The Autumn Republic

Chapter 46

Tamas’s soldiers deployed their camp two miles outside the walls of Adopest.

He watched the city through weary eyes, noting the absence of the once-prominent spires of Kresim Cathedral. The black tooth of Sablethorn Prison rose above the city and seemed to lean even more since the earthquake last spring. He made a mental note to mention it to the council. The building might have to be taken down before it could fall.

“Sometimes when we’re out on campaign,” Tamas said, “far away from the lands we love, it’s easy to forget why we go on fighting.” He gestured to the city sitting serenely at the tip of the teardrop of the Adsea. “Coming home always reminds me why I fight.”

“It’s a beautiful sight, sir,” Olem said. Olem seemed to have recovered well enough, thanks to the Deliv Privileged, but Tamas knew it would be some time before he had the spring back in his step. “You have any more orders for the boys?”

“Spread the camp wide. I don’t want a surprise attack by their Privileged to be able to wipe out more than a single brigade.”

Olem lifted his spyglass to one eye. “They don’t seem like they’re looking for a fight. Crowd’s gathering on the walls, though. Only see a few Brudanian soldiers.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Spread the camp and post my remaining powder mages on guard duty. Any Privileged comes within a mile of the camp and they are not under a white flag, they’re to put a bullet through their eyes. And get me a guard. We’re going in.”

“Yes sir.”

Thirty minutes later Tamas was riding out of his camp and toward the southwestern gate of Adopest. His guard consisted of sixty men: Olem’s best Riflejacks as well as Nila, Bo, and Gavril. He loathed going anywhere without his powder mages at his back, but they were better suited to keeping watch over the army.

“You sent messengers?” he asked Olem as they approached the open gates. People watched him from the crowded walls and children waved flags. He could hear their cheering from a mile away.

“Yes sir. They’ll be ready for us.”

“Good.”

They rode beneath the arches and Tamas found the people lining the streets, calling his name. His messengers had been for his council alone, so this crowd would have had to gather since this morning. Not a bad welcome, he decided.

They rode through the Factory District and across the Ad, from whose bridge he could clearly see the ruins of Kresim Cathedral – cleared away but for the immense cornerstones and the footprint of the outer wall. City folk turned out to wave him past as word spread of his arrival, but Tamas paid them little mind. His eyes were on the rooftops and the alleyways, watching for Brudanian Privileged or soldiers.

None showed themselves but the few stationed upon the old walls, who simply watched him pass.

“Olem, I–”

“Sir,” Olem interrupted, tapping him on the shoulder. He pointed into one of the alleyways along the street and then tugged on his reins, dropping back behind Tamas with a hand on his pistol.

A horse emerged from the alley and fell into step beside Tamas. Tamas eyed the rider in his dark Adran blues. “Good to see you, son.”

Taniel nodded in response. He looked haggard and tired. His uniform was dirty and rumpled, but he’d managed to brush out most of the dirt and his boots were polished. Tamas noted a distinct absence of Taniel’s usual Hrusch rifle, but he did have two pistols in his belt.

“Where have you been?” Tamas asked.

“Hiding. Gavril make it to you?”

“Yes. He’s at the back of the column.”

Taniel gave a relieved sigh. “Vlora’s dead.”

“What?” Tamas had to grab his saddle horn as a wave of dizziness swept over him. “No. Surely not.”

“She is. At least, I think she is. We tracked the Privileged and Ka-poel to the city and got into a fight in High Talien. Whether the Privileged had reinforcements waiting for her or we were just unlucky, I don’t know. We were trying to escape into the city drains when the building came down on her.”

“Oh, pit.” The words came out a whisper. Tamas swayed in his saddle. Another powder mage. Another friend. Pit, Vlora was family. He wanted to let out a sob, but he forced himself to fight it down, maintaining his stony demeanor. Claremonte’s men were watching. He could feel hostile eyes upon him and he couldn’t – he wouldn’t – show weakness.

“Promoting me was a bad idea.”

Tamas glanced out of the corner of his eye. Taniel’s jaw trembled and his eyes were bloodshot. He was barely holding it together. “That’s not true. That’s… Look. You tracked them this far. I’m proud of you.”

