Close behind her followed a big, bald man in a one-piece robe: the Proprietor’s eunuch. Finally, Prime Lektor – Vice-Chancellor of Adopest University – came in behind them. He was easily as old as the reeve and weighed ten stone more. He staggered over to a chair.
All six of Tamas’s coconspirators had arrived: five men and a woman who had helped him plan Manhouch’s downfall and who would now determine the future of Adro.
“By the pit, Tamas,” the vice-chancellor said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. A purple birthmark spidered across the lower left side of his face, touching his lips and one eye. He wore a beard, but no hair would grow on the birthmark, giving the old scholar a particularly barbaric appearance. “You had to choose the top floor? You’re going to regret it in a few years when your bones start to weary.”
“Lady,” Tamas said, nodding to Lady Winceslav, then to the vice-chancellor and to the eunuch. “Prime. Eunuch. Thank you for coming.”
The eunuch slid over to the corner and glanced out a window. He moved like an eel and smelled like southern spices, but the Proprietor, the strongest figure in Adopest’s criminal element, never attended these meetings personally – he sent his nameless lieutenant instead. “We had little choice,” the eunuch said. His voice was soft, like a child speaking in church. “You moved up the timeline.”
“There’s more,” Charlemund said. His voice thundered unnecessarily. “He’s trying to claim the property we’ve confiscated from the nobility.”
Tamas held his hands up to calm a sudden clamor of voices. He glared at the arch-diocel. “We’re not here to carve up Adro,” he snapped. “We’re here to give it back to the people. The king’s treasury is empty. If we’re to keep any semblance of control over the nation in the next few years, we desperately need the money. Your mercenaries will have land, Lady, and Ricard your union will have its grants. Everyone will get a cut.”
“Fifteen percent for the Church,” the arch-diocel demanded quietly, studying his nails.
“Go to the pit,” Ricard snapped.
“I’ll send you there,” the arch-diocel said, stepping toward Ricard. A hand went into his robes. Ricard scrambled backward.
“Charlemund!” Tamas said.
The arch-diocel stopped, turned to Tamas. “The Church will collect its normal fifteen-percent tithe. This was the price of our support.”
“The price?” Tamas said. “I thought this coup was sanctioned by the Church because Manhouch was letting his people starve. Or was it because Manhouch was taxing the Church in order to pay for his palace of concubines? I don’t remember which. The Church will get five percent and be happy with it.”
The arch-diocel took a step toward Tamas. “How dare you.”
Tamas matched the step. His hand twitched toward the small sword at his hip. “Call me out,” Tamas said. “I’ll make it interesting and not choose pistols.”
The arch-diocel hesitated. A smirk stirred at the corner of his lips. “If I were to remove you, this nation would collapse into chaos and anarchy,” he said. “My first charge is toward my God. My second charge is to my country. I will speak to my fellow arch-diocels and see what I can do.” He removed his hands from the robe, spreading them in a gesture of peace.
Tamas gave Charlemund an insincere smile. “Thank you.” He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.
The eunuch spoke up. “If there isn’t any money in the king’s treasury, what has Manhouch been spending?”
“The Church’s money,” the arch-diocel grunted.
“Some of it,” Ondraus corrected. “He’s taken out enormous amounts of credit with a number of banks all across the Nine. The crown owes the Kez government nearly a hundred million krana.”
Ricard gave a low whistle.
Tamas turned to the reeve. “The crown is about to drop into a basket. Once you’ve started to dissolve the nobility’s property, begin to pay back the domestic banks. If there’s any money to be found, pay off our allies next.”
“It’s mostly to Kez,” Ondraus said with a shrug.
“Good. Let them rot.”
He turned at the sound of laughter. The eunuch was still by the window. He’d fetched himself a glass of chilled water and was now staring into the bottom. “Your personal vendetta against the Kez is going to see us all on the wrong side of a headsman’s blade,” the eunuch said.
“It’s not personal,” Tamas snapped. But he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. They all knew about his wife. All the Nine knew. That didn’t stop him from denying it. “That debt explains why Manhouch was so eager to sign over Adro to the Kez.” He paused. “Have any of you actually read the Accords?”
“They were meant to curtail the unions,” Ricard said.
“And outlaw the Wings of Adom,” Lady Winceslav added.
“Have any of you read the parts of the Accords that didn’t have something to do directly with yourselves?”
Sitting toward the back of the room, the vice-chancellor raised his hand. Everyone else avoided Tamas’s gaze.
“They would have destroyed Adro as we know it,” Tamas said. “We would have been slaves to the Kez in all but name. The people are starving, the nation suffers under Manhouch and would suffer more under the Kez. That is why we send Manhouch to the guillotine.” Not because the Kez did the same to Tamas’s wife and Manhouch let it happen without protestation.
“Are you going to say anything?” Lady Winceslav spoke up suddenly.
“To whom?” Tamas said.
“To the crowd. You need to speak to the people. Their monarch is about to be beheaded. They will be leaderless. They need to know they have someone to direct them, to get them through the times ahead.”
Through the almost inevitable war with Kez, she meant. “No,” Tamas said. “I’ll say nothing today. Besides, I’m not stepping in for the king. The six of you are. I’m here to protect the country and keep the peace while you create a government with the interests of the people in mind.”
“It would be wise to say something,” the vice-chancellor said, his birthmark shifting strangely as he spoke. “To keep the peace.”
Tamas took them all in with his gaze. “The people want blood right now, not words. They’ve wanted it for years. I’ve felt it. You’ve felt it. That’s why we came together to pull Manhouch from his throne. I’m going to give them blood. A lot of it. So much it will sicken them, choke them. Then my soldiers will funnel them toward the Samalian District, where they can loot the nobility’s houses and rape their daughters and kill their younger sons. I intend to let them choke on their madness. In two days’ time I will stifle the riots. Proclamations will be made. My soldiers will put down the rioters with one hand and give food and clothing to the poor with the other, and I will restore order.”
The six members of his council stared back at him silently. Lady Winceslav had paled, and Ricard joined the eunuch in a study of the bottom of his glass. Tamas would let them think on that. Let them consider what he would do to protect his country, to see that justice is done and order restored.
“You are a dangerous man,” the arch-diocel observed.
“You speak as if you can control a mob,” the eunuch said. There was disdain in his voice.
“Mobs can’t be controlled,” Tamas said. “But they can be unleashed. I’m willing to accept the consequences. If you must object, then do so now, but I tell you: these people need blood.”
The rest of them remained silent. After a few moments Tamas continued. “We’ve many other things to discuss.”
Tamas took a seat in the corner and did more watching than talking as his coconspirators argued over the details of the coming months. Governors had to be appointed, laws rewritten, workers paid. They had a long, hard road ahead of them. He gave a low whistle, summoning the dogs, then rested a hand on each of their heads as he listened.