The Tainted Cup, page 24
Ana’s face slowly swiveled to me, her mouth open in outrage. “Did you catch a fucking blow to the head during your murderous scuffle, boy? If your father’s chest suddenly explodes with greenery, you get up and run screaming for help! What you don’t do is sit in total silence—unless, of course, you’re hoping nobody notices your father’s dead, because if they do, then people are going to start wondering why he died the exact same way as this other dumb bastard the next canton over! No doubt she hoped we’d never track the poisoning to her home. But then we did, and someone on the investigation must have just happened to mention to a friend, ‘Fucking hell, chum, d’you know I almost died at this Haza party?’ Then word got back to the Hazas, and that tipped them off that we knew the poisoning had taken place in their damned house. And if you can’t evade an investigation, you instead work to influence it. And here we are. The noble, famous gentryclan of the Hazas comes clean—but only to muddy the waters.”
“What happens now, ma’am?” I asked.
“No idea. None at fucking all. But I do feel somewhat satisfied. After all, I predicted another murder had occurred before we came here. Don’t you recall, engraver?”
My eyes fluttered. I recalled that first night here in Talagray, when Ana had said—What if they’ve murdered someone besides Engineers, so no one ever noticed?
“Yes, but…did you predict the murder of a Haza, ma’am?” I said.
“Oh, hell no. I figured it was likely that the poisoner had killed someone that would connect the dead Engineers to Commander Blas. But I didn’t think it would be one of the prime sons of the goddamned Haza clan!”
I shot her a glare. “Why not? You knew where the poisoning had taken place, after all. You knew from the start.”
“Ohh,” she said. “So. You’ve noticed.”
“I have, ma’am.”
She sighed and flopped down on the floor. “I wouldn’t say I knew where the Engineers had been poisoned, Din. I would say I simply possessed a high degree of certainty that this would all eventually lead back to the Hazas. If you want to figure out where everyone got fleas, look no further than the biggest pack of wild cats. Even if they do prowl behind high walls and fancy gates.”
I cocked my head, listening. I could hear a little discussion in the chambers beyond. It sounded like Vashta had negotiated things into a better position.
“What do you know about Kaygi Haza, ma’am?” I asked.
“Much,” she said. “Maybe too much. I know he was third in line to inherit the whole of the clan. A prime son of the lineage. Besides that, there is—was?—little that made him different from the rest of his greasy brood. He was wealthy, conniving, ambitious, and influential. And old. Like a lot of the Hazas, he had access to some very pricey vitality suffusions—I think the man must have been about a hundred and thirty when he died. Even Fayazi’s partaken, I believe. She should be about sixty, by my reckoning.”
“That girl in there is sixty years old?”
“Girl…Ha! I take it you were smitten by her. Not surprising. Every bit of the woman is altered, and rumor has it some Hazas sport pheromonal grafts—not as advanced as a court plaizaier’s, of course, but just below the legal threshold. The scent of the Hazas entrances the minds of those close by, ever so slightly. When Fayazi walks into a room you can practically hear the crinkling of pants as all the pricks stiffen. I’m surprised she’s even the one here, actually. She’s the daughter of the third son of the lineage—not exactly a position of power within their noxious clan, so to speak…Yet now we’ll have to work with her to learn why Jolgalgan went to the trouble of killing her father, along with ten Engineers whom she claims weren’t there at all!” She snorted. “It will not be easy. If it is Jolgalgan, she does not join exclusive company. The number of people holding a grudge against the Hazas is beyond count.”
“Might you also count among that company, ma’am?” I asked.
She raised her eyebrows at me behind her blindfold. “My, my. That’s rather insolent of you, isn’t it?”
“I would simply note, ma’am, that Vashta just referenced your old grudges with them.”
“A rumor,” she said dismissively.
“And you also once said of the Hazas—I wouldn’t mind seeing all their progeny rotting in the ground like a bunch of fucking dead dogs. Which is, I feel, mostly how one talks of one’s enemies.”
