Murder at the Kinnen Hotel (9 page)

They passed the card and billiards tables in the well-lit gaming hall with its vaulted ceilings, where Adamat recognized a handful of faces that he’d only ever seen in the papers. Field Marshal Beravich and two of his generals occupied a billiards table while the Novi ambassador, a woman named Michala, gambled with the king’s chamberlain.

Adamat proceeded through them all as if in a dream. They entered the next room, where the ceilings and the light were both lower, and the smell of food made Adamat’s stomach rumble. The tables had Adran blue cloths and the booths were of fine, crimson-dyed leather.

At one of the tables, neither the best nor the worst of them, sat Lord Walis Kemptin. His head was back against the leather of the booth, the remnants of a meal being cleaned away by a waiter. The acrid smell of mala hung in the air above him.

The doorman cleared his throat. “My Lord Walis,” he said, “Attaché White to see you.”

Walis’ eyelids opened a fraction. Mala smoke curled out through his nose. “White?” he asked as the doorman excused himself. “I thought that was the woman. Your partner.”

“It is,” Adamat said. “It was necessary to borrow one of her cards to have access to this club. May I sit?”

Walis pulled himself up and seemed to try and shake the mala haze. “I don’t see why not. I can always call to have you removed at a moment’s notice.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” Adamat said, setting White’s card face up on the table.

“You already admitted the card does not belong to you.”

“But I’m using it with permission, my lord. Or did you think me daft enough to steal one from her pocket?” A waiter passed by with a tray containing cigars and tobacco and mala pipes. Adamat took a tobacco pipe, found it already packed, and took a light from the waiter before letting him move on.

Sweat rolled down Adamat’s sides and under his arms. It took every bit of his will to keep from trembling. He was an imposter here and he knew it. But he had to play the part to end this entire debacle tonight.

“You obviously know what this is,” Adamat said, tapping the card with one finger. “Your cousin the commissioner would have told you of White’s interest in the powder mage you hired.”

“I can’t imagine what you … “ Walis started.

“Please,” Adamat said, cutting him off gently with a raised hand. “Don’t patronize me, my lord. I wouldn’t be here if we didn’t already have a confession from another of your cousins you may remember.” Adamat produced a paper from his pocket and smoothed it on the table before pushing it over to Walis. “A somewhat distant cousin, I fear, but a relative nonetheless. She confessed to myself and Attaché White that you personally hired her to kill the Viscount Brezé.”

Adamat held up his hand to forestall Walis’s inevitable protest and continued. “This very moment, Attaché White and the newly promoted Commissioner Hewi are arresting your cousin Aleksandre under the charges of treason, theft from the crown, conspiracy against the royal cabal, and half a dozen other bits and pieces that they’ve decided to pin him with. I think it’s unnecessary, but I’m told the cabal likes to be very thorough.”

“If any of this was true,” Walis said, “The new commissioner and Attaché White would be here right now. Not some damned constable.”

“I think,” Adamat said with a confidence he didn’t feel, “You underestimate the gravity of removing the commissioner of the Adran Police. However, I understand your doubt. I’m not here to arrest you. A politician and businessman such as yourself may have guessed right now that we have various … options.”

Walis lifted a finger and a moment later a waiter appeared at his side. “Novi vodka.”

“For you, sir?” the waiter asked Adamat.

Adamat shook his head. Once the waiter had gone, he continued. “There are two paths available to us. The first is that we, the police, pull on this string, beginning with Genetrie Kemptin, and unravel it over the course of the next several years. The Kemptin family will be prosecuted to the full extent of Adran law—with the weight of the Adran Cabal behind it. All of your secrets will be laid bare. Everything put out for the public and your enemies to see.”

“We’ll have the powder mage within days,” he went on. “The cabal has dispatched a number of their Privileged to find him.” A lie, but Walis didn’t need to know that. “And once they have him, they will ring a confession from him. And trust me, they are far more displeased with your use of a powder mage assassin than with your murder of the Viscount Brezé or a businessman’s mistress.”

“What is my second option?” Walis licked his fingertips and brushed a bit of hair from his forehead. His hand trembled.

