The Tainted Cup, page 33
“You…you Iudex,” screamed Ditelus. “You say you want justice. You always say that! You always say that!”
Miljin saw what was happening now. He wheeled his horse away, looking back over his shoulder as something within Ditelus began to…
Sprout.
“To see these walls!” roared Ditelus. “To see what men have made! And know that they could have saved us, but…but…”
Then came a horrid sound, akin to thick fabric ripping, followed by an awful crackling, crinkling sound; and then, like a moth breaking free of its pupa, the dappleglass emerged, a thick, vibrant, undulating shock of bright iridescent green splitting his flesh and rising into the air. It burst from his collarbone, parting him along the side and boiling forth from the edge of his rib cage. Blood poured from his throat in a sudden splash, and then his face was concealed, lost in the shivering coils of roots and the quaking, dark leaves; but the crackling sound continued, as if the vegetation was breaking every length of his bones, crushing them to powder. Then the crackling stopped, yet the column of dappleglass kept silently rising, stretching into the sky in a dark, shimmering column.
I watched as the dappleglass consumed him, until he was little more than a giant puppet held aloft in the towering shoots. I heard the cries and the calls of the Apoths about me, but I had no mind to listen. There between two slender shoots I could spy a sliver of his face, his sad eyes staring into shadow.
“Must have been infected for some time,” Kitlan said. “His crackler’s body contained it until it…it…”
I kept staring at his tears. Watched how they gathered at his chin, growing into a pregnant pink drop, before tumbling off into the leaves.
“From where?” said Miljin’s voice beside me.
“Wh-what, sir?” I said dully. I turned to see his furious eyes watching me through the glass bubbles of his helm.
“He was coming from somewhere,” bellowed Miljin, “but from where?”
I looked north, in the direction Ditelus had been walking from. With a flutter to my eyes, I summoned the image of the map we’d seen at the Legion outpost.
“The old fortress,” I said. “It’s that way.”
“Then come on!” said Miljin. He turned his horse about and started north.
“We have to burn the contagion, sir!” said Kitlan. “It’s protocol!”
“Then leave some boys to follow protocol and fucking come on!” he bellowed over his shoulder.
* * *
—
KITLAN LEFT TWO Apoths to burn the body. Then we rode north with her and the rest until we finally spied it: a little clutch of structures leaning against one of the giant hills, just west of an open stretch of yellow-grassed fields.
We approached it slowly and quietly. The place was hardly more than a ruin, the fretvine and stonewood fortifications blasted apart or upended nearly everywhere, its many tottering towers and structures leaning about like a jaw full of broken teeth. There were curious ripples and crests in the soil about it, all radiating from the giant hill behind. I guessed that when the leviathan had fallen however many decades ago it had broken all the world below, before finally being eaten by grasses and trees like the other carcasses.
We entered the ruins on the western side. It felt like riding through a giant child’s broken toys, or some stretch of coast where shipwrecks were washed ashore. Nothing I saw seemed whole, except for a tall, crooked tower that leaned in the center of the wreckage.
Miljin caught my gaze and nodded. We led Kitlan and the three other Apoths through the maze of tumbledown structures until we finally approached the tower. It was tall, and whole—but the door, unlike everything else in this place, was well-maintained. Wood solid and dark, the rope handle white and new. Iron hinges free of rust.
I stared at the door, wondering what, or who, was behind it.
“Kitlan,” said Miljin quietly. “You want me to open that door or you?”
She didn’t answer. She just dismounted, tossed the reins of her horse to one of the other Apoths, and advanced. She placed a hand on the rope, took a deep breath, and pulled the door open.
I couldn’t see inside, but Kitlan stared through the doorway. Then she turned away, disgusted.
The door fell open, I glimpsed within.
A clutch of shoots nearly filled the interior tall tower. Leaves slender and dark green, dappled with blooms of white and purple. And there, suspended in the clutch of shoots, a figure: a woman, dead and rotting, her eyes dark and her yellow hair gleaming in the midday sun.
