“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 momen
ts 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.”
CHAPTER
47
Tamas gazed up at the doors to the manor, then down at the two uniformed guards who had stopped snoozing on the front step and now stood at attention before him. They were city policemen, who seemed to know who he was.
“As you were,” he said. “I’m not officially here.”
The two guards exchanged glances and seemed to relax.
“Just having a look around.” Tamas dismounted and handed his reins to one of the guards, while Olem handed his to the other. “Probably best not to mention my presence to anyone.”
“Yes sir,” one of the guards said.
Tamas slipped in through the front door and stood in the foyer, soaking in the eerie silence. Olem came in behind him, holding up a lantern, which threw shadows across the marble floors.
“You seem pensive, sir,” Olem said.
“The last time I was here, I almost died. That kind of thing makes a man pensive. In fact, shouldn’t you be just as pensive?”
“I just think this place is in bad taste.”
“It belonged to Charlemund,” Tamas said. “He was more concerned with opulence than with good taste. At least his damned bust isn’t here staring me in the face anymore.”
“You broke it, sir.”
“Ah. That’s right. Come on.”
They left the foyer and took a right, heading down one of the great hallways toward the kitchen per Adamat’s instructions. As they drew closer, Tamas could hear a distinct humming and felt his step quicken involuntarily. They reached the end of the hall and he gestured for Olem to wait for him, then stepped inside.
Unlike the rest of the empty manor, the kitchen was full of warmth and light. Two of the ovens burned brightly, and Tamas was hit by the smell of warm bread, roasting mutton, and squash soup. His mouth watered and his fingers twitched in anticipation.
The main baking table was clean at one end and set with silver tableware for two.
“Good morning, Field Marshal.”
It was a shock to see Charlemund in a chef’s apron, white hat on his head, and for a moment Tamas reached for his sword. Charlemund had put on at least two stone since Tamas had shot the Arch-Diocel in the gut and then thrown him under guard until he could figure out what to do with him. His face was broader, and he wore a grin that Tamas had never seen on Charlemund before.
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