Page 30

Chapter 30

The vegetables, somehow, were the least objectionable part of Ana’s feast. I tried not to look at them as I sniffed my vial and reported to her in her quarters. They were the most undesirable vegetation I’d ever seen, being mostly knotted tubers or bulbous mushrooms or shriveled berries, all in hues either dusky and dark or unnervingly bright. They seemed to have been cultivated to send one clear message to any onlooker: Do not put this in your mouth.

And yet Ana ate them, carving off slices and stuffing them down her gullet. She gobbled down the foul things, tasting each sampling, before then moving on to the eggs. The Apoths had provided us with dozens of them in many sizes and sporting a spectrum of shells—“We use their whites to cultivate many reagents,” Malo confided in me, “and some species prove better than others”—and Ana began sending Malo back and forth from the fire, bringing her hot pans of sizzling yolks with mustard-colored whorls.

Yet neither the vegetables nor the eggs could possibly compare to the meats. The Apoths, having been pressured to provide her with the most exotic edible fleshes they possessed, had apparently taken this as an opportunity to dispose of their less desired specimens. Most of these samplings sat suspended in cloudy fluids in jars, and each time Ana popped one open and fished out a strip of flesh (A leg? Some animal’s face? A clutch of intestines? I dared not guess) I turned away and stopped up my nose to ensure I caught not a whiff.

And yet she ate these, too. Ana ate, and ate, and ate, carving off curls of meat, slicing the skins of roots and rubbing them in oils, and even once cracking a raw egg and sucking the fluid straight from within. Her appetite was endless and abominable, so much so that Malo—she who had so casually wandered through the reeking ossuary—gagged in disgust. Even when the Apoth courier brought her a pile of reports on Pyktis and his supposed death upon the Shroud, Ana did not stop her feasting: she nibbled, and chewed, and listened to me, a grin often splitting her face as if she could imagine no greater delight than this.

When I finally finished my account, Ana sat crooked in her chair, a dreamy look on her blindfolded face. One hand pawed the pages of the Apoth reports; the other danced along the table, until she dabbed a finger in one of the cloudier jars of fluid—this one an unsettling auburn hue—and sucked at it. I shut my eyes and focused on the scent of the fire in the stove.

“You sound rather pallid, Din,” said Ana with a faintly cruel tone. “Are you sure you’re well?”

“I will feel far better the second I am far away from this feast of yours, ma’am.”

“I second this,” muttered Malo. “I am unsure if all on that table is fit for consumption. I do not think you should even dump her chamber pot out nearby…”

“Oh, but this is an imperial tradition, children!” said Ana. “Exotic banquets were once a common sight in the ages of the first emperors. This was before the march to the sea, of course, and the conquering of the Titan’s Path. In those now-faded years, the ancient Khanum feasted before battles and holy days, and debates, and celebrations, and games. The courts and clearings would fill with dancers and the sacred smokes of thuribles, and they would light their silvered fires. Then came tables laid with many dishes and meats, and all the blessed Khanum sated themselves before they put their minds and bodies to great works.” She paused in her dining and said, “Though these works were not great enough to stem their decline and eventual extinction, of course.” She speared a lump of pinkish root and gobbled it down. “Such feasts are now unknown in the modern Empire. And perhaps that is a good thing! For those were savage days, for savage folk. And today, we are a far better people—are we not?”

“If folk such as Pyktis still lurk among us,” said Malo, “I am unsure.”

“A fair point, perhaps,” purred Ana. “Let us get to the task of eliminating him from our ranks, then! Malo—I assume your wardens shall search the canals more thoroughly now, yes?”

“Of course. I have my best people combing the jungle now about the warped clearing, since that was apparently where this Pyktis dwelt most.”

“And if they find any sign of him?”

“They shall send up a flare right away. But there is nothing yet. All we know is what we’ve found thus far.”

“Mm,” Ana said softly, and fell silent.

I hazarded a glance at her and studied the pile of parchments in her lap. “Have you found anything of use in what the Apoths sent us on Pyktis, ma’am?”

