"Anything else you need, Stefan?" said Adamant, stretching slowly. "If not, I'm going to take a break. I've done nothing but deal with paperwork all morning."
"I think we've covered everything," said Medley. "You really should develop a more positive attitude to paperwork, James. It's attention to details that wins elections."
"Perhaps. But I'll still feel better when we're out on the streets campaigning. You do your best work with paper; I do my best with people. And besides, all the time I'm sitting here I can't escape the feeling that Hardcastle is hard at work setting up traps and pitfalls for us to fall into."
"I've told you before, James; let me worry about things like that. You're fully protected; Mortice and I have seen to that."
Adamant nodded thoughtfully, not really listening. "How long have we got before my people start arriving?"
"About an hour."
"Perhaps I should polish my speech some more."
"You leave that speech alone. It doesn't need polishing. We've already rewritten it within an inch of its life, and rehearsed the damn thing till it's coming out of our ears. Just say the words, wave your arms around in the right places, and flash the big smile every second line. The speech will do the rest for you. It's a good speech, James; one of our best. It'll do the job."
Adamant laced his fingers together, and stared at them pensively for a long moment before turning his gaze to Medley. "I'm still concerned about the amount of money we're spending on bribes and; gratuities, Stefan. I can't believe it's really necessary. Hardcastle is an animal and a thug, and everyone knows it. No one in their right mind would vote for him."
"It's not that simple, James. Hardcastle's always been very good at maintaining the status quo, and that's what Conservatism is all about. They're very pleased with him. And most Conservatives will vote the way their superiors tell them to, no matter whose name is on the ticket. Hardcastle's also very strong on law and order, and violently opposed to the Trade Guilds, both of which have made him a lot of friends in the merchant classes. And there are always those who prefer the devil they know to the devil they don't. That still leaves a hell of a lot of people unaccounted for, but if we're going to persuade them to vote for us, we've got to be able to operate freely. Which means greasing the right palms."
"But seven and a half thousand ducats! I could raise a small army for not much more."
"You might have to, if I didn't approach the right people. There are sorcerers to be paid off, so they won't interfere. There are Guard officers to sweeten, to ensure we get the protection we're entitled to. Then there's donations to the Street of Gods, to the Trade Guilds; do I really need to go on? I know what I'm doing, James. You worry about the ideals, and leave the politics to me."
Adamant fixed him with a steady gaze. "If something's being done in my name I want to know about it. All about it. For example, hiring mercenaries for protection. Apparently we have thirty-seven men working for us. Is that really the best we can do? At the last election, Hardcastle had over four hundred mercenaries working for him."
"Yeah, well; mercenaries are rather scarce on the ground this year. It seems there's a major war shaping up in the Northern countries. And wars pay better than politicians. Most of those who stayed behind had long-term contracts with the Conservatives. We were lucky to get thirty-seven men."
Adamant gave Medley a hard look. "I have a strong feeling I already know the answer to this;but why weren't these thirty-seven men already signed up?"
Medley shrugged unhappily. "Nobody else would take them;"
Adamant sighed, and pushed his chair back from the desk. "That's wonderful. Just wonderful. What else can go wrong?"
Medley tugged at his collar. "Is it me, or is it getting warm in here?"
Adamant started to reply, and then stopped as his Advisor suddenly stared right past him. Adamant spun round, and found that the great study window was completely steamed over, the glass panes running with condensation. As he watched, the lines of condensation traced a ragged face in the steam, with staring eyes and a crooked smile. A thick, choking voice eased through their minds like a worm through wet mud.
<em>I know your names, and they have been written in blood on cooling flesh. I will break your bones and drink your blood, and I will see the life run out of you</em>.
The voice fell silent. The eye patches slowly widened, destroying the face, and the air was suddenly cool again.
Adamant turned his back on it. "Nasty," he said curtly. "I thought Mortise’s wards were supposed to protect us from things like that?"
"It was just an illusion," said Medley quickly. "Very low power. Probably sneaked in round the edges. Believe me, nothing dangerous can get to us here. They're just trying to shake us up."
"And doing a bloody good job of it, from the looks on your faces," said Dannielle Adamant, sweeping into the study. Adamant got to his feet and greeted his wife warmly. Medley nodded politely, and looked away. Adamant took his wife's hands in his.
"Hello, Danny; I didn't expect you back for ages."
"I had to give up on the shops, dear. The streets are simply impossible, even with those nice men you provided to make a way for me. Oh, by the way; one of them is sulking, just because he dropped a few parcels and I was rude to him. I didn't know bodyguards were so sensitive. Anyway, the crowds got too much to bear, so I came home early. The Steppes must be bursting at the seams. I've never seen so many people out in daylight before."
"I know you don't like the area," said Adamant. "But it's politically necessary for us to live in the area I intend to represent."
"Oh, I quite understand, dear. Really."
She sank into the most comfortable chair, and nodded pleasantly to Medley. Away from Adamant, they didn't really get on. It was hardly surprising, considering the only thing they had in common was James Adamant.
Dannielle came from a long-established Society family, and until she met Adamant, she'd never even thought about politics. She voted Conservative because Daddy always had. Adamant had opened her eyes to a great many injustices, but like Medley she was more interested in the man than his politics. Still, her strong competitive streak made her just as enthusiastic a campaigner as her husband. Even though most of her family were no longer talking to her.
Dannielle was just twenty-one years old, with a neat figure, a straight back, and a long neck that made her look taller. She was dressed in the very latest fashion and wore it with style, though she had strong reservations about the bustle. She looked very lovely in ankle-length midnight-blue, and she knew it. She particularly liked the way it set off her powdered white shoulders and short curly black hair.
Her face was well-known throughout Haven, having been immortalized by several major portrait painters. She had a delicate, heart-shaped face, with high cheekbones and dark eyes you could drown in. When she smiled, you knew it was for you, and you alone. James Adamant thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and he wasn't alone in that. The younger aristocracy had marked Dannielle as their own from the moment she entered High Society. After she married Adamant several young blades from among the Quality declared a vendetta against him for stealing her away from them. They tended to be rather quiet about it after Adamant killed three of them in duels.
"So," said Dannielle, smiling brightly, "how are things going, darling? Are you and Stefan finished talking business?"
"For the moment," said Adamant, sinking back into his chair. "I haven't had much time for you lately, have I, my dear? I'm sorry, Danny, but it's been a madhouse round here these last few weeks. Still, there's a good hour or so before the big speech. Better get some rest while you can, love. After the speech we have to go out into the streets to shake hands and kiss babies. Or possibly vice versa."