The Autumn Republic (23 page)

“I would die for my country. But I’d rather kill for it. Ready your troops. We march!”

A
damat’s carriage neared Adopest fifteen days after he’d initially set out south with Privileged Borbador, carrying a warrant for General Ket’s arrest.

The city seemed strange to him when viewed from afar. The red of the fall leaves and gold of the fields seemed to hide the brick smokestacks and warehouses of the
F
actory
D
istrict, and Adopest seemed less to him than it had been before. It wasn’t until he had lost the view and entered into the southern parts of the city that he decided why that was so:
T
he Kresim Cathedral no longer dominated the center of the city, standing like a beacon above most of the other buildings.

Adamat noted the wreckage of a dozen churches as his carriage wound through the southern suburbs and then through the
F
actory
D
istrict and headed north toward his home. It was four o’clock, the autumn sun already well on its way to the western horizon, when he was dropped at his front door, and he had worked himself into a fury over Claremonte’s men having destroyed all the churches in Adopest.

What right had they? This was not their city. Not their country. And yet no one had opposed them when they pulled the priests from their chapels and murdered them in the streets; when Claremonte’s Privileged had torn down the churches with sorcery, laying waste to every brick.

An illness had settled in Adamat’s gut and he had the horrible feeling that he should have accepted Tamas’s mission to rid the city of Claremonte.
Someone
had to fight against the bastard.

Cane and hat in hand, Adamat carried his bag up his front steps and set it against the door. He bowed his head. None of that now. Claremonte was in the past. Vetas was in the past. This was the present and now he had to tell Faye about Josep.

He remained there for several moments, trying to find the right words, when the sound reached him – or rather, the lack of it. No voices. No children shouting or playing. No feet on the wood floors. He raised his head and peered in at the front window, but the shades were drawn. Where was his family?

His hands shook as he tried to turn the doorknob, but it was locked. He reached into his pocket for the key, only to have it drop from his stiff fingers.

He bent to retrieve the key and heard the scrape of the lock, and the door opened. He looked up.

“Adamat? You’re home, how wonderful!”

Adamat breathed a sigh of relief, feeling his knees wobble. “Hello, Margy.”

The foreman of the biggest textile mill in Adro was a strong woman in her forties with graying hair and a pair of spectacles perched on her thin nose. “Do come in, I was just keeping Faye company for the afternoon. She said she didn’t expect you for… well, for some time.”

“Who’s there?” Adamat heard Faye call from the sitting room.

“I am,” Adamat responded weakly.

“Oh, hold on!”

Adamat came inside and put down his bag and hung his hat and cane by the door. Faye came out of the sitting room and put her hands on Adamat’s shoulders. He leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek, and he couldn’t help but see the look of hope as she smiled at him, and then the cloud that passed over her face when he closed the door behind him.

He gave a slight shake of his head.

“Margy,” Faye said, “I’m so sorry to do this, but…”

“Oh, now, don’t be like that. I should get home to my girls anyway. You should be with your husband.”

“I’ll stop the cab,” Adamat said. He went back out into the street and shouted for his carriage to return. A few minutes later and Margy was climbing inside with her umbrella.

Adamat forced a smile and waved as the carriage drove off. Beside him, Faye did the same, and he wondered at her ability to face the world with a stiff spine after all she had been through. They went back inside.

“Margy was telling me she’s going to run for treasurer of her district in the new elections this fall.”

“Where are the children?” Adamat asked.

Faye let herself fall against the wall in the hallway. Adamat touched the plaster beside her, noting how it didn’t match the rest. She’d had someone come and fix the hole there, from where SouSmith had put an assassin’s head through plaster and brick.

“Ricard offered to hire a governess for them full-time,” Faye said. “I took him up on it. They’re off for a walk in the park right now and they’ll be back for dinner in a couple of hours.”

“Is that safe?”

Faye made a quiet noise that seemed halfway between a sigh and a sob, but did not respond.

“That was very kind of him,” Adamat added. They stood in the hallway in silence for several minutes. “I should never have answered that bloody summons,” he finally said. “I would never have gotten involved with this entire thing and —”

“Is Josep dead?” Faye asked.

Adamat tried to work moisture into his mouth. When that failed, he gave a small nod. Better that she not know. It would break her. To know Josep dead was one thing, but to know that he had been twisted by hideous Privileged sorcery into some…
creature
…

Better that
no one
ever know.

Faye stared at the floor. She went back into the sitting room and a moment later Adamat heard her muffled sobs. He closed his eyes. How had his life come to this?

He took two steps up the stairs, bag in hand, when he turned and went into the sitting room. Faye perched on the edge of one of the chairs, a half-empty cup of tea on the table beside her. Adamat knelt on the floor behind her and put his hands on her arms. He soon found himself weeping as well.

Adamat wept until the collar of his shirt was wet and he felt like he had no more tears to give. His legs were both asleep and Faye had composed herself some time ago and now stared unseeing at the far wall of the sitting room. He kissed her on the forehead and extricated himself from her desperate embrace, brushing the dampness from his face with one sleeve and clearing his throat.

She looked up at him, a sad smile on her lips, and he again wondered at her strength to deal with all of this. To hide her own fears and sorrow and anger, to put on a happy face for him and the children just a handful of weeks after the end of her own ordeals – it was incredible.

“I worry for you,” he said.

“I’m stronger than you think.”

“I know. But I still worry.”

She took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “Worry for yourself.”

“Field Marshal Tamas has returned. He won a great victory against the Kez.”
Without even being there, though I don’t think Tamas wants that to be common knowledge.

Faye scowled. “And he’s asked you to do something more for him, hasn’t he?”

“He did,” Adamat admitted.