“I have found much,” sighed Ana. “But of use, I am unsure.” She leaned back and recited aloud, “Sunus Pyktis, approximately aged thirty-two, exact birth date unknown! First registered in Ta-Rath, capital city of the Rathras canton. Initial Iyalet scores placed him in the best Rathras Apoth academies, developed his arts working in the ossuaries there. Much information, yes, but little interesting! The only unusual thing I saw was a note from a Rathras registrar stating he thought the boy’s birth year was inaccurate, for he seemed far older than the listed birth year of 1097. Yet this tells us nothing about the man ! Did he prefer sotwine or grain brew? Was the fellow a virgin? Did he know how to fluently speak Pithian? Might he harbor a few mutinous thoughts about the Empire’s adoption of Yarrow? We still know terribly little.”

“What of his supposed death?” I asked.

“Oh, that is far grislier, and far more interesting!” said Ana eagerly. “Listen to this, children! Our dear Pyktis supposedly perished during an incident in an extraction, trying to tap the titan’s marrow with two other officers. It seems there was some contaminant on one of the officers’ suits while working the extraction. A light dusting of tree pollen, they think—which should not have been there, given all the cleaning and treatments done to their algaeoil suits. The kani splashed upon them.” She picked up a strip of fat from some grotesque specimen, stuffed it into her lips, and chewed noisily. “The pollen was transmuted, and grew rapidly, penetrating the suit…”

Malo shuddered. “So the kani found living flesh.”

“Correct! This gave way to more transmutations—I imagine a raging storm of bone and ligament—which then killed all three augurs inspecting the carcass. Or so the Apoths thought.” Her greasy digits danced over one sheaf of parchment. “The damage was catastrophic. An entire cleansing bay of the Shroud ruined for years. Yet—how did Pyktis escape this end? I cannot say, but…I will speculate he may be even more brilliant than we thought.”

“Do you think he can be caught?” Malo asked. “Or do his abilities put him beyond our reach?”

“Ah, there you forget one of the foremost rules of the Empire, girl,” said Ana. “An augmented person is still a person—even the fabled, lost Khanum!—and thus they are weak in predictable ways. No, this fellow is not all logic, and his mind is not all wheels and gears. Our man is on a mission. And he has been for a very long time, I think.”

“Two years in the jungle is not that long,” said Malo. “Not if you don’t mind worms living in bits of you.”

“Oh, I mean longer than that. In fact, I think he came to the Shroud with these monstrous intentions already in mind, many years ago.”

Malo stared at Ana so open-mouthed that I could glimpse the dark clump of hina root balanced on her tongue.

“You think he planned all this before he ever became an augur on the Shroud, ma’am?” I asked. “Why?”

“Well, first there is the missing augury,” said Ana. “Ghrelin said they’d found small discrepancies in the dosages over the past few months. This suggests that Pyktis had been stealing them for some time—saving up, then, for a period when he’d no longer have access to it. But then there is the suspicious nature of his death! This man is a genius. So were his colleagues. And yet—someone just happens to leave tree pollen upon their warding suit while trudging about in a leviathan’s entrails? A horrible coincidence that just happens to leave all bodies unrecoverable, and grant Pyktis the cover he needs to fabricate his death? No, his exit was planned, and cleverly planned at that. I believe he has been designing all this for years.” She paused. “And I don’t think he’s doing it alone.”

“Eh?” said Malo.

I nodded, grimacing. “The money.”

“Indeed,” said Ana.

“Money?” asked Malo. “What money?”

“The money that Pyktis apparently used to pay his way into the good graces of the smuggling clans!” said Ana. “Your ragged captive told you Pyktis offered a fortune for the clan’s cooperation. But where in hell could he get such a thing, assuming he’d just barely survived some catastrophe on the Shroud? The obvious answer is, someone gave it to him. He is being financed. But by whom? And why? We do not know.” She sighed deeply. “And then, stranger still, there is the mask…Malo, you said your old fisherman spied Pyktis floating downstream with a bag over his head. And now we hear tales that Pyktis never took his helmet off! Yet why hide his face? He didn’t bother to do so when robbing the vaults. What is special about his features that drives him to do such a thing? Again, we have nothing.”

