The Autumn Republic

Gavril went on ahead. Once he was alone, Tamas leaned over, hands on his knees, and took several deep breaths. He’d made a horrid mistake. Many of them over the course of this short war, now that he paused to look back. Too many. Misplaced trust. Bad timing. This final misstep with the Kez-it needed to be his last. When it was all over, he had to put down his pistol and walk away, or else everything he had fought for would be for naught and his vision would come true.

Straightening, Tamas adjusted his sword and checked his pocket to be sure he had enough powder charges, then marched out into the sun.

It was time.

CHAPTER 40

Adamat’s questioning of the kitchen staff revealed two important things:

The first was that Ricard’s security was not nearly as good as he claimed it was. The second was that a man named Denni of Rhodigas had left the blasting oil behind the silver over two weeks ago. He told one of the scullery maids that they were bottles of imported vodka specifically for Ricard’s next birthday and gave her a fifty-krana note to keep quiet about the “surprise.”

The poor girl had broken down weeping when Fell told her what, exactly, the bottles were. It was enough to convince Adamat that she wasn’t in on the plot, though he still told Fell to have her watched for a few days.

Adamat knew Denni, but only by reputation. He was a jack-of-all-trades-a con man, muscle-for-hire, thief, and smuggler. He lacked both ambition and vision, and while he had helped Ricard set up the first union, he had not wanted the responsibility of actually running anything.

“He’s really not a bad guy,” Ricard repeated for the third time in as many hours.

Adamat leaned against the cold brick wall of the basement Underhill Society secret room, clutching his cane in one hand, the head already twisted so he could withdraw his sword swiftly. The candelabras were lit, a deck of cards laid on the table, and cold drinks set out. Everything was prepared as it should be for the society, in addition to hiding two of Ricard’s enforcers in the basement niches and placing SouSmith innocuously near the front door of the hotel.

“He tried to kill you,” Adamat replied.

Ricard sat behind the card table, fiddling with a corkscrew. “He might not have known.”

“Oh?” Adamat rolled his eyes. “That you, the head of the union, would have been at a union function in your own headquarters when he threw a bomb into your office? Or maybe he threw the second bomb, the one that landed beside your wine collection, where you spend plenty of time.”

“He might not have thrown the bombs at all,” Ricard said. “He might have bought them for someone else.”

Fell sat beside Ricard, chewing thoughtfully on a handful of cashews. “That’s what we mean to find out.”

Adamat felt for Ricard. He really did. The members of the Underhill Society had been his closest friends and allies for over twenty years and secrecy was part of the mystique of their business cabal. Betraying something like that was very difficult.

But it had to be done.

“He’s late,” Adamat said, checking his pocket watch.

“He’s always late,” Ricard responded.

“You’ve delayed the others?” The only way to get Denni to come in was to hold Ricard’s regular weekly meeting. Everything had to seem completely normal. That required invitations to everyone else in the society.

“Yes,” Fell said. “They’ll all be at least a half hour late. Denni isn’t usually more than ten minutes behind schedule.”

“And you’re sure he’ll come?”

“I’m sure,” Ricard said. “He doesn’t get a lot of work these days. Lots of time on his hands.”

“Unless he suspects something,” Adamat muttered.

“He was here last week,” Fell said.

Ricard asked, rubbing at his bald spot, “Is this really necessary? I could just talk to him.”

“You’re being naïve, Ricard,” Adamat said.

Ricard picked beneath his fingernails with the corkscrew and gave an exasperated sigh. “All right, all right. Maybe I am. Get on with it, damn it. Look at me, bullied around by my own hirelings.”

“If I was just another hireling, I would have turned down the job,” Adamat said sharply. “I am here as your friend. Understand?” He opened his mouth to continue, his ire raised by Ricard’s unwillingness to do what was necessary, but the sound of footsteps on the basement stairs caught his attention. It was a heavy tread and it came down the hallway without hesitation. He tightened his hand on his cane.

Denni of Rhodigas was a little shorter than Adamat but built like a strongbox with broad shoulders, thick arms, and very little body fat. He wore a brown tailored suit and held a top hat in one hand and a cane in the other. His curly black hair was cropped above his ears. His eyes went to Fell, sitting beside Ricard, and he frowned. Then he saw Adamat waiting over by the wall.

“Denni,” Adamat said. “We have some questions for you.”