Despite what he said, SouSmith looked better. Just five weeks ago he’d been shot twice and stabbed, and had barely made it through alive. It would have been a long recovery without Ricard’s largesse.
“Go to that café over there,” Adamat said, “and get breakfast. Take a seat facing that store there.” He indicated the tailor’s shop. “I’m going in to make some inquiries.”
As much as he wanted SouSmith to come inside the tailor shop with him in case it was merely a front for Vetas and Vetas had men stationed inside, SouSmith was too memorable of a man, and there was no disguising a boxer of his size. No sense in bringing him in until needed.
Adamat crossed the street and entered the shop. A quick perusal told him that this tailor specialized in high-end jackets. Mannequins were placed around the edges of the room, wearing everything from smoking and evening jackets to the kind a duke might wear to a ball. The shop smelled strongly of peppermint oil that the owner used to mask the scent of stored cloth.
“May I help you?”
The tailor came in from the back room. He was a dark-skinned Deliv; a small man with long, steady fingers. He wore a pair of thin-rimmed spectacles and a vest with protruding lapels stuck through with a variety of needles and pins.
“Haime?” Adamat said, affecting an accent common in Adopest’s southern suburbs.
“I am he,” the tailor said with a short bow. “Jackets and suits. May I take your measurements for a new jacket today?”
“I haven’t come in search of clothing,” Adamat said. He looked down the end of his nose and made a show of perusing the mannequins. “At least, not today.”
Haime clasped his hands behind his back. “Some other business?”
Adamat pulled a piece of paper from his breast pocket and unfolded it. “My employers are looking to purchase a piece of property,” he said. “Records show that you are the owner.”
Haime seemed genuinely puzzled. “I don’t own any property.”
“You did not buy a warehouse on Donavi Street in the factory district two years ago?”
“No, I…” Haime suddenly stopped and tapped his chin with one finger. “I did. That’s right. One of my clients asked me to make a purchase and then transfer the title into his name. He wanted to keep the affair quiet. Something about not wanting the newspapers getting wind of his employer’s purchases.”
Adamat felt his heart jump. There were very few organizations that could make the news with a simple purchase of property. One of them was the Brudania-Gurla Trading Company. And their head was Lord Claremonte, Vetas’s employer.
“Could I get his name, please?” Adamat said. He pulled a fountain pen from his pocket and poised it above his piece of paper.
Haime gave him an apologetic look. “I’m very sorry, but my client requested I keep that information in confidence.”
“My employer would very much like to purchase that building,” Adamat said. “I’m sure that something could be arranged…” He removed a checkbook from his pocket.
“No, no,” Haime said. “I’m sorry, it’s not a matter of money. I’m a man of my word.”
Adamat gave a long-suffering sigh. “I’m sure.” He put away the checkbook and pen and gathered his hat and cane. He paused, making a show of looking around the mannequins once more with an admiring eye. His gaze stopped on one and he almost choked.
It was the same jacket Lord Vetas had been wearing the last time they spoke.
“I see you’ve a fine eye,” Haime said, slipping over toward the mannequin. “This jacket is discerning and subtle. It would look fantastic on you.”
Adamat felt his heart begin to beat faster. Vetas must have been the same client to purchase that warehouse and the jacket. If Haime knew that he knew, the tailor might become suspicious.
“No, I don’t think it’s my style.”
“Nonsense,” Haime said. “The jacket has a slimming effect and draws the eyes up to your face. I could make an entire suit to match.”
Adamat pretended to think on this for several moments. The jacket was obviously tailored. He could see a slight discoloration at the waist, where a rip had been patched, and he realized that this might be the actual jacket Lord Vetas had been wearing. “This looks like the right size. Can you tailor it for me now?”
“Unfortunately, no. This particular jacket belongs to someone. He’s picking it up in a few days. I could have a new one made up for you in…” He paused to think. “A week. Just let me take your measurements.”
Adamat patted his pockets. “I seem to have left my own checks at home. I only have my employers’. I will not be able to make a payment today.”
“You’re obviously a gentleman, sir,” Haime said. “You may just give me your address.”
Adamat didn’t have an address to give to him. He didn’t want to risk any word of this reaching Vetas. That risk was already high, as Haime might mention the attempted purchase to Vetas just as a matter of course. Adamat withdrew his pocket watch. “I have an appointment in less than an hour,” he said. “I must make it. Let me come back early next week for measurements.”
Haime’s face fell. A good salesman never let a mark go out the door without a commitment to buy. “If that works best for you.”
“It does,” Adamat said. “I’ll be back, don’t worry.”
Adamat hurried across the street and found SouSmith waiting at the café.
“Any sign of Vetas or any of his eyes?”
SouSmith shook his head.
“Let’s go,” Adamat said.
“Breakfast still coming.”
Adamat checked to make sure the tailor wasn’t watching him through the window of his shop before taking a seat next to SouSmith. “The tailor isn’t involved directly,” Adamat said. “He bought and sold the property for one of his clients: I think it’s Vetas. I saw the same jacket Vetas was wearing the last time I saw him, all the way down to the tailoring.”
“You sure?”
“I don’t forget, remember?” Adamat tapped the side of his head. “I could tell that the lines of that jacket matched perfectly. Unfortunately, the tailor wouldn’t give me Vetas’s name or address.”
“Dead end.”
“No. Vetas – or, more likely, one of his men – is coming to pick up that jacket in the next few days. It was being mended. I’m going to stake out the tailor and watch for who picks up the jacket. I’ll follow them and find out where Vetas lives.”
“Where you want me?” SouSmith’s breakfast arrived: four poached eggs with Novi goat cheese. He grinned as it was set in front of him and set about eating quickly.
“Nowhere,” Adamat said. “I can’t risk you being recognized. I can wear a disguise. You, however, can’t.”
SouSmith sniffed. Through a mouthful of egg, he said, “Can’t leave you to follow him alone.”
Adamat knew the risks. If Vetas or his man was good enough to mark Adamat, he could very well be a dead man. But SouSmith was a liability in this kind of work. He was easily recognized, and even if he wasn’t, his size made him less than ideal for following someone.
“I’ll do it alone,” Adamat said.
Tamas lay in the tall grass of a knoll beneath the Adran Mountains and watched through his looking glass as the Kez army prepared to assault Budwiel.
Morning dew soaked his combat uniform. The cloud cover was low on this day and a rolling fog clung to plains outside of Budwiel. The air was heavy with moisture. He knew it would foul guns on both sides, but when Tamas looked toward Budwiel, he noted a ray of sunshine peeking through the clouds to bathe the city and clear the air.
No doubt Mihali’s indirect participation in the battle.
And they would need every bit of his help. Tamas swung his looking glass back toward the Kez. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of their army. Rank upon rank of tan uniforms with green trim stretched for what seemed like forever. Long experience let him count their ranks with only a cursory glance.
One hundred and twenty thousand at least. And that was just their infantry.
They would send their recruits first to act as so much cannon fodder in order to test Budwiel’s defenses. Five, maybe ten thousand of them would pour out across the fields, tramping down the wet grass and receiving the full brunt of grapeshot. They’d be followed quickly by the more experienced men, who’d form a strong backbone to the main assault and push the recruits on hard in front of them, even at the tip of their bayonets. Sorcery-warped Wardens would accompany the front of the second wave.