Promise of Blood

chapter 37



Elections Square was in shambles. Soldiers wandered about the clutter of fallen chairs and spilled food and overturned tables as if after a battle, dolefully picking among the debris. A few townsfolk were being taken away on stretchers as Adamat arrived, and a knot of men had gathered beneath the steps of the House of Nobles.

Adamat watched Sabon reach the knot ahead of him. He slowed to a walk, casting about for signs of what had happened. Were they too late? People had fled in chaos, that much was clear. But what had happened? Adamat didn’t see any of the Barbers or any fallen soldiers. Those on the ground weren’t in uniforms of any kind, only townsfolk caught by some kind of crossfire. He saw slashed throats, blood spilled on the cobbles, even a few gunshot wounds. Families gathered around their fallen members. Women wailed.

Adamat reached the knot of soldiers and let out a sigh of relief. Tamas was there, along with the vice-chancellor and Mihali, the master chef. Tamas’s bodyguard hovered nearby, a frown on his face as he studied the chef. Lady Winceslav stood nearby, and both Ricard Tumblar and Ondraus the Reeve approached from across the square as Tamas’s troops fanned out to help the wounded.

Sabon shook his head to something Tamas asked him. They both turned expectantly to Adamat.

Tamas opened his mouth to speak.

“Charlemund,” Adamat said. “The arch-diocel.”

Rage danced across Tamas’s face. He warred with his emotions a moment before gaining his composure. Through clenched teeth he said, “How do you know?”

Adamat explained quickly about Siemone the priest and Teef’s confession. “It has to be Charlemund,” Adamat said. “The priest Teef described matched Siemone too well to be coincidence.”

“This priest,” Tamas said. “It’s not possible he’s working for someone else?”

“No.” Yes, of course it was possible. There was never absolute certainty. But it was very unlikely, and Adamat had to be firm in his decision.

Tamas’s bodyguard drew near. “Let’s tear him down,” Olem said. “We have the name. We have a witness. We can’t hesitate.”

“Agreed,” Sabon said.

Tamas closed his eyes.

“It must be done,” Sabon said.

Adamat watched the field marshal. Tamas was scared, he realized. Charlemund was the only member of his council with the power to crush him outright. Tamas could leave him be, and wait for the next assassin, or he could attack and risk the wrath of the Church. Adamat did not envy Tamas that decision.

Tamas slowly studied the faces of those around him. His gaze came to rest on the chef. Mihali gave Tamas a brief nod. There was something here that Adamat had missed. “Why did he come after you?” Tamas asked the chef.

Mihali stared at nothing for a moment, a scowl on his face. “That is cloudy,” he said. “Julene is a Predeii. She knows I inhabit a mortal body. Perhaps she warned him. Or perhaps others have entered the fray.”

Tamas waited for Ricard Tumblar and Ondraus. When they’d arrived, he said, “Charlemund has betrayed our cause. I will not suffer that. I do not know if his treachery has the blessing of the Church. I do not care. Who stands with me?”

“I,” Ricard said, stepping forward.

“I do,” Lady Winceslav said.

Prime Lektor nodded.

“Of course,” Ondraus said with a snort.

Tamas said, “Prepare the horses and carriages. Get me whatever troops we have on hand. I’m going to arrest the arch-diocel.”

“Go to him?” Sabon asked. “Why can’t we just call a meeting? When he comes, we will take him.”

“We have to force him to play his hand,” Tamas said. “His spies will tell him the attack on Mihali failed and that he has been exposed. If he flees, we confirm his guilt. If he stays, we will confront him. Either way, I will not let him escape. Get moving.”

Adamat felt himself swept aside as the soldiers rushed into action. Tamas paused beside him, leaning heavily on his cane, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Good work,” he said. “Go home. Pack up.” His voice dropped. “Get your family out of the country. If everything goes well, I will have use for you and your skills in the future.”

Did he joke? Adamat searched Tamas’s face. No. He was serious. Too serious. Tamas moved away, jerking like a marionette as he walked, his crutch clicking against the paving stones.

Signs of cave lions only increased as Taniel’s company approached the summit. The dogs pulled at their harnesses despite Rina’s rebukes. Half the time they wanted to give chase. Half the time they whimpered, tugging Rina back down the slope.

Taniel felt his own nerves begin to fray. In his mind the cave lions were beyond each slight rise, or waiting to pounce from every boulder. The wild eyes of his companions said they were thinking the same thing. Yet they weren’t being tracked. All signs said the creatures were ahead of them, following the Kez in force. By their tracks there were at least seventy of the creatures, and growing more numerous by the mile.

