Promise of Blood

Adamat read aloud: “And they will guard Kresimir’s Promise with their lives, for if it is broken, all the Nine might perish.” He scanned the page, and then the page after, and then the page before. There were no other references. He scowled at the pages. “This doesn’t make sense.”

Uskan’s finger stabbed the middle of the book, right at the spine.

“What?”

“More pages missing,” Uskan said. “Half the afterword.” His voice trembled with rage.

Adamat looked closer. Sure enough, the pages had been torn clean from the book. The binding was different on this volume, making it difficult to tell that the pages were missing at all. He sighed. “Where can I find another copy of this book?”

Uskan shook his head. “Maybe the Public Archives. I think Nopeth University has a copy, too.”

“I’m not sitting in a coach for the better part of a month just to ‘maybe’ find a book at Nopeth University,” Adamat said. He snapped the book shut and returned it to the vice-chancellor’s desk. “I’ll have to check the Public Archives.”

“The riots,” Uskan protested as Adamat made his way to the door.

Adamat paused.

“They’ll have it locked up,” Uskan said. “The Archives contain tax records, family histories, even safe-deposit boxes. They have guards, Adamat.”

That was only a problem if they caught him. “Thanks for your help,” Adamat said. “Let me know if you find anything else.”

Chapter 7

Taniel eyed the mob moving systematically down the street and wondered if they’d give him much trouble. The city was in chaos; wagons overturned, buildings set ablaze, bodies left in the street to fall victim to looters and worse. The smoke hanging like a curtain over the city seemed as if it would never blow away.

Taniel flipped through his sketchbook randomly. The pages fell open to a portrait of Vlora. He paused there for just a moment before he gripped the spine of the book in one hand and tore the page out. He crumpled it up and threw it to the street. He stared at the jagged rip in his book and instantly regretted damaging it. He didn’t have money for a new sketchbook. He’d sold everything of value in order to buy a diamond ring in Fatrasta. That damned diamond ring he’d left nailed to a fop in Jileman. He could still see the blood spreading from the man’s shoulder, crimson dripping from the ring he’d slid on the man’s sword before he shoved it in. Taniel should have kept the ring. He could have pawned it. He forced a lump down in his throat. He regretted not saying something—anything—to Vlora as she stood in the bedroom door, sheets clutched to her chest.

He checked the time on a nearby clock tower. Four hours until his father’s soldiers would begin to reassert order. Any of the mob left out after midnight would have to deal with Field Marshal Tamas’s men. The soldiers might have a hard time of it. There were a lot of desperate people in Adopest these days.

“What do you think of these mercenaries?” Taniel asked. He bent over and picked up the rumpled sketch of Vlora and smoothed it on his leg, then folded it and tucked it into his sketchbook.

Ka-poel shrugged. She watched the approaching mob. They were led by a big man, a farmer with worn, old overalls and a makeshift truncheon. Probably moved to the city to work in a factory but couldn’t join the union. He saw Taniel and Ka-poel standing in the doorway of a closed shop and turned toward them, raising his truncheon. More victims to be had.

Taniel ran a finger along the fringe of his buckskin jacket and touched the butt of a pistol at his hip. “You don’t want any trouble here, friend,” he said. Ka-poel’s hands tightened into little fists.

The farmer’s eyes fell to the silver powder keg pin on Taniel’s chest. He came up short and said something to the man behind him. They turned away suddenly. The rest followed, dark looks for Taniel, but none of them willing to get mixed up with a powder mage.

Taniel breathed a sigh of relief. “Those two hired thugs have been gone a long time.”

Julene, the Privileged mercenary, and Gothen, the magebreaker, had left to follow the Privileged’s trail almost an hour ago. She was close, they’d said, and they’d scout her out, then come back for Taniel and Ka-poel. Taniel was beginning to think they’d been abandoned.

Ka-poel jerked her thumb at her own chest and then shaded her eyes, thrusting her head out as if looking for something.

Taniel nodded. “Yeah, I know you can find her,” he said, “but I’ll let these mercs do the groundwork. That’s all they’re gonna be good for any—”

Taniel’s head cracked against the stone of the building at his back, his ears pounding from the sudden explosion. Ka-poel rocked into him and he caught her before she could fall. He steadied her on her feet and shook his head to dispel the ringing in his ears.

He’d been half a mile from a munitions dump once when the powder caught fire. This had felt like that kind of explosion, but his Marked senses told him it wasn’t powder. It was sorcery.