The Autumn Republic (46 page)

“All yours,” Tamas said.

One of the Brudanian soldiers leapt into the wagon and opened the sarcophagus. He closed it a moment later, and nodded solemnly to his leader.

“Your Knacked can see in the dark,” Tamas said. “That’s handy.”

The Brudanian Privileged gave him a tight-lipped smile. “I should kill you right now.”

“What would your boss say to that?”

“I’m sure he’d find it in his heart to forgive me.”

Tamas took a long step forward, then leaned into the Privileged until their chests were almost touching. “Try it,” he whispered.

The Brudanian Privileged gave a low chuckle. “You think I’m scared of your powder mages hidden on the horizon? Or your pet Privileged hiding in the grove? I’ve already fought him once. He’d be dead if I hadn’t been in a hurry and feeling generous. Tell Borbador that he owes me his life.”

“I think you
are
afraid. Otherwise you’d have tried it already. Get out of here, Privileged dog. Take Kresimir back to your master. Remind him to keep his word.”

One of the soldiers took the reins to the wagon and the Privileged turned away. “He’ll keep whatever he desires. Even this miserable country.”

Tamas watched until the Privileged were long gone before he returned to the grove.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Vlora said.

“I’ve done a lot of things I shouldn’t. This isn’t one of them.” Tamas leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “It was worth it. Bo, that Privileged sends her regards.”

“I bet she does.”

“Bo,” Tamas continued.

“What?”

“A fight is coming. I can feel it. If you see her again, wipe the floor with her.”

Bo’s fingers flexed, his jaw clenching, and he exchanged a glance with Nila. “That would be my pleasure.”

Adamat sat on the northern section of Adopest’s old wall, his feet dangling off the thirty-foot precipice.

He crunched into an apple, feeling the juice run down his chin as he watched the Brudanian troop transports load by the evening light. The largest oceangoing ships had already set off up the Ad River, hauled against the current by teams of twenty oxen each on their long journey to the lock system over the mountains, while the troop barges were still only half full.

“I confess,” he mused aloud, “that I’m shocked to see him leaving.”

SouSmith didn’t reply. The big boxer leaned against the battlements. He wore a butcher’s canvas pants and white shirt, the bloodstained sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He removed a pipe from his shirt pocket and lit it with a match, puffing to get it lit. A few moments later the air was full of the sweet smell of cherry tobacco.

“
He
hasn’t,” SouSmith finally pointed out.

“True, true. The man himself is still here. But the fact that he is keeping his word about his soldiers boggles my mind.”

“Think he’s up to somethin’?”

“Of course I do. He’s a salesman and a politician. If he’s not up to something I’ll eat my boots.” Adamat felt in his pockets for a moment before remembering that he’d left his own pipe at home. He eyed the troop transports as the Brudanians filed onboard, then looked down the Ad to the south. From this position it was impossible to see where Kresim Cathedral once stood, but he remembered its destruction as starkly as he remembered everything else.

“He left his mark,” SouSmith said.

“Yes. Yes he did.” And so many unanswered questions as well. Claremonte claimed that everything he had done was only to mitigate the damage Kresimir could do. It didn’t feel like an outright lie, but even an idiot could see that Claremonte had only his own gain in mind. The First Ministry of Adro seemed like such a pitiful goal for a god. Was there something else he wanted? Something greater?

And where was Brude’s other half?
Who
was Brude’s other half? He had played off of Tamas’s ambitions from the very beginning, which suggested someone inside the council. The thought sent chills up Adamat’s spine. Lady Winceslav? The Reeve? Perhaps it was Tamas himself! The thought was enough to give him a stroke, but he knew he had to dig deeper.

Lord Vetas had worked at cross-purposes to Tamas and the council. What had he once said? One hand not knowing what the other is doing? As far as Adamat knew, Vetas had done nothing to prevent Kresimir’s return. In fact, he had been working with Charlemund, who by all accounts had known about Kresimir’s return. An accident? Or on purpose?