An uneasy gloom stole over us, broken only by the sounds of the distant waves.

“It is an awkward moment,” Ana said. “We are like a man finding blood upon his feet, trying to discern where he has been stabbed! But at least we know who has wounded us so.”

Malo scowled. “But it is not just Pyktis who has harmed us. What a thing it is, to have all at risk because of Thelenai’s lies! So many dead—and Kol here likely to join their number, when he goes to the Shroud…”

I shot a glare at her. “Thank you for your concern.” Then, to Ana: “Do you think the commander-prificto will be charged with high crimes for what she’s done, ma’am?”

“Thelenai I shall have to handle in good time,” said Ana grudgingly. “I am sure she thinks she did the right thing—that healing so many in the future was worth inflicting pain on a few in the present—but secretly, she did it for the same reason so many regents crumble.”

“Which is?” I asked.

“Pride,” answered Ana. “She wrote a story in her mind, with herself as hero, clad in the trappings of triumph. It’s possible the greatness she has accomplished here could have been done with no deception, and thus less disaster. But a prideful creature can talk themself into believing that every deed they do is legitimate. Thus, they both giddily and greedily spin their own doom.”

Unable to bear the stench of Ana’s feast anymore, I slid out a shootstraw pipe, knelt before the fire, and lit it on one of the coals. “Will we be so lucky that Pyktis shall do the same?”

“Perhaps,” said Ana. “First, I have questions.”

—

Ana stabbed a hole in another egg with her fingernail and greedily sucked it back. Then she turned to Malo, her lips gleaming. “First, Malo…when shall the Apoths burn the warped clearing?”

“They’ve already begun, ma’am,” Malo said. “Though the work is slow and thorough. I could see the first smokes in the distance as we returned to your quarters.”

“Really?” I said. “The skies seemed clear to me.”

“Your eyes aren’t as mine,” Malo said. “But you shall see it soon. The smoke will only grow the more they burn.”

Ana tossed the eggshell into the fire, where the whites instantly began to sizzle. “Will the smoke be visible for some leagues?”

“It would…” said Malo slowly. “You think Pyktis shall watch the horizon to confirm that we have found his horrid display?”

“I think he watches us most closely, yes,” said Ana. “We are in something of a dance with him, though we do not know his steps. And one thing we do not know bothers me most of all—for how did Pyktis predict all these Apoth shipments so perfectly? Every time, he knew not only what to steal, but when and where and how to steal it! And that I cannot explain.”

“He is a genius at prediction, yes?” I said.

“Yes, but even a genius needs some information to extrapolate from!” said Ana. “Which makes me think he had some advance warning. Could it be something as simple as bribing some Apoth in the city to sneak him notice of the shipments?”

Malo shook her head. “Shipment orders are given mere days before the shipment goes out, for that exact reason,” she said. “The less time you know something, the less you can sell what you know. We Apoths are not the source.”

“Then how was it done, damn it?” fumed Ana.

Malo shrugged. “I cannot say, ma’am.”

Ana furiously muttered for a moment. Then she sniffed and said, “Fine! I shall leave it there. But next, Malo—this coin that Din found.”

Malo sighed softly. “Shall I be your guide on all things Yarrow? Surely Kardas would be a faster hand at this. He has a gift for words beyond all folk I know.”

“Given that Prificto Kardas seems to have achieved absolutely fucking nothing during his time here,” Ana said poisonously, “I shall take a muddy warden girl over his expertise any day. So! These coins are passed among the Yarrow folk as some kind of…blessing? A token of respect?”

“Something like that,” Malo grunted. “It is a sign of favor. If a noble does the king of Yarrow a good turn, the king may bless them with a coin. The noble can later give it back to the king to ask a favor, small or large. Or, the noble can grant it to one of the chieftains in service to him, in recognition of their own good works, and they can return it to the noble and make their own request of him—or they could pass it on, as well, to their captains or soldiers. And so on, and so on, and down the hill the oaths all tumble…yet they always come back up, to the court or the king.”

