The Tainted Cup, page 6
“I guess post my money as fast as you can, then. Sanctum knows if I’ll get to send another.”
He slipped the dispensation in the envelope and placed it in the pile of outgoing post. “You’re a good son, Kol.”
I hesitated to respond. My family thought me neither beautiful nor bright, and I mailed my dispensations home out of filial duty rather than love or fondness. “What makes you say that? Half the Sublimes here must be sending their pay home.”
“More than half. But I only tell the good ones secrets.”
“Oh? Like what?”
He crooked a finger, and I leaned close. “Take the back way to your quarters tonight,” he said. “Some route most wouldn’t bother taking.”
“I see…Can you give me more than that?”
“Captain Thalamis came by looking for you. From the Apoths. Asking about something you did today. Didn’t like the look of him. I’d avoid him if you can.”
“Thalamis?” I said. “Why’s he coming after me? I’m not in Sublime training anymore, and he’s not my commanding officer anymore.”
“Not sure he knows that. Bastard thinks he’s commander of all he sees.” The coal in his pipe flared hot, and smoke streamed from his nostrils. “Just saying—take the back way home tonight, Kol. And stay safe.”
I thanked him and slipped away.
* * *
—
I DID TAKE the back way home, the chimes of Ana’s contraption filling my mind and Stephinos’s words echoing in my ears—Read the mud.
How odd it felt. Commander Blas’s death was easily the biggest thing to ever happen to me in my career; yet the chimes and those three words made it seem very small in comparison to what the rest of the Empire did.
Every wet season, the great leviathans rose in the eastern seas and silently, steadily approached the coasts. And every wet season, the bombards and ballistas of the Legions and the great walls of the Engineers kept them back. That was the only reason the people of the cantons tolerated the taxes and drafts and commands of the Empire of Khanum: it was the Empire and the Empire alone that could marshal the resources and maintain the sea walls to keep the leviathans out. Yet when every wet season ended, the folk of the Empire did not breathe easy, but instead asked—What about the next season? What about then?
That was what it was like to be a citizen of the Empire of Khanum, especially in the Outer Rim. You lived in endless anxiety, a constant state of crisis.
It often made it a little hard to go about your everyday tasks, frankly. What was the point of fetching food or fixing up your house or caring for your family when a titan could break through the walls and kill you and a thousand others like you in a matter of hours? What was the point of doing anything, really?
Yet the Empire survived because the emperor told us this was not true. Everywhere you saw his effigy, it was accompanied by the words Sen sez imperiya. And though this was written in Khanum—an old language almost no one spoke anymore—we all knew what it said: You are the Empire.
And, more important, we understood what that meant: We are all here because of what all of us do.
Sometimes that made the days a little easier. Even when solving the occasional gruesome murder, I supposed. Yet I had become a Sublime and labored at my position not simply to support the Empire, but to make enough coin to pay off my father’s countless debts and move my family out of the Outer Rim of the Empire—too close to the shores and sea walls of the east—and purchase land within the third ring. Someplace where my family would have more walls between themselves and the titans, where they would be safe.
If there even was such a thing as being safe in the Empire these days.
* * *
—
I WAS EXHAUSTED by the time I got back to my quarters. I’d used the muddiest, worst paths, and always kept an eye to make sure the way ahead and behind was deserted. When I finally approached the apprentices’ quarters, I sighed with relief.
Then I heard a sharp voice snap, “Kol!”
I stopped short. Captain Alixos Thalamis emerged from the darkness of my quarters entryway, his red Apoth cloak swirling about him.
Son of a bitch, I thought. He’d been waiting for me.
“Stay right where you are, boy!” Thalamis bellowed. “Do not even think of moving!”
I stood up straight at attention and waited. He skulked forward, a predator’s pace, hands behind his back, the crossguard of his officer’s sword winking like a cold star. I avoided meeting his gaze, but he stuck his smooth, handsome, dead-eyed face close to mine.
“I hear,” he said, “that you caught yourself some real work today, Kol.”
As this wasn’t a question, I stayed silent.
“Answer me, damn it!” he snapped. “Is that correct?”
“I was assigned a death scene today, yes, sir,” I said.
“Really?” he said. “And how did you manage it, Kol?”
“As my master had directed, sir.”
“So why did I receive multiple formal complaints,” he said, “from some esteemed personages, Kol, indicating that you did not manage it at all? Because it sounds like you, as you so often do, fucked it up beyond comprehension!”
The face of Madam Gennadios flashed in my memories.
Friends in the Iyalets, she’d said. Now I knew who she’d meant.
“Keeping the servants of the Hazas held prisoner in their own place of work?” Thalamis said. “Questioning them like they were the plotters of some crime? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
“There was a death, sir,” I said. “A death that could have been caused by contagion.”
“Contagion that we Apoths didn’t find,” he said. “Are you aware that you’re still an apprentice to the investigator, Signum? You’re too damned old for it, but that’s what you are. And you do remember your final assignment will need to be approved by the Apoths, including myself. It is we who manage the altered organisms of the Empire. As you are one such organism, your future belongs to me.” He stepped closer. I could feel his breath on my cheek, caught the aroma of pepper and the gamy scent of lamb. “Do you understand what it would do to your position to have complaints from the Hazas on your formal record?”
