The Crimson Campaign (5 page)

“Your hands show very little wear from the laundering. Remarkably little, to be honest. I’ll give you some lotion in the morning and you’ll apply it every hour. We’ll have those hands looking soft, like a noblewoman’s, in no time.” He patted her on the cheek.

Nila resisted the urge to spit in his eye.

Vetas leaned forward and spoke quietly so that Jakob could not hear. “This woman,” Vetas said, pointing to Faye, “is your responsibility, Nila. If she displeases me, you’ll suffer for it. Jakob will suffer for it. And believe me, I know how to make people suffer.”

Vetas stepped away, throwing a smile toward Jakob. More loudly he said, “I think you need some new clothes, Jakob. Would you like that?”

“Very much, sir,” Jakob said.

“We’ll do that tomorrow. Some toys, too.”

Vetas glanced at Nila, his eyes holding a silent warning, and he left the room with his bodyguards.

Faye adjusted her dress and took a deep breath. Her eyes traveled around the room. A mix of emotions ranged across her face: anger, panic, and fear. For a moment Nila thought she might snatch up a frying pan and attack her.

Nila wondered who she was. Why was she here? Obviously another prisoner. Another player in Vetas’s schemes. Could Nila trust her?

“I’m Nila,” she said. “And this is Jakob.”

Faye’s eyes settled on Nila and she nodded with a frown. “I’m Faye. And I’m going to kill that bastard.”

CHAPTER

5

Adamat slipped through the side door of one of the dilapidated buildings in Adopest’s dock district. He moved down hallways, brushing past secretaries and bookkeepers, always looking straight ahead. In his experience, no one questioned a man who knew where he was going.

Adamat knew that Lord Vetas was looking for him.

It wasn’t hard to surmise. Vetas still had Faye. He still had leverage, and no doubt he wanted Adamat dead or under his thumb.

So Adamat stayed low. Field Marshal Tamas’s soldiers were protecting his family – part of the bargain Adamat had struck with the field marshal in order to keep his neck from the guillotine. Adamat had to work from the shadows now, finding Lord Vetas and discovering his plans, and freeing Faye before any more harm could come to her. If she was even still alive.

He couldn’t do it alone.

The headquarters for the Noble Warriors of Labor was a squat, ugly brick building not far from the Adopest docks. It didn’t look like much, but it housed the offices of the biggest union in all the Nine. Every subdivision of the Warriors moved through this hub: bankers, steelworkers, miners, bakers, millers, and more.

But Adamat only needed to speak with one man, and he didn’t want to be noticed on his way in. He went down a low-ceilinged hallway on the third floor and paused outside an office door. He could hear voices inside.

“I don’t care what you think of the idea,” came the voice of Ricard Tumblar, head of the entire union. “I’m going to find him and persuade him. He’s the best man for the job.”

“Man?” a woman’s voice returned. “You don’t think a
woman
can do it?”

“Don’t start with me, Cheris,” Ricard said. “It was a turn of phrase. And don’t make this about men or women. You don’t like it because he’s a soldier.”

“And you bloody well know why.”

Ricard’s retort was lost as Adamat heard the creak of the floorboards behind him. He turned to find a woman standing behind him.

She looked to be in her midthirties, with straight blond hair tied back in a ponytail behind her head. She wore a dress uniform with loose pants and a white frilled shirt of the type that might be worn by a footman. Her hands were clasped behind her back.

A secretary. The last thing Adamat needed.

“Can I help you, sir?” she said. Her tone was brusque, and her eyes never left Adamat’s face.

“Oh, my,” Adamat said. “This must look terrible. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I just needed to speak with Ricard.”

She didn’t sound at all like she believed him. “The secretary should have kept you in the waiting room.”

“I came in the side door,” Adamat admitted. So she wasn’t the secretary?

The woman said, “Come with me to the lobby and we’ll make you an appointment. Mr. Tumblar is terribly busy.”

Adamat gave a half bow at the waist. “I’d rather not make an appointment. I just need to speak with Ricard. It’s a terribly urgent matter.”