Ana frowned, thinking. “Could a peasant or chieftain skip the man above them, and take their favor directly to someone higher—even the king?”

“They…could,” she said reluctantly. “But that is a rare thing. Most folk stay within their place. To go higher risks punishment.”

“Punishment? Are these not tokens of favoritism?”

“Well…the king is obliged to grant any oathcoin boon asked of him, true. But once he has done so, the king may then have the person who asked killed or tortured, if he thinks the demand was too great, or too impertinent.”

“He’d…he’d have them executed ?” I asked, shocked.

Malo shrugged. “He is king. There is no law saying he cannot do so. He is the law, for he is the crown.”

“Ahh.” Ana grinned horribly. “The illusion of shared power, as opposed to the real thing…yes, that’s much more manageable for a tyrant! But would it be safe to assume that such gifts would only circulate among a select set of people in the Elder West?”

“Very much so. As I said, the coins always come back to court. I doubt if any oathcoin has ever strayed far from the High City. Before this, I had only seen one once in my life, and it was paid for dearly.”

“I see,” said Ana quietly. “Thank you, Malo.” Then she cocked her head and fell silent once more.

“What about the poison, ma’am?” I ventured. “That’s surely what he was making in the cauldron, yes?”

Ana waved at her trunk in the corner. “The green book, wedged in the corner,” she said absently. “About two smallspan thick. Deadly Vegetations of the Third Ring, I think it’s called. Look at page…forty-eight? Forty-seven? I forget.”

I did as she asked. The book was indeed there, and when I flipped to page forty-seven, I was met with an illustration that exactly matched the nut I’d seen half-submerged in the cauldron, complete with the curious drape affixed to the top.

“That’s it,” I said aloud, and squinted to read. “It is the…the kerel nut?”

“The nut itself is not terribly dangerous, actually,” murmured Ana. “In fact, in much of the Kurmini cantons, it is considered a delicacy. Rather, it is the drape that contains the toxins. Boil the drape in water long enough, and it shall leak a waxy, shimmering substance that dries into pale flakes. When ingested, it causes a violent inflammation of the throat and lungs, usually resulting in suffocation. The dead often exhibit the common telltale signs of swollen, pinkened lips and a distended throat.” A lazy smile. “I take it none of you touched the cauldron and then sucked your fingers, yes?”

“N-no, ma’am?” said Malo nervously.

“Well. That is some good news, at least. It’s far worse if it is directly fed into the blood, though. If even the tiniest drop gets into your veins, no amount of medicine or aid can help you.”

“So he means to kill again,” I said. “But do we know whom he targets?”

“Ah, we must move slower there, Din!” said Ana. “We think he plans to poison. But remember, this man is a master of both prediction and distraction! Simply because we found the poison does not mean we can trust what we found. For, Malo—how likely do you deem it that your wardens would have found his throne room without the help of your hostage?”

“Very,” grunted Malo. “It was not far at all from the warped clearing.”

“And he knew we’d find the clearing,” I said, “for he left us a note within it.”

“True!” said Ana. “And Din—there at his throne room, you found a cairn with no vines upon it! A very noticeable thing, yes? So noticeable that you quickly dug below it and found the hidden oathcoin. But recall now that it was left behind by a man who rather infamously does not leave things behind that he does not wish to—including a single goddamned hair from his head!”

“You think he left the poison and the oathcoin for us to find,” I said, “just as he did the note?”

“I worry it is so,” said Ana. “He plays his game—but are we his opponents, or his pieces to move about?”

“Then…what shall we do?” asked Malo.

“A very good question,” said Ana dryly. “Did he wish us to act on the evidence he left for us, and send us barreling down the wrong path? Or does he signal a crime already done, and wish us to react wrongly to it? I don’t know.”

“Shall we always subject ourselves to such doubts as we pursue this bastard?” asked Malo, frustrated.

“Oh, probably.” Ana smiled. “Infuriating, isn’t it?”

—

“I suppose,” I sighed, “that it would be wisest to return to what we do know. Correct, ma’am?”

