Mihali turned to Tamas. “It’s too late for you to influence that battle. I will try to protect Adro from his power, but you need to clean your house.”
“The traitor,” Tamas whispered.
“If there are more interruptions like this”—he gestured around them—“if there are more distractions…”
“But I don’t know who it is,” Tamas said.
“He might,” Olem said, pointing across the square. Tamas turned to see Sabon and Adamat rushing toward them.
Chapter 37
Elections Square was in shambles. Soldiers wandered about the clutter of fallen chairs and spilled food and overturned tables as if after a battle, dolefully picking among the debris. A few townsfolk were being taken away on stretchers as Adamat arrived, and a knot of men had gathered beneath the steps of the House of Nobles.
Adamat watched Sabon reach the knot ahead of him. He slowed to a walk, casting about for signs of what had happened. Were they too late? People had fled in chaos, that much was clear. But what had happened? Adamat didn’t see any of the Barbers or any fallen soldiers. Those on the ground weren’t in uniforms of any kind, only townsfolk caught by some kind of crossfire. He saw slashed throats, blood spilled on the cobbles, even a few gunshot wounds. Families gathered around their fallen members. Women wailed.
Adamat reached the knot of soldiers and let out a sigh of relief. Tamas was there, along with the vice-chancellor and Mihali, the master chef. Tamas’s bodyguard hovered nearby, a frown on his face as he studied the chef. Lady Winceslav stood nearby, and both Ricard Tumblar and Ondraus the Reeve approached from across the square as Tamas’s troops fanned out to help the wounded.
Sabon shook his head to something Tamas asked him. They both turned expectantly to Adamat.
Tamas opened his mouth to speak.
“Charlemund,” Adamat said. “The arch-diocel.”
Rage danced across Tamas’s face. He warred with his emotions a moment before gaining his composure. Through clenched teeth he said, “How do you know?”
Adamat explained quickly about Siemone the priest and Teef’s confession. “It has to be Charlemund,” Adamat said. “The priest Teef described matched Siemone too well to be coincidence.”
“This priest,” Tamas said. “It’s not possible he’s working for someone else?”
“No.” Yes, of course it was possible. There was never absolute certainty. But it was very unlikely, and Adamat had to be firm in his decision.
Tamas’s bodyguard drew near. “Let’s tear him down,” Olem said. “We have the name. We have a witness. We can’t hesitate.”
“Agreed,” Sabon said.
Tamas closed his eyes.
“It must be done,” Sabon said.
Adamat watched the field marshal. Tamas was scared, he realized. Charlemund was the only member of his council with the power to crush him outright. Tamas could leave him be, and wait for the next assassin, or he could attack and risk the wrath of the Church. Adamat did not envy Tamas that decision.
Tamas slowly studied the faces of those around him. His gaze came to rest on the chef. Mihali gave Tamas a brief nod. There was something here that Adamat had missed. “Why did he come after you?” Tamas asked the chef.
Mihali stared at nothing for a moment, a scowl on his face. “That is cloudy,” he said. “Julene is a Predeii. She knows I inhabit a mortal body. Perhaps she warned him. Or perhaps others have entered the fray.”
Tamas waited for Ricard Tumblar and Ondraus. When they’d arrived, he said, “Charlemund has betrayed our cause. I will not suffer that. I do not know if his treachery has the blessing of the Church. I do not care. Who stands with me?”
“I,” Ricard said, stepping forward.
“I do,” Lady Winceslav said.
Prime Lektor nodded.
“Of course,” Ondraus said with a snort.
Tamas said, “Prepare the horses and carriages. Get me whatever troops we have on hand. I’m going to arrest the arch-diocel.”
“Go to him?” Sabon asked. “Why can’t we just call a meeting? When he comes, we will take him.”
“We have to force him to play his hand,” Tamas said. “His spies will tell him the attack on Mihali failed and that he has been exposed. If he flees, we confirm his guilt. If he stays, we will confront him. Either way, I will not let him escape. Get moving.”
Adamat felt himself swept aside as the soldiers rushed into action. Tamas paused beside him, leaning heavily on his cane, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Good work,” he said. “Go home. Pack up.” His voice dropped. “Get your family out of the country. If everything goes well, I will have use for you