“Oh, yes, well,” she said, sighing. “This is why people are so loath to talk before an engraver…They never forget a fucking thing you say! One day, Din, when this is all over, I shall tell you many truths, and tales of all that occurred between myself and the Haza clan in the inner rings of the Empire. I’ve no doubt you’ve caught rumors of it…But today is not the day for my stories.”
I glowered at her for a moment. Then I had an idea.
“Are the Hazas responsible for your banishment to Daretana, ma’am?” I asked.
Her smile grew to a grin. “That’s not entirely true.”
“Did they kill your previous assistant?”
To my surprise, her grin didn’t flicker one jot. “That’s not entirely true, either.”
“What’s not? That it was the Hazas, or that your assistant was killed?”
“Focus, Din. We are here to figure out how this calamity happened and who is responsible. Follow that thread, and that thread alone, and we shall have victory.” Then she cocked her head, knelt, and felt the fretvine floor. “Vashta is coming back. I can feel her stride in the very wood…And I think Miljin and Strovi are with her. Come. Let us pretend to be professional, you and I, for hell and the gentry await.”
* * *
—
“HERE,” SAID VASHTA coldly, “is what I have been able to salvage. First, Fayazi Haza does not wish to be in the room with you anymore, Immunis. To have made such an attack on her character during such a period of grief is beyond toleration. Is that clear?”
Ana shrugged. “That is clear if not welcome, ma’am.”
“Secondly…Fayazi Haza will permit an inspection of her halls. Purely to identify the circumstances of her father’s death. We shall pry no more in their affairs than that. This inspection must take place today, immediately. Which means we must postpone interviewing your colleagues about their involvement at this…this party.”
“That is all well,” said Ana. “We’ll get to them soon enough.”
“Lastly, however…Fayazi is not comfortable with a large presence from the Iudex. So she has only agreed to open her halls to one officer.” Vashta’s eyes moved to my face. “That would be you, Signum.”
I stared at her, then at Miljin, who looked disgusted, then Strovi, who looked alarmed.
“Me?” I asked. “Just me? At the halls of the Hazas, ma’am?”
“That is indeed the case,” said Vashta.
“It does not feel,” sniffed Ana, “that the Hazas should be dictating who can or cannot investigate a murder, even if it did take place in their fancy house.”
“We’re lucky to send anyone at all!” Vashta snapped. “Though there are ways I can obligate the Hazas to open their doors, that would take time—and the quakes grow ever stronger. We must get this resolved quickly. My understanding is that Kol here was your only assistance in Daretana, correct? Then he should suffice once again. Fayazi is even willing to take him in the Haza carriage.”
Ana’s initial fury now changed to concern. She pivoted her head to me, like she could hear the beat of my heart, and thought for a moment. “I will consent to this,” she said, “but I would like a moment to talk it over with Din and Miljin.”
“As you wish,” said Vashta. We bowed to her, and she departed.
Strovi looked back at me as he departed. He seemed so shaken it was as if it were he who’d been condemned to this task, rather than I. “Go safely, Kol,” he said. “The halls are a dangerous place. Not all who walk in return.” Then he followed Vashta out.
* * *
—
“WHY…WHY’S SHE asking for me?” I said. “I mean, out of everyone in Talagray…”
“Seems likely they want you there so they can push you around, yeah?” said Miljin. He turned to Ana. “Someone young. New. Pretty. Suspect she thinks the boy’ll be putty in her hands.” He spat on the floor. “I’d normally begrudge you for fooling about with Aristan’s body, boy, but given what’s coming now, I’ve naught but pity.”
“But what in hell would Fayazi get out of pushing Din around?” said Ana. “The boy knows fuck-all of anything important!”
“I am standing,” I said tersely, “right here.”
Ana ignored me, drumming her fingers on the sides of her legs. “The more I consider it, the more I think Fayazi wants to find the killer before us.”
“You think she seeks vengeance?” asked Miljin.