Taniel didn’t look like he believed him, and Tamas had to admit that the words were halfhearted. Taniel had gotten Vlora, two powder mages, and a dozen Riflejacks killed. He should have known better! Walking into a trap and…

No. No, no, no. Tamas could feel the grief turn to anger, could feel the corners of his mouth turn down in a scowl. He couldn’t do that. Not now. Not to Taniel.

“Have you found Ka-poel?” Tamas asked.

“Claremonte’s headquarters are in Skyline Palace. He’s renting it from the city. It’s crawling with soldiers and Privileged. I think I glimpsed her aura in the Else, but it was hard to tell at a distance. She must still be alive.”

“Or else Kresimir would have killed us all by now, I suppose.”

Taniel gave him a queer look. “Is the war over?”

“Yes. It’s in negotiations right now.”

“Do you have Kresimir’s body?”

“I do.”

Taniel nodded to himself. “Good. What about Claremonte?”

“I’m going to proceed cautiously. Are you coming to my council meeting?”

“Will Ricard be there?”

“I imagine so.”

“I probably shouldn’t, then.”

“You can’t run from being Second Minister,” Tamas said. “You gave your word.”

“I was bullied into it.”

Tamas set his teeth, trying to rein in his anger. “You took advantage of what avenue of escape was available at the time. You’ll follow through on your word.”

“Or what?” There was defiance in Taniel’s eyes.

“Or no one will ever respect you.”

Taniel looked away.

“It’s part of the game,” Tamas said, trying to soften his tone. “Part of life. You think I wanted to be the Iron King’s lapdog when I was not much older than you? No. But I did what I had to do to survive. We’re here. Come upstairs.”

They had arrived at the western entrance to the People’s Court, Sablethorn looming over them from across Elections Square. Tamas dismounted, and his soldiers took their places by the doors, Gavril in command, while a core group of them followed him inside.

It had been only a few months since he last set foot in the cavernous building, but it felt like half a lifetime. He didn’t recognize most of the staff they passed in the halls, and the corridors felt vaguely alien, as if he were walking them for the first time.

They climbed to the sixth floor and approached Manhouch’s former office, and Tamas could hear shouting from a hundred paces down the hall. He doubled his pace.

He pushed open the door to find Ondraus sitting in one of the wingback chairs in the corner, looking crossly over his reading glasses at Ricard Tumblar. Ricard was red in the face, his beard unkempt as he shook his fist beneath Ondraus’s nose. Lady Winceslav stood behind Ricard with a fan in one hand, trying to look dignified.

“You damned dirty traitor!” Ricard was shouting. “You prig! You villain! I’ll kill you with my own hands!” Lady Winceslav leapt forward to grab Ricard’s arm, pulling him away from Ondraus.

“What’s going on here?” Tamas demanded.

Lady Winceslav opened her mouth, but Ricard cut her off, thrusting a finger at Ondraus. “He’s gone over to the other side! He’s put his support behind Claremonte. He’s running as Claremonte’s Second Minister!”

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this,” Lady Winceslav said.

Ricard rounded on her. “Don’t get me started on you, Lady. Your people abandoned the army before the war was over. Do you know how that looks to public perception? We’re supposed to be a unified face!”

“I had every right.” Winceslav drew herself up. “My advisers felt that Field Marshal Tamas had lost his perspective, and his series of blunders had given us – I’m sorry, Tamas, I don’t mean this to be personal.”

Tamas crossed the room to Manhouch’s immense desk and sat himself down behind it. He gave all three of them a cold smile. “No, no. Go on, please.”

“We felt that our losses–”

“You got scared and you pulled out of the fight!” Ricard said accusingly. “I thought we were all in this together and now I learn that this crazy old coot is one of Claremonte’s stooges!”

Ondraus sat up straighter. “Now, listen here–”

“No, you listen!” Lady Winceslav’s voice rose to a shout. “We all have our own reasons for what we’ve done! I don’t think–”

The room devolved into a jumble of heated shouting and finger pointing. Tamas rested his chin on his palm, listening for a few moments before he pointed at Olem and snapped his fingers. Olem removed his pistol and carefully loaded it without a bullet. He crossed from the door and handed the pistol to Tamas.