“That you sign this piece of paper,” Adamat produced a paper from his shirt pocket and slid it up next to the confession. “And in return you will receive a pardon from the king for whatever … wrongdoings … you have been involved with through this whole affair. Aleksandre and a few other members of your family will be sacrificed but you, my lord, will remain safe.”

Walis ran his eyes over the paper which Adamat had given him. He paused, picked it up, and read it again. “Do you know what this says?”

“I was not privy,” Adamat said. He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to know. Demands, most likely. A tithe to the Adran cabal. Concession of property to the crown. And, Adamat did know, a promise to point the finger at Aleksandre for this whole affair, including Melany’s murder.

Walis read the paper a third time, then a fourth, very slowly. Adamat’s shirt soaked completely now. He could feel the perspiration beading on his forehead and hoped Walis was too high on mala to notice.

There would be no investigation if Walis said no, of course. Aleksandre was already under arrest, and the conspiracy would still be pinned on him, but the cabal had no interest in investigating one of the noble families. Adamat needed Walis to sign that paper, or he would get away with this whole affair without even a slap on the wrist.

“Personally,” Adamat said as nonchalantly as possible, “I would rather you take the first option, my lord. You and your family tried to destroy my life. I would relish the opportunity to do the same to yours.”

Walis’ eyes tightened. He leaned forward, examining Adamat over the paper in his hand, and then leaned back again. What was he thinking? Would he call Adamat’s bluff?

Walis stared at the paper in his hand for nearly five minutes. Adamat felt the seconds ticking by, willing him to make a decision.

Finally, excruciatingly, Walis reached for his pocket. He produced a pen and smoothed the paper out on the table with one hand and scrawled his signature on the bottom. He slid the paper over to Adamat. “My pardon?” he asked.

“First,” Adamat said, “we need the location of your powder mage.”

The fight, the newspaper said, was quick and brutal.

Four members of the Adran Royal Cabal and an entire company of their personal guards had descended on a block of tenements in the docklands of Adopest to arrest the powder mage. He managed to kill three guardsmen and wound a Privileged before he himself was killed in the melee. An entire block burned down from the sorcery unleashed, and two dozen civilians were dead.

There was no mention at all of Adamat’s involvement in finding the powder mage, and the newspaper article announcing the disgrace of Commissioner Aleksandre and his involvement in the murder of the mistress of a local businessman was on an entirely different page.

Adamat lowered his paper and picked up his coffee, blowing gently to dispel some of the heat. “Do these horrid clashes of violence and conspiracy always claim innocent lives?” he asked.

“Not always,” White said. She sat across from him, having refused coffee, and watched the other people in the cafe as they broke their morning fast. “Usually,” she admitted a moment later. “I’ve seen better results. And far worse.”

“The newspaper,” Adamat said, “Doesn’t even mention his name. Do you know what it was?”

White shook her head. “Walis didn’t even know. Just called him the powder mage.” Her eyes, Adamat noticed, seemed to smile again, brighter than they had before. The rest of her face remained as unmoved as marble.

“Is this thing over?” Adamat asked. “For certain?”

“It is,” White said. “The powder mage has been eliminated and I’ve passed on the rest of this business with Aleksandre and the Kemptin family along to underlings.”

“Genetrie was beheaded this morning,” Adamat said, noting the small announcement at the bottom of page four of the newspaper. “You’ll take care of her son?”

“I’m not a wet nurse.” White paused, then the very corners of her cheeks lifted a fraction of an inch. It took Adamat several moments to realize it was a joke. Was that … a smile? “Another thing I’ve passed on to subordinates,” she went on. “But yes. I keep my word.”

Adamat breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” White looked around, as if seeking a waiter, then seemed to think better of it. “Are you sure you don’t want more out of this? You served the cabal well. We have a reputation as vengeful and violent, but we also reward those who deserve it.”

“I was doing my civic duty,” Adamat said, ducking his head.

“I could give you a job. Something that suits your talents. It pays much better than working for the police.”

“I …” Adamat paused then laughed at himself for even considering it for the slightest moment.

“Is something funny?”

“No, I’m sorry. I have a wife and we’re hoping to have children soon. I hope I don’t offend when I say that I’d rather not work for the cabal.”
And I don’t want to be beholden to them, either. Rewards always come with strings attached
.