“I have a hunch,” Adamat said.

“Huh?”

“Come with me to Sablethorn tonight. Do you have time?”

SouSmith glanced down at his clothes.

“Go get changed,” Adamat said. “Meet me at Sablethorn in two hours.”

SouSmith descended from the wall, leaving Adamat alone.

Adamat kicked his heels against the stone wall, watching as the first of the transports left, considering his options. He had to rule out the central members of the council. If Brude’s other half was one of the council, he would have done far more damage than he already had.

He waited until the last of the transports had left before he got to his feet and headed down to the main street to find a hackney cab. Thirty minutes later he arrived at Sablethorn, and the sun set over his shoulder as he went through the main doors and approached the guard station on the first floor. SouSmith sat in the stone hallway, back to the wall, hat tipped over his face.

“I’m here to see Lady Cheris,” Adamat said to the guard on duty.

SouSmith climbed to his feet, and the prison guard checked Adamat’s papers before letting them through.

“I think Claremonte has another agent in the city.”

“You think?”

“Of course he does, I’m not an idiot. But I mean another agent of the same rank or higher than Lord Vetas. Someone working autonomously. Completely apart from Vetas or Claremonte.”
The other half of the god
, Adamat thought silently.

“Why?”

“We interviewed Claremonte with a Knacked who could see through lies, and Claremonte didn’t know anything about the attack on Ricard’s headquarters. But no one benefits more than he with Ricard dead. If Claremonte has another agent in the city, working independently, it explains why he could truthfully say he didn’t plan the attack.”

“Lady Cheris?”

“I think that Cheris might know who it is.”

They reached a room near the top of the spire and Adamat paused to catch his breath while the jailer unlocked the ironbound door. They were admitted to a small but comfortable room with a fireplace, two lanterns, a bed, chair, and side table.

Lady Cheris stood beside the window, looking out onto Elections Square. She glanced curiously at Adamat but remained silent while the jailer lit the lanterns and then left.

“Lady Cheris,” Adamat said.

She waved her hand without looking away from the window. “I’ve told you everything you’re going to get from me,” she said.

“I don’t think you have. Who are you working for?” Adamat asked.

“Me? Working for someone? Hah! You must not know me very well, Inspector. I’m no one’s stooge.”

“So you claim you plotted Ricard’s fall all on your own?”

She remained silent.

“If you help me, I might be able to keep you away from the guillotine,” Adamat said.

“I don’t believe that they will send me to the guillotine, Inspector. And even if they did, you don’t have that kind of power.”

Adamat felt a cold sweat break out on his brow. He blinked several times, then rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Can you risk that?”

“I’ve risked everything, and I’ve lost. This conversation is over.”

Adamat’s throat was dry. He stared at Cheris for several moments until she turned to face him.

“What is it, Inspector? Can’t think of something to say? Am I a dead end? Forgive me for not showing any sympathy. You can tell Ricard I’ll be the downfall of him yet.”

Adamat found his voice and stood up, managing a half bow. “I’m sorry for wasting what little time you have left, my lady.”

Out in the hallway, Adamat gestured for the jailer to lock the door. He leaned against the wall, shivering.

“Adamat?” SouSmith said.

Adamat drew the jailer to the side and gave him a hundred-krana note. “Let me be clear. You are not to let Lady Cheris out of that room. But if she does get out, you are not to stand in her way. Your life may depend on it. Tell the field marshal I gave you those instructions.”

Adamat found himself running down the stairs, with SouSmith hurrying to keep up. Outside, Adamat practically leapt into his waiting hackney cab. “Go home, SouSmith,” he said. “I think we’re done here. You’ve been the greatest of help.” He banged on the roof. “Across the square,” he ordered, and they took off, leaving SouSmith with a confused expression outside of Sablethorn.

Adamat ran up all five flights of stairs to the top of the People’s Court, his lungs near to bursting when he reached the top. He showed his papers to Tamas’s soldiers and ignored the secretary who told him to wait, shoving his way into Tamas’s office. His chest was tight, and he was spurred on by sudden fear.

