“Very good, sir. Will the Deliv help us with Adopest?”
“Sulem has no fight with Brudania. We’re on our own.”
“Unfortunate.”
“I thought so as well.”
“Do you have orders, sir?”
“Find one of the Deliv Privileged and get yourself healed. I need you by my side. We may yet have killing to do before this is all over.”
Chapter 45
Adamat wound his way through the thick crowd gathered in Laughlin Square on the north side of the city.
It was a gorgeous autumn day with barely a cloud in the sky and although the wind had picked up, Lord Claremonte’s Privileged had used their sorcery to create an umbrella of calm around the entire square for his biggest public appearance since his arrival in the city. It looked to Adamat’s eye that over five thousand people had turned out for Claremonte’s speech – and the promised announcement of his newest and reportedly most groundbreaking endorsement.
He’d already been going on for almost an hour when Adamat arrived. From the rapt attention of the crowd and the frequent cheering, Adamat guessed it was going quite well for the head of the Brudania-Gurla Trading Company.
Claremonte himself stood upon a wooden podium erected at the south end of the square. Adamat had to admit that he made a dashing figure dressed in the finest suit and tails, gesturing for emphasis as he promised inheritance tax reform, more public services, and the establishment of a national museum in Skyline Palace.
Adamat gave up trying to get closer to the podium after twenty minutes of working his way forward and receiving dozens of elbows in his ribs. He retreated to the next best place – a raised walk along the east side of the square that was mostly filled with schoolchildren and shoppers, who had forgotten about the row of stores behind them and now watched Claremonte speak.
It gave Adamat a clear view of the podium and, more interestingly, of the tent behind the podium. No doubt it doubled as a shaded location for Claremonte’s most prominent supporters, who would also give speeches after the main address, and as a hiding place for Claremonte’s new endorsement.
Adamat wondered if he could slip around the back and glance inside, but dismissed the notion immediately. Claremonte’s security was tight – Brudanian soldiers were stationed at every possible approach.
He watched as one such soldier sternly rebuked a young boy who had gotten near the tent, likely with the same aim in mind as Adamat.
This promise of a public-figure endorsement had been the buzz of the city for weeks.
The speech itself held little interest for Adamat. He half listened for the big announcement as he let his eyes wander over the crowd, trying to get a sense for Claremonte’s supporters. There were the fervent believers near the front, applauding at every small thing. These could have been either paid performers or the real thing.
There were the wealthy donors, who had rented balcony rooms in the town houses along the north side of the square behind Claremonte. Most of the crowd seemed to be working-class men and women of all walks.
Adamat judged Claremonte to have a rather good spread of supporters, with a definite leaning toward the common man, which was more the pity. It meant that Ricard’s command of the union was giving him less traction than one might think.
Adamat’s eyes caught more than a few familiar faces. Government employees. A couple of soldiers. A large number of the lesser nobility who had avoided Tamas’s cull. His eyes continued to roam until they stopped on one particularly interesting figure.
It was a woman with dark hair and a narrow face, dressed in black pants and a matching jacket. She stood stoically in the crowd, ignoring her fellow listeners when they cheered, her hands clasped behind her back. Her name was Riplas, and since the eunuch’s death several months ago she had taken over as the Proprietor’s second-in-command. The rumors were that it was not a permanent position. Yet.
Adamat didn’t have time to wonder at her presence. Claremonte shushed the crowd after a particularly long round of applause and said, “Ladies and gentleman, I am pleased – no, I am honored – to receive the endorsement of one of Adro’s leading citizens and one of the architects of this new government: Ondraus, the Reeve of Adopest!”
Some members of the audience gasped audibly. Adamat felt his mouth fall open, and sure enough, Ondraus the Reeve emerged from the tent behind Claremonte. He wore the very best finery and sported a gold chain at his breast pocket. He approached the podium while Claremonte stepped to the side, and held his hands up for quiet.
Ondraus removed the glasses from his pocket and what looked like a ledger from beneath his arm, setting it on the podium. He examined the crowd for a few moments.
Adamat’s mind churned. What was Ondraus up to? Ondraus was one, no two of the remaining members of Tamas’s council. Didn’t he know that Tamas would wring his neck once he found out? Adamat looked through the crowd until he found Riplas once again. He was one of the only men in the Nine to know that Ondraus and the Proprietor were one and the same, but he couldn’t come up with a connection in this situation.
Surely there had to be one.
Ondraus cleared his throat and Privileged sorcery made his voice boom. “My friends and neighbors. I am here today to tell you that I endorse Lord Claremonte for First Minister of Adro. I am not a public man, as surely you may all know, but I thought this campaign important enough to not just show my face but to lend my voice to Lord Claremonte.”
Adamat was flabbergasted. For Ondraus to say he was not a public man was an understatement. His likeness had never once appeared in any newspaper, even though he was one of the richest and most influential men in Adro. Adamat knew it was because of his double life as a crime lord, but most people assumed he was just reclusive. If anything in Claremonte’s campaign was going to get attention, it would be this.
Ricard would be furious.
“I have done the numbers,” Ondraus said. “I have projected the financial future of Adro, and Lord Claremonte’s proposed reforms and laws are the best course for this country, and believe me, I am not unfamiliar with the ebb and flow of coin.” Behind Ondraus, Lord Claremonte stood beaming, hands held high as he led the applause.
What’s his game? Adamat asked himself. Had Ondraus really changed sides in the campaign?
There was a commotion in the crowd and Adamat looked for the source of it but could find nothing as a round of applause erupted at Ondraus’s words.
“If Lord Claremonte is elected, I give you my word that–”
Ondraus was suddenly cut off as a man threw himself up on the podium. A couple of soldiers rushed forward as the man got to his feet, and a gasp flew through the audience as he suddenly brandished a pistol.
Three things happened at once: the gun went off, the bullet flying over Ondraus’s and Claremonte’s heads and striking the building behind the podium. Second, one of Claremonte’s Privileged leapt forward, his fingers dancing, sorcery slicing the assailant to bloody ribbons. And third, a gunshot went off somewhere over Adamat’s head.
Lord Claremonte went down in a spray of blood just as the screaming began. Sorcery lashed out, destroying the roof off the building behind Adamat and forcing him to leap from the raised walkway to get away from the rain of wood and stone.
Crouching, eyes on the sky, Adamat began to run, forcing himself against the suddenly panicked crowd. The frightened stampede began almost immediately. He felt himself jostled and thrown, and he stopped to help an old woman to her feet. Then forced himself against the crowd once more.