“A wise point, Din,” said Ana. “Yet we might find little comfort there. For we know he has stolen many grafts, any of which he could use against us.” She turned and rummaged around in a pile of parchments. “Especially those of obfuscation and subterfuge.”

Malo nodded. “You worry he changes his appearance.”

“I do.” She finally fished out a paper and held it out to her. “He could approach us now, wearing a new face, and we’d not know it. Here is what he has. What is your estimation, Malo?”

Malo reviewed the list. “He has some tools, yes, but not enough to grant him an entirely new face. He cannot change his bones, for example—so he will be mostly the same size and shape. He could alter his skin color, but it would only last a few weeks, for, being a Sublime, it would eventually revert to gray. But he could thicken himself somewhat or purge himself of fats. Or he could add hair to his flesh or remove it. Small changes, really.”

“What about teeth?” proposed Ana.

“He has calcious grafts, true, which can mend bones or regrow teeth,” said Malo. “But that is not an unusual treatment.” She handed the parchments back. “None of this hides scent, which is our preferred sense.”

“I suppose that is a relief, then.” Ana flicked a finger at me. “Din—tea, please.”

“White, ma’am?” I asked. “Black? Or something more exotic?”

“Something delicate. The white peony, I think. I have had my fill of strong flavors this eve.”

I busied myself with the kettle atop the blackwood fire, aware that Malo was watching me with some bemusement. “A swordsman and a tea-maker,” she remarked. “Shall I see you in an apron potting plants next?”

“Perhaps I shall borrow the one you wear in the ossuary,” I said. “Though I’d rather handle tea leaves than innards.”

“Enough jibes,” snapped Ana. “I must focus, and it takes too much effort for me to invest any fucking wit in your idiotic banter!” She pressed her hands together, then tapped the gleaming tips of her fingers against her nose. “Din—I believe Thelenai mentioned that Prificto Kardas is no longer in the city, correct?”

“She said he is not, ma’am,” I said. My eyes trembled, and I echoed: “ He comes to and fro from the High City in the west and goes nowhere else. He is there even now, I understand …”

“But we must get a message to him, and quickly, too,” muttered Ana. “Yet to do so by foot or horse is much too slow.” She turned her face to Malo again. “So, Signum—I have a question for you now as an Apoth, not a Yarrow.”

“Yes?” said Malo.

“A Treasury prificto on a diplomatic mission is often outfitted with a pheromonic signal, yes? For scribe-hawks?”

“Yes, that is so. If he is following policy, Kardas carries the pheromonic marker with him, so a hawk can find him and bring him communications whenever and wherever he travels. But to my knowledge, he has not used it here yet! Those creatures are highly augmented and very expensive, and the environs of Yarrow are not forgiving.”

“Then we shall use it for the first time tonight!” said Ana. She turned, wandered blindly to her table in the corner, pulled out a sheet of parchment, and started writing. She sealed the letter with a dab of tarn-paste and handed it to Malo. “Have this sent to him, by the fastest hawk in the roost. It is a desperate measure, but…I must try something.”

Malo took it and exchanged a worried glance with me. “I shall do so, ma’am, but…what is it I am sending?”

“A warning,” said Ana. “Pyktis has targeted the Treasury before and may do so again. But I worry my warning will come far too late to be of use!”

There was a tense pause.

“Do you know what Pyktis plans to do now, ma’am?” I asked.

“You ask me what I know ?” snapped Ana. “I know nothing! I am surrounded by information—data, testimonies, evidence—yet I can draw no firm conclusions at all! I am so vexed by this man’s countless fucking plots that I worry I am his puppet, and I should search the airs about my limbs for strings! For now, we can only consent to be pulled. And there is little for either of you to do at all tonight, except what I have already said.” She fell silent for a moment, her lips working. Then she opened her mouth, hesitated for a long while, and finally said, “But… but, I will share one revelation I have had during my days buried in documents…for I have found a pattern.”

“One you didn’t mention to Thelenai, ma’am?” asked Malo.

