The Autumn Republic

“Keep close,” Adamat said to SouSmith as the big man emerged from the carriage behind him. “I don’t trust Claremonte in the least.” He jogged to catch up with the commissioner. “What the pit is Claremonte doing here?” he asked.

“Running for First Minister,” Commissioner Hewi replied, straight-faced. Hewi-a sharp-eyed, soft-spoken woman with light-brown hair curled tightly beneath a small hat-was wearing a loose-fitting day dress that managed to look both utilitarian and elegant at the same time. She had been appointed by the Iron King not long before his death and had, from the rumors, been one of the first people informed of the coup. Upon hearing that the Iron King’s son was to be executed, her words had famously been, “It’s about damn time.”

“I meant here. In the palace.”

“He’s rented the space from the city,” Hewi said. “Housing his troops and Privileged here.”

“And we just let him rent it?”

“The Reeve agreed to it, from what I hear,” Hewi said. “Better than letting it sit empty. Claremonte’s paying an astronomical fee for use of the building and grounds, and the city needs the money.”

“I’m surprised Tamas didn’t have the place burned down,” Adamat said.

“I’m not. It’s part of our cultural heritage. Over four hundred years old. Many of the walls and ceilings are works of art in and of themselves. I think Tamas knows better than to destroy all that out of spite.”

Adamat conceded to himself that the commissioner had a point. He noted that even the walls of the cavernous kitchens, as they passed through them, were covered in bright murals.

“Still,” Hewi added, “Tamas had most of the art and furniture removed to the national gallery. Some of it was sold to pay off debts, from what I heard. The rest will be put on display for the public. Laudable, I think.”

“Though it would have been far safer to destroy every vestige of the nobility.”

“Right. Seems Tamas is something more than simply pragmatic. Who would have thought?”

They left the kitchens and went up the servants’ stairs to the main floor. Adamat had heard that the passageways behind the palace were a labyrinth all to themselves, but this was his first time experiencing them. They ducked around so many corners, led by one of Claremonte’s servants, that Adamat imagined that men without his Knack could very well get lost. He frequently stopped to urge SouSmith along so that the boxer didn’t get distracted gazing at all the art.

They passed by dozens of rooms, each one seemingly bigger than the last, with more ornate gold-work trim and colorful frescoes. Marble-faced fireplaces took up entire walls in some rooms. Curtains were drawn in most of them, casting the rooms into shadow, and what little furniture was left had been covered in white sheets to keep the dust off.

The servant stepped aside suddenly and gestured to a doorway.

Hewi and her officers went inside. Adamat paused momentarily, wondering if there was any significance to Claremonte’s having them use the servants’ halls and entrances instead of the immense, echoing hallways and full-length doors. Letting them know they were beneath him, perhaps?

Adamat glanced at SouSmith to reassure himself and then went in.

“Welcome, welcome!” Claremonte’s voice bounced off the vaulted ceilings. The room was about thirty feet by forty. Unlike the others they’d passed, this one was decorated entirely in silver-metallic paint on the walls, ornate silver-plated trim. Even the dual fireplaces were a marbling of light and dark gray that matched the walls. On the ceiling was a mural showing some ancient hero making a deal with a two-faced celestial being.

Brude. Fitting that Claremonte would pick a room watched over by Brudania’s two-faced patron saint.

Claremonte wore a fine robe over silk pajamas, though it was well past nine in the morning. He lounged lazily in a wingback chair beside one of the windows overlooking the garden and held a cup in one hand, newspaper in the other. He stood as they approached, repeating his welcome.

“I’m sorry I’m not yet dressed, Commissioner. It was a late night last night, working on a campaign speech for a meeting I’m having this afternoon with the Society for City Gardens.”

Hewi extended a hand. “Thank you for allowing us to come by on such short notice.”

“No trouble at all. Oh, Inspector Adamat. Good morning to you, sir.”

“Good morning,” Adamat said stiffly. He felt a drop of sweat snake its way down the nape of his neck.

“How are your lovely wife and children?”

Adamat forced a tight-lipped smile. This had been a terrible mistake.

“I wasn’t aware you knew the inspector,” Hewi said. “Or that you’ve met his family!”

“The inspector was among those who greeted me upon my arrival to the city,” Claremonte said, a magnanimous smile on his lips. “And I only know his wife by reputation.”

To other men, Claremonte’s smile may have been gracious. To Adamat, it seemed full of mockery. Claremonte extended his hand to Adamat.

“Pardon if I don’t shake,” Adamat managed.