I did not answer. I hated myself only a little for how fast my heart was beating. It’d been months since I’d first trained as a Sublime under Thalamis, but still I remembered all the whippings he had doled out to me. To have him so close now brought memories of the slash of the cane bubbling to the front of my mind.
“Tell me everything that happened at that house,” Thalamis said. “Now.”
My response was quick and clipped: “It’s against policy to discuss investigations with other officers, sir.”
“I could give a shit!” he said. “You tell me what happened, you tell me what the investigator is planning, and you tell me now!”
I allowed a glance at him. I usually saw malice in Thalamis’s eyes, but this time I spied hunger. The man was here on a mission, and not his own. Interesting.
“Sir,” I said, “you will be able to review all that when I formally submit my report to the Iudex. But it is against Iudex policy to share investigation information now.”
“What was that, Signum?” he growled.
“It’s the policy, sir,” I said. “I cannot discuss it. It might endanger the investigation.”
“You little son of a bitch,” he said. “If I tell you to brief me on what you’ve done, you had damned well better do it!”
“But you are not my commanding officer, sir,” I said stoically. “Not anymore. The Apoths commanded me after my alteration, but that changed when I was assigned to Immunis Dolabra at the Iudex Iyalet. I am only permitted to discuss the death scene with her.”
Thalamis’s eyes went cold and dead. “You think,” he said, “that because you got to such a position with that…with that lunatic, you can hide from me. But let me tell you a story, Kol.”
He started pacing around me in a tight circle. I was reminded of a wolf waiting out a treed squirrel.
“A student arrives at Daretana to be inducted as a Sublime,” he said. “And yet, though he pays his fee for the suffusions, and is granted them, this student remains abysmally, incredibly stupid. Reads slow, writes not at all. Applies to all the Iyalets—Legion, Engineering, Apothetikal, Treasury—but fails all his exams, and fails them miserably. It’s like a child took his tests for him. Soon it’s obvious to everyone that he is the most dunderheaded Sublime to have ever been evaluated, and possibly the dumbest fucking oaf in all of the canton.”
The beat of my blood rose. How wonderful it would be to drive a knife into one of Thalamis’s squinty little eyes.
“But then,” said Thalamis, “the Senate appoints an Iudex Investigator to Daretana. And she requests an engraver. A specialized role, requiring an unusually talented Sublime to fill the post. But then…why, suddenly out of nowhere, this young Sublime swans in and scores the top marks on his Iudex test. An absolutely phenomenal performance—so much so that he’s given another Iudex test, just to confirm it’s real. And again, he gets top marks. And so, this investigator picks him. I’d say it’s remarkable…but that’s the wrong word, isn’t it? I think a better one is unbelievable. Perhaps impossible.”
I focused on my breath, on my posture, on anything but the face before me.
“I will figure out how you cheated, Kol,” said Thalamis. “And when that happens, your time here is deader than a butchered hog. And all your dispensation, and any lands you might be rewarded at the end of your service term, are gone. But before you go, I’ll have you caned—again—just for wasting my time. Is that clear?”
I said nothing.
“Is that clear, Signum?”
“I understand, sir,” I said grudgingly.
He stepped back. “But maybe I won’t need to wait that long, Signum,” he said. “Maybe you’ll piss off the Hazas so much that they’ll find a way to get your apprenticeship terminated.”
He walked away. I stood in the dark street, still standing at attention. I could feel my blood beating in my ears and my breath hot in my nostrils. I watched Thalamis go, wishing it had been he, and not Blas, who’d been torn to pieces by those trees.
Yet I remembered the hunger in his eyes, and his very specific questions.
It suddenly felt like Captain Thalamis was working for the Hazas. That seemed valuable to know.
Yet I wondered—how many other officers were friends of the Hazas? What exactly had I gotten myself into this morning? And what did Ana know?
I supposed I’d find out tomorrow. I turned and slinked off to bed.
CHAPTER 5
| | |
THE NEXT MORNING I led my three reluctant witnesses to Ana’s house, my practice sword swinging at my left side and my engraver’s bonds tinkling at my right. The sword was uncomfortable to carry, for the blade was made of lead and wood to build strength, so it was far heavier than a common sword. Gennadios moved the slowest of the three, her painted nose high in the air. Perhaps it was out of protest, but she also wore the platformed wooden sandals associated with high-gentry servants, forcing her to shuffle through the muddy streets. After her came Ephinas, the older servant girl, and then Uxos, the groundskeeper. Both of them seemed utterly terrified.
After what felt like a damned day of walking, we made it to Ana’s porch. “I’m going to need to confirm none of you have weapons,” I told them.
Gennadios’s tiny, glittering eyes widened. “You are not,” she said, “laying a finger on me. Or my people.”
“I’ll touch you only through your robes, ma’am,” I said.
“You will not!” she said.
“I have to,” I said. “It’s my duty.” I wanted to tell her I certainly wouldn’t be enjoying it any, but that didn’t seem diplomatic at the moment.