“Not quite. I suspect Jolgalgan knows something about the Hazas and Blas. Something to make her go to a lot of trouble to kill the two men in such a symbolic fashion. Something I think the Hazas are desperate to keep secret. And then there are the murders of Aristan and Suberek…” She fell silent, her face grave. “That is what Fayazi will try to weasel out of you, Din. She wants you to give her something that will help her find the killer first and make this all go away before we can dig any further.”
“How’s she going to do that?” I asked. “Will her bodyguards hold a blade to my throat?”
“Oh, no,” she said. She blew a strand of bone-white hair out of her face. “Rather, Din, I’m much more concerned that Fayazi Haza might try to fuck you.”
I stared at her, speechless. I looked at Miljin, who stared grimly back.
“I am not sure,” I said, “that I heard that correctly, ma’am.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t be the first,” Ana said drily. “You are young and male—and boys are always a lot sillier about these things. And she has several thousand talints of beauty at her disposal, not to mention her pheromonic grafts. Regardless, it is well known that the Hazas use amorous relations, and blackmail, to get what they want. Fayazi likely means to get you under her thumb, Din.” She thought about it. “Or under some other part of her person. Or perhaps under a member of her household…”
“This metaphor,” I snapped, “wears rather thin.”
“Yes, yes. But! She might be in for a surprise. For you are not only a curiously focused person, boy, but you’re also one of the most emotionally repressed human beings I’ve ever met. If there is anyone who could resist the allures of the Hazas, it’s you. Or, well, I hope it’s you.”
“Besides fending off unwanted advances,” I said, frustrated, “what am I supposed to be doing there?”
Ana thought for a moment. Then she said, “Correspondence!”
“Beg pardon?” I said.
“Correspondence! Communications. Letters. That is precisely what we need. News of Blas’s murder surely reached her father the second we started investigating in Daretana. So who did he talk to after Blas died? Who did he send messages to? And what did those messages say? That’s what you must find.”
“How am I supposed to do that, ma’am?” I asked.
“The Hazas are known to possess a small fleet of scribe-hawks,” she said. “All you need to do is get to their rookery, boy, and look about for anything useful.”
I was familiar with scribe-hawks, of course, for the Iyalets used them to carry urgent communications across the whole of the Empire, flying with stunning speed between two fixed locations. The idea of someone privately owning a small fleet of them, however, was nothing short of astonishing to me.
“And…how am I supposed to get in their rookery, ma’am?” I asked.
“You’re there looking for contagion at a fucking murder scene!” she snapped. “That gets you access to all kinds of places! Make some dumb shit up, improvise, and figure it out, child!”
“Make some dumb shit up,” I said sourly. “Very clear orders there. What else, ma’am?”
“Investigate! Go, see, ask—and remain cold and aloof. Find evidence of how the killer did their work, speak little, and glower much. I mean, that’s your specialty, isn’t it? And remember, this is the second time the killer has struck at a Haza house. I suspect they used similar methods. Am I clear?”
“As mountain water, ma’am,” I grumbled.
“Good.” She grabbed my shoulder. “Eat nothing she gives you, Din. Do not drink any proffered drink. Be mindful of any smokes or fumes you perceive. Do not urinate or defecate on the property, and do your best to leave few hairs behind. Finally, keep your distance from Fayazi—and do not let her touch your face with her bare skin. Understood?”
I thought about it. “I suppose I can’t quit, can I?”
“Quit?”
“Yes. Not sure any dispensation could be worth this, ma’am.”
She grinned. “Maybe not. But the Hazas know your name, child. If you quit now, they will wonder why, and come asking, and they shall not be as fun to work with as I. Only way out is through. Now clean yourself up and get fucking going!”
CHAPTER 26
| | |
WHEREAS THE LEGION’S CARRIAGE had been a rattling, rambling, tottering thing, the carriage of the Hazas was sleek, soft, and smooth. I felt not a bump and caught not a bruise as we hurtled along, my backside pressed into the powder-blue cushions.