They found the first body partially devoured and dragged to the side of the trail. It was torn and mangled, blood soaking the white snow, but easy enough to tell it had been a cave lion. Ka-poel squatted beside it, her fingers searching through the snow. Taniel thought he saw her put something in her pack. He came up beside her.

“What killed it?” he asked. He already had a pretty good idea.

Ka-poel mimed firing a rifle.

He nodded. “So the Kez know they’re being followed. And these creatures. They feast on their own kind. How far from the top?” he asked when saw Bo had joined them.

“Not far, I think,” Bo said. “I’ve only come this high once before.” He turned to the monk. “Del?”

Their guide had paled at the sight of the cave lion carcass. Slowly, his hands shaking, he lifted one arm to point ahead. “There,” he managed.

Taniel followed his gaze toward an outcropping where the trail disappeared. “That close?” Taniel frowned. “Where’s the city?”

“There,” Del said again.

“You’ll see what he means,” Bo said.

It took less than half an hour to reach the height Del had indicated. They climbed a steep knoll in the road. Taniel paused to catch his breath, only to find it whisked from him at the sight below.

He stood on the lip of a vast crater. It had to be tens of miles across and it was hundreds of feet deep. Taniel wobbled, then regained his footing.

There were trees below, species that could never have survived at this altitude. They ringed the inner edge of the crater, towering in the air. He could almost reach out and touch the tops of the closest ones. Yet these trees were long dead. Their sides were scorched black, their branches naked and twisted. Once, they were a mighty grove. Now they looked like the boneyard of someplace long cursed.

Past the trees were the ruins of a vast city. Buildings filled the greater part of the crater—more buildings than there were in all of Adopest, and many taller too. They were little more than stone husks now. Their sides were blackened like the trees, shutterless windows staring out like the empty sockets of thousand-eyed skulls. The sight made Taniel shiver.

“The Kresim Caldera,” Del said. His voice quaked.

Bo’s face was grim. “Kresimir’s protection has faded over the centuries. The volcano’s acid and heat have killed the trees and burned out the buildings. Nothing lives up here.”

“Except the cave lions,” Taniel said. “I don’t know how they can.”

“Something keeps them alive,” Bo said.

Taniel could see a lake in the middle of the caldera. There were plots of trees as well, and ponds, and clear knolls that had once been parks where children played in the Time of Kresimir. Taniel imagined that the waters within the caldera had once run clean and beautiful. From his vantage point he could see that the lake was foul and brown. It bubbled and belched, and a thick cloud of steam and smoke rose from its center.

In the distance Taniel heard the scream of a cave lion.

“Fix bayonets,” he said. He heard the clatter of weapons as the Watchers behind him readied themselves.

Spreading out, they proceeded into the crater.

Taniel positioned himself between Del and Bo. “Where is the coliseum?” he asked.

Del didn’t respond. Taniel thought he heard a whimper come from the man. Then again, it could have been the dogs. They’d fallen deathly silent since entering the caldera.

“South Pike had a proper peak when Kresimir was summoned,” Bo said. His brow furrowed. “It’s said that when he touched the ground, the very earth dropped out from beneath him and the mountain erupted, spewing soot and acid into the air, enough to coat all of Adro. The Predeii barely survived. When all had settled, the caldera had formed and Kresimir stood on the shore of Pike Lake.” He pointed toward the center of the caldera.

“That’s where the coliseum is?”

Del nodded.

“I’ll need someplace to line up a shot into the coliseum. The farther away, the better, but it needs a clear view.”

Del seemed to consider this for a few moments. “Kresimir’s palace. Follow me. I can get us there.”

They fell silent as they passed through the deepest part of the dead forest. Their footsteps echoed on the hard-packed cobblestone road, and Taniel realized suddenly that there was no snow. The ground was bare, with even the hardiest forest scrubs and bushes long dead. The air, he also noted, was growing warmer. Some remnant from Kresimir’s protection of the Holy City? Or heat from the heart of the volcano? Would they even be able to approach Pike Lake? Unbearable heat and poisonous gases might drive them away. They didn’t have the sorcerous protection of Julene and the Kez Cabal. Taniel gave Bo a glance. He was looking less and less well. Taniel doubted he could protect a fly, let alone the rest of them.

They found the next bodies at the edge of the forest on the near side of a small hill. These, Taniel noted as he got closer, were not just cave lions.

