Promise of Blood - By Brian McClellan Page 0,95

powder mages are going to get us all killed and we should pull down your council and surrender to the Kez.”

“That’s awfully bold,” Tamas said.

Fingers said, “Yes, and I would have thought too bold for a spy, if we hadn’t been watching him since he immigrated to the country fifteen years ago. There’s no doubt that he was involved getting the Warden here.”

“I want to make something clear,” Tamas said, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. “I don’t want a wholesale slaughter of Adro citizens. I don’t want a police state. We’re only doing this to rid ourselves of Kez spies, so unless you have evidence that a dissenter is indeed a spy, simply pass him on to the local precinct that he needs to be watched. I’m not ready to wage war on our own people and the Kez.”

There was a moment of silence. “Understood.”

“Good. Is everything working out?” Tamas said. “Working with the Barbers? I must admit I have reservations about using them.”

“They’re a wonder,” Fingers said. “I’ve not seen anything like it, even among our own killers. I’m surprised we’ve never used them before.”

“That good?” Sabon asked.

“That thorough,” Fingers said. “They kill quietly and they clean up their messes to perfection. Not a single drop of blood left behind, and the bodies just gone. It’s flawless.”

Tamas remembered the barricades and the bodies of nobles and royalist leaders lying in their blood-soaked beds, throats slit wide. “So they have some restraint, then?”

Fingers gave a low chuckle. “Yes, well, when they want the bodies found, it’s quite messy. It keeps their street reputations intact and keeps the larger gangs from messing with them. We asked them to do it quietly, though, and I’ll be damned, they are.” There was a wince in his voice that Tamas barely caught.

“And the problem?” Tamas said.

“Sometimes no sign at all is worse than a body. It starts rumors when there’s not a book out of place in the whole house and a family was there yesterday and gone tomorrow. Bad kinds of rumors, like ghosts and demons and gods.”

Tamas thought of South Pike Mountain, smoking in the distance, and of Adamat’s explanation of Kresimir’s Promise and of Mihali’s cryptic warnings. Rubbish. The common folk would believe anything. “I don’t want any more of these rumors. See if you can make things a little more organic.”

“We’ll do our best.”

Tamas caught sight of a dark shape in the street. He tapped Sabon and guided his gaze in that direction. Several more shapes joined the first.

“I’ll be back in a while,” Fingers said. The spy left the room without a sound, and a moment later joined the dark shapes in the street. Tamas thought he could make out the familiar apron uniforms of barbers. He shook his head.

“I think I’m going to shave myself from now on,” he said quietly.

“You and me alike,” Sabon said.

“The local police?” Tamas asked.

“They’ve been warned off tonight. They’ll leave us be, because they know they’ll have one less problem to deal with in the morning.”

Tamas opened his third eye. In that vision, Fingers was a dim glow of color, standing out even through the walls of the house. He followed Fingers as he made his way into the front door of the house across the street and then up the stairs to the bedrooms.

“Wait,” Tamas said. “That other spy, the one they’re going after. He’s a sorcerer. Stronger than a Knacked. A Privileged.”

Sabon was silent for a moment. “Shit. Here, watch the windows.” He moved from his chair, feeling around for a moment, then pushed a rifle into Tamas’s hands.

Tamas adjusted the rifle by feel alone. “Loaded and primed?”

“Yes,” Sabon said.

“It’ll make a hell of a racket,” Tamas said. “There won’t be any question of what happened here, not for anyone on these streets.”

“Just in case,” Sabon said.

Tamas sighted down his rifle, watching the windows of the front bedroom. He could see the glow of the Kez Privileged, lying there in bed, and he could sense Fingers standing in the door to the room. He thought he caught a glimpse of shadows moving in the darkness.

Tamas ducked instinctively as a flash of sorcery lit up the window in his sights. The flash was followed by a muffled thump, barely audible, and then there was silence. Tamas peered out the window, rifle at the ready. He could see the Knacked and the Privileged by their glows. Fingers was in the staircase, flat on his belly, while the Kez Privileged knelt

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