He heard a snort of laughter from SouSmith. “No,” Adamat said with a sigh. “This is very important. Where are they?”
She didn’t drop her glare for a good thirty seconds. “This way,” she said primly. “They’ve been taken to repair.”
He followed her into the back rooms of the library where a repair bench had been set up in one corner. The bench was well worn, the wood polished from countless hours under a librarian’s behind. Stacks of broken and old books lay all around the bench ready to have covers or spines mended. Adamat recognized the books that Rozalia had been reading, all stacked neatly near the end of the piles. Adamat sat on the bench and picked the first one up.
When it became clear he wouldn’t actually be “only a moment,” the librarian reluctantly left him to his own devices. He sped through the paragraphs, though even with a perfect memory, reading was more than just glancing at the page. It was only when the room was just beginning to receive light that wasn’t from the lantern, and he was on the fifth book, that he was satisfied. He gathered three of them into his arms and woke SouSmith.
“We’ve got to see Tamas,” Adamat said.
The Public Archives were only a twenty-minute walk from the House of Nobles. Adamat was amazed as he went through the center of the city. Rubble had been cleared from the main thoroughfares, buildings damaged by the quake had been pulled down, and preparations for rebuilding were under way. The newspaper said that the Noble Warriors of Labor had employed fifty thousand men and women to help with the reconstruction efforts.
Adamat was ushered in to see the field marshal almost immediately. When they reached the top floor, Adamat was almost bowled over at the door. A young woman with dark hair and a powder mage’s keg pin on her breast shoved past him. Her mouth was set in a hard line, her face red from yelling. Inside, the room was filled with people who looked like they wanted to be elsewhere. Adamat recognized two of Tamas’s councillors—the city reeve and the vice-chancellor. Two men and a woman were brigadiers of the Wings of Adom. A half-dozen Adran soldiers sat around a table to one side, their ranks denoting captain or above.
Field Marshal Tamas sat behind the desk, his head in his hands. He looked up when Adamat entered. He looked like he’d just been shouting at someone.
“You have a report for me?” he asked in a surprisingly calm voice.
“Yes.” He hefted the books in his arms. “And more.”
Tamas jerked his head toward the balcony. “Forgive me a moment,” he told his officers.
Outside, the sun was shining. The breeze made Adamat wish he’d worn a thicker jacket. It was windier up here than at street level.
“What do you have for me?”
Adamat set the books aside. “Kresimir’s Promise.”
“And?”
“I’ve just returned from the South Pike Mountainwatch. There I interviewed Privileged Borbador, the last remaining Privileged of Manhouch’s royal cabal.”
“Formerly of the royal cabal,” Tamas said. “He was exiled. Otherwise he’d be buried in an unmarked grave with the rest.”
Adamat grimaced. “We’ll get to that in a moment. When I mentioned the Promise, Bo laughed at me. It’s an old legend, passed down among members of the royal cabal. It says that Kresimir promised the original kings of the Nine that their progeny would rule forever. If their lines were cut off, he would return himself and take vengeance.”
“A fairy story meant to scare children,” Tamas said.
“Bo said the same thing. The legend was perpetuated by the kings in order to keep the royal cabals in line. Their fear was that as soon as Kresimir left, the Privileged would seize power themselves.”
“I don’t see how it could be true. What educated man would take that seriously?”
“Apparently the older members of the royal cabal.”
Tamas grunted at this.
“It did get me thinking,” Adamat said. “Bo made a vague reference to the notion that the kings had other ways to keep the royal cabals in line—something that would make Kresimir’s Promise unnecessary.”
This piqued Tamas’s interest. “Go on.”
Adamat picked up one of the books. He found a page he’d marked, and handed it to Tamas. When Tamas had finished reading, Adamat had another passage in a different book for him, then another in the third.
Tamas handed the last book back, his face troubled.
“A gaes,” he said.
“A compelling, of sorts. Every Royal Privileged has it. If