CHAPTER 31
“TELL THE HAZAS?” SAID Kalista. Her manicured eyebrows mounted her forehead. “About the investigation? Of course I didn’t.”
Ana leaned sideways in her chair in the arbitration room, her blindfolded head bent at an angle as the morning sun crept into the arbitration room. I stood behind her, my face carefully circumspect.
“Why not?” Ana asked politely. “Why wouldn’t you?”
Kalista laughed dully, her new clay pipe pinched in her fingers before her mouth. Again, I was reminded of a plump little purple courtesan dove, this one perhaps attempting to smooth its feathers after a fright.
“Well, it’s not like I’m a close friend of Fayazi or some such,” Kalista said. “Not like we have tea and gossip over which Legionnaire has the shapeliest thighs.” Her smile dimmed. “Certainly wouldn’t expect them to talk to me during…Well. All that’s happened.”
I glanced at Ana, who did not react. Word of Kaygi Haza’s murder had spread quickly throughout the city. It was no surprise that Kalista had caught wind of it.
“But you did mention it to someone,” said Ana, in tones of tremendous sympathy. “Perhaps there was someone else at the party you wished to contact…just to confirm their well-being.”
A quiver to Kalista’s oysterdusted eyelids. “Well,” she said grudgingly. “I was concerned about Commander Hovanes. Of the Apoths.”
Ana waited patiently. I stood behind her, hands behind my back, listening and watching.
“He was my…companion for that evening,” Kalista admitted. “And he is a friend. I did wish to notify him that…that we had discovered a potential threat to his health.”
“And is he,” asked Ana, “acquainted with the Hazas?”
“I was his guest,” said Kalista. “He was the one invited to the affair. So, yes. I would say so. More than I, at least.”
Ana nodded, plainly pleased to have determined the source that had tipped off the Hazas to all our discoveries. “I see. Now! Why don’t you describe the party, Kalista?” Ana said. “Your movements, who you saw, and when you saw them.”
Kalista began to speak. I listened, sniffing the vial scented of mint, engraving every word.
She arrived at midday, she said, and had been searched at the gates by the guards and exposed to the estate’s many telltale plants. Having proven unarmed and untouched by all contagion, she and Commander Hovanes had been permitted to enter the grounds, pass through the winding walkway between the white trees and the bird-perch gate, and approach the party.
“Yet to call it a party,” Kalista said, smiling, “is to call a war a spat!” This hadn’t been a convivial gathering over wine and mussels, she told us: it was akin to a high imperial ceremony, an almost celestial orchestration of art, food, music, and company, like something out of the ancient days.
Pipers placed at the front steps, their music low and sultry. Banners and ribbons waving at the doorways. Fires of green and silver flickering in every hearth. “And then there was the food,” she sighed. “And the wine. And the air…For some chambers held moodblooms. Just tarrying in the smokes of those plants for a moment made the very feeling of time change…If the Khanum still walked these lands, they’d have expected to be greeted similarly.”
“Very nice,” said Ana dryly. “But the people, Kalista. Did you see many people?”
“Oh, of course!”
She gave us the names of the people she saw. Most of her testimony consisted of gossip she’d heard; a parade of half-remembered, half-sotted conversations that had been half drowned out by the pipers. She only saw Nusis and Uhad fleetingly.
“Uhad, being insufferably supercilious,” Kalista said, “was there but a moment. Stayed long enough to be polite, and no longer. Nusis attended with some of the Apoth folk. If I recall, several of the younger, rather sotted men tried to chat with her—it was quite late in the day by then—but she dissuaded them all, claiming she was bound to another.” A rather cruel smirk. “First I’ve heard of that.”
“You didn’t see anyone who didn’t seem to belong there? Perhaps a tall, stern woman with pale yellow hair?” asked Ana.
“You mean Jolgalgan? No, I saw no one resembling her.”
“Nor anyone looking, say, slightly dirty?” asked Ana. “No one with a bit of soil on their sleeve?”
“Dirty?” echoed Kalista. “I…No, not that I recall.”
“Did anything of note happen?” asked Ana, growing impatient.
“I did hear a commotion before I left. There had been a fire in the second-floor hall. A small one. Some spark had escaped its hearth and alighted on a rug. I didn’t see it, but I passed by the area, and saw nothing awry. There was a smell in the air, though.”
“Describe it, please.”