“No! You are done with that man and his revolution!”

“Be still,” Adamat said. “I told him I would not help him any further.”

“Good.”

“I did…”

“You did what? What? You stupid oaf !”

“I did promise to help Ricard with his election. Not much. I won’t get too involved. I’m not doing this for Tamas, by the way. I’m doing it for Ricard. I owe it to him for helping me get you back.”

Faye stuck her chin out at him. “Owe it or not, if you even walk into his office you’ll get involved. I know him. And I know you.”

“So I shouldn’t do anything?”

“You should be here with your family. Ricard will understand.” She kissed his hand again. “Don’t take any jobs for a while. Let’s just leave the country. We can take the children and go to Novi. We have the money Borbador gave us.”

Adamat wanted to. He really did. Part of him said he would be a coward to do it – he would be running away. But another part told him it was the smart thing to do. The best thing for his family. “I can’t just abandon Ricard,” he said.

“But you can abandon your family?”

“I’m not… I…” Why couldn’t she understand? She and the children meant everything to him, but he had obligations. To Ricard. To Adro.

Faye pushed his hand away. “Fine. Do what you want. You always think you know best.”

Her next words were drowned out by a knock on the door. “Are you expecting someone?” he asked.

Faye shook her head. “The children would come in through the back, but they shouldn’t be here for an hour yet.”

Adamat approached the front window slowly and moved the curtain aside with one finger. When he saw who it was, he ran to the door and threw it open.

SouSmith stood on his front step, hat in hand, a scowl marring his battered face. The old boxer gave Adamat a nod, then an “Evening, ma’am” to Faye.

“Come in, come in,” Adamat said. “I just arrived home. I was going to come see you tomorrow.”

SouSmith shook his head at the invitation.

“What is it?” Adamat asked.

“There’s been a bombing,” he grunted.

Adamat felt his heart skip a beat and his palms begin to sweat. “What? Where?”

“The Holy Warriors of Labor.”

Ricard’s headquarters. A flurry of questions ran through Adamat’s head and they all jumbled up, causing him to feel tongue-tied. He looked at Faye.

“Go,” Faye urged.

Adamat snatched his hat and cane and followed SouSmith out the door to the waiting carriage.

Adamat eyed the light street traffic and silently urged the carriage faster. “Is Ricard hurt?” he asked.

SouSmith shrugged.

“How about his secretary, Fell?”

Another shrug.

“Damn it, man, do you know anything?”

SouSmith shook his head. “Was in Forswitch when I heard.”

“So you weren’t there?”

“Just thought you’d want to know. Was on my way past.”

“Well, thanks for that,” Adamat said. “What were you doing in Forswitch?”

“Helping my brother.”

“The butcher?”

A nod. SouSmith cracked his knuckles and peered out the window. “Carrying meat. Big hogs, one on each shoulder.”

“Been boxing lately?”

SouSmith kept his gaze on the street outside. His only answer was a small shake of the head.

Adamat frowned. It had been nine weeks to the day since they attacked Lord Vetas’s lair, capturing Vetas and rescuing Faye. He had released SouSmith from his employ a few days later, what with the danger passed. It seemed strange that SouSmith had had no matches since then. He was old, sure, but he hadn’t lost his edge. Why wouldn’t the Proprietor put him in the ring? Unless…

“Has the Proprietor suspended all of the boxing?”

“Yeah.”

“Because of the eunuch’s death?” An event that had occurred during Vetas’s capture. In fact, Vetas himself had killed the eunuch during Faye’s rescue.

“Still looking for a new second,” SouSmith said.

“I see.” The Proprietor was the head of the criminal underworld in Adro, and the eunuch had been the face of his operations for at least eighteen years. It had to be stirring up plenty with the eunuch gone. After all, only five people in the world knew the Proprietor’s true identity, counting the Proprietor himself.

And Adamat.

Adamat cleared his throat. “I might have some work for you soon,” he said, though he immediately regretted it. Hiring SouSmith meant that he
needed
a bodyguard. And needing a bodyguard meant he was going to get involved with things he knew he shouldn’t. But someone had tried to kill Ricard.

SouSmith raised one eyebrow. “Hmm.”

For the tight-lipped boxer, it was an enthusiastic response.

Night had fallen, the street lanterns were being lit, and most of the shops were closed by the time they neared Ricard’s headquarters. The evening traffic was blocked, so Adamat paid the driver, and he and SouSmith walked the rest of the way. Adamat peered into the hazy darkness to try to see what damage Ricard’s old warehouse had taken.

Two of the windows high up on the second floor had blown out, and the front door had been taken off its hinges in order to maneuver stretchers through. The brickwork appeared unhurt, and in fact the new mural on the side of the building with Ricard’s face and election slogan of “Unity and Labor” was barely scratched. A prison carriage – empty – blocked traffic in the street, and a dozen police officers milled about, speaking with onlookers and each other. Torches had been posted to supplement the light from the streetlamps.

One of the officers stepped up to Adamat. “Sorry, sir, no one’s allowed in or out, on the commissioner’s orders.”

“I’m Inspector Adamat. Is Ricard all right?”

Another officer looked up from his interview of a scantily clad serving girl – one of Ricard’s hostesses. “Hey, Picadal, you can let Adamat through. The commissioner will want to see him.”

“The commissioner is here in person?”

“Yes. Says it’s a high-profile attack, what with Ricard being a candidate for First Minister.”

Adamat was waved past. When he turned to SouSmith, he found the big boxer lagging behind. “Come on,” Adamat said.

“I’ll wait here.”

“What is it? Oh, never mind. Suit yourself.” Adamat headed inside, where he paused to take in the building for a moment, logging every detail in his perfect memory for future perusal.