Fingers was nervous that Tamas thought he’d botched the job, Tamas realized. “Well done,” Tamas said. “Let me know what your interrogation finds.”
“You’re not coming?” Fingers looked surprised.
“Despite what you may have heard, I don’t have a bloodlust for Privileged,” Tamas said.
Fingers sniffed, as if disappointed. “I don’t think he’s going to say much. He looks like a tough one.”
“Tell him he loses a hand in five minutes if he doesn’t talk. Tell him the other one in ten.”
Fingers’s eyes grew wide. “That’s…”
Tamas gave him a shallow smile. “OK, so maybe I have a slight bloodlust for sorcerers. I also know how to deal with them.”
Fingers left the room. Tamas listened for screams, yet there were none. Wherever they were, they’d muffled the room well. Sabon came up after a minute.
“Fingers looks ill,” he said.
“I told him to take the hands of the Privileged if need be.”
Sabon snorted. “That’s a dangerous precedent. Is that the policy we’re going to take with noncabal Privileged in Adro?”
“Pit, no,” Tamas said. “This bastard is a Kez spy, though, and we need to work quickly.”
Fingers came into the room not long after. His face was pale in the candlelight, his hands shaking a little. “He’s given up three names already.”
Tamas felt a bit of trepidation. “Anyone on my council?”
“No. He claims he never had direct dealings with anyone higher than himself. Just coded messages and intermediaries. He did give up the name of his wife.” He paused. “Push a man too hard, Field Marshal, and he’ll give up his own mother. There’s a reason we keep a limit on torture. They’ll say anything for the pain to end.”
“It’s purely psychological,” Tamas said. “You didn’t actually cut off a hand, did you?” He smothered his disappointment at not having any clue to the traitor on his council.
“No…”
“Interrogate the wife. Find out what she knows. Hand them both over to my soldiers when you’re finished and they’ll deal with the executions. Any children?”
“One,” Fingers said. “She’s at a girls’ boarding school in Novi.”
“A neutral country,” Tamas mused. “They were prepared for this eventuality. Send a missive to her school mistress. Tell her to keep her at the school, indefinitely.”
Fingers nodded shakily.
“What word do we have about these spies?” Tamas asked. “These plants, like this one. How many do you think they are?”
Fingers chewed on his pipe stem furiously. “You won’t like it.”
“I don’t have to like it,” Tamas said. “I just need to know.”
“Hundreds,” Fingers said. “Just from our first handful of encounters we’ve gotten dozens of names – good names, too, and not just ones spouted off under torture. People who check out as Kez spies, and hundreds more with a big question with their names. The Kez are in here deep. They’ve been planning this for decades.”
Tamas closed his eyes. Not what he wanted to hear. There could be spies in his army, spies in the city and the countryside, in every building in Adopest. He already knew one of his council had betrayed him. How many more would? “Well done, Fingers,” Tamas said quietly. The spy waited a moment before he left, one eye fixed on Tamas the whole time.
“I’ll have to double what I’m paying the Barbers,” Tamas said. “They have the manpower, if I have the money.”
Sabon said, “It’s dangerous, depending too much on them.”
“A risk I have to take. These spies. They could bring down everything we’ve worked for. We’ll double patrols and give the local police more authority. Kresimir, we might have to push back plans for the new government.”
“We’ve always known it was a dodgy road we would have to walk. Just don’t forget about the people.”
“Of course not. How goes the training?” he asked Sabon. “Pray, tell me some good news.”
A weary smile crossed Sabon’s face. “Better than I expected. Andriya may be crazy, but the younger recruits like him. Vidaslav, as it turns out, has some talent for teaching. We’ve shown the ones with the least amount of talent how to find a powder mage and turned them around, sending them out recruiting. There are already more candidates than I thought possible.”
“How many?”
“Thirteen so far with a decent amount of talent. Two of those with the capabilities to rival me. Unfortunately none on your level, or Taniel’s.”
“Thirteen?” Tamas said. “You’re joking. It took me years to gather the powder cabal we have now.”
“I wouldn’t believe it unless I saw it myself,” Sabon said. “Remember, there was a powder-mage cull less than a hundred and fifty years ago in Adro. Every man, woman, and child checked for any strength with powder and executed if discovered. Nowadays people hide it if they find themselves with the affinity. At least, they did. We’re trying to work out a system to seek out powder mages directly.”
“You mean like the Privileged Dowsers?”
Sabon nodded. “The royal cabal had more potent sorcery at their call than we do. And greater numbers. I’m sure we’ll work out something, though.”
Tamas slapped him on the shoulder. “Good work, my friend. Keep me informed. I know you’re not happy about the assignment.”
“There is one other thing I should ask you.” Sabon seemed to hesitate for a moment.
“What is it?”
Sabon spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Until recently, Taniel and Vlora were meant to wed. I must ask you, did you put them together purposefully?”
“What do you mean?” Tamas asked, though he had a pretty good idea where Sabon was heading.
“Did you pair them in order for their children to be powder mages?”
Tamas considered his response. It was opportune, certainly, and his encouraging them to be together was definitely not without ulterior motive. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
“Not even the royal cabals resorted to such breeding,” Sabon said. It was obvious he disapproved.
“They didn’t? Why do you think the king provided each male sorcerer with his own harem? Benevolence? No, Sabon, they most definitely bred for Privileged. It’s not common knowledge, but the Beadle alone had over a thousand children.”
“Any Privileged?”
“One,” Tamas said. “A younger member of the royal cabal. Didn’t even know who his father was.”
Sabon’s mouth hung open in horror. “What happened to all those other children?”
“Work camps, orphanages, the Mountainwatch.” Tamas shrugged. “Some were even slaughtered as babes. The royal cabal has never been a pleasant place. I will not let my powder cabal become like that, but yes, I intended for their children to be Marked. In my own studies, powder mages inherit hereditarily far more often than Privileged.”
“How long have you been studying this?” Sabon asked.
“Since long before we met.”
Sabon regarded him with dark eyes. “Erika was a powder mage.”
Tamas fought the snarl that crept onto his face. It was a fair enough assumption on Sabon’s part. “Don’t even think it,” Tamas said. His voice came out an angry growl despite his effort. “I loved my wife. I’d give anything to have her back.” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “Taniel was not an experiment.”
“Good.” He seemed satisfied with the answer. After a brief pause, “I was hoping after your recent adventure you’d recall me.”
Tamas shook his head. “I’m sorry. I need you teaching new powder mages. I can take care of myself.”
Tamas could hear Sabon grinding his teeth. “You’re a stubborn bastard, and it’s going to get you killed,” Sabon said. “They’ll send more than one Warden next time.”
“Likely, but not yet. I’m going to get some sleep. Before you head back to your school, let someone know I want that spy beheaded and his hands sent back to Kez with his widow. I want Ipille to know his spies will start coming back in progressively smaller boxes unless he recalls them.”