Promise of Blood

“Hello, SouSmith,” the eunuch said. He inclined his bald head toward the boxer. “We haven’t seen you in the Arena for some time. We’d wondered when you were going to come back to us.”

SouSmith sniffed, as a bear might when it senses a snake. “When the Proprietor stops trying to kill me,” he said.

“Have a drink, my friend,” Adamat said to SouSmith.

SouSmith took his glass and retreated to the doorway to position himself in the only exit. The eunuch seemed unconcerned.

“I presume you’ve come because of my investigation,” Adamat said.

The eunuch’s face took on a businesslike seriousness. “My master instructs me to answer any of your questions, within reason, that will satisfy you that he is not the traitor you seek.”

Adamat considered this. He already knew why the Proprietor supported Tamas: Part of the Accords included a Kez police force that would have drastically changed the criminal underworld of Adopest—the Accords specifically mentioned the Proprietor’s head in a basket. They knew he was too powerful in the criminal underworld to leave alive. Hidden identity or not, the Kez would have torn Adopest apart until they found him.

With the danger of the Accords passed, the Proprietor might want to promote further chaos by removing Tamas. However, the Proprietor faced the same problems as many of his fellow council members. If Tamas died, then Kez was all the more likely to win the war, and the measures they sought to prevent in the Accords would be imposed anyway, and more besides.

“Why so forthright?” Adamat asked.

“My master has no interest in you putting your nose into his affairs—you have a certain reputation among his colleagues for unswerving doggedness. However, Tamas has made it clear that having you killed will attract his attention in a most unpleasant way. The easiest way to go about this is to get it over with.”

“Pragmatic,” Adamat muttered. Was the Proprietor being practical, or was he trying to manipulate Adamat’s investigation away from him? Adamat rolled the glass of brandy across his brow again. “Does the Proprietor know who tried to have Tamas killed?”

“No,” the eunuch said without hesitation. “He has made some inquiries of his own, to little avail. Whoever the traitor is, he is not using Adran intermediaries. My master would have known.”

“The traitor is dealing directly with the Kez, then,” Adamat said.

“It wasn’t the reeve,” the eunuch said. “As the funnel through which all money flows in the city, the Proprietor keeps him closely watched. Nor was it Lady Winceslav. We have a few agents in her household to keep an eye on things.”

“One of her brigadiers was involved,” Adamat said.

“Only one,” the eunuch said. “Brigadier Barat did not have the sense of loyalty and justice that the others do.”

“The vice-chancellor?”

The eunuch hesitated. “The vice-chancellor—Prime Lektor—is as unpredictable as Brude.”

Brude. The two-faced saint of Brudania. A strange reference.

Adamat waited for him to elaborate, but the eunuch said nothing more. The reeve had also mentioned that there was something off about the vice-chancellor.

“You suggest,” Adamat said, “that the Prime Lektor is equally capable of treachery as Ricard Tumblar and the arch-diocel? He’s a glorified headmaster.”

“As I said,” the eunuch said quietly, “he is not what he seems.”

Adamat took a long pull on his pipe. Assuming the eunuch was telling the truth—a very dangerous assumption—the most likely traitor was Ricard Tumblar. The arch-diocel was corrupt and power mad, but he had little reason to see Tamas dead. Ricard would give anything for his unions. It was perfectly possible he’d made a deal with the Kez in secret.

Adamat wondered again if he should risk a clandestine search of Charlemund’s villa. It seemed the only thing standing before an open accusation against Ricard. Of course, Adamat still needed to investigate the vice-chancellor.

“Thank you,” Adamat said to the eunuch. “You’ve been most helpful. Tell your master I will avoid poking into his affairs. If I can.”

The eunuch gave Adamat a shallow smile. “He’ll be pleased.”

“SouSmith, show our guest to the door.”

SouSmith returned a moment later and took a seat on the sofa. “My skin crawls,” he said.

“Likewise.” Adamat took a deep breath, relishing the smell of fine tobacco. It was a cherry blend, pleasant to the nose and throat, that left a light taste upon his tongue. It had a relaxing effect.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Adamat asked.

SouSmith grunted. “Reputation for certain honesty.”

Adamat gave SouSmith a curious look. “Really? I’ve heard the eunuch is not to be trusted.”

“Not the eunuch,” SouSmith said. “When he speaks for the Proprietor, his word is gold.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Adamat said, though he made a mental note to look into the Proprietor’s business—though not enough to get himself killed, hopefully.

Adamat spent the next hour at his desk, reading the day’s paper while SouSmith dozed on the couch. The night was very still when he decided to head to bed.