“Please, sir.”

“I just need to speak with Ricard.”

Her voice dropped slightly – instantly more threatening. “If you do not come with me, I will have you taken to the police for trespassing.”

“Now look here!” Adamat raised his voice. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a commotion, but he desperately needed Ricard’s attention.

“Fell!” Ricard’s voice called from inside the office. “Fell! Damn it, Fell, what is that ruckus!”

Fell narrowed her eyes at Adamat. “What is your name?” she asked sternly.

“Inspector Adamat.”

Fell’s demeanor changed instantly. Gone was the severe gaze that brooked no argument. She let out a soft sigh. “Why didn’t you say so to begin with? Ricard has us looking all over the city for you.” She stepped past Adamat and opened the door. “It’s Inspector Adamat here to see you, sir.”

“Well, don’t leave him in the hallway. Send him in!”

The room was cluttered but clean – for once. Bookshelves ran the length of each wall, and an ironwood desk framed the center of the room. Ricard was sitting behind his desk, facing a woman who looked to be about fifty. Adamat could immediately tell she was wealthy. Her rings were gold, set with precious gems, and her dress made from the finest cut of muslin. She fanned her face with a fine lace handkerchief and pointedly looked away from Adamat.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Cheris,” Ricard said. “This is very important.”

The woman pushed past Adamat and left the room. Adamat heard the door slam behind him and they were alone. Adamat thought briefly to ask what that had been about – then decided against it. Ricard was just as likely to spend an hour explaining as he was to tell Adamat it was private business. Adamat removed his hat and coat and returned Ricard’s embrace.

Ricard sat back down behind his desk and gestured to the vacant chair. They spoke at the exact same moment:

“Adamat, I need your help.”

“Ricard, I need your help.”

They both fell silent, and then Ricard laughed and ran a hand across the bald spot on the front of his scalp. “You haven’t needed my help for years,” he said. He took a deep breath. “First, I want to tell you how sorry I am about the Barbers.”

The Black Street Barbers. The street gang that supposedly reported to Ricard, but that had come after Adamat in his own home. Had that really been only a month ago? It seemed like years.

“Tamas wiped them out,” Adamat said. “The survivors are rotting in Sablethorn.”

“With my blessing.”

Adamat nodded. He didn’t trust himself to say more about the topic. He didn’t precisely blame Ricard for the incident, but he now had far less faith in Ricard’s people.

“Is Faye still out of the city?” Ricard said.

Something must have showed in Adamat’s eyes. Ricard was a man who’d made his living reading facial tics and knowing what to say at the right moment. He stood up and opened the door a crack. “Fell,” he said. “I don’t want to be bothered. No people. No sound.”

He closed the door and slid the latch, returning to his desk.

“Tell me everything,” Ricard said.

Adamat paused. He’d fought with himself for days about whether to come to Ricard at all, and what exactly to say. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Ricard – it was that he didn’t trust Ricard’s people. Lord Vetas had spies everywhere. But if he couldn’t trust Ricard himself, then there was no one left in his life to turn to for help.

“Faye and the children were taken by a man named Lord Vetas,” Adamat said. “They were held against their will to guarantee my cooperation. I gave Vetas information about my conversations with Tamas and my investigation.”

Ricard tensed. Whatever he’d expected, this was not it. “You crossed Tamas?”
And you’re still alive?
was the unspoken question.

“I’ve told Tamas all of it,” Adamat said. “He has forgiven me – for now – and sent me on a hunt for Lord Vetas. I managed to rescue some of the children, but Vetas still has Faye and Josep.”

“Can’t you use Tamas’s soldiers to go after Vetas?”

“I’d have to find him first. Once I do, I wish it were that simple. The moment Vetas finds out where I am, he will no doubt threaten me with Faye’s life. I need to find him silently, track him, and get her out of his hands before I bring down Tamas’s wrath upon him.”

Ricard nodded slowly. “So you don’t know where he is?”