* * *
—
MILJIN AND I stood aside and watched as the Apoths came and went from the crooked tower. They were taking samples, they said, cataloging all the reagents and specimens found within, along with all the Apoth’s tools.
“She had quite the array,” said Kitlan, taking stock. “Fermentation chamber. Purification dome. Casks of suspension fluids. Suffusion feedstock. Phalm oil for any reagents gone awry. And tank after tank of plants…All of them the same kind.”
“Dappleglass,” I said.
She nodded her helmeted head. “This is where it happened. This is where they made it. Secreted out all this gear and got to work brewing up her poisons.”
“And we’re sure it’s her?” said Miljin. “That body in there is Jolgalgan?”
Kitlan walked to the pile of cataloged material, sorted through it, and returned with a sheaf of paper. It was a wall pass, like Aristan’s, permitting the bearer to pass from the Outer Rim of the Empire into the third ring. Though it was hard for my accursed eyes to read through the glass bubbles of the helmet, I could still barely make out the name JOLGALGAN written in the corner.
“There’s more,” said Kitlan. “More documents. Some in her name, some counterfeit and falsified. Seems she was hoarding up to run. But it’s her.”
Miljin stared in at the corpse suspended in the darkness. “And she just…”
“Had an accident, by the look of it,” said Kitlan. “My guess is something didn’t seal right. There’s a bottle in the back that’s burned dark and still warm. That was likely the source, boiling a bit of water that’s now evaporated, but the steam leaked out, carrying the spores. She’s been dead about a day or two. I suspect the crackler came to check on her and was exposed as well. If we didn’t have our helmets on right now, we’d be dead, too.”
I felt my heart quaking as I realized how close I’d come to meeting the same horrid fate as Ditelus. “How…how likely is such a mistake to actually happen, though?” I asked.
“Very,” said Kitlan. “This is an improvised laboratory. None of this is to Apoth code. And they were handling a very, very dangerous contagion. There’s a reason why we built walls around Oypat, after all.”
I gazed in at the tower. “How much dappleglass could she have brewed in there?”
Kitlan shrugged. “Lots.”
“Is there any way to know if there’s more out there? Planted among the canton, waiting to bloom?”
“No way to tell here, I’m afraid.”
She returned to the tower. We watched her in silence.
“So—the second we get close to Jolgalgan,” said Miljin quietly, “she goes and fucks up and gets herself and her sole collaborator killed.”
Wind ripped through the barren ruins. The corpse within the tower danced and shivered in the trees.
“That feel right to you?” Miljin asked me.
I said nothing.
CHAPTER 34
| | |
I FINISHED SPEAKING, MY voice hoarse, my eyelids aching from the fluttering. My last few words echoed in the adjudication chamber until they finally faded.
Commander-Prificto Vashta peered down at us from the high bench. “So,” she said slowly. “It’s…done?”
Ana shifted in her seat like she’d sat in something wet. “Partially,” she conceded. “Possibly.”
Vashta frowned. Though her Legion’s cuirass was bright and polished and her cloak dark and clean, the commander-prificto’s face looked more beleaguered than ever, so much so that I found myself worrying about the state of the sea walls.
“Immunis,” said Vashta, “could you kindly clarify what in hell you mean by that?”
“I mean, it is possible that the case is solved,” said Ana. “Or that it is partially solved. Or perhaps it is only possibly partially solved, ma’am.”
There was a long silence. I stared down at my new boots, which were now no longer identifiably new, being so caked with mud and stained from the Plains. Miljin, sitting beside me, suppressed a yawn. I sympathized: though this moment felt fraught, we were both exhausted from our ride back and our many debriefings with Ana and Vashta.
“To review, Dolabra,” Vashta said, “Jolgalgan was who you always believed to be the primary poisoner.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Ana.
“And she is now dead.”
“True, ma’am.”
“And the laboratory where she’d been brewing this horrid contagion is now destroyed.”