“Oh, well…I’m not sure how.” She wrinkled her nose. “Smelled like goat’s piss, if you ask me. A powerful aroma. Thought it odd. Though…” A nervous smile. “Though I’m not the sort of person to often handle goats, of course.”
“I’d never dare suggest so,” said Ana, grinning. “Did you see anyone about this fireplace beforehand?”
“No. As I said, I didn’t see it.”
“And you didn’t see anyone unusual entering the party from the gardens?”
Kalista stared at Ana placidly and blinked. “I’m afraid,” she said, “I’d had a bit too much fumes and wine by that point to be, ah, reliable.”
“You mean you were sotted enough to piss your trousers,” said Ana, “and never know it.”
“Well,” said Kalista, scandalized, “I…I wouldn’t quite say tha—”
“You know now of Kaygi’s death, yes?” demanded Ana.
Kalista stopped and nodded nervously.
“And you likely know of the nature of the death.”
“Dappleglass. Again. Yes.”
“Do you know of any connection between Kaygi Haza and Commander Blas?”
“I know they were friendly,” said Kalista. “But Blas was known by man—”
“By many people, yes, yes, yes,” said Ana. “But you are not aware of any special relationship between the two?”
“No. I am not privy to such things, of course.”
Ana nodded slowly. “And are you aware of any connection between Commander Blas, and Kaygi Haza, and the canton of Oypat?”
There was a long silence.
“Beyond…” Kalista said slowly. “Beyond that all three were apparently killed by the same contagion?”
“Yes. Is there anything else that could connect the three?”
“No. But why should there be? As far as I am aware, Blas has never served in Oypat.”
Ana nodded, her smile retracting very slightly. “I see…Then thank you, Immunis Kalista. I believe that is all we need from you.”
—
NEXT CAME IMMUNIS Uhad, entering slowly in his storklike gait, his blue Iudex cloak swirling about him. He looked exhausted and beleaguered as usual, like a piece of vellum worn so thin you could see the cloudy sun through it. He sat down in the chair, his fingers threaded together, and sighed and said, “So…Kaygi Haza is dead.”
“Correct!” said Ana.
“In fact,” he said balefully, “the man has been dead for over two weeks.”
“So it seems.”
A taut silence.
“They’re going to come at you, you know, Ana,” said Uhad.
“I beg your pardon?” she said.
“I’ve worked as Iudex investigator here for too long to think otherwise. The Hazas will find a way to attack you. You might think this is their key play—coming in and announcing this hidden murder, starting off this bit from the negotiator’s chair—but they will have other designs, surely.”
“Do you really need to tell me, Uhad,” said Ana, “of all people, that the Hazas are prone to schemes and plots?”
“A fair point. Now. Do you want the…how did you put it for young Kol here…the full vomit? I did not anchor the experience with an aroma, so what I offer may seem disjointed.”
“Whatever you give us would be lovely.”
“Fine.”
He sniffed. Sat up. Then his face trembled, and he began talking.
What came forth was a blistering, startling rush of words and descriptions, snippets of sentences and bursts of clauses, all capturing the simple experience of walking through the Haza gates, up the path, and into the party within. Some of the things he said were so abrupt, or so stark and spare, that it was difficult to glean any meaning from them. He would rapidly utter things like, “Immunis Eskim, male, short, west of the thirdmost column, Apoth colors, shirt untucked on the left”; or, “Wine lukewarm, freshly mulled, six spice pods floating at rim, spoon rattling in the ewer,” and you’d have to struggle to conceive what he was relating.
More startling was Uhad’s demeanor as he spoke: he trembled, spasmed, tremored, and twisted as his memories poured out of him. Fingers twitching, knees shaking. Eyes dancing horribly, pulled about by some mad muscle in his skull. He seemed like a man in a vision, overcome with divine revelation.
I listened to all he said, sniffing my vial and engraving all the names and times and details in my memory—but it was difficult to focus. I had never seen another engraver give such a thorough recounting before. I realized I must look the same, during all the times I gave my reports to Ana, and found the prospect horrifying.
An odd pair we were then, like two insects from some bizarre species, with one forcefully inseminating another—yet he was filling up my mind with facts, data, information. And almost all of it was unimportant, or so it seemed to me, just names, dates, times, people; and none felt terribly critical.
He stopped talking. Then he sat back in his chair, panting.
“Good,” said Ana. “Very thorough. Thank you, Uhad.”