Tamas looked up from his desk, where he was reading by the light of a lantern. “Inspector?”

“Lady Cheris,” Adamat gasped. “She doesn’t have a shadow. She’s Brude’s other half. And that’s not all.”

Tamas shot to his feet. “Tell me.”

“Claremonte’s troop transports are riding high in the water. He’s left behind at least five hundred men.”

T
he election was held early on the morning of the last day of autumn.

Adamat stood near the window of Ricard’s office in the Kinnen Hotel. To his great consternation, he was unable to keep from wringing his hands as he watched the constant flow of people passing in the street below. Today was the second of two days of a national holiday. The polls had been opened at six in the morning the day before and had closed well after midnight. A delegation of Novi vote counters had spent all night with the ballots. By noon, word should come back on the results of the election.

And then they’d find out if a god could keep his word.

There was so much left unanswered. Adamat didn’t like the loose ends. No explanation of Claremonte’s involvement in the Kez-Adran War, or Cheris allowing herself to be imprisoned, or even why Claremonte cared about the election in Adro to begin with.

It was giving him heart palpitations.

He heard the door behind him open, and the sounds of Ricard’s election party floated in. Adamat turned to see Privileged Borbador slip inside the room. It was the first time Adamat had seen him since he returned to Adopest. He walked confidently with a cane despite the prosthetic on his left leg, and he was dressed well enough to make a banker blush. He wore his Privileged’s gloves despite, or perhaps because of, the heavy crowds at the election party.

Their eyes met and the half-patronizing, half-predatory smile that Bo had plastered on his face for the party slid off to be replaced by a somber visage. “Our deal is complete.”

Adamat swallowed a lump in his throat. “You’re sure?”

“Nila killed a Black Warden in Brude’s Hideaway. It was missing its ring finger. Looked like it had been nothing more than a boy, around fifteen or so, when it was turned. I can’t be more certain than that.”

“You saw it yourself ?”

“I was there when it happened.”

“Did —?”

“It was quick.”

“Thank you.”

Bo gave him a short nod and slipped out of the room. Adamat took a deep breath, steadying himself. Josep was at peace. Adamat could now be at peace as well. Or at least he could try.

He didn’t have time to think through his grief. He heard Bo exchange words with a familiar voice outside the door, then it opened again and Fell appeared in the doorway. She looked him up and down, then stepped back outside. “He’s in here!” he heard her shout.

Ricard entered the room a moment later, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. “Pit, that’s a lot of hands to shake. Adamat, what are you doing up here? Your wife is looking everywhere for you, and Astrit got away from her nanny and has been terrorizing the kitchen staff.”

Adamat shook himself out of his thoughts. “I’m terribly sorry, Ricard, I’m coming.”

“I joke, I joke! Your children are angels. All except that orphan kid, what was his name?”

“Jakob.”

“Jakob keeps going into the basement to play with what’s left of my wine collection.”

“He’s a good lad.”

“He might be. But keep him out of my wine.”

“I thought you hired more than one nanny?”

“I did. Not enough, apparently. You already have too many children. Why did you have to take on a stray?”

“Faye wants to adopt him,” Adamat mused aloud. He wondered whether this was Faye’s way of dealing with Josep’s death, or whether she genuinely cared for the Eldaminse child. It was something they’d agreed to talk about later. Only a handful of people even knew of his importance, but Adamat worried about the possible ramifications of adopting the closest living heir to the Adran throne.

“How is Faye holding up?” Adamat asked.

“She’s been yakking with the new head of the tailors’ union. What’s her name again? Maggie?”

“Margy. I’m glad you picked her.”

“I can’t really account for your taste. She hates my guts.”

“It’s good to have some opposition,” Adamat said. “I’m sure she’ll come around.”

“You’re too confident. Anyway, I’m glad you’re alone. I want to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“How would you like a job?”

