lay about, dead. He marveled at the perfect kills—bullets to the heart or the head, easy hits in the close proximity of a house. Blood pooled thick on the marble floors, making them slick. He found an ivory parasol stand in the corner of the foyer and appropriated a real cane, leaning the air rifle up against the wall.
Nikslaus was gone. Tamas bit the inside of his cheek, fighting against welling frustration. He’d left the Privileged lying on the ground writhing in pain. A blood trail led from that spot off to a side room. Tamas didn’t have enough men to tend to the wounded and organize a search. He closed his eyes and limped off after the blood trail.
Adamat. What would Tamas do with the inspector? He’d confessed to betraying Tamas and Adro to this Lord Vetas and his master, Lord Claremonte. How many powerful enemies could Tamas have? Adamat was ultimately responsible for Sabon’s death. Or was he? According to Adamat, the warning was sent to Charlemund just ahead of Adamat himself. Charlemund had more than just a few moments to marshal his defenses.
The pain in his leg increased as his powder trance began to fade. It would take a while for the trance to fade completely, and he’d be able to stand for a few hours yet, with the help of a cane. When that time was over, the agony would be so great he’d be lucky to even be able to stand.
Dr. Petrik would be furious. Tamas may have damaged his leg irreparably, fighting on it like he did. Foolishness.
The blood trail led through two rooms, two separate worlds of expensive furnishings rarely seen outside of a king’s palace. Ivory-bone chairs from the horns of Fatrastan animals, pelts and taxidermied big cats from the farthest jungles. A squat table chiseled from a single piece of pure obsidian. The skeleton of a long-dead lizard as big as a horse. Artwork from every corner of the world, sculptures from before the Time of Kresimir.
The blood trail led to a servant’s door out onto a small patio. Tamas examined the area cautiously. He didn’t know if they’d accounted for all the Wardens. He glimpsed movement out across a pasture. A stable door opened, and a pair of horses galloped out, swinging out around the barn and away from the villa. In his powder trance Tamas could see the makeshift bandages on Nikslaus’s hands, the writhing muscles of the Warden who led his horse. Nikslaus glanced back toward the villa nervously. Tamas watched until the pair was out of sight.
All of this was for naught if Julene manages to summon Kresimir.
“I can’t find Nikslaus,” Olem said.
Tamas turned. The soldier had not even attended to his own wounds. He stood straight as he could, trying to meet Tamas’s eyes. He did not hide his pain well, which meant there was a lot of it. He fumbled in his shirt jacket for rolling paper and tobacco. They almost slipped out of his blood-slick fingers. Tamas took them from him and rolled Olem a cigarette, then lit it with a match from Olem’s breast pocket. Olem took a puff and smiled gratefully.
“Attend to the wounded,” Tamas said. “Nikslaus is not a threat anymore. Attend to yourself first. You did well, my friend.”
“But Nikslaus…” Olem said.
“My vengeance will be that he continues to live,” Tamas said. He smiled, and he knew it was tinted with cruelty. “That will be enough.”
Chapter 40
Only aftepr climbing stairs for what seemed like hours did Taniel realize the full scope of Kresimir’s palace. It was, as Del said, a husk—the giant shell of what must have once been thousands upon thousands of rooms and halls and galleries. Only the volcanic outer crust remained, along with the enormous staircase that spiraled up along the inner wall. The ash thinned as they ascended. Their footfalls began to echo, and Taniel soon realized that the pinpricks of light above were windows. He forced himself to climb hard, fast, not caring if Del kept up or not.
In the near-utter silence Taniel felt as if time were suspended. He thought he saw pale colors flicker in the shadows, like ghostly auras of long-dead magic. Every now and then, puffs of ash rose like phantoms. As they neared the top, he saw windows, yes, but they were too high above the staircase to shoot from, and there was nothing to climb to reach them. He kept going. The walls closed in around them and the