Promise of Blood

He slid the window shut behind him, but not before the small room filled with the smell of dead fish and the brackish water of the Adsea. Ricard wrinkled his nose and produced a match from his breast pocket, lighting the half-burned butt of incense on a shelf above his desk. “I can’t abide that smell,” he said. “It’s everywhere down here, and we’re a half mile from the docks. But”—he shrugged—“what can I do? I have to be near where the action is.”

“I’ve heard great things about your progress with the union,” Adamat said. Not long after they graduated school, Ricard had started his first trade union. It had failed, as well as half a dozen others, perhaps because of the lack of manpower or because the police had been called in to shut him down. Ricard had been jailed five times. But persistence paid off, and five years ago Manhouch legalized the first trade union in the Nine.

Ricard’s smile grew wider, if possible. “The Noble Warriors of Labor. We’ve opened three chapter houses since the Elections, and we’re in talks with city councils to open six more by the end of the year. We’ve over a hundred thousand members, and my number crunchers tell me that is just the beginning. We could have a million members in another few years, maybe more. We’ve unionized metallurgy, coal coking, mining—all of Adro’s biggest industries.”

“Not all of them,” Adamat said. “I hear Hrusch Avenue is giving you problems.”

Ricard snorted. “Damned gunsmiths don’t want to unionize.”

“Can’t blame them,” Adamat said. “They already produce half the weapons used in all the Nine. They’re not worried about competition.”

“And it’d be the whole world if they unionized! Organization is key. Bah,” Ricard said. “What we’re really excited about is the canal going over the Charwood Pile and through Deliv. When that’s finished, we’ll have a direct route to the ocean from Adro, and there will be no limit on our production capabilities. Adro will finally have a shipping lane to the ocean.” He suddenly made a face. “But dear me, it’s rude to talk about my fortunes like this…” Ricard trailed off awkwardly.

Adamat waved dismissively. “You speak of my failed business? Think nothing of it. It was a gamble to begin with, and I bet the wrong way. I could blame it on the price of paper, or the stalwart competition…”

“Or the exploding printing press.”

“Or that,” Adamat said. “But I’ve still got my family and my friends, so I’m a rich man.”

“How is Faye?” Ricard asked.

“Quite well,” Adamat said. “She’s staying out in the country until things have stabilized a little more here in the capital. I’ve been thinking of having her remain until the war’s over, in fact.”

Ricard nodded. “War is the pit.”

A young man with scrawny arms and old, cast-off clothing entered the room with a bottle of wine and a pair of crystal wineglasses.

“I said two, damn you!” Ricard said.

The young man seemed unperturbed by Ricard’s shouting. “There was only one left.” He let the platter drop on Ricard’s desk with a clang and beat a hasty retreat, dodging a cuff from Ricard’s fist.

“Impossible to find good help,” Ricard said, steadying the wobbling bottle of wine.

“Indeed.”

Ricard poured the wine. The goblets were dirty, but the wine was chilled. They drank two glasses each before exchanging another word.

“You know why I’m here?” Adamat asked.

“Yes,” Ricard said. “Ask your questions; I’m no fop to take offense. You’ve got a job to do.”

This would be a relief, Adamat decided. He leaned forward. “Do you have any reason to see Field Marshal Tamas dead?”

Ricard scratched his beard. “I suppose. He’s been grumbling lately that he wants to see a reduction in the size of the union. Says we’re gaining too much power, too fast.” He spread his hands. “If he decides to put a cap on our manpower, or to tax our earnings heavily, it could cause a big problem for the Warriors.”

“Big enough to have him killed?”

“Certainly. But one has to weigh the benefits and risks. Tamas is tolerant of the unions—he supports their existence, despite our being outlawed for almost a thousand years now. Manhouch only allowed me to set up the Warriors because of the exorbitant taxes he planned on getting from us. We were able to dodge enough of them to make it cost-effective for us to exist.”

“If you could exist under Manhouch, why did you support the coup?”

“A number of Manhouch’s accountants were taking a closer look at our books. They realized they weren’t getting nearly as much in taxes as they’d planned, and his advisers were encouraging him to have us disbanded entirely. The nobility hated us. They hate having to pay workers more, even if it means higher production. Even if Manhouch hadn’t had us disbanded, the Accords put Adro under Kez colonial law—which would have found me and the rest of the union bosses in prison or worse, and the Warriors disbanded anyways, our property confiscated.”

“You said there would be risks for you, in having Tamas killed?” Adamat said.