Promise of Blood

“He always cooked it all himself.” Mihali hung his head. “A pity. His heart gave out when he tasted my lamb soufflé. He was so proud of me, finally besting him.” Mihali stared off across the room, exploring memories.

“Pardon me,” Tamas said. The pounding inside his head began to increase. “Why the pit are you here?”

“Oh,” Mihali said. “Many apologies. I’m the god Adom reincarnated.”

Tamas couldn’t help it. He began to chuckle, then to laugh. He slapped his knee. “Saint Adom, eh? That’s a good one. Ow.” He clutched at his head. Laughing had not been a good idea.

“Saint,” Mihali grumbled. “I give order to chaos alongside Kresimir and these people relegate me to sainthood. Oh well, can’t win them all, can you?”

Tamas managed to stifle his chuckles. “By Kresimir, you’re serious?”

“Of course,” Mihali said. He put one hand over his heart. “I swear by my mother’s squash soup.”

Tamas stood up. Was this some kind of joke? Was it Sabon? Maybe Olem. Olem was far cheekier than he should be. “Olem,” he called. There was no answer. Tamas swore under his breath. He’d told Olem to send runners, not inspect the whole city himself. “Olem!” He stuck his head out into the hallway. There was no one around.

He turned about, face-to-face with Mihali. Mihali glanced out the door. “I don’t really want to meet anyone yet, thank you,” he said. “I don’t want to cause a fuss. Meeting a god is an awfully big thing. I think.”

“What are you, an actor?” Tamas said. He poked the man in the belly, checking for a stuffed shirt. It was all fat. “A mighty good show, but I’m not in the mood.”

Mihali pointed at Tamas’s forehead. “You were hit quite hard,” he said. “I know it’s a lot to take in. Maybe you should sit down for a moment. My memories are imperfect in this body, but I will do my best.” He cleared his throat. “Did the dying Privileged warn you as they were supposed to?”

Tamas froze in the act of feeling his head wound. He grabbed Mihali by the lapels of his jacket. “Warn me about what?”

Mihali looked truly puzzled. He gave an apologetic shrug. “As I said, my memories are not what they should be.” He seemed to perk up. “They will improve over time, though. I think.”

“No more jokes now,” he said. “Who the pit are you?”

Tamas flew against the doorjamb, hitting his shoulder hard, then was tossed to the floor. For a moment he thought Mihali had hit him, but then realized it was another earthquake. His heart in his mouth, he gripped the doorframe, watching more plaster fall to the floor and praying the whole building wouldn’t come down this time. It was over in seconds.

He climbed up and dusted himself off, searching the room. The man was gone. Tamas gritted his teeth and looked out into the hallway. Olem was there, steadying himself up against the wall.

“Where the pit have you been?” Tamas asked.

“Finding runners,” Olem said. “Everything good, sir?”

Tamas eyed him suspiciously. Not even a smirk. No one could play a joke that well.

“Fine. You see someone pass by here?”

Olem glanced at him, looking back and forth down the hallway. He reached down into the rubble at his feet and fished out a still-smoking cigarette. “No, sir.”

Tamas stepped back into the command post. There was a back door to the house, he was sure, but no one could have crossed the room with the ground shaking like that.

How hard did I hit my head?

Chapter 10

Adamat stopped by his home for his pistols. Five days since he’d hired SouSmith, and the cordon around the center of the city had left no opportunities for them to sneak into the Public Archives. That had changed with the quake. The whole city was a mess. Buildings were down, roads filled with the homeless. Adamat had taken the opportunity to scout the royalist positions for a way to get to the Archives. He’d had no such luck.

There had been rumors Tamas would bring his entire army into the city and push through the barricades, but it seemed he’d turned his soldiers and mercenaries alike to helping the citizens rather than taking the barricades. Once the fighting began in earnest, it would be very dangerous in Centestershire. Then there was the rumor that Tamas’s powder mages were still hunting a rogue Privileged through the streets of Adopest. Being out and about in the city was not for the faint of heart.

Every three days, Adamat received a messenger from Tamas. Every three days, he was forced to report he’d made no headway. It was frustrating having the field marshal breathing down his neck and not being able to report any kind of success.

Adamat stooped just inside the front door to pick up the post. At least Tamas kept that running. It was hard not to admire him for that. Adamat waited for SouSmith to come inside, then pushed the door closed with his foot. SouSmith tapped his shoulder.