A Warden lay torn to shreds among the remains of at least six or seven cave lions. His hand, the flesh stripped from the bones, still remained around the throat of a dead cave lion. Taniel held a handkerchief over his nose against the smell. The bodies hadn’t been around long enough to begin to rot, but the lions were putrid, and their stink was far more pronounced here where the cold had begun to fade and the wind did not carry it away.

Ka-poel went on ahead again. She paused just on the other side of the hill, still in sight, and waved her arms at them. Taniel was glad to leave the bodies behind.

Not for long. He came to a stop beside Ka-poel and choked down bile. He heard someone spilling their breakfast noisily behind him. A quick glance told him it was Bo.

There’d been a pitched battle here. Wardens had made their stand in the center of a small park—presumably while Julene and the Kez Privileged escaped into the heart of the city. A dozen of them had died, and three times their number in cave lions. Their remains lay scattered across the onetime park. Nearby, a Warden lay with one arm up on a stone bench, his entrails spread about the ground before him. He’d been feasted upon in great haste.

“These things are hungry,” Rina said. Her dogs crouched at her feet, unwilling to leave their master’s side. “They run as if they are hunting, as if they have a purpose to attack and kill, yet whenever there is a death, they stop for the meat. They’re starving.”

Taniel swallowed. “They’re hungry? Is that why they’re chasing the Kez?” It was much easier to handle, though no less dangerous, than the thought of the lions being guided by some supernatural force or intelligence.

Rina shrugged. “It’s possible. But cave lions don’t hunt in packs, even in the worst of times. They are solitary creatures.”

“How could there be so many on the mountain?” Bo said. “There’s nothing to eat up here. I’ve never heard of more than one or two cave lions on an entire mountainside.”

No one seemed to have an answer.

Taniel checked each of his pistols and his rifle to make sure they were loaded, then snorted a pinch of powder. His hands shook. His body told him to take more powder. He’d need it. He fought the impulse. He’d be powder blind with much more. Then again, he’d be dead without the strength. He took another snort.

The trail of carnage led through the park and onto a boulevard that seemed to head into the center of the city. Blood and bits of Warden and cave lion had been dragged along as the cave lions chased the Kez Privileged.

As they entered the city, Taniel kept his eyes on the buildings. Not a sound issued from within any of them, though the wind should have howled, or tiny animals should have moved about. Nothing. The city was completely dead, even the elements, and it chilled Taniel’s soul.

A hand on his shoulder made Taniel spin, rifle in hand, and almost gut Del with his bayonet. Taniel stilled his beating heart. “Sorry,” he said.

“The palace,” Del said, “is that way.” He pointed into the heart of the city.

They altered course according to Del’s instructions. Though the city spooked the pit out of him, Taniel was grateful to be away from the trail of the cave lions and Privileged. He’d find Kresimir’s palace and pick away at the Privilegeds’ numbers from a safe distance, and they wouldn’t have enough power to summon Kresimir.

Adamat heard rumors all the way home about the massacre in Elections Square. Most traffic headed away from the square. Word was spreading fast and there were signs of the Rope everywhere he went as people warded against bad luck and ill omens. A massacre during the Festival of St. Adom was bad enough to keep many people home.

He hoped he’d be able to hire a carriage immediately for Offendale. He’d get his family and get out of the country and then…

“SouSmith!” Adamat called as he hung his coat on the rack. He stopped. There were three coats too many hanging there. He closed his eyes. Not again.

“Can’t you let me be…?” Adamat walked into the sitting room and froze.

Lord Vetas and his two goons stood on the far side of the room. Astrit stood between them, Lord Vetas’s thin hands on her shoulders. She looked like a helpless fly caught in a spider’s web. The sight of his little girl nearly stopped Adamat’s heart. It was one thing to know she was in danger. It was another to see her here in Lord Vetas’s grip.

SouSmith sat on the sofa. He had returned here immediately after their visit to the Barbers. His face was pale, and sweat ran down his cheeks. His breath labored unsteadily, a hand clutched over his wound.

“Sorry,” SouSmith said weakly. “Here before me.”

“SouSmith told me of your visit to the Barbers,” Lord Vetas said. There was no emotion in his voice, no hint of compassion or pity. “To survive three assassins. Bravo.”

“Let her go,” Adamat said tiredly. The weight of the last two days suddenly pressed upon him horribly. He wanted nothing more than to drop into his favorite chair and nap the rest of the day. It looked like that wasn’t an option anymore.

“Catch me up,” Lord Vetas said. “How is Teef?”

“Rotting in Sabletooth,” Adamat snapped. “How is Lord Claremonte?”