Adamat swayed on his feet. “Ricard, you know I’d do anything for you. But I’m exhausted. I’m getting too old to run all over the city. The money from you and Privileged Borbador will keep us alive for a while. If I told Faye I had another investigation job, she’d skin me alive.”

“Investigating? Pit, Adamat. I want you to be on my staff.”

Adamat sensed some kind of a trap. “Isn’t that conditional upon your winning the election?”

“Well. Yes.”

“I see.” Adamat hesitated. “I’d have to ask Faye.”

“Well, she’d be hypocritical to say no.”

“What do you mean?”

“I offered her a job on my staff already and she said yes. The position comes with full-time nannies for the children and a lot of foreign travel. If I hire you both, you can take those trips together.”

Adamat tried to blink away his exhaustion. “She did? I… well. I suppose I could do that.”

“You suppose?” Ricard thumped him on the back. “Have a little enthusiasm. I wouldn’t let you say no.”

“You seem awfully confident in a win.”

“Pit, no. I think I’m going to lose, Adamat. Pretty confident, actually. But I’m a little drunk right now, and I’ve done everything I can. No sense in worrying over it anymore. See you downstairs?”

Adamat gave his friend a crooked smile and watched him stumble out the door. Fell remained there a moment longer.

“Fell,” Adamat said as she followed Ricard out.

“Yes sir?”

“Thanks for taking care of him.”

“It’s my job, sir.”

“And sober him up a bit.”

“Next on the list. I have more confidence in his winning than he does.”

Adamat was alone for only a couple of minutes before he heard someone else enter the room. He turned, a smile on his lips, expecting that Faye had come looking for him finally. Instead he found Taniel Two-shot standing with his back pressed up against the door, a look of terror in his eyes.

Adamat frowned and listened for some kind of commotion downstairs. The sound of the party continued on, and then he realized, “You’re not used to this kind of thing, are you?”

“I’m going to break the next person who asks me to shake their hand.”

“You look tired.”

“I am.” Taniel wore a new dress uniform, his colonel’s pins at his collar, his hat under one arm. “Haven’t slept in about six days.”

“That’s enough to kill a man,” Adamat said, stepping forward. Perhaps he should call for Fell. Taniel was potentially less than an hour away from being Adopest’s new Second Minister and he had a wide-eyed unsteadiness to him that said he’d either run off after his lover or pass out at any moment.

Taniel waved him off. “I can’t do it. I can’t keep shaking hands and smiling at sycophants while the pressure builds. We may have another war on our hands the moment the election ends, and no one seems to care. This time we won’t have a god on our side. And Claremonte still has Ka-poel.”

“No one knows about Brude,” Adamat said. “Except for us.”

“Ricard knows. How does he keep going on with the farce?”

“Habit?”

Taniel looked at him sharply. “Do you think this is over? This whole thing with Claremonte? Will he really just walk away?”

“I don’t know.”

There was a rap on the door. Taniel leapt away, then put a finger to his lips, shaking his head.

Adamat rolled his eyes. He opened the door a crack. It was Fell.

“It’s almost time,” Fell said. “Ricard needs Taniel Two-shot.”

Adamat gave her a nod and closed the door. He stepped over, taking Taniel under the arm. “Let’s go.”

Taniel allowed himself to be dragged down to the hotel lobby by Inspector Adamat.

He thought about fighting the man off and finding a closet to hide in, but he knew that wouldn’t be what most people called “mature.” Instead, he tried to take Bo’s advice and put a smile on his face as they reached the main floor.

Behind the smile, his mind raced. Ka-poel was still with Claremonte. If he lost the election, would he kill her? Would he release her? Would he do either of those if he
won
? There was no way to know, and he was going mad.
Something
needed to happen.

Adamat slipped off to the dining room, where Ricard was holding court, leaving Taniel to greet the constantly flowing river of well-wishers. He didn’t know any of their names, but they all seemed satisfied with a handshake and a kind word muttered from behind gritted teeth.

“I’ve seen that look before. You look like a hare cornered by a pack of hounds,” a voice said from behind him.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing better,” he said.

