his throat after a minute. He didn’t look at Taniel directly, but a sly smile crossed his face. “Julene and I, we have a bet.”

Taniel tapped out a line of powder on the back of his hand and snorted it. “What’s that?”

“Julene thinks you’re bedding the savage. I say you aren’t.”

“Not exactly the bet of a gentleman,” Taniel said.

“We’re all soldiers here,” Gothen said. His grin widened.

“How much was the wager?”

“A hundred krana.”

“So much for women’s intuition. Tell her she owes you a hundred.”

“Thought so,” Gothen said. “Men are so much easier to read than women. You look at her—the savage—like that once in a while, but even then it’s only a hint of longing, not the look of a lover.”

Taniel scowled at the magebreaker and shifted in his seat, not sure how to respond. In an officers’ setting he’d call a man out for that. Here, though… well, like Gothen said, they were both soldiers.

“She’s nothing more than a kid,” Taniel said. “Besides, the whole time I’ve known Ka‑poel, I’ve been engaged to another woman.”

“Ah. Congratulations.”

“The engagement is off.”

“Your pardon,” Gothen said, looking away.

Taniel tapped out another line on the back of his hand. He waved his snuffbox in the air dismissively. “Think nothing of it.” He snorted the black powder and took a deep breath, then leaned his head against the side of the carriage. He listened to the patter of rain on the rooftop, to the clatter of the horse’s hooves and the wheels on the cobbles. So many noises that could drown out his thoughts.

Where was Vlora, he wondered, at this moment? Perhaps just arriving in Adopest. Maybe already here and gone, sent off on assignment by Tamas. He’d forced the question out of his mind every silent moment since he’d nailed that fop to the wall, wriggling on his own sword like a pinned butterfly. What had gone wrong? He’d made a mistake, going off to Fatrasta like he did. Getting tangled up in a war just to impress Tamas. He’d left her alone for too long. The man who’d bedded her was a professional philanderer. It wasn’t her fault.

He made a fist, reeled in his anger. Was he mad because he loved Vlora? Or was he mad because another man had sullied his woman? Had Vlora truly been his woman? Taniel couldn’t remember a time at which he wasn’t going to marry Vlora. Tamas had thrust them together in every possible situation. She was a gifted powder mage, and chances were their children would be gifted as well. Tamas had encouraged them to be together for years. If anything, Vlora was more Tamas’s future daughter‑in‑law than she was ever Taniel’s future wife. He swallowed that thought, and with it the satisfaction with Tamas’s disappointment. Now Taniel didn’t have to marry at all if he didn’t want—or he’d find a wife of his own, not some prearranged powder-mage bride. Maybe Ka‑poel. Taniel chuckled aloud, ignoring Gothen’s curious glance. Tamas would be absolutely livid if Taniel married a foreign savage. His amusement died down, and he resisted the urge to open his sketchbook and look at Vlora’s drawing.

“Awfully nice part of town,” Gothen said, pulling Taniel from his thoughts. The magebreaker held back the curtain just enough to see outside. A moment later the carriage jostled to a stop. Taniel opened the door.

They were in the Samalian District. Thick smoke hung over the entire city, mixing with the light rain and stinging Taniel’s eyes. The place was silent—the mob had been quelled two days prior and in their wake had left little of what had once been rows of stately manors. Smoldering ruins and gutted houses were all that remained.

Except this one. The townhouse was three stories tall, and made of ancient gray stone. It had been modeled after castles of old with parapets and walks. The walls were blackened from the fires raging around, but the building itself seemed undamaged. It was easy to see why.

The parapets were manned by soldiers. Cobbles had been torn up from the street and made into a waist-high wall in front of the main entrance. More soldiers squatted behind that, their muskets at the ready, watching Taniel’s carriage with outright hostility.

Taniel swung out of the carriage. Julene was already on the ground, pulling on her gloves. Ka‑poel climbed down from beside the driver.

“Whose house is this?” Taniel asked the driver.

The man scratched his chin. “General Westeven’s.”