The look of surprise on Lord Vetas’s face vanished so quickly it might not have been there at all.

Adamat said quietly, “Astrit, are you all right?”

The little girl nodded. Her face was smudged with dirt, her sundress rumpled from having been slept in, but she looked unharmed. “I’m OK, Papa,” she said.

“Are you scared?”

She clenched her teeth and shook her head.

“That’s my girl. Did they hurt you?”

Another head shake.

“Why is Teef in Sabletooth?” Lord Vetas said.

“Because he’d had a deal with Tamas. He broke it trying to kill me.”

Lord Vetas frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me he’d had a deal with Tamas?”

“I didn’t know.”

“Really?” Lord Vetas squeezed Astrit’s shoulders. She tried to wiggle away, but he had her firmly.

“Yes, damn you. I didn’t know, I swear.”

Lord Vetas loosened his grip. “I trust you discovered the traitor? Tamas is on his way to arrest Ricard Tumblar?”

Lord Vetas had little reason to think the traitor was Ricard unless he’d been helping frame him all along. “What interest does Lord Claremonte have in all this?” Adamat said. “Why care at all about the politics here? He’s not even Adran.”

“Lord Claremonte’s interests are those of the Brudania-Gurla Trading Company,” Lord Vetas said. “And they rest upon the fortunes of the Nine.”

“Where does he stand?”

“Neutral,” Lord Vetas said. “A nudge here. A push there. That is all you need know. Now, when will Tamas arrest Ricard Tumblar?”

“Never.”

“Why not?”

“He’s on his way to arrest Charlemund, the real traitor.”

Astrit cried out as Lord Vetas twisted her shoulders viciously. “All the evidence points to Ricard,” Vetas said. “Why do you think it’s Charlemund?”

“He was named in front of Tamas’s powder mage. What could I have done?” Adamat stepped forward.

“Back!” Lord Vetas snapped. His goons came alert and shot menacing looks toward Adamat.

“Harm her and you’re a dead man.”

“Along with the rest of your family,” Lord Vetas said.

“Vetas,” Adamat said. “I swear on all the Nine that I will destroy you and your house if you harm my daughter. I will bring down Lord Claremonte as if he were a dog for me to kick in the street.” He felt something cold quiver in his bowels.

Lord Vetas inhaled sharply. His grip on Astrit’s shoulders loosened, and the girl pulled away. Adamat caught her with one hand, pushing her behind him.

The coal-shoveler goon produced a knife, the other goon a pistol. Lord Vetas stayed them with a warning hand. “This can still be salvaged. You’re too good to lose, Adamat. We won’t kill you… yet. When will the arrest take place?”

“As soon as Tamas gathers his men.” Did Vetas mean to warn Charlemund?

“Where?”

“His villa,” Adamat said.

“You’d better be telling the truth,” Lord Vetas said. “Kale,” he said.

The coal shoveler turned his head.

“Go to the villa. Warn the arch-diocel. Tell him you were sent by the Madman. If the good duke is still there, they should be able to construct an easy trap for Tamas.”

The coal shoveler nodded his head once. He gave Adamat a warning look and then pushed past him and was out the front door at a run.

“Why is Claremonte working with the arch-diocel?” Adamat asked. “And if he is, why did Charlemund try to kill me? I’m supposed to be working for Claremonte as well.”

Vetas regarded him coldly. “One hand does not know what the other is doing—such a strategy has its price, which you almost paid. Charlemund’s task was simply to kill the imposter god, Mihali. He became too zealous. And know this: Charlemund is nothing more than a hand. Claremonte uses people like him to his own ends.”

“No one uses an arch-diocel.”

“Claremonte does.”

“To what purpose?”

“Beyond your comprehension,” Lord Vetas said. “You’ve disappointed me, Adamat. The girl was going to be a show of good faith, a gift to you for doing what you’re bidden. Now, though, I think she’ll come back with me. I’ve got men who enjoy that sort of thing.” He stepped forward, gesturing to his man with the pistol.

Adamat squeezed his hands into fists. “All right!” he said.

Lord Vetas paused.

“They’re not going to arrest him at his villa. He’s at the cathedral, leading an afternoon prayer service. Please, just leave my daughter here.”

Lord Vetas’s eyes flashed. “You lied to me?”

“That’s the truth of it, I swear it!”

“Pit! You”—he gestured at the other goon—“stay here. If they try to leave, kill Adamat, and then the boxer and the girl.”

Lord Vetas swept out of the room, shouldering Adamat hard as he passed. Adamat grunted. Lord Vetas reached the street and broke into a run, coattails flailing behind him. Adamat watched him disappear from view through the window. He let out a long breath.

