wagons rolled out and joined a long line of breadwagons waiting to be loaded down and sent to the far corners of the city. Tamas caught sight of blue uniforms—soldiers directing the wagons. “Who gave them permission?” Tamas asked, pointing to Sabletooth.
“I’m sorry,” a great, booming voice said, “but you did.” As if from nowhere, Mihali appeared next to Tamas, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his apron. He wore a grin from ear to ear.
“I did?” Tamas asked.
“Aye,” Mihali said. Sheepishly, he added, “At least, that’s what I told them. But worry you not, they’ll be back when needed. I put one of your powder mages in command of the breadwagons. Vlora, I think her name was.”
Tamas said, “Where’s Lady Winceslav? She was supposed to be in charge of the festival.”
“Sir,” Olem said, “the Lady has gone into seclusion. Mihali has taken charge.”
Tamas had no reply. He looked around and said to Mihali, “What have you done?”
Mihali’s grin stretched even bigger, and Tamas thought he saw tears glisten in the corner of the big chef’s eyes. “I am… grateful,” he said. “I am grateful that you patched things up with the arch-diocel. I am grateful that you have finally welcomed me as one of your own. So in gratitude I have listened to the heart of the city. I’ve found what Adro needs, Field Marshal.”
“What does it need?” Tamas whispered.
“The people are hungry,” Mihali said. He lifted his hands, spreading them to encompass the city. “The people need to be fed. They need bread and wine and soup and meat. But not just that. They need friendship.” He pointed to a minor noble, some viscount decked out in his finest foppish frills, who poured a bottle of St. Adom’s Festival wine into the cups of a half-dozen street urchins.
“They need companionship,” Mihali said. “They need love and brotherhood.” He turned to Tamas. He reached out with one hand, putting a palm to Tamas’s cheek. Instinct told Tamas to step back. He found that he couldn’t.
“You gorged them on the blood of the nobility,” Mihali said gently. “They drank, but were not filled. They ate of hatred and grew hungrier.” He took a deep breath. “Your intentions were… well, not pure, but just. Justice is never enough.” He let go of Tamas and turned to the square. “I will put things right,” he said. He puffed out his chest and spread his arms. “I will feed all of Adro. It is what they need.”
Mihali stopped one of his female assistants as she passed with a basket of bread for the wagons. “Bread is not enough,” he said. “Take meat and soup and cakes. Serve the poor on silver. Let the merchants sup from wooden bowls. Take food to every part of the city. The wagons will be protected.”
“How?” Tamas managed.
“I am Adom reborn,” Mihali said. “Adro must be united. My people will go to battle nourished.”
“Adom,” Tamas scoffed. He found he could put no strength behind it.
A man in a worker’s apron approached Mihali. “Sir,” he said slowly. Mihali turned. “Ricard Tumblar sent us over. He told us to help with whatever you need.”
“ ‘Us’?” Mihali asked.
The worker gestured. Behind him, other workers stretched out across the square, intermingled with the tables and the line, their aprons dirty with soot and burns and flour and blood. It looked as if the workers from every dock-front factory and riverside mill were there. The worker smiled. “He shut down the factories, sir. But we’ll still get paid as long as we come help.”
“The Noble Warriors of Labor, eh?” Mihali asked.
The man nodded. “All of us, sir.”
Mihali’s eyes grew wide. “Excellent! Come, I’ll show you where to help.”
Mihali wandered off, giving orders here, offering advice there. Tamas watched him go. “A remarkable man,” he said. “Mad or not.”
Nila didn’t like Mihali’s cooking.
It was beginning to destroy her resolve. Every day she could feel her hatred slipping. Every day she paid just a little less attention to Field Marshal Tamas’s habits, watched just a little less carefully for her chance to end his bloody campaign. She didn’t know how she knew, but it was the food that was doing it.
She tried getting her bread from Bakerstown. It just didn’t taste the same, and Mihali was giving away food for free in Elections Square.
Nila couldn’t wait any longer. It had to be done tonight. Olem was on duty, but that couldn’t be helped. She liked him, she really did. He’d been kinder to her