The blast of the shot brought everything to silence. Three sets of eyes stared at him, the members of his council frozen in their places.

Tamas breathed deeply of the powder smoke from the end of his pistol and set it on the desk. “Can you win the election?”

Ricard tugged furiously at his beard and began to pace, eyeing the Reeve suspiciously.

“Just answer the question,” Tamas said.

“I have the best people in all the Nine running my campaign. They tell me it’s a close thing. I’ve been matching Claremonte penny for penny as he bribes, threatens, and cajoles his way toward Election Day, and I’m almost out of money. He’s not.”

“That’s not the reassurance I was looking for,” Tamas muttered. More loudly he said, “What do you need to win?”

Ricard glanced at Taniel, who stood near the balcony windows, looking out over Elections Square. “The election is on the last day of autumn, which is just a few days away. Appearances from my running mate would help things. An endorsement from you would be enormously beneficial.”

“You’ll have it in the newspaper tomorrow morning,” Tamas said. For all the things he didn’t like about Ricard, the man was a gifted businessman. If he could run a country halfway as well as he ran the union, Adro would be the jewel of the Nine for decades to come. “I suppose just killing Claremonte would be out of the question?” he asked mildly.

Ricard stiffened. “Absolutely. We have worked far too hard for this election. We made the rules and we must play by them, else we’ve accomplished nothing.”

“I agree,” Lady Winceslav said.

“Well, at least there’s that.” Tamas gazed at his still-smoking pistol. The world was changing, and in a few days’ time he wouldn’t have the power he once had to silence his enemies. He had to relinquish that power willingly.

“Besides, the Proprietor already tried that,” Ondraus added. “It didn’t work.”

Ricard slammed his fist down on the back of a sofa. “I knew he was behind it! Blast him!”

“Where is the eunuch, anyway?” Tamas asked. “And Prime Lektor?”

“The eunuch is dead,” Ondraus said shortly. “The Proprietor has not yet appointed a replacement to this council.”

“Nor will he. It’s too late in the game for a replacement. After the election this council will be dissolved anyway. As,” Tamas said loudly, raising his hand to forestall protest, “we all agreed when this began. How about Prime?”

“Prime has fled,” a voice said.

Tamas turned to find Adamat in the doorway, his face flushed and breath short from a run up the stairs.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Were you invited?” Tamas asked.

“I invited him,” Ricard said.

Tamas wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “Thank Adom you did. This council needs a voice of reason.”

“I’m afraid I have very little of that to offer,” Adamat said.

“Olem, see to the door. Go on, Inspector.”

“Wait!” Ricard said, pointing at Ondraus. “He’s not one of us anymore. He shouldn’t be here to hear any of it.”

Adamat leaned heavily on his cane and swept his gaze across the room. “He already knows.”

“Oh.”

Tamas nodded. “Inspector.”

“Prime Lektor has fled the country. Perhaps even the Nine. His assistant claims that Prime muttered about something worse coming before he went, then stole away in the middle of the night.”

Tamas cocked his head to one side. “What the pit could he have meant? The man stood at our side when Kresimir was knocking at our door. What could frighten him more than that?”

“I thought he was supposed to be some kind of ancient Privileged,” Lady Winceslav said. “Was that a hoax? Was he just an addled professor after all?”

“No hoax, I believe, my lady,” Adamat said. “I suspect that Prime fled because he discovered what is really going on.”

“And what is really going on, pray tell?” Ricard asked.

“Lord Claremonte is the two-faced god of Brudania. Brude himself.”

The room was silent for several moments, and Tamas put his chin in his hand, considering the implications.

“Surely you can’t be serious,” Lady Winceslav said.

Tamas said, “We’ve already met two gods. Why not more in this mad fray? Claremonte has been behind the scenes for some time, manipulating events. It would make sense.” Even as he said the words, he didn’t want to believe it. Another god, here in Adopest, playing with mortals like they were pieces on a game board? The very thought made his blood boil. “What evidence do you have?”

“I’d rather discuss that with you alone, Field Marshal,” Adamat said.

