“They didn’t tell you SouSmith was my bodyguard, did they?” Adamat said. He smiled at the panic in Teef’s eyes. “He put one of your men’s head through a brick wall. It’ll take me hours to scrub the blood out of my front hall. Now, who hired you, Teef?”
“I swear, I didn’t want to, but—”
“It was a lot of money, I know. Must have been a king’s ransom. Tell me, how many times did I let you walk, back before you ran the Black Street Barbers? When you were just a stupid kid with talent with a blade and a whole run of bad luck? I don’t appreciate favors being paid back like that, Teef.” He pressed harder on Teef’s throat, and shook his head slightly when Teef tried to step back. The Barber quaked.
“Where the pit are they?” he screamed suddenly. “Help!”
Adamat gave Teef a long-suffering sigh. “Five squads of Tamas’s best soldiers are rounding up your boys, Teef. Razors are a pretty thing in a close fight, but not against seasoned riflemen with bayonets fixed.” Gunshots went off outside the building as if to punctuate Adamat’s words. There was a scramble of feet on the floor above them, then the thud of a body hitting the floor.
Teef clenched his fists, but kept them out in front of him. “We’d give you a run,” he said, lip curling, “if all our boys were here, we’d give you a pit-damned run.”
“Sure you would,” Adamat said. “Who hired you to kill me?”
Teef’s jaw clicked shut.
Adamat took a deep breath. He didn’t have time for this right now.
Adamat felt himself pushed gently aside. He lowered his cane as SouSmith stepped up to Teef. The boxer was at least a head taller than Teef, and twice as wide. Adamat bit his tongue. SouSmith was covered in a cold sweat, and he clenched his teeth in pain. He reached out and took one of Teef’s hands.
“I’ll break this one first,” SouSmith rumbled.
“Ricard,” Teef said. The name came out like a startled curse word.
“Not good enough,” Adamat said.
He heard a snap as SouSmith bent Teef’s finger back far enough to touch his wrist. Teef screamed in agony. One of the other Barbers stood up and reached out for Teef, only to receive SouSmith’s boot on his chest. He was kicked halfway across the floor. Adamat put out a hand, steadying SouSmith when he stumbled. SouSmith regained his balance and twisted Teef’s wrist.
The Barber sank to the floor screaming. Adamat tapped SouSmith on the shoulder with his cane. The boxer stepped back.
“Who hired you?” Adamat said.
“The Proprietor!” Teef squealed through a string of curses. “He came in here looking for your head!”
“At least make your lies plausible.” Adamat flicked his cane against Teef’s wrist. He felt a pang of pity as Teef screamed again, but forced it down. Teef’s blades came to Adamat’s home, where his wife and children slept, and tried to kill him. His family would have been killed in their beds, every one of them, if they had been there. Adamat knew how the Barbers worked. They were as cold and ruthless as Lord Vetas. Adamat raised his cane to bring it down hard.
“A priest.”
Adamat stopped. “A priest? Come now.”
“It was a priest,” Teef said. He sucked in shaky breaths, chest heaving as he talked, tears running down his face. “He came in here yesterday morning. He was crying the whole time, kept asking Kresimir for forgiveness.”
“What did he look like?” Adamat asked.
“A priest. White robes and sandals. Blond hair. A little taller than you. A mole on his right cheek. He wouldn’t look me in the eye.”
Siemone. Adamat felt his mouth go dry.
“How much?”
“Five hundred thousand krana.”
Adamat nearly dropped his cane. “What? For me?”
Teef wheezed a laugh. “Two jobs. Fifteen thousand for you.”
“And the rest?” Adamat looked around. He’d trusted it to good fortune that there’d been only a few of the Barbers around. He realized now why there weren’t more: They were at a job. The thought made his skin crawl. That made at least forty Barbers unaccounted for, maybe more.
Sabon stepped forward and dragged Teef to his feet by the front of his shirt. “Is it Tamas?” Sabon said. He shook the Barber. “You double-crossing swine! Is it?”
“By the pit, no!” Teef said. “There’s not that kind of money in the world.”
“Who is it, then?”
“A chef,” Teef said. “Some big fat man in charge of the feast. My employer wanted him cut down in public. We don’t normally do