Vlora stepped up beside him and returned a passing merchant’s smile. “Me too. For the record, I don’t think Tamas should have made the trade.” She hooked her arm into his and he stiffened, but he let her lead him into one of the hotel’s sitting rooms, where local officials spoke quietly over their drinks, out of the main hubbub of the crowd.

“I do.”

“You’re both idiots, then.”

“Were you treated well?”

Vlora gave him a flat look. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

Taniel shrugged. “Kresimir’s fate is out of my hands. Handing over the body was Tamas’s call. I had no input.”

“I know.” Vlora let out a sigh and met his eyes, watching him silently for a long time. “I miss you.”

Taniel hesitated. “I miss you too.”

“Is there any chance things could ever go back to the way they were?”

Taniel had to confess that from time to time the same question had occurred to him. He remembered their childhood and their courtship, going through training together, stealing off to be alone, and all the time they spent together. But the fragile thread that had held them together had been snapped, and there was nothing that could mend it. “I don’t think so. Ka-poel. She and I…”

“Yeah.”

What if Ka-poel dies
? Vlora didn’t ask the question out loud, but he knew it had crossed her mind. He didn’t even want to consider it.

“I saw your savage,” Vlora said.

Taniel turned. “Is she all right?” The panic he felt for her kept rising to the surface and he had to fight it back down. Tamas had told him how important it was to play Claremonte’s game, and only a direct order and assurances that contingencies had been made kept Taniel from running off to try to rescue her.

“As far as I could tell.” Vlora gave him a sad smile. “If the opportunity comes up, I’ll help you get her back.”

“Thanks.” Taniel reached out and squeezed her shoulder. There was a part of him that wanted to hold her, that knew that she would welcome it. He shook his head to banish the thought. “Vlora, I…”

She held up a hand and he fell silent, frowning. She tilted her head, and it took a couple of moments before Taniel caught on. The chatter from the foyer and dining room had died down. “The results?” she asked.

They left the sitting room to find the crowd from the foyer huddled around the entrance to the dining room, and Taniel had to elbow his way through. He reached the center of the dining room to discover a messenger in a powdered wig, white frock coat, trousers, and black riding boots standing between Ricard and Fell. Taniel tried to melt back into the audience, but Ricard had spotted him. Ricard beckoned eagerly and Taniel felt himself pushed forward.

Tumblar’s brow shone with a sheen of sweat and his eyes looked tired. He took Taniel by the arm and directed him to his right hand.

One of the hotel’s kitchen lads brought in a wooden crate and the messenger climbed up, while Fell clinked a spoon on her glass.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” the messenger said. “It is my honor as representative of the vote counters to reveal the identity of the First Minister of Adro.” He paused, removing an envelope from his jacket and breaking the seal.

Taniel licked his lips, wishing he had something to drink, and wiped his palms on his trousers.

“I am pleased to announce that the First Minister of Adro… is the honorable Ricard Tumblar!”

A cheer went up through the crowd more deafening than cannon fire. Taniel stumbled as Ricard suddenly grabbed him in an embrace. His hand was snatched by a dozen different people and shaken until he thought his arm would come off at the elbow. He heard a cork pop, and a champagne glass was thrust into his hand and then immediately taken away so he could shake hands with someone else. Congratulations were shouted in his ear and he was shoved around the room by well-wishers until he thought he might snap at any moment.

The silence that suddenly swept through the room hit Taniel like a punch to the gut. Someone’s laugh cut through it, then dissipated awkwardly. Taniel blinked away the haze of the excitement as the crowd scattered and Lord Claremonte stepped into the dining room.

Claremonte was dressed in the sharpest of black suits with tails, a top hat held in one hand. His eye wandered lazily over the assembled guests and he lifted his hands to gently clap. “I see that the messengers reached me faster than they did you.”

Ricard gazed back at Claremonte warily. Taniel put his hand on the hilt of his smallsword and set his jaw. Tamas’s stern command to hold it together kept running through his brain.