“Are you OK, Papa?” Astrit said.

“Yes. I’m glad you’re safe. How’s your mother?”

“Worried. She screamed when they took me away.”

“Did they hurt her? Your brother, is he OK?”

“They took Josep’s finger. He didn’t even cry out.”

“He’s a very brave boy.”

“What happens now, Papa?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

Adamat couldn’t be there when Vetas returned. It would mean death for them all. SouSmith looked like he could barely walk, and Astrit was just a girl, but Adamat had to warn Tamas.

“Stay here,” he whispered to Astrit.

“Hey!” the other goon said as Adamat headed toward the other side of the room.

Adamat stopped, raising his hands. The goon waved his pistol between SouSmith and Adamat. SouSmith’s eyes were closed, his hands held over his wounds. He was breathing shallowly. Judging SouSmith to be less of a threat, the goon pointed his pistol at Adamat.

“I just want a drink,” Adamat said.

The goon narrowed his eyes.

“Please,” Adamat said. He held out his hands to show they were shaking.

“Right,” the goon said. “I’ll just be watching to make sure you ain’t got a weapon stashed here.”

“What?” Adamat said. “A loaded pistol in the liquor cabinet? You’re mad. If you think I’m going to pull a knife, stand over there.” He gestured to the sofa.

The goon shuffled away from Adamat until he was near the sofa. “I’m watching you.”

Good. Adamat removed a bottle from the cabinet. “Wine?”

The goon shook his head.

Adamat pulled the cork with a corkscrew and took a moment to unwind the cork, tossing it down on a shelf. He poured two glasses, the neck of the bottle clinking against the rim of the cup as his hands shook. He stepped toward the goon. “You sure you don’t want some?”

“I’ll let you drink first,” the goon said. “I know the tricks.”

“No tricks,” Adamat said, shaking his head. “You think I’d poison a two-hundred-krana bottle of wine? Besides, poison doesn’t work fast enough. You’d still have time to shoot me while you died. SouSmith? Wine?”

The boxer nodded weakly.

“Pardon,” Adamat said, lifting the two glasses to show he meant no harm as he stepped by the goon.

He dropped both glasses at the same time. One hand diverted the pistol, the other jabbed the goon’s neck with the corkscrew. The pistol went off, deafening Adamat. A window shattered, and Astrit screamed. Adamat grappled with the goon with one hand, shoving with the other. They both landed on top of SouSmith.

The boxer gave a loud grunt. He snaked a ham-sized forearm over the goon’s head, holding him in place. Adamat remained on top of the goon until long after he’d stopped struggling. He grabbed the lapels of his jacket and lifted the goon off SouSmith and dropped him on the floor. SouSmith moaned, writhing on the sofa.

“Coulda given me warning,” he said, feeling his wound. “I’m bleeding again.”

“You big baby,” Adamat said. He made sure the goon was dead, and looked up. Astrit was watching from the hallway. He said, “Go to your room.”

Astrit stood there, shaking.

Adamat climbed to his feet and stripped his bloody jacket off, tossing it on the floor. He lifted Astrit into his arms. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, Papa.” Her voice quavered.

“Good girl. I need you to be strong, love. I need you to go with SouSmith. You have to hide with him.”

SouSmith pulled himself off the sofa slowly, grimacing with pain. “No wet nurse,” he said. “Where you going?”

“I have to go warn Tamas.”

“Like shit,” SouSmith grunted. “I’ll go…” He stumbled, catching himself on the sofa arm.

“Take Astrit,” Tamas said. He led the little girl over to SouSmith and put her hand in his. “Hide. Protect her. Please.” He took a deep breath. “You’ll know soon enough if I fail. Just… keep her away from Lord Vetas.”

SouSmith considered Adamat a moment, then gave a brief nod.

“Thank you, my friend.”

“You don’t pay me enough,” SouSmith grunted.

“Tales will be told of your sacrifice,” Adamat said. He went to his office and opened a long, nondescript chest in the corner. He removed his smallsword from its sheath and checked the blade and hilt. The sword was nothing special—it had been issued to him in the army, before he’d become an inspector. It was undecorated, with an oval shell of a guard over the hilt. It was in good condition. He heard footsteps behind him.

“I haven’t touched this for a decade,” he said. “It looks to be in good shape.”

“Better hope,” SouSmith said.

Adamat turned around.

SouSmith held out a pistol, along with extra shot and charges. “Luck to you.”

They clasped hands, and Adamat was out the door.