“I’ve never seen sorcery like what she unleashed yesterday,” Bo said. “Nor the protection woven about you. As far as the royal cabals are concerned, there are three different kinds of sorcerers: Privileged, Marked, and Knacked. We’ve encountered minor sorceries from witches, and shamans, and warlocks in the far places of the world, but nothing with the potency of what she showed. Does she have the third eye?”
“Yes, I’m certain,” Taniel said. “She helps me track Privileged.”
Bo reached out and pressed a palm against Taniel’s forehead. He closed his eyes, muttering, and then jerked back. He dusted his palm off with snow. “God, you reek of powder. It’s gonna make my eyes swell up and the space between my fingers itch. As for your protection. Ugh. I have no idea. It shrugged off my wards well enough. I don’t know if it’ll stop a bullet or a knife. It could just be against sorcery. Either way, don’t risk it.”
Taniel thought back to the fight with the cave lion—with Julene. He’d nearly slid off the mountainside, taking a long plummet to his death. Then rock had sprouted from the very earth, jutting out to catch him. He wondered if that had been Ka-poel or Bo. He didn’t ask. He didn’t want to grow to depend on someone else’s protection. Bo might take credit even if it wasn’t his. Or even the opposite. He’d always been unpredictable.
“Tamas sent me to kill you,” Taniel said.
“Yeah.”
They didn’t look at each other.
“I didn’t.”
“Yeah.” Bo’s voice was wry. He gave Taniel a sidelong look, then a quick grin.
“Should I have?”
Bo’s grin disappeared. “He knows about the gaes, then?”
“It’s true?”
“Yes.” Bo grunted. “Part of becoming a member of the royal cabal.” He touched his collar gently. “I’ll have to avenge the king someday. I’ll have to kill Tamas.” He pulled a pendant from beneath his shirt. It was a simple thing, braided silver around a single gemstone. Taniel vaguely remembered seeing similar necklaces upon dead Kez Privileged. Not even the savages had looted those.
“Is… is that it?” Taniel asked.
“A demon’s carbuncle,” Bo said. “Very dark stuff. You don’t want to know. The gaes to protect—or avenge—the king is tied to this. Even now I can feel a pull, tugging me toward Adopest. It’s not very strong. It will grow stronger as time passes. I’m not sure how quickly. If I resist for too long, though, it will kill me.”
“The only way to break it is to avenge the king?”
Bo remained silent.
“So you have to kill my father.”
Bo picked up a rock and threw it off the cliff. He didn’t look happy about it.
“We should start looking for a way to break it,” Taniel said. He hoped he sounded confident. “Privileged wouldn’t attach themselves to something they can’t get out of. It’s just another secret. Maybe one of the Predeii knows.”
Taniel examined his friend, realizing just how much the fight yesterday had taken out of him. His cheeks were gaunt. His skin looked saggy, wrinkled, as if he were forty years older than he was.
“We’ll find out together,” Taniel said. “We’ll break it. I swear.”
Bo gave a tired chuckle. “My eyes are going to itch every day I’m with you, you optimistic bastard. Come on.” He stood up, stretching. “We have to go find out if we killed that bitch.”
Chapter 20
The parlor of Winceslav House was a spacious affair with ornate brick walls and a granite fireplace big enough to drive a pair of oxen through. Adamat had politely refused a seat from the butler and made his way slowly around the room as he waited for the lady of the house. There were a number of paintings of Lady Winceslav and her late husband, Henri Winceslav, as well as a single painting of the two of them with their four children. The painting was perhaps five years old, done just before the old duke passed away and each of the children had since been sent to boarding schools or resided in the country with their governesses, according to Adamat’s research.
Adamat examined the floor, the walls, and the doors. A lot could be discovered about the waxing or waning fortunes of an Adran noble family by observing the state of their manor. When money was tight, upkeep and repairs often fell behind as housing staff were let go and materials became scarce.
Everything was pristine. The wood furniture and brass hangings were polished, the floor recently replaced, and the brickwork dusted. Her mercenaries had done quite well, even without