Ricard stood up. “Oh, come now. We are all on the same side! What could–” There was a knock on the door and Ricard stopped midsentence. “What is it?” he yelled.

Olem stuck his head in the room and addressed Tamas. “Sir,” he said. “Someone to see you.”

“Who is it?” Tamas snapped.

“It’s Lord Claremonte, sir.”

Adamat had the very sudden and very powerful urge to hide beneath the sofa. He looked toward Tamas, who, to his credit, remained stone-faced.

“What does he want?” Tamas asked.

“A moment to speak to the council.”

Tamas lifted a finger to his bodyguard, who crossed the room and leaned down. Tamas whispered something in his ear and the man gave one nod, touching the butt of his pistol, before he returned to the hallway.

“This is a bad idea,” Adamat said, almost without thinking. He glanced at Ondraus, who had nearly lost his life to Claremonte’s men just yesterday. The old man was stiff, his fingers clutching the armrests of his chair, eyes on the door as a rabbit might watch a circling falcon. Adamat remembered Ondraus’s suspicion that one of his lieutenants had been captured and wondered if perhaps Ondraus’s other identity had been compromised. Claremonte would, rightfully, want his head.

Tamas didn’t answer Adamat, but rather said, “We shall receive our guest with patience and courtesy. Is that understood, Taniel?”

Adamat glanced at the field marshal’s son, having almost forgotten his presence. He was shocked by what he saw. Captain Two-Shot’s hands were balled into fists and he leaned forward on his toes like a dog straining at a leash. There was a hunger in his eyes, and fury. Adamat looked to the field marshal for reassurance that he would keep his son restrained, only to find a glint of that same hunger and fury in Tamas’s eyes. It was well hidden, and the rest of the council seemed oblivious to it, but to Adamat it was plain as day.

He glanced at the sofa, wondering if he could fit beneath it, then eyed the walls for a closet door. Somewhere – anywhere – he could hide.

It was too late. The door opened and Tamas’s bodyguard stepped inside. “Lord Claremonte,” he announced. A moment later Claremonte came in, handing his hat and cane to Olem.

“Gentlemen. Gentlewoman,” Claremonte said, an ingratiating smile on his face. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. It is a pleasure to–”

Olem unceremoniously tossed Claremonte’s hat and cane on the sofa.

“–a pleasure to see you all. Ondraus, my friend! Are we still on for lunch today?”

“We are,” Ondraus croaked.

Stop looking so guilty, Adamat thought, looking furiously at Ondraus. To his relief, the old Reeve shifted to get comfortable in his seat and repeated the words somewhat more confidently.

“Excellent! Lady Winceslav, it’s an honor! Now that this dreadful war is over, we must discuss deploying your troops to Gurla. The Trading Company could use your soldiers badly. And Ricard, my esteemed opponent!” Claremonte dipped at the waist, managing a bow that was both graceful and seemingly unironic.

Claremonte’s eyes swept over Taniel Two-Shot. Adamat thought he sensed the slightest hesitation there. Then Claremonte stepped over to the desk and offered his hand to Tamas. “Field Marshal. I am your greatest admirer. I am so pleased to see you return from the disastrous expedition to Kez and end this war once and for all. It’s a relief to us all.”

“My Lord Brude,” Tamas said, taking Claremonte’s hand for a moment.

Claremonte’s smile widened slightly, and Adamat would be damned if his eyes hadn’t twinkled. “Don’t tell me,” he said. “Adamat discovered it. I told Lord Vetas that the good inspector was twice as clever as he gave him credit.” He turned to Adamat and swept an imaginary hat from his head. “You did well, Inspector. What gave it away? No! Wait. Don’t tell me. It’s far more mysterious to let it go unsaid.”

Adamat felt his teeth clench. He didn’t trust himself to speak. All the fear and trepidation was gone, replaced by anger. All Claremonte had to do was mention Vetas’s name to remind Adamat of all the horror that man had inflicted on Adamat’s family.

Relax, he told himself. This was Claremonte’s goal. To put them all on edge. And it was working. Lady Winceslav was uneasy, Taniel Two-Shot looked ready to murder, Ondraus was queasy, and Ricard didn’t seem to know whether to run or fight.

