“Huh,” Sabon grunted. “He’d be the richest man in the world.”
“We can use him to feed all of Adro if we need to. Even during a famine. We may need him badly the longer the war lasts.”
“Parlor tricks?”
Tamas said, “I think not. Olem and I both watched him carefully. He pulled an empty pot down from its hook and set it on the stove, only to have it full of stew and boiling the next time I looked at it. He put ten loaves of bread into the oven and pulled out a hundred.”
Sabon frowned. “It could still be sorcery and tricks. He could be a powerful Privileged, hiding his true strength. There’s no telling what Privileged are capable of. Not even the royal cabals know everything that aura manipulation can do.”
“Yes, that crossed my mind as well. Rumors are spreading, however, and I fear that a cult might form. Among my ranks, no less, for Olem says he’s become very popular with the seventh brigade. They love his food.”
“What will you do?”
“I can’t just dismiss him and send him back to the asylum,” Tamas said, “not after what I’ve seen. At the very least he’s a powerful Knacked – if an odd one – and we’ll want him as our ally. As I said. The worth of food during wartime is immeasurable.”
They were interrupted by the door opening again. It was Fingers.
“Everything is ready,” the spy said. “Come with me.”
They followed him in the dark up to a small room on the second story, at the front of the house, with a good view of the street. The curtains were drawn back, but the room was completely dark so as to hide them from any prying eyes. Fingers directed them to a pair of chairs set a pace back from the window. They sat and waited.
“So this is him?” Tamas asked quietly, nodding to the house across the street before realizing they couldn’t see his movement.
“It is,” Fingers responded. “A long-term spy for the Kez. He owns a small shipping company on the Adsea. The Warden that tried to kill you: he was smuggled into the country on one of this man’s cargo ships.”
“And you’re certain he’s involved?”
“The man’s in deep. He’s a banker here in the Routs and has friends among the city council. He’s been talking a lot at the local town hall, spouting about how the 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 on the ground in the bedroom. Tamas could only guess there had been a razor to his throat – otherwise more sorcery would have followed. Fingers slowly climbed to his feet and entered the bedroom. Tamas lowered his rifle.
A few minutes passed before dark figures emerged from the other house: the Barbers and their prisoners. They crossed the street, and Tamas heard the door downstairs open. He remained in his seat, watching the street for any sign of interested neighbors or overly curious passersby, while Sabon went to check on things. There were no such signs.
Fingers returned a moment later. He held a candle in one hand. He didn’t look happy. “You didn’t warn us he was a Privileged.”
“You should have seen for yourself,” Tamas said. “If you really have the Knack, you’d have the third sight as well. Damned sloppy.”
“I can’t open it,” Fingers mumbled. “Leaves me with the runs for a week.”
“That Privileged could have left you without a head,” Tamas said.
Fingers harrumphed. “It was all show. Light and sound. Nothing real, though for a moment I thought the flesh was going to melt from my bones.”
“Fright keeps you honest.” Tamas uncocked his rifle and leaned it against the wall. “You brought over the wife,” he said.
“She woke up when he made the flash. He must have warded the room. Was awake the moment the Barbers were at his bedside.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen these fellows kill a man with his wife in his arms and take away his body, leaving her sleeping like a babe. If it wasn’t for the wards, it would have gone more smoothly.”