He mumbled a welcome.
“From the sound of it,” said Ana, “you weren’t at the event long!”
“I wasn’t,” muttered Uhad. He pushed back his graying hair. “I am not as young as I once was. I must spend my time judiciously. Social events force me to absorb a great deal of information…” His eye lingered on her blindfold. “…surely something you can sympathize with, Ana. I saw few people and departed.”
She then asked him the same questions she’d asked the others: what connection could there be between Blas and Kaygi Haza, and the canton of Oypat?
“Well,” said Uhad. He smiled bleakly. “Two of them were murdered. But the canton of Oypat merely died, correct? Eaten by contagion. Beyond that, I know no more.”
Ana asked him more questions then—about the Hazas, about their schedule of events and parties, about their relations with the Iudex, about Jolgalgan—but she got nothing more. She thanked him and let him go, and I walked him to the door.
“Have you felt the displacements yet, Signum?” he asked me.
“Beg pardon, sir?” I said.
“The displacements,” he said. “A psychological affliction. You might spy some object, or catch some scent—and suddenly you are displaced. It reminds you of something, and pulls a memory forward, or the object itself literally speaks to you in your mind. The memory describing itself to you, like it was a person living in your head. Have you had one yet?”
“N-no, sir,” I said, startled.
“You will,” he said grimly. “When they start, it is best to begin living ascetically. Fewer things to remind you of anything, you see. It’s something I wished they’d told me when I was your age.”
Then he turned and left. I stared after him, bewildered by his comments. I looked to Ana, who merely shrugged.
—
LAST CAME IMMUNIS Nusis. “I’m afraid,” she said as she sat, “that I haven’t made much progress with the reagents key you gave me, Dolabra.” Despite the abashed look in her eye, her dark red Apoth’s coat was clean and starched, and she wore a bright coppery scarf about her throat—still the cheery little flicker-thrush, despite all the recent sorrows.
“What seems to be the issue?” asked Ana.
“Well, I’ve exposed it to the usual pheromonic telltales,” Nusis said. “Plants that should wither or react upon being placed close to it. These should let me know what kind of reagents portal the key is designed for—but thus far, I’ve had little luck. It is most unusual.” She coughed into her hand. “Though I don’t mean to begin the discussion with bad news, of course…Where should you like me to start?”
Ana asked Nusis the usual then: had she seen anyone unusual at the party, anyone dirty, or strange, or someone loitering near the fire?
“No,” said Nusis. “No, no. I saw nothing like that. If I had, I would have told you already.”
“Thank you…Next, I wish to inquire about a potential graft,” said Ana. “Are you aware there was a fire at the party?”
“Yes…I did hear about that. Something about a rug?”
“Correct.” She waved a hand at me. “Din here saw the fireplace and spied white scorch marks in the corner of the firebox. They had a curious aroma, yes, Din? A rather urinal tang?”
I cleared my throat. “Aptly put, ma’am.”
“And Kalista noted the smell was much stronger,” said Ana. “She said the whole hall smelled of goat’s piss after the flare—her words. I believe the woman is surprisingly well acquainted with goats, you know.” She grinned. “Are these phenomena in any way familiar to you, Immunis?”
Nusis sat up, and some of her perk returned to her, as if pleased to be back on known territory. “A urinal tang…That sounds like blackperch mushrooms.”
“And what are those?”
“They were a fire starter, suffused by the Apoths in the Rathras canton. They build up highly flammable deposits in their inner cores. They were eventually abandoned as fire starters and kindling, being as their fires were so unreliable. Some would create bursts and flares of heat. And the smell afterward was in no way desirable, of course…”
Ana went very still. “How long would it take for them to flare?”
“Oh, not long. Many would flare the second they touched flame. Another reason why they were unpopular fire starters—people would place them within a little nest of flaming kindling, and the next thing they knew their whole hand was alight.”
“So it would be immediate. An immediate reaction.”
“More or less, yes.”
Ana’s bearing was grave now, as if Nusis had just given her dreadful news. “I see,” she said quietly.
“Was this…this information not welcome, Immunis?” asked Nusis.
Ana was silent for a long while, before finally saying, “It was unexpected, I should say.”
“I see. But that is all I know. Is there any other way I can assist?”
“Actually, there is,” said Ana, coming alive again. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Oypat.”