“Burned with phalm oil, ma’am, whose heat even dappleglass spores cannot resist.”
“And her collaborator is dead as well—killed by the same accident?”
“Yes,” said Ana. “But there is still little we actually know about her. Did Jolgalgan truly wish to kill those ten Engineers? If so, we know neither how she accomplished this, nor why. We have great reason to believe she killed Kaygi Haza—but we’ve no true idea why there, either. For if this is indeed part of her desire to avenge Oypat, why pursue this one ancient gentryman?”
“The Hazas are one of the greatest clans of the Empire,” said Vashta. “They provide incalculable reagents that maintain our very civilization. Surely killing a prime son of the clan would have many ill effects.”
“Perhaps it is so simple. But if so, ma’am, why would the Hazas hide his murder? Why deny the presence of the ten Engineers at their halls? Why deny all knowledge about Commander Blas? We do not know. And then there is Rona Aristan, and Suberek, the secretary and the miller. They are both dead—and not by Jolgalgan.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“That they were killed by someone else. And judging by the nature of their deaths—a tiny puncture to the skull for both of them—it was someone very augmented, ma’am.”
Vashta stewed for a moment. “Do you have a suspect?”
“Nothing firm, ma’am.”
“Do you have a motive for their killings?”
“Not a clear one, ma’am—not yet. But all we’ve learned continues to point toward the Hazas.”
“And yet, you have surely heard all I’ve said already about the Hazas. Though I am seneschal, if you wish me to haul the owners of the most valuable land in the Empire into this tower like a pack of jackals, I cannot do it during the wet season, when a leviathan grows so near—and especially not after a breach.”
There was a tense silence. Ana’s fist was clenched, her knuckles white and trembling—just like the day she’d interviewed Fayazi Haza in this very chamber.
“I am here to protect the Empire, Immunis,” said Vashta quietly. “Not deliver justice. That is not the purview of my Iyalet, and justice is not always easy to come by in such times.”
“I see, ma’am,” said Ana. “Yet there is one last question that troubles me most of all.”
“And what might that be?”
“The blackperch mushrooms,” said Ana.
Vashta blinked. “The…the what?”
“Well, presumably, Jolgalgan used blackperch mushrooms as a distraction at the halls of the Hazas—causing a fire to flare up immensely, drawing eyes as she slipped into a servants’ door.”
“So?” said Vashta.
“So, Nusis testified that blackperch mushrooms flare immediately when exposed to flame. Which means that Jolgalgan would have to have been present when the flare occurred.”
“So?”
“So, such a thing would not do for a distraction. She would be drawing eyes to her, rather than away.”
“Can you get to where you’re going with this, please, Immunis?”
“The likeliest explanation, ma’am,” said Ana, “is that there was a third. A third person, a third collaborator. Someone inside the party who tossed the mushrooms into the fire for her, to act as a distraction, while Jolgalgan slipped into the servants’ passages.”
Vashta frowned, troubled. “Do you have any evidence or testimony for this?”
“Again, nothing firm, ma’am. But being as I also wonder how Jolgalgan knew so much about Commander Blas’s movements—a knowledge that neither she nor Ditelus should have been privy to—I find my dissatisfied thoughts bending in this direction. There is, I think, a third poisoner out there.”
“And what,” Vashta asked, “would ameliorate your dissatisfied thoughts, Immunis?”
“I would like to request a week to review all evidence and perform any additional interviews, ma’am. Jolgalgan surely saw many people before her apparent disappearance. So did Ditelus, and Blas. I want to talk to them all, and then we shall find our third, if they exist.”
Vashta silently debated all this. “Do you expect any more Engineering deaths?”
“To dappleglass? I doubt it.”
“And no more bits of the sea wall shall come down.”
“I don’t believe so, no.”
“And your investigation won’t interfere at all with our preparations for the approaching titan.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then I can give you a week,” she said. “But I cannot promise it will actually be given.”
“Because of the leviathan?” said Ana.
