The Crimson Campaign

“I read something interesting in the newspaper this morning,” Adamat said. When Ricard didn’t respond, he took the newspaper in question from under his arm and threw it on the desk. “‘Ricard Tumblar to Run for First Minister of the Republic of Adro,’” he said, reading the headline out loud.

“Oh,” Ricard said blandly. “That.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You seemed to have a lot on your plate.”

“And you’re vying to become leader of our new government. What the pit are you doing business down at the docks for?”

Ricard perked up. “I’ve built a new place. Moving into it tomorrow, actually. Still in the factory district, but it’ll be fantastic for entertaining dignitaries. Would you like to see it?”

“I’m a little busy now,” Adamat said. When Ricard’s face fell, he added, “Some other time, I’m sure.”

“You’ll like it. Gaudy. Grand. But stylish.”

Adamat snorted. Knowing Ricard, “gaudy” only began to describe it. He tossed the paper on Ricard’s desk. “Either you had less people looking for him than you made me believe, or your people are idiots.”

“I don’t recognize the address,” Ricard said, grinning so hard it made his cheeks red.

Adamat wasn’t in the mood for the enthusiasm. “After a battle, soldiers go straight for one of two things: either home or vice. Taniel Two-Shot is a career soldier, so I guessed vice. The quickest place to find that near the People’s Court is to head northwest into the Gurlish Quarter. He was in the sixth mala den I checked.”

“You got lucky,” Ricard said. “Admit it. He could have gone anywhere. You just looked in the Gurlish Quarter first.”

Adamat shrugged. Investigative work depended more on luck than he cared to admit, but he’d never tell that to a client. “Any chance you found the record for the address I gave you yesterday?”

Ricard sifted through the papers on his desk. A moment later he handed Adamat back Vetas’s card. It had a name and address written on it in pencil.

“Fell checked herself,” Ricard said. “The warehouse was bought by a tailor — of all things — two years ago. There are no records to indicate it had been sold after the tailor bought it, which means it didn’t fall into the hands of the union. Must have been purchased privately. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help.”

“This is a start,” Adamat said. He stood up and retrieved his hat and cane.

“You’ll be taking SouSmith with you, won’t you?” Ricard asked. “I don’t want you going after this Vetas alone.”

“SouSmith is still laid up,” Adamat said. “He took some bloody damage from the Barbers.”

Ricard grimaced. “He could go see Lady Parkeur.”

Lady Parkeur was an eccentric middle-aged woman who lived with thousands of birds in an old church in High Talien. She always had feathers in her hair and smelled like a henhouse, but she was also the only Knacked in the city with the ability to heal wounds. She could knit together broken tissue and bone with the force of her will, and she cost more money than a Privileged healer.

“I spent every penny I had left to get myself healed by her after the beating I took from Charlemund,” Adamat said. “I had to so I could go after my family.”

“Fell!” Ricard yelled, making Adamat jump.

The woman appeared a moment later. “Mr. Tumblar?”

“Send a message to Lady Parkeur. Tell her I’m calling in that favor she owes me. There’s a boxer, name of SouSmith, who needs mending. Tell her she needs to make a house call today.”

“She doesn’t do house calls,” Fell said.

“She bloody well better for me. If she gives you any lip, remind her about that incident with the goat.”

“Right away,” Fell said.

“Incident with a goat?” Adamat said.

Ricard looked around. “Don’t ask. I need a bloody drink.”

“Ricard, you don’t have to call in favors for me,” Adamat said. He knew by experience how much Lady Parkeur cost for healing. The wait to see her was usually weeks. Adamat had only gotten in through a personal request from Field Marshal Tamas.

“Think nothing of it,” Ricard said. “You’ve saved my ass more times than I can count.” He recovered a bottle from behind a stack of books and drained the last finger of cloudy liquid from the bottle, then made a face. It was another moment before he ceased his search for more alcohol and dropped into his seat. “But don’t think I won’t ask you for more favors. This ‘First Minister’ business is going to be a rough time.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Good. Now go find out about Lord Whatshisname. I’ve been thinking of a really big gift for you and Faye for your anniversary next year. I’d prefer that you’re both around to give it to.”

CHAPTER 6

Taniel cut the last silver button off his jacket and handed it to Kin. The stooped Gurlish examined the button closely in the light of a candle before sliding it into his pocket, just like he had all the others, and set a ball of mala on the table next to Taniel’s hammock.

Despite the greed apparent on Kin’s face, he had a worried look in his eyes.

“Don’t go through it so fast. Savor. Taste. Enjoy,” Kin said.