but it stung like someone had squeezed a lemon into it, and it still bled.
“When they’re done with SouSmith, I’ll take my turn.” Adamat paused. “You didn’t have to come yourself.”
Tamas watched him for a few moments. “The Black Street Barbers were not supposed to take other jobs. Things will be very unpleasant for them in the morning. You’re a very lucky man. I’ve seen the Barbers operate.” Tamas looked away from Adamat and at the bloodstains on the floor. “It’s a pity none of them lived.”
“Yes,” Adamat said, “I just wasn’t thinking right, assailed in the dark by men with razors.” He grunted. “I won’t be able to shave for months.” He ran his hand over his throat, where the skin had barely been broken. There was a line of dried blood there. His hand trembled. A sudden impulse seized him to tell Tamas all: about Lord Vetas, about his family. Maybe Tamas already knew. He was not a man to be duped. Yet Tamas would not allow Adamat to continue his investigation if he thought Adamat’s integrity had been compromised. Adamat felt his face turn red.
Tamas didn’t seem to notice. “Who do you think ordered your death?” Tamas said.
It was obvious, wasn’t it? “The Black Street Barbers are loyal to Ricard Tumblar.” He jerked his head at Coel’s body, pushed to one side of the hallway. “And he was bringing Ricard wine when I met with him a month ago.”
“Fairly damning evidence,” Tamas said. “Any other reasons why Ricard would want you dead?”
“No,” Adamat said miserably. He remembered a time when Ricard had been imprisoned for his latest attempt at unionization some fifteen years prior. Adamat, already with a reputation for honesty, had given testimony on behalf of Ricard’s character that saw him released the next day.
Two years after that, when Adamat was too poor to buy his children presents for St. Adom’s Day, Ricard had shown up at his door with gifts worth half a year of Adamat’s salary. They’d leaned on each other a lot over the years. Adamat found it hard to believe such a friendship would end like this.
“I’ll send a squad to bring him in right now,” Tamas said. He turned to one of his soldiers.
“Wait,” Adamat said.
Tamas paused, turned back with a wince.
Adamat closed his eyes. “Give me a little more time. We can’t be sure it’s Ricard.”
Tamas’s eyebrows rose. “The Black Street Barbers finish a job, Inspector. This was no feint. They report to Ricard. When I’m finished with them, the Barbers will not exist.”
“They do jobs for hire,” Adamat said. It was a weak argument, even to him. “I gave Ricard a chance to kill me just last week. He didn’t take it.”
Tamas gave Adamat a level stare. “If we wait even a few more hours, word will get to him that the assassins failed and he’ll be on a boat to Kez before sunup.”
“Give me until noon,” Adamat said.
“I can’t afford that.” A hint of anger entered Tamas’s voice. “If the traitor gets away from me, I’ll lose my grip on the council, and they will turn on me.”
“Send a squad,” Adamat said. “Have them watch Ricard—by all means, arrest him if he tries to flee. It will be a sure sign of guilt. But if you make a mistake now, you’ll still have a traitor in your midst, and the Noble Warriors of Labor will turn against you.”
Tamas seemed to hesitate.
Adamat said, “Give me until noon. I think I can get to the bottom of this.”
“How?”
Adamat swallowed hard. “I’ll need to borrow one of your powder mages. I’m going to see the Black Street Barbers.”
Chapter 34
The Black Street Barbers were one of the oldest street gangs in Adopest. They claimed to be between one hundred fifty and three hundred years old, depending on who was asked and how drunk they were. They operated out of a ramshackle line of apartments only a few blocks from the Jalfast Waterworks. The local police guessed their number at around seventy-five.
Adamat watched the apartments from a safe distance down the street. From the look of things, their fortunes had been better. The building was a dilapidated ruin. It was two stories, all of poorly made mud bricks far too old to be safe. The second story contained dormitories, while the first floor looked to be a large bar. Chairs sat out in the sunshine in front of the building. A number of Barbers skulked nearby, throwing dice on the pavement while they