The Autumn Republic

Tamas crossed the room to Manhouch’s immense desk and sat himself down behind it. He gave all three of them a cold smile. “No, no. Go on, please.”

“We felt that our losses-”

“You got scared and you pulled out of the fight!” Ricard said accusingly. “I thought we were all in this together and now I learn that this crazy old coot is one of Claremonte’s stooges!”

Ondraus sat up straighter. “Now, listen here-”

“No, you listen!” Lady Winceslav’s voice rose to a shout. “We all have our own reasons for what we’ve done! I don’t think-”

The room devolved into a jumble of heated shouting and finger pointing. Tamas rested his chin on his palm, listening for a few moments before he pointed at Olem and snapped his fingers. Olem removed his pistol and carefully loaded it without a bullet. He crossed from the door and handed the pistol to Tamas.

The blast of the shot brought everything to silence. Three sets of eyes stared at him, the members of his council frozen in their places.

Tamas breathed deeply of the powder smoke from the end of his pistol and set it on the desk. “Can you win the election?”

Ricard tugged furiously at his beard and began to pace, eyeing the Reeve suspiciously.

“Just answer the question,” Tamas said.

“I have the best people in all the Nine running my campaign. They tell me it’s a close thing. I’ve been matching Claremonte penny for penny as he bribes, threatens, and cajoles his way toward Election Day, and I’m almost out of money. He’s not.”

“That’s not the reassurance I was looking for,” Tamas muttered. More loudly he said, “What do you need to win?”

Ricard glanced at Taniel, who stood near the balcony windows, looking out over Elections Square. “The election is on the last day of autumn, which is just a few days away. Appearances from my running mate would help things. An endorsement from you would be enormously beneficial.”

“You’ll have it in the newspaper tomorrow morning,” Tamas said. For all the things he didn’t like about Ricard, the man was a gifted businessman. If he could run a country halfway as well as he ran the union, Adro would be the jewel of the Nine for decades to come. “I suppose just killing Claremonte would be out of the question?” he asked mildly.

Ricard stiffened. “Absolutely. We have worked far too hard for this election. We made the rules and we must play by them, else we’ve accomplished nothing.”

“I agree,” Lady Winceslav said.

“Well, at least there’s that.” Tamas gazed at his still-smoking pistol. The world was changing, and in a few days’ time he wouldn’t have the power he once had to silence his enemies. He had to relinquish that power willingly.

“Besides, the Proprietor already tried that,” Ondraus added. “It didn’t work.”

Ricard slammed his fist down on the back of a sofa. “I knew he was behind it! Blast him!”

“Where is the eunuch, anyway?” Tamas asked. “And Prime Lektor?”

“The eunuch is dead,” Ondraus said shortly. “The Proprietor has not yet appointed a replacement to this council.”

“Nor will he. It’s too late in the game for a replacement. After the election this council will be dissolved anyway. As,” Tamas said loudly, raising his hand to forestall protest, “we all agreed when this began. How about Prime?”

“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.