“That’s arrogant.”
“Welcome to the world of politics, my dear,” Bo said.
Nila stopped pacing and crossed her arms. She’d had very little sleep and she had a full day ahead, and she could feel her mood already beginning to turn for the worse. “I’m not going to play their games.”
“This is your life, now.”
The thought made her want to retch. For five days they had been interrogated by politicians and pulled into late-night meetings with Vlora, Ricard Tumblar, and a hundred men and women whose names she couldn’t possibly remember as they tried to force some kind of order onto the government in the wake of Tamas’s death.
“I should just leave,” she said.
Bo frowned. “You’re welcome to whenever you like. I would be very sad.”
She resumed her pacing. “You’d get over it.”
“I would never!”
You got over Taniel’s death awfully quick, she wanted to say. But she dared not utter it out loud. No sense in driving a wedge between them when they so desperately needed to present a unified front to the world.
“You must admit,” Bo said, “while less exciting than being shot at and chased, and battling sorcery, at least spending all day in meetings won’t make you shit your pants. In there” – he pointed to the closed door down the hall – “they won’t try to take your life. Just destroy your career.”
“The joke is on them,” Nila said. “I don’t want this career.”
“Then you’re the best woman for it. Come on, they’ve kept us waiting long enough.” Bo got up, adjusting his prosthetic and pulling on his gloves.
Nila drew a pair of gloves out of her pocket and tugged them on. She didn’t need them, but she’d found in the meetings over the last few days that people took her far more seriously when she wore them.
Bo held the door for her, and she brushed past the secretary who tried to stop her as she went into the inner chamber.
Nine sets of eyes looked up as she and Bo entered the room. Nila only recognized two of the men and three of the women, but she knew these were the newly elected regional governors of Adro. They, the new Hall of Magistrates, and First Minister Ricard Tumblar made up the three legs of the new Adran government.
The governors sat around a half-moon table, a light breakfast being cleared from before them. Governor Ratchel, a woman of about fifty with short gray hair and hands curled and bent from rheumatism, scowled.
“We’re not ready for you yet,” Ratchel said.
“Yes,” Bo said with a charming smile, “but we’re burying Field Marshal Tamas in less than six hours in a ceremony in front of millions. We don’t have time for your shit. If you want something from us, get on with it.”
A round of indignant scoffs went up from the governors. Ratchel, to her credit, merely fixed Bo with an annoyed squint. “The time has come to determine the place of the Adran Cabal within our new government,” she said. “Or to determine if the cabal even has a place among us.”
“Are you trying to tell me the Adran government would dare continue in this strife-laden modern era without a cabal?” Nila asked, feigning shock.
“It sounds,” Bo said, looking equally surprised, “like they’re trying to put us out of a job!”
“If you’ll just…,” Ratchel said.
“Well.” Nila threw her hands up. “I got my wish. Thank you for calling us in here to let us know. I think I’ll go spend the rest of the day in bed.”
“I’ll join you!” Bo said with a wink, linking his arm with hers and turning them both toward the door.
“Where the pit do you think you’re going?” Ratchel demanded.
Nila and Bo both turned back toward the governors. “If you don’t want us,” Bo said, “we’re more than happy to leave.”
Ratchel shuffled the papers in front of her angrily. “It’s not that we don’t want you,” she said. “It’s that we have yet to determine how the cabal will serve our government.”
“Ah,” Bo said. Prosthetic clicking, he went and grabbed one of the chairs from beside the wall and dragged it noisily into the center of the room, plopping himself down in it and leaning forward on his cane. Nila took up a position behind him. “The cabal,” he said, “intends on serving as it always has. But instead of the king, we will serve the best interests of the people.”
“That’s very vague.”
“I’m glad you noticed.”
“It’s too vague. The cabal must report to someone.”
“We do. We report to the army, who reports to the First Minister, whose actions are answerable to both the Hall of Magistrates and the esteemed governors before me.”
“There must be more direct oversight.”
“And you,” Nila said, “propose that we report directly to the governors’ council?”
“Yes,” Ratchel said curtly, fixing Nila with that same annoyed squint she’d used on Bo earlier.
“We’ve already gotten similar offers from both the First Minister and representatives of the Hall of Magistrates.” Bo laughed. “And we’ve decided that it is in the best interest of Adro for the cabal to remain independent. We will fight the nation’s wars. We will fight for the people’s interests. We will not be lapdogs to any single group of politicians.”
“And who decided this?” Ratchel demanded. “The two of you?”
Nila said, “The two of us, as well as the recently promoted General Vlora and the remaining half-dozen members of Tamas’s powder cabal.”
“We’ve combined, you see,” Bo said. “So if you want to have this conversation again, you can do it with a handful of war heroes in the room in addition to the last two Privileged you have left.” He slapped his hands on his thighs. “Well, out of time. Good day to you all.”
Nila helped Bo to his feet, taking satisfaction in the stunned silence that followed as the two of them left the room.
Outside the office, Nila watched men scrub at the blackened marble farther down the hallway while Bo adjusted the straps on his prosthetic, wondering if it was her fire that had caused the stains or fire from one of the Brudanian Privileged. Frankly, she was shocked that the entire building hadn’t been condemned after that fight.
“I thought that went rather well,” Bo said cheerfully.
Nila nodded. Part of her agreed. Bo was right. The spirit of this new government would be crippled from the beginning if any one branch of the legislature had the cabal at their fingertips. Going it alone, however, meant there was no one else to blame for their failures and shortcomings. Sometimes taking orders was the easiest way.
“Borbador!” a voice echoed down the long hall.
Nila turned around to find Inspector Adamat heading in their direction. The inspector wore a new suit, and his eyes had dark rings beneath them from lack of sleep. He gave Nila a half bow, then turned to Bo.
“Inspector,” Bo said. “How are you?”
“Well, thank you. Tired. Busy. But well.”
“Your family, how are they?”
Adamat covered his grimace well. “Wonderful. Thank you for asking.”
“And Jakob?” Nila asked.
“Faye considers him one of her own.”
“That item that we discussed…?” Bo said.
Adamat handed him a folded piece of paper. “You’ll find her here.”
“Very good.”
Nila glanced curiously at Bo, but his face gave away nothing. “You’re making this poor man run errands still?” she asked.
“Thank you for the consideration,” Adamat said, coughing into his hand, “but half a day’s work for fifty thousand krana seemed like an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”
“How do you feel about a more permanent position?” Bo asked.
“I have one, thank you,” Adamat said. “I’m an ambassador now.”
“Congratulations,” Nila said. “To where?”
“We haven’t quite gotten that far, actually.”
“You’ll get it sorted out, I’m sure,” Bo said. “I promise, though, that I pay better than the government.”
“Ricard is very generous with his friends.” Adamat paused, clearly cautious. “Just out of curiosity, what did you have in mind?”