“Inspector, what are you doing standing here in the dark?” Tamas asked. Adamat could hear the field marshal rummaging about on his desk, then a match was struck and a lantern lit.
“Just waiting. I didn’t want to bother anyone.”
“We can provide a light, man. I’m sorry to be so rude. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
Tamas peered closely at Adamat’s face and Adamat flinched away. “You did not.”
“Pit, you look as bad as I do. Have you been sleeping? Did they get you a proper tent and gear?”
“They did. Thank you.”
“I’m sorry to keep you in the camp like this. You understand I’ve had a lot to catch up with.”
“Of course. I do look forward to getting back to my family.” Do I? How will I explain what I have seen – what Josep has become – to Faye? Adamat realized with a start that he had already considered his son as good as dead. But then, what else could he consider? He’d stared into those eyes in his memory for so long, he knew that the Josep he loved was no more.
“Are you certain everything is all right, Inspector?”
“It is.”
Tamas lowered himself into a seat, looking far worse for the wear, and Adamat pulled his mind off his own troubles to examine the field marshal. Troubled by a dozen wounds, or so it seemed, Tamas had aged ten years in the last three months. What little trace of black might have remained in his mustache was gone, and he moved carefully, painfully, favoring his right side.
Adamat had seen that kind of behavior before in men in the Adran police force. Tamas had a knife wound – between the ribs, lucky enough to miss anything vital, but painful as all pit and likely to fester. There were rumors that Hilanska had stabbed Tamas before he fled. They certainly fit.
“Inspector?”
Adamat snapped out of his own thoughts. Tamas had been talking. “I’m very sorry, sir. Could you repeat that?”
Tamas tilted his head to one side, a twitch of anger crossing his face. “I asked if you know why I didn’t arrest you after you confessed your treachery.”
“I don’t.” Adamat felt a bead of cold sweat on his forehead and his jacket was suddenly too tight. It was something he’d asked himself, though he hadn’t dwelt on it. There was too much to do, too much at stake.
“I didn’t arrest you because that’s what the enemy would have expected.” Tamas climbed to his feet and crossed to his desk, pouring water into a glass. He didn’t offer any to Adamat. “It was a feint, to throw him off your trail. You mentioned in your report that Vetas thought you had been imprisoned.”
“So I did,” Adamat said, his throat dry. “It worked.”
Tamas took a sip of water, watching Adamat with a look that Adamat had seen on men deciding whether to put down a lame dog. “Yes.”
“And now?”
“I still hold you responsible for Sabon’s death, Inspector,” Tamas said. “I had told myself that you would stand trial when all this was over. That you would face the consequences of your actions.”
Adamat suddenly felt a fire in his belly. The consequences? He, who brought me into this whole mess, has the gall to speak to me about consequences? I’ve faced the consequences of my actions a hundred times over during the last six months. Adamat had to bite his tongue to hold his peace.
“I had told myself that – right up until the moment I had to choose between leading my men into battle and rescuing my son from being murdered in the wilderness by traitors. You’re a good man, Adamat, and you did what you could. There are so few good men left, and I will not send one to the guillotine. But I need your help.”
Adamat barely trusted himself to breathe. “My help?”
“There is more work to be done.”
Adamat felt his chest tighten. Of course. Always more to do. What would Faye say to this, were she here with him? She would tell the field marshal to stuff his consequences in his ass and to toss himself into the pit.
“Something funny, Inspector?”
“I was just thinking of what my wife would say if she were here.”
“Oh? And what was that?”
“She’d ask, ‘What can I do to help, Field Marshal?’ So. What can I do to help?” There was nothing else to say. Tamas would expect nothing short of obedience. It was the same arrogance that Adamat had seen for decades among the nobility whom he’d served.
Tamas seemed thrown for a moment. “I see. I still have to finish this war, and when it is done, I’ll need to deal with the Brudanian army that holds Adopest. Some kind of contact needs to be made. You shall be my liaison with Lord Claremonte. Find out what he wants. What are his goals? What will make him go away and, if that is not within our reach, discover his secrets and weaknesses and report them to me so I may destroy him and give our country the republic it deserves.”
Adamat felt something niggling deep inside his bowels. It felt an awful lot like despair. He’d dealt with the servant Lord Vetas, and now he had to deal with the master, who could only be many times the worse? It would undo him. “I will not put my family in that danger again, Field Marshal. Not for my life.”
“Your country needs you.”
Adamat wondered if Tamas knew how hollow the words sounded. “You cannot entrust me with this. Not possibly. Lord Claremonte, through his agent, used my family against me once and he will do it again. And if he does that, I will betray you again, I promise you that.”
“Your family is no longer in the equation. There is nothing Claremonte would gain by threatening them. You will be a politician and nothing more.”
“He can compel me to give you misinformation.”
“You have my guarantee of their safety.”
Adamat found himself standing once more. “You cannot make that guarantee! This man is a beast and will use any means necessary to win his twisted game. I have seen his machinations!”
“And that, Inspector, is why I need you so badly. You are the only one who knows anything about him. You are the only one who hates him enough to be ready to destroy him on a moment’s notice. Your family will be safe, Adamat. I swear it. You will hear no such guarantees from Claremonte while he holds the city.” Tamas took another sip of his water.
“I’m sorry, Field Marshal, but I must refuse.”
“You said–”
“I asked what I could do to help. I did not offer to put myself and my family back into harm’s way. No, sir, I will not deal with Claremonte. I have already put my family through enough as it is for this cause. I have lost a son!” And to something far worse than death.
Tamas frowned down into his cup. “I see.”
Adamat realized that his heart was pounding. He’d not expected to come in here and start shouting, but he had to draw the line somewhere. The lives of Tamas’s men were in his own hands, and damn him if he thought he could use guilt as leverage against Adamat.
“You’ll be going back to Adopest soon?” Tamas asked.
“First thing in the morning,” Adamat said. He lowered himself back into his chair. He felt so incredibly old.
“Would a lesser request sway you?”
Adamat cocked an eyebrow, sensing a trap. Tamas had backed off of that far too quickly for one of his kind. “What is it?” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “What can I do, sir?”
“Offer Ricard your help in his political campaign. He’ll need all the aid he can get – especially from men he trusts. You two are friends, are you not?”
“Ricard is running against Claremonte,” Adamat said. The very man Adamat wished to avoid.
Tamas made a calming gesture. “I’m not asking you to get too closely involved. Just give him some help. A kind word. Lend him your talent for memory. Whatever you can spare.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Adamat said after a moment’s consideration. “But I don’t guarantee anything. I will not get caught up in Claremonte’s web again.”
Tamas responded with a tight nod. He opened his mouth to say something else, but they were interrupted by a light rap on the tent pole and a messenger putting his head inside. “Sir?”