Adamat brought his pistol back and slammed the butt across Vetas’s face. “Secure them,” he said to Fell. To Oldrich, “Sergeant, give her four of your men. We need to get off the street before the police get here.”
Fell dragged Vetas to his feet, still holding the stiletto to his throat. Oldrich sent four of the men with her, along with Nila and the two wounded goons, and the rest of the soldiers followed Adamat.
They met up with the eunuch three blocks down from Vetas’s headquarters.
“My men are in position,” the eunuch said.
“Where’s Bo?” Adamat asked, wheezing from the effort of the run.
He found the Privileged around the corner, standing in the middle of the street. Bo wore black gloves over his Privileged gloves to conceal them. He was muttering to himself, his gloved fingers working silently in the air in front of him, as if he was playing an invisible piano with one hand and plucking a harp with the other. There were three or four people watching him as if he was some kind of madman. He certainly looked the part.
“We have to go in now,” Adamat said. He hunched over his pistol, trying to conceal it from view while he reloaded it.
Bo’s fingers continued to work the air. “I said I’d need time.”
“We don’t have much time,” Adamat said. “His men have orders to kill Faye if he doesn’t return at a prescribed time.”
“Unfortunate,” Bo said with a scowl. “Tell the eunuch to get his men in place.”
The order was given, and five minutes later the eunuch joined Adamat and Bo.
“We’re ready,” the eunuch said.
Bo looked him up and down, eyes lingering on the tailored suit and the bald head. “You make my skin crawl.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Adamat smoothed the front of his jacket. “Sergeant?”
Oldrich’s remaining soldiers had fetched their rifles. They were beginning to get looks from the passersby. “We’re ready,” Oldrich said.
“Let’s make it a parade, then.” Bo turned on his heel and marched down the middle of the street, heading toward Lord Vetas’s headquarters. His fingers twitched, making music that only he could hear. Adamat exchanged a look with Captain Oldrich. This was not how they’d taken the house in Offendale.
Bo didn’t slow as he rounded the corner and stepped his way toward Vetas’s house. When he reached the middle of the street directly in front of the house, he turned and faced it. He raised his hands above his head. In one of the windows, a lookout shouted a warning.
Even though Adamat couldn’t open his third eye, he could still feel it when a Privileged standing at his elbow reached into the Else. Sorcery flowed into the world, and Bo threw his arms wide, and the entire face of the building collapsed like a piece of cake sliced by a giant knife.
Adamat stared at the dust rising from the rubble. Men inside the house stared back, coughing and waving away plaster dust. The shock was plain on their faces.
Sergeant Oldrich drew his sword. “Charge!” he screamed.
All pit broke loose.
A column of heavy cavalry appeared on the floodplain downriver, west of Tamas. The plumes on their helmets waved gently in the breeze, their mounts stepping with confidence despite the low cover of fog.
Tamas lifted his looking glass and examined the enemy.
The officers were out front with their red epaulets, shouting orders, sabers raised.
Fools.
A rifle cracked from somewhere across the river. A few moments later a Kez officer tumbled from his horse.
They advanced at a leisurely pace, as if it were nothing more than a parade drill. More rifle shots rang out from Tamas’s powder mages, and cuirassiers began to fall. The column continued to advance.
“This weather might foul our powder, sir,” Olem said, looking up at the clouds.
Tamas said, “It won’t rain.”
“It’s awfully damp, sir. Strange, this fog. Never seen it sweep down off the mountains so quickly.”
“That’s because this is an answer to a prayer.”
Tamas heard a trumpet echo through Hune Dora Forest and looked to the south. There was movement among the trees half a mile away across the floodplain where only hours ago Tamas’s infantry had been cutting trees and dragging them to camp.
The dragoons emerged from the forest.
Tamas felt his breath catch in his throat. So many cavalry in one place.
He’d seen a force like this perhaps three times in his life. Each time, he’d been numbered among those cavalry, and the enemy had been swept before them. The horses stepped in line, well trained and fearless. Unlike the cuirassiers, someone among the dragoons had the foresight to remove the officer’s epaulets, so they would be harder to pick out for Tamas’s powder mages.
Behind him, the panic among the Seventh and Ninth Brigades seemed to rise in pitch, and Tamas worried that the act had outgrown itself. He’d witnessed hard infantry of the line break at the sight of a magnificent cavalry formation before.