“He’s like a ghost. I looked into him when he first started blackmailing me. He doesn’t even exist.”

“If
you
can’t find him, I doubt any of my people can.”

“I don’t need you to find him. I need information.” Adamat reached into his pocket and removed the card Vetas had left him months ago. It had an address on it. “This is the only lead I have. It’s an old warehouse not all that far from here. I need to know everything about it. Who owns it? Who owns the properties around it? When was it last sold? Everything. Your people have access to records I can’t easily get my hands on.”

Ricard nodded. “Of course. Anything.” He reached to take the card.

Adamat stopped him, clutching Ricard’s hand. “This is deadly serious. The lives of my wife and my son depend on it. If you don’t think you can trust your people, just tell me now and I’ll find him myself.”
Remember what happened with the Barbers
, Adamat said silently.

Ricard seemed to get the message. “I have some people,” Ricard said. “Don’t worry. This will be safe.”

“One more thing,” Adamat said. “There are two people involved in this somehow that you might blanch at crossing.”

Ricard smiled. “If it’s not Tamas, I can’t imagine who.”

“Lord Claremonte and the Proprietor.”

Ricard’s smile disappeared. “Lord Claremonte doesn’t surprise me,” he said. “The Brudania-Gurla Trading Company has been trying to move in on the union since our inception. He’s tricky, but he doesn’t scare me.”

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss him. Lord Vetas works for him.” And Vetas was holding Adamat’s wife and son hostage. Claremonte, as far as Adamat was concerned, might as well have been holding Faye and Josep personally.

Ricard made a dismissive gesture. “You say that the Proprietor might be involved? I don’t trust him, of course, but I thought you cleared him of treachery yourself.”

“I never cleared him,” Adamat said. “I just found out that Charlemund was the one trying to kill Tamas. One of the Proprietor’s boxers was holding my family hostage. You know how he is about his boxers finding work elsewhere – no one works for someone else without the Proprietor’s permission.” Which meant that the Proprietor may be in league with Lord Claremonte.

“Tread carefully on this, my friend,” Ricard warned. “Vetas may be trying to use you, but the Proprietor will cut and bury your entire family without so much as a thought.” He glanced at the card Adamat had given him and put it in his vest pocket. “I’ll look into this, don’t worry. But I need a favor from you.”

“Go on.”

“Do you know Taniel Two-Shot?”

“I know
of
him,” Adamat said. “Everyone in the Nine does. The newspapers were saying he was in a coma after a battle of sorcery on top of South Pike Mountain.”

“He’s not in a coma anymore,” Ricard said. “He woke up a week ago, and he’s disappeared.”

Adamat’s first thoughts went to Lord Vetas. The man was working actively against Tamas. He would leap at the chance to capture the field marshal’s son. “Any sign of violence?”

Ricard shook his head. “Well, yes. But it’s not like that. He left his guard duty of his own volition. Tamas had his own men guarding him, but my people were keeping an eye on him as well. That he slipped both our nets is rather embarrassing. I need him found quietly.”

“Do you want him returned?” Adamat said. “I’m not about to make a powder mage do something he doesn’t want to do.”

“No, just find out where he is and let me know.”

Adamat stood up. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“And I’ll look into this Lord Vetas.” Ricard held up a hand to forestall Adamat’s protests. “Discreetly. I promise.”

Tamas entered Budwiel’s biggest mess hall and was nearly knocked over by the swirl of enticing smells wafting from inside.

He swept past the tables where hundreds of his men were having their evening repast and headed toward the kitchens, trying to ignore his hunger pangs.

The man he was looking for was hard to miss: big, fat, taller than most, with waist-length black hair tied behind his head and his olive skin showing just a touch of Rosvelean ancestry. He stood in one corner of the kitchens, on his toes to be able to see into the highest row of ovens.

Mihali was, officially, Tamas’s chef. He and his cadre of assistants provided food of the highest caliber for Tamas’s entire army, and even for the city of Budwiel. The people loved Mihali; the men worshipped him.