Only Tamas seemed unperturbed, and only just. If Claremonte’s eyes twinkled from amusement, Tamas’s twinkled as if he was imagining a very slow, painful way for Claremonte to die.

“Now.” Claremonte clapped his hands loudly, making Ricard jump halfway out of his shoes. “On to business.” He strode across the room and deposited himself in a wingback chair opposite Tamas’s desk and eyed Taniel for a moment. “I’m the last god left in the Nine. Kresimir is restrained and Adom is dead. None of the rest of my brothers and sisters will join this fray, I can promise you that.

“I imagine you all think I’m about to make some inane threats, but you do me injustice with the thought. Unlike my elder sibling, I am a modern god. I understand that these things can’t be forced. I could kill you all and enslave the Nine, but that would hardly be sporting. Within years there would be rebellion and powerful Privileged rising up to challenge me, and frankly I don’t have the constitution for that kind of thing. I don’t like confrontation. If Adom were here, he would tell you that’s true.”

“Convenient that he is not,” Tamas said.

“Sadly, you should say,” Claremonte reprimanded sternly. “I was always rather fond of Adom. He was the only one who ever took me seriously. And his food was to die for.” He drew the word “die” out for several moments and dramatically threw his head to one side.

“Your point?” Tamas asked. “Some of us don’t have aeons to live, you know.”

Claremonte grinned fiercely. “Pit, you have spirit. That’s what I love about you. Back in Kresimir’s time, there was this general named – damn, I don’t remember now. Anyway, he was a mortal, not even a Knacked, and he was the only one who would stand up to Kresimir when he thought he was doing something stupid. Novi used to say he had balls as big as South Pike. You remind me of him.” Claremonte’s face grew pensive. “Kresimir had him flayed alive, in the end. Stupid waste. Anyway, where was I?”

“Your point,” Tamas said.

“Ah, my point! I am a modern god, as I was saying, and I play fairly. You have my word that this war is over. What’s more, I’m only here for the election. Tomorrow morning I will withdraw my troops from Adopest as a gesture of goodwill. In three days the election will go forward as planned. I’m not even going to rig it. If I’m elected as First Minister of Adro, I will help usher this country into an era of prosperity the likes of which the Nine has never seen.”

“And if you lose?” Adamat found his voice, and decided to try it out. The words only trembled a little.

“If I lose, my good Inspector, I will go back to Brudania and my Trading Company and continue trying to better mankind from my position of power there. I will molest you no further.”

“Why should we trust you?” Adamat demanded.

Claremonte turned to look at him, eyebrows raised innocently. “Because you have no other choice. And because I just gave you my word. The word of a god is a solemn oath.”

“You arranged all of this.” Adamat felt his anger coming forward, straining as a powerful pressure in his chest. “Kresimir’s return. The Kez-Adran War. You’ve had your fingers in it from the beginning. I’ve seen Vetas’s notes. Don’t try to deny it.”

“Why would I deny it? Of course I’ve been involved with it. But you’re being unfair. It was Julene, that misguided child, and the Kez cabal who conspired to bring Kresimir back. You think I wanted my elder brother here, poking his nose into everything? He’d send us all back to the Bronze Age! No, I simply put my fingers into the pot to try to mitigate his damage. The people I’ve used along the way, including your family, I’m afraid, are unfortunate casualties of a war you didn’t even know you were fighting.”

“Don’t you reduce my family to ‘unfortunate casualties,’ ” Adamat growled through his teeth. He gripped his cane so hard in his hand he thought he might snap the handle. If Claremonte cared for his fury he gave no indication.

“You attacked my forces,” Tamas said, his fingers still steepled beneath his chin. “You tricked me into betraying a white flag of truce, and you took something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“Ah. That was… unfortunate,” Claremonte said. “I did what I thought necessary. My spies told me about the savage girl and her restraining of Kresimir – remarkable, by the way – and I didn’t know what to think. If she faltered even once, all of this would be for naught. I thought it necessary to take action and capture her. I assure you, the order was given without the knowledge that you had called a truce with Ipille.”

“You keep using the word ‘unfortunate,’ ” Taniel suddenly said, turning all the heads in the room. “It stinks of apologetic ingratiation.”

