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.

“Pardon?”

“A third—that was what you overheard Fayazi Haza saying as well. Someone from her clan was looking for a third…For a long while, I thought they meant the third poisoner, the one I now suspects exists. But now I am unsure.”

“Then…what are we to do, ma’am?”

“I…I will do what I do best.” She sat on the bed. “I will think. But you—you should go to the banquet, Din.”

“Beg pardon, ma’am. But I don’t—”

“Yes, yes, don’t feel like banqueting. But a Banquet of Blessings is a profoundly rare occurrence. More so, Vashta has specifically requested we be there. Since she’s basically the dictator of the canton, it would be wise to keep her on our side. I will have use of her soon. And besides, you’ve had a horrid few days, and I think you need reminding of what the Empire is even for.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her, puzzled.

“It’s not all this!” she said. She waved her hand at the shuttered window. “It’s not all walls and death and plotting! Nor is it dreary dispensations and bureaucracy! We do these ugly, dull things for a reason—to make a space where folk can live, celebrate, and know joy and love. So. Go to the banquet, Dinios. Otherwise, I’ll find some truly dreadful shit for you to do.”