Vashta smiled—a cold, jaded expression. “This is Talagray, Immunis. Nothing is ever certain here. Still, I must say…you have performed your duty. Even if we don’t fully comprehend this crime, you have identified the killers and found them out within a matter of days, when we needed it most. You have done well.”
Ana bowed. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“And although I agree this end doesn’t satisfy, I will congratulate you. Many officers shall sleep far more soundly tonigh—”
The ground shook below us. This quake was much stronger than some of the others I’d felt in the past days. I glanced out the window, worried I might spy green flares rising on the horizon, warning us of a leviathan’s approach.
“Well,” said Vashta. “As soundly as they can, I suppose.” She rubbed her tired eyes and sniffed. “Will you and your signum be at the banquet tonight?”
“Ah—possibly, ma’am,” said Ana.
“I’d encourage it. The conclusion of your investigation will no doubt be interpreted as a good omen, and your presence will boost morale. Which we need now, of course. Very much.”
“Understood.”
Vashta sighed once more. “Captain Strovi has volunteered for the firing crew of the massive bombard. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen, of course…He is valiant to excess, I find. Perhaps you all can grant him a blessing of your own at the banquet.”
“I shall go, of course,” said Miljin. He yawned yet again. “Though I should like to find a bed first.”
“And Din will be there,” said Ana. She bowed her blindfolded head low. “I thank you for your approval, ma’am. We shall leave you to attend to more important affairs.”
* * *
—
“BANQUET?” I asked Ana as we crossed the central atrium of the Iudex tower.
“The Banquet of Blessings,” Ana said, gripping my arm. “An old religious rite practiced before facing a titan. They haven’t done one in years—usually the wall and our artillery are enough—but this time is different. The Legion must wait for a titan to come to the breach, fire the giant bombard, and kill it dead in one shot, plugging the gap. All hands that touch the bombard must be blessed, then. It should be a very interesting affair. Ritual celebration. Lots of smokes. Lots of animal bloods, and wine and chanting. You will go in my stead.”
“Afraid I don’t feel much like banqueting after that, ma’am,” I said.
“Ahh…you don’t feel any of this satisfies, either, Din?”
“No,” I said.
We started up the stairs. The sight of Jolgalgan’s corpse swaying in the dappleglass lingered in my mind.
“Suberek and Aristan, ma’am,” I said, “have not found justice.”
“No,” she said. “They have not.”
“The ten Engineers have not found justice.”
“That is so.”
“And the canton can’t spare a care for it, it seems. Not with the leviathan coming. Feels wrong.”
“It feels wrong because it is wrong, Din,” she said. “Civilization is often a task that is only barely managed. But harden your heart and slow your blood. The towers of justice are built one brick at a time. We have more to build yet.”
I helped her up the last steps. “You don’t think it’s really over?”
“Hell no,” said Ana. “I don’t think Jolgalgan was looking to damage the Empire. I think her killing of Blas and Kaygi Haza was personal. I just don’t yet know why. And then there’s what Ditelus said…‘He did it to her, didn’t he?’ ”
I opened the door for her. “I take it you don’t think it was the twitch who poisoned Jolgalgan, ma’am.”
“Of course not. The twitch doesn’t kill with dappleglass. So Jolgalgan’s death either really was an accident—something I consider unlikely—or it was someone else. Possibly this third poisoner, whom I worry about. Fearing they were to be caught, they sabotaged Jolgalgan’s lab, and when she fired up all her brewing kits, she poisoned herself—and then Ditelus, when he came to check on her. And they left us a neat little story.” She sat at the open window, blindfolded, and tilted her head, listening to the churning city below. It was the one time I’d ever seen her expose herself to such stimulation. “The city awakes, and empties…with some going east, to fight, but many more going west, to flee. Yet you and I shall stay here, Din. We shall stay until the work is done. And it is very nearly done. Yet I must now think.” Fumbling, she shut the window, and the room was veiled in darkness. “A third…” she whispered.