She huffed for a moment. Then she said, “I will pull my robes tight about me, and Ephinas will do the same. Then you will see we have no blades on us. Uxos can do as he pleases, of course.”
Ephinas and Gennadios then did so, pulling their clothing tight against their bodies while I looked them over, blushing, for I found this more mortifying than just searching them. Then I cleared my throat and searched Uxos, checking his waist and leggings. Nothing.
“Satisfied?” asked Gennadios.
I ignored her and knocked on Ana’s door. I heard a short “Come!” and opened the door.
Ana had redecorated. The books and projects had all been removed from the meeting room. Instead, she had produced a small desk, and she was sitting behind it in her short stuffed chair, waiting for us with her blindfold on her eyes.
She smiled as we trooped in. “Good morning. I am Investigator Dolabra. Please take a seat.”
She gestured before her. Two chairs awaited the witnesses, along with a stack of books to serve as the third seat.
The three servants stared at her. I took up a position standing behind Ana, my hand on my practice sword. It seemed unlikely that these anxious people would try anything, but Ana had told me to be ready, so I would be ready.
“Excuse me,” said Gennadios. “But—the investigator is blind?”
“Only occasionally, Madam Gennadios,” said Ana. “I find that reducing one or several senses often makes it far easier to absorb information, and think. Please—sit.”
They did so, with Uxos taking the seat on the pile of books.
“Thank you for joining me this morning,” said Ana. “I know it is unusual—but then, these are unusual circumstances. A man is dead, killed in a most unusual way. I have a few questions for each of you that I thought would be better asked directly.”
Gennadios shifted her posture into that same damned position from the house: knees together at an angle, her whole body facing away like Ana wasn’t worth looking at. I was surprised to see her treat an Iyalet officer so, but then I remembered what Ana had said of the gentry: Such folk don’t necessarily feel like they need to obey all of our laws all of the time.
“It would have been easier,” Gennadios said, “if you had come yourself.”
“Of course,” said Ana. “First, Madam Gennadios—I would like to begin by asking you more about why Commander Blas was staying at the estate in the first place.”
“He is a friend of the Haza family,” Gennadios said. “Surely your boy told you that.”
“He did. He repeated what you said—that friends sometimes stay with one another. However, the Hazas were not present. Correct?”
“Obviously.”
“And did they have any intention of being present?”
“I am not always informed,” said Gennadios, “of my masters’ plans.”
“Nor were any other Iyalet personnel or imperial officers present.”
“No,” she said coldly.
“And Blas did not visit any Iyalet personnel or imperial officers in Daretana.”
“If you say so.”
“So the suggestion seems to be,” said Ana, “that Blas was staying totally alone in someone else’s mansion with no one but the servants, without any of his colleagues in Daretana being aware of it.”
A twitch in the muscle behind the old woman’s nose. “It is a very fine residence,” she said. “We labor daily to keep it so. I would expect many would travel across the cantons to spend a night there.”
“Perhaps so.” Ana cocked her head, grinning. “But I do find it curious that Blas, as a commander in the Engineers, also had access to the senior officers’ quarters here in Daretana—which is quite a nice accommodation, I understand. Yet he did not stay there, nor even visit.”
“A Haza estate,” said Gennadios, “is doubtlessly far superior to any Iyalet barracks.”
“Of course. But then there is the fact that Commander Blas served in the Engineering Iyalet, on the sea walls. And the wet season is approaching. If such a person were to break away from his duties, I would assume it could only be for official Iyalet reasons. And if that were the case, I would assume he would stay at the senior officers’ quarters, to discuss his labors with his colleagues. Wouldn’t you?”
There was a long silence. The smug look had been wiped off Gennadios’s face now. I was so curious where this was going, though, that I didn’t have much mind to enjoy it.
“Was there another guest coming to the estate, madam?” asked Ana. “One whose purpose was to attend to the commander?”
“My masters’ business is their own,” said Gennadios. “I…I have no need to tell you more.”
“You do, though,” said Ana. “As this is an official Iudex summons. But I am impatient, so let me cut to it. I will conject that a woman was arriving to visit the commander. Possibly more than one. A very courtly retinue, perhaps. After all, it seems like the commander liked women a great deal. He certainly couldn’t keep his hands off the servant girls, for example.”
Gennadios turned to glare at Ephinas, who was resolutely staring at the floor, and hissed, “What did you tell them?”
“They all told Din,” said Ana. “Not just her. Perhaps they all hated the commander that much. Allow me to make a conjecture about Blas’s relationship to the Hazas…The Hazas treat the commander to a good time and provide the girls—even at a critical time like this, the start of the wet season. What I’m wondering is…what did the Hazas get out of the relationship?”
Uxos started rocking back and forth on his stack of books.
“I…I have nothing to say to you!” Gennadios spat. I saw gaps in the paint on her face. Evidently she didn’t often make such hysterical expressions.
“You don’t need to,” said Ana. “Din here is an engraver and acts as a living legal embodiment of my work. His testimony is considered sacrosanct. As you’ve said many things in front of him, that’s enough.”