“Indeed,” said Ana. “For it is a very concerning revelation. One I cannot trust her with. Yet I feel I can trust you two with it, if no one else.” Ana sat forward, her face shining in the light of the fire. “Listen close to me now, children. For during your jaunt upriver, I pored over countless records—many thefts, many murders, many missing materials. I believe I identified nearly all the crimes that were perpetrated by our mysterious Sunus Pyktis. Yet I quickly noticed something unusual. For Pyktis and his smugglers only ever raided shipments in the second and third weeks of the month, somewhat rarely in the fourth—but never, ever, ever in the first.”

The kettle began to burble atop the stove. I watched the flickers of steam from its spout, lost in thought.

“Never, ma’am?” I asked quietly.

“Never!” said Ana. “This rule proved ironclad, across all years, all months, and all thefts. Pyktis never emerged from his den in the first week of any month. And that I cannot explain. So strange was this pattern that I almost wondered if he was bound by the cycles of the goddamned moon!” Her blindfolded head snapped to face Malo. “Can you think of any explanation for this, girl? Anything related to weather, or tides, or some movement in the wilds?”

Malo thought about it for some time. Then she shook her head. “I cannot, ma’am.”

“Mm,” Ana said. “And you, Din? Can you think of any timeline or date you have encountered in your days here that could explain it?”

I watched as the flickers of steam grew thick about the kettle’s spout, until finally it reached a rolling boil and began to whistle. I grasped the wooden handle of the kettle and poured the water over the leaves, and the room filled with an aromatic fragrance of spice and leaf.

The first week of the month, I thought. My eyes fluttered as I searched my memories for that phrase, for I knew it felt familiar—and then I found it.

“Din?” said Ana.

“Sorry, ma’am,” I said. “I was adrift in memories.” I lightly shook the strainer, and clouds of rich amber filled the cup. “I cannot think of a date that explains this pattern. But…I can think of one that corresponds to it.”

Ana sighed heavily. “Ah…corresponds, you say?”

“Yes.”

“Mm,” she said. “The Treasury, then?”

“Yes,” I said. “You’ve already noted that, ma’am?”

“I have,” Ana said, sighing once more. “But I would prefer it be nearly anything else…”

Malo looked back and forth between us. “What? What is this you mention?”

Ana waved to me. “Recount it, boy.”

“It was something Prificto Kardas said to us when we first met him,” I explained to Malo. “An offhand comment, about when he would meet with the king of Yarrow.” My eyes fluttered, and I recounted the prificto’s words, helplessly mimicking his Sazi accent as I did so: “ The king is proving to be a master of evasion, if not outright punishment! For a good time we made progress, meeting during the first week of the month for the past two or so years. Yet in the most recent months, it has all stalled out… ”

There was a long silence when I finished. Malo had even stopped chewing her hina root.

“So,” said Malo finally. “The only time that Pyktis never attacked an Apoth barge…”

“Was the exact same time when the Treasury was at the High City, meeting with the king of Yarrow,” said Ana lowly. “Yes. Quite an odd coincidence, is it not?”

“Well, yes, but…but what does it mean ?” asked Malo, frustrated. “It aligns, but what are we to take from it?”

I studied the teacup, judged the light brown shade as a sign the leaves had fully steeped, and gingerly removed the strainer. “But we have now found an oathcoin in Pyktis’s possessions,” I said quietly. “Suggesting he either stole it…or he has been there, in the High City.” I placed the cup before Ana and stepped back. “Perhaps as an invitation. Perhaps he was meeting with someone—and many times at that.”

Another long silence.

Malo stared at us. “But by hell…do you know what you’re saying? You are telling me there may be collaboration between Pyktis and…and the court of Yarrow ?”

“Which is where Prificto Kardas is now…” I said softly.

“I tell you nothing,” said Ana with an indignant sniff. “For we have mere correlation, which is not evidence! But here are my orders. You are to go to the scribe-hawk roost, Malo, and send Kardas my letter. Then—and this is very important!—I want both of you to find and assemble your dress uniforms before tomorrow morning.”

“Our…dress uniforms, ma’am?” I asked, puzzled. “May I ask why?”

“Perhaps to see if you can follow a single fucking order without comment!” snapped Ana. “Do that, and