“You tried,” Faye said. She was better, he thought. Despite her appearance, she’d been growing stronger over the last week, spending time with the children. She still stayed away from the windows and avoided going outside, though Adamat couldn’t determine the reason. Perhaps she feared being seen by one of her former captors?
“I’m going to Norport,” Adamat said when he’d regained his composure.
Faye’s hand, gently stroking his arm, froze. “Why?”
“To get Josep back. I can find him there, and if I can’t find him, I can pick up his trail.”
“No.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean no.” Faye’s tone was firm. “I’ll not have you risking your life over this. Not anymore. I’ve lost Josep, but I have eight more children, and I can’t provide for them and protect them without you.”
“You won’t — ”
“I said no.”
Adamat could tell by her tone there’d be no argument. No hope at all. She’d do everything in her power to keep him from going. “But — ”
“No.”
He tried to find the courage to tell her off. To tell her that he had a duty to his son, that he could still get his boy back.
The courage never came.
In the morning, Adamat went to return the money he’d borrowed from Ricard.
A secretary met him in the lobby of Ricard’s new headquarters. She opened her mouth with a word of greeting, but something on his face must have stilled her tongue, and she led him back to the room off the side of the building that was Ricard’s office.
The room was much larger than his old office, but no cleaner.
The whole room reeked. There were oysters on one shelf, probably from the same pub that Adamat had been to last night, and from the smell of them they were three days old. The scent was made worse by some kind of incense burning on Ricard’s desk.
He ignored Ricard’s greeting and threw himself into the chair across from him.
Ricard frowned and leaned back in his seat, and the two of them regarded each other for a few moments. Ricard’s eyes went to the case on Adamat’s lap.
“They never showed,” Adamat said, tossing the case on the ground. “They took my fifty-thousand-krana deposit and disappeared. Now my boy is gone forever, along with any hope I have of getting him back. I should never have trusted them.” Adamat could hear the disgust in his own voice.
Ricard got that look on his face when he was about to say “I told you so,” but instead quietly said, “We all make mistakes.”
Adamat wanted to break things. He wanted to go on a violent rampage, destroying Ricard’s expensive furniture and chandeliers and crystal decanters, then throw himself on the ground in the middle of the mess and sob.
“I don’t know what to do now,” he said.
Ricard said, “I have something I could have you look into.”
Adamat fixed Ricard with a long look. How could Ricard think he’d want to take a case right now?
“It would keep your mind off things,” Ricard went on. “There are accusations of profiteering within the ranks of the Adran army. I need to follow up on those accusations and find some evidence.”
“That’s a job for the provosts,” Adamat said.
“Not when the corruption runs all the way up to the General Staff.”
“No,” Adamat said. “I’m done with military dealings. Find someone braver and stupider.”
Ricard stifled a smile. “You’re the bravest and stupidest man I know.”
“I can attest to that,” a voice said from the back of the room.
Privileged Borbador stood in the doorway. He wore a slimming day jacket, his face pink from a morning shave, a cane in one hand. His Privileged’s gloves were nowhere to be seen.
“Who the pit are you?” Ricard asked.
“Privileged Borbador, at your service.” Bo bowed his head slightly. “I understand you have a letter for me.”
“Oh,” Ricard said in surprise. A confused look crossed his face. “How could you possibly know that I have a letter for you?”
Bo smiled.
“Right. From Taniel Two-Shot,” Ricard said. He searched through his papers until he discovered the letter, then brought it to Bo.
Bo leaned up against the doorway as he read the note. He turned it around, looking at some kind of report that had been written on the back. His eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Adamat. “Did you tell him that Tamas is still alive?”
“I did,” Adamat said.
“We have no evidence of that.” Ricard spread his hands.
“He is,” Bo said. “And when he gets back, he’s going to gut his General Staff.”
“If the army runs out of powder, Adro will have been conquered long before Tamas returns.”
Bo chewed on his lip. “Any word from Taniel Two-Shot? Other than this letter, I mean.”
“He is being court-martialed as we speak. I sent my undersecretary down to intervene on my behalf, but I won’t know the results for days.”
“Court-martialed? For what?” Bo’s tone was flat. Adamat thought it his imagination, but the temperature of the room seemed to have dropped.
“Mostly trumped-up charges,” Ricard said. “Disobeying orders, attacking one of the General Staff. But Taniel suspects that some of the General Staff are war-profiteering, and may even be in league with the Kez, which would explain why they’re court-martialing their only powder mage.”