“I think I understand.” White stood and brushed off the front of her jacket. “I’ve made sure that Walis does not come after you or your family in reprisal. I realize that your talent prevents you from following my advice, but I suggest that you forget this entire affair.”

“I would very much like to,” Adamat said. “And thank you.”

White gazed through the window, as if examining something far away. “Farewell Detective Adamat. I have met very few good men. I think that you are one of them. Do nothing to change that.”

Epilogue

The memorial service took place in the middle of the week at one of the small Kresim chapels just outside the old city walls north of Adopest. The weather as cold and blustery, but the sun shone through the chapel’s stained-glass windows and warmed the pews and altar. Upon the latter sat an urn decorated in gold and silver leaf.

Adamat entered the chapel, careful not to let the door slam behind him, and turned to find the chapel empty except for one lone figure sitting on the foremost pew with head bowed. He felt his heart fall. Had no one come? He made his way up the rows and up to the front, where he sat down next to Ricard Tumblar.

They sat in silence for several moments.
Was Ricard praying?
Adamat wondered. That was uncharacteristic of him.

Finally, Ricard raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot, but face lined with grief, the front of his suit rumpled. He cleared his throat, looked over his shoulder at the empty chapel, and cleared it again.

Adamat slipped him a thin leather case. “Your cheque book,” he said. “Aleksandre admitted to having a forger duplicate your signature. Am I late?”

“What? Oh, no. Melany’s family is all in Deliv. I’m the only one in this damned city who knew her.”

“I’m sorry, Ricard.”

Ricard dragged one sleeve across his nose. “If you thought I had commitment issues before, it’s only going to get worse from here.” He snorted, a half-laugh half-sob, and took a moment to regain his composure. He shook his head. “Adamat, I’m sorry about that thing with Cora.”

Adamat grimaced. This was neither the time nor the place. “My poor cousin, Ricard. You broke her heart.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“But you should have expected it. She was wounded so deeply she left the country. She won’t even return my letters, probably because I’m the one who introduced the two of you.”

“I’ll try to make it up to her. To you.”

“Honestly, you might do more bad than good. Let it go,” Adamat said. “I’ll try to do the same.”

They sat in an awkward silence for several minutes before Ricard wiped his eyes once more and sat up straight. “I heard about your promotion. To full detective. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Adamat said, allowing himself a small smile. “Though I’d rather it not come about as a result of such unfortunate circumstances.” He gestured at the urn on the altar.

“It didn’t,” Ricard said firmly. “It came about because you brought justice to someone who otherwise would have had none. And saved my neck from the blade besides. I was curious about one thing, if you’re allowed to talk about it.”

“Go ahead.”

“There’s a rumor going around that you gave Commissioner Hewi her promotion. How did that get started?”

Adamat shook his head. “I did no such thing. I only delivered her the news. The Iron King himself approved the appointment.”

“But you had something to do with it, didn’t you?”

“I … “ Adamat hesitated, wondering what exactly he was allowed to say. “I convinced certain parties that Hewi was politically unambitious, which is true, and easily controlled, which may be less than true, and that she could be replaced easily. Which I doubt will happen any time soon. She seemed like the best woman for the job.”

“You’ve never ceased to amaze me, Adamat.”

“And you, me.” Adamat shifted in his seat, uncomfortable talking about the case any further. “You’ll send the ashes to Melany’s family?” he asked.

“I will. Along with some gifts. Money and the like. I don’t care if it comes across as tacky.” He let out a long sigh, and Adamat wondered if perhaps Ricard had really loved this woman as deeply as he claimed. Adamat didn’t doubt the sincerity of the grief; Ricard could be an emotional man.

Adamat reached over to squeeze Ricard’s shoulder. “I heard about the vote.”

“We wouldn’t have won,” Ricard said. “Even with Viscount Brezé’s support. I knew that deep down.”

“You came close,” Adamat said, though “close” might be a generosity. They were dozens of votes short of passing the legislation that would legalize small unions.

“Closer than before.” Ricard turned to Adamat and nodded firmly. “I’m going to keep trying. Even if they jail me and try to disgrace me. I’m going to do it, Adamat.”

“Form a union?”

“More than that. Even if it costs me everything to do it, I’m going to drag Adro kicking and screaming into the modern era.
”