But this did not mean the ride was comfortable. On either side of me sat two Haza guards, enormous men with wrists as thick as my neck, and nearly twice as broad as I. Their eyes did not leave my figure. Cold gazes, chilly and remote. Fell hands with a sword, surely.
Across from me sat Fayazi’s two Sublimes. The engraver looked upon me like a surgeon might a septic limb. The axiom remained totally unreadable, but her dark, needle-like eyes did not move from my person. I felt my skin crawling the more she stared.
Between them sat the woman herself: Fayazi Haza, draped over her cushions like a coat tossed over a chair. She watched me carefully yet inscrutably, her wide amethyst eyes alluring but unreadable. It felt like being watched by an enormous doll.
And yet I was still drawn to her. To the luminous paleness of her skin, to her delicate neck. I had not felt drawn to a woman like this before, and I knew enough to know it was unnatural. Yet I also felt damned silly to be seated before her in my muddy Iudex coat, and my straw cone hat askew upon my head.
“You,” Fayazi said finally, “are very tall.” She said it in tones of slight offense, like I had chosen an inappropriate piece of wardrobe for the occasion.
I waited for more. When nothing came, I bowed and said, “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Is it natural?” she said.
“My height? It is.”
“And your face? Your features? Those are natural, too?”
“Ah. They are, ma’am.”
“Hum. How audacious.”
“Afraid I had little say in the matter, ma’am.”
She studied me with that enigmatic doll’s gaze. “You have things, Signum,” she said, “you wish to ask me.”
I looked at her. Then I looked to the right and left, at the guards on either side of me, and then the Sublimes on either side of her. All of them watched me silently. This was not how I’d expected to do the interview.
“I do, ma’am,” I said. “But I had thought I’d question you at your home.”
She waved a hand, bored. “Ask me now.”
I hazarded another glance at our audience. Then I slid open my engraver’s satchel, slid out a vial, sniffed it—this one aromatic of mint—and said, “Tell me about the day before your father died, please.”
“Mm.” She narrowed her eyes very slightly. “We had a party. A big one. We had planned it for some time. Many come to our celebrations. Some wish to, others feel they must. Some of them were colleagues of yours, as you no doubt know.”
“How many came?”
She waved her hand at the engraver. His eyes shivered, and he quickly said, “Out of a list of one hundred forty-six invited, we had one hundred twelve attend.”
“Can you provide me with a list of all the attendees?” I asked.
“Certainly,” said Fayazi. “But not now. I am not going to fill my day listening to two engravers recite memories. But I will make sure you receive the appropriate information, in full.” I noticed she seemed a great deal less breathy and innocent now. “It was a rare event, you know. We used to open our halls many times a year—once a month, or more. But contagion has put an end to that. So much is brought in from the Plains of the Path, why, I almost hesitate to breathe the air in Talagray proper.”
“What is the purpose of these events, ma’am?”
“What is the purpose of any celebration?”
“Usually to celebrate something, ma’am. A betrothal. A birth. A sacred day.”
“Oh, no. Those things—the birth of famous folk, or the dates of their deaths—those are merely excuses to celebrate. People celebrate because they are desperate to reaffirm fellowship and remember what it is to be alive. It is at my halls that any officer in Talagray can come and hear the singers tell tales of the first Khanum coming to the Valley of the Titans. Or of the Sublimes Prificto, the first whose minds were altered. Or of the Third Emperor, Ejelgi Daavir, and his march along the Titan’s Path.” Her eyes shone bright with a queer energy, one I did not find wholesome. “My great-great-grandfather was there, you know. He was among the Legions that slaughtered the beasts and first cleared the path to the sea, and was awarded our first fief. That was before the cantons. Before the building of the third-ring walls.”
An uncomfortable beat.
“Very impressive, ma’am,” I said. “Can you tell me of your father’s movements? During the party?”
A glimmer of resentment in her eyes. Then she waved her hand again, bored. “He moved as one does during such a thing.”