Nusis balked, surprised. “Oh. Oypat? I thought I had talked of this to Signum Kol…”
“You did. But I wanted to ask you a very simple question.”
“Yes?”
“Why did the canton die, Nusis?”
“Oh. Well…the canton of Oypat perished,” she said slowly, “because the dappleglass spread too quickly for the Apoths and the Engineers to intervene. But that’s well known, of course.”
“But too quickly for what?” asked Ana. “What was the Empire doing to stop it?”
Nusis cleared her throat. “Well…here. I only know all this from a distance, mind, as I was a very junior officer at the time. But we Apoths sought to make a cure for the spread of dappleglass, to treat the contagion like it was a disease, neutralizing its ability to bloom within flesh or soil. We had to formulate this cure within weeks.”
“It must have been a preposterous task.”
“It was. The very idea was ridiculous, frankly. But then—rather miraculously—we appeared to be successful.”
Ana’s mouth fell open in shock. “Wait. You were? You mean you actually made a cure for dappleglass?”
“Possibly,” said Nusis, somewhat reluctantly. “That is a question of some controversy. The senior Apoths created a graft that held promising capabilities of neutralizing the contagion. Twenty little vials, all ready for testing and review. We simply had to get approval to scale it up and begin deploying it within Oypat.”
“Then why didn’t you?” asked Ana.
“Because, as I said, we needed approval. Namely, by all the Preservation Boards. The first rule of the Engineers and the Apoths—outside of Talagray, of course—is to do no harm. If you wish to intervene in the Empire, you must first prove that what you do will not damage anything else in the Empire. This is where the Preservation Boards step in, ensuring that the status quo will never be threatened.”
“And…what did the Preservation Boards do regarding Oypat?”
“They moved quickly. Or…they tried to. But the cantons that would have to grow the reagents for the cure…Well, they brought many concerns. They protested how creating these new reagents could lead to environmental issues with all their other reagents and agriculture. They demanded tests and studies, wanting to ensure that there was no commingling or mutagenic possibilities.”
“I see…” said Ana softly. “Then what happened?”
“The process simply took too long. The dappleglass reached a critical point. It had devoured too much land. Too long a border for it to ever be properly neutralized. Like a tumor infecting the bone, or the tissue of the heart, it was too late. So we evacuated the canton, and then…then we applied a phalm oil burn.”
“Usually reserved for disposing of titans, yes?”
“For destroying their carcasses, correct,” said Nusis. “It burns hot enough to destroy anything organic. We burned everything within a half mile of the walls of the canton of Oypat. All the trees, fields, homes…everything. And…then we sealed it up. Like a tomb. And let it lie.” She swallowed. “And that was that. The Empire was saved. And the fertile fields and little towns of Oypat are no more.”
There was an awkward silence.
“It might have happened anyway,” admitted Nusis. “Years after Oypat, I personally led a team to retest the twenty little vials of cure we’d produced—just in case dappleglass ever infected another part of the Empire. Three of the vials had degraded until they were little more than water. So perhaps the cure might have been ultimately ineffective. We shall never know, unfortunately.”
Ana cocked her head. “Strange…Was Commander Blas ever involved in Oypat? Did he ever assist with containing the contagion there, or perhaps in his work with the Preservation Boards?”
“Blas?” said Nusis. She seemed surprised. “No. No, not that I was aware of. Why?”
“Just a question,” said Ana. She smiled wearily. “Yet there is one more thing I’m curious about…You mentioned that several cantons had curiously prepared protests about the dappleglass cure.”
“Yes?” said Nusis.
“Might you recall which ones those were?”
“Oh! Hm. Off the top of my head…” Nusis thought about it. “The Juldiz, Bekinis, Qabirga, and Mitral cantons, I believe.”
There was a long silence.
“You’re sure,” said Ana. “You’re sure it was those four?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“I see,” said Ana softly. “Then you may go, Immunis Nusis. Do keep me updated on that reagents key.”
—
I WAITED FOR the door to shut.
“Those cantons,” I said. “Those same four cantons again.”
“Yes,” said Ana quietly.
“The ones Blas’s secretary was traveling to, with the money. And the ones Kaygi Haza sent his scribe-hawks to.”
“Yes.”
“But…what’s it all mean, ma’am?”
“I am not yet entirely certain, Din,” said Ana. She smiled dreamily. “But it’s very interesting, isn’t it? Very interesting indeed.”