A squad of soldiers issued from the townhouse and headed straight toward them. Taniel felt his gut wrench. They wore the all-too-familiar gray-and-white uniforms and the high, plumed hats of the king’s Hielmen. The Hielmen were supposed to have been wiped out. Yet here they were, guarding the residence of the former head of the king’s guard. General Westeven was nearly eighty, ancient by all standards, yet it was said he was still sharp and alert. Of all of Adro’s commanders, only Westeven had the reputation to match Tamas.

“Is the general in the city?” Taniel asked. Surely Tamas would have dealt with him. A loose end like this couldn’t have been left.

“Heard a rumor he was back,” the driver said. “He was supposed to be on holiday in Novi. He cut it short and returned just yesterday.”

Taniel glanced at Ka‑poel. “You sure she’s here?”

Ka‑poel nodded.

“Pit.”

The Hielmen halted five paces from Taniel. Their captain was an older man with a sour face. He was taller than Taniel by half a hand, and when his eyes fell on Taniel’s powder keg pin, his lip curled into a sneer.

“You’ve a woman inside your house,” Taniel said, fingering his pistol. “A Privileged. I’m here to arrest her in the name of Field Marshal Tamas.”

“We don’t recognize the authority of traitors here, boy.”

“So you admit you’re protecting her?”

“She’s the general’s guest,” the captain said.

A guest. Hielmen under the command of General Westeven and now they had a Privileged? This was dangerous territory. He could see rifles in windows on the floors above and on the parapets. The Hielman captain wore a sword and a pistol. Two of his guards carried long, slender rifles with fist-sized cartridges attached underneath—air canisters on air rifles. Weapons specifically designed to be unaffected by a powder mage’s power. No doubt some of the marksmen above carried the same weapons.

With Julene and the magebreaker he could probably fight his way into the manor. Soldiers were one thing to deal with, the Privileged another.

He could feel when Julene touched the Else. He held up a hand. “No,” he said. “Back down.”

“Like pit I will,” Julene said. “I’ll burn through this lot and—”

“Gothen,” Taniel said. “Rein her in.” He had to get away from here. Warn Tamas. If General Westeven was in the city, he wouldn’t take too long to marshal his forces. He’d attack quickly and go straight for the heart. Taniel moistened dry lips. “We’re going.”

“Sir,” one of the Hielmen said. “That’s Taniel Two-Shot.”

The captain’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not going anywhere, Two-Shot.”

“In the carriage,” Taniel said. “We’re leaving. Driver!”

The soldiers lowered their muskets. Taniel leapt onto the footboard of the carriage. He drew his pistol, swung around. He shot one of the Hielmen in the chest before the man could bring his weapon to bear. He tossed his pistol through the carriage window and looked toward the Hielmen, reaching out with his senses for their powder. Two of them carried standard muskets and the captain had a pistol. They’d all have powder reserves.

He found their powder horns easily. He touched the powder with a thought, causing a single spark.

The explosion nearly knocked him off the carriage. The horses screamed, and Taniel held on for dear life as the animals fled in terror. He took one look back. The Hielman captain had been blown clear in two. One of his companions struggled to sit up. The rest were in bloody pieces in the road. No one bothered to fire at the fleeing carriage.

When the driver finally got control of his animals, Taniel stuck his head into the carriage.

“I could have torn through them,” Julene said.

“And gotten us all killed. They had at least two dozen soldiers with air rifles watching us, not to mention the Privileged inside. I want you two to get out. Keep an eye on that townhouse. If the Privileged leaves, follow her but do not try to fight your way in.”

“Where are you going?” Gothen asked.

“To warn my father.”

Taniel climbed up beside the driver and told him to slow down for a moment. Gothen and Julene exited out the other side, jumping to the ground and heading into an alley. Taniel half hoped they’d try the manor against his orders, just so he didn’t have to deal with them again. But he needed that magebreaker.

“You’ll be paid well,” Taniel said to the driver.

The driver nodded, his mouth in a firm line.

“Take us to the House of Nobles,” Taniel said. “As quick as you can.”