“I’m a businessman, my boy. Apologetic ingratiation is what I do. Ask Ricard.”

“Why are you here?” Adamat said. “The next week could have gone by without you revealing any of this and it would have proceeded just the same.”

“I wanted to make sure that this council knew what and who I am. We don’t need any more of that same hullabaloo that occurred with the Proprietor’s men. That would be ill advised. As would you attacking me with your bare hands, Mr. Two-Shot.” Claremonte’s eyes flicked to Taniel, who looked ready to leap.

“It worked on Kresimir,” Taniel said breathlessly. “How do you think I got his blood for Ka-poel?”

Claremonte blanched at that. “I’d rather not find out. Now, I suggest a trade. The girl in exchange for Kresimir’s body.”

“Done,” Taniel said.

Tamas stood, shooting Taniel a glance. “What makes you think we have it?”

Claremonte gave him a level look. “Come now.”

“Ka-poel will be returned unhurt,” Taniel said.

“Taniel, enough,” Tamas barked.

“Not that girl,” Claremonte said. “I need that girl. I’ll give you another girl.”

“Who?” Tamas’s brow furrowed.

“Vlora.”

“She’s still alive?” Taniel asked.

“Quiet!” Tamas roared. “Taniel, wait outside. That’s an order!”

For a few moments Adamat thought that Taniel would resist his father, but with a glare for Claremonte he stalked out into the hallway.

“That’s not a fair trade,” Tamas said when his son was gone.

“Your powder mages killed many of my Privileged. The fact that Vlora is still alive is more than testament to my generosity.”

“And the fact that I didn’t let Taniel pummel you into next week is testament to mine.”

Claremonte rolled his eyes. “We needn’t resort to threats, Field Marshal. We aren’t children.”

Tamas drummed his fingers on his desk, eyeing Claremonte. “The trade would be conditional on the return of both Vlora and Ka-poel, and the withdrawal of every last one of your men from Adopest.”

“You can’t be considering this,” Winceslav protested. “We don’t know what use he’ll make of Kresimir’s body.”

“If I wished to release him, I would only have had to kill the girl,” Claremonte said. “Bring Mr. Two-Shot back inside. He’ll tell you.” He shook his head. “I’ve already promised to remove my men, but I can’t give you the savage. She’s the only thing holding Kresimir in check and I want my eye on her. Once Kresimir is buried in the deepest ocean trench, where the weight of the sea above him would keep even him from rising, I will give back the savage. You have my word.”

The room was quiet for several minutes while Tamas considered this, and Adamat wondered why Ondraus and Ricard hadn’t protested. This was madness! If Tamas had Kresimir’s body, it was not something he should let out of his keeping.

“Lady Winceslav is right,” Adamat said quietly.

Tamas glanced at him and sighed. “I agree. I can’t make that trade, Claremonte.”

“Hmm.” Claremonte got to his feet and collected his hat and cane from the sofa. “That is most unfortunate. Still, I will stand by my word. My men leave the city tomorrow, and then we wait for the results of the election. Until then, good luck.” He bowed to them each in turn and then left.

The rest of the meeting was a somber affair. Adamat heard shouting a few minutes after Claremonte left, presumably when Taniel found out his father wouldn’t make the trade. An hour went by before Ondraus followed Claremonte, presumably for their meeting at lunch, and an hour after that Adamat was alone with the field marshal.

“The books say that Brude has two faces,” Adamat said. “Not just some kind of allegory, but two actual presences.”

“So Claremonte isn’t the only enemy we have to focus on?”

“No. He’s not. I’m looking for the other one.”

“It could be anyone?”

“Yes.”

Tamas let his head drop into his hands. “That just made my day infinitely worse, Inspector.”

“Sorry, sir. Do you trust Claremonte?”

“Not at all. I’ll believe he’s going to leave of his own volition ten years after he actually does it.” Tamas held his head in his hands, staring at his desk. “Please tell me you have any information to make this better.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

Tamas glanced up, a look of disbelief on his face. “Oh?”

“Yes. See, when Claremonte said he was the last god left in the Nine, he wasn’t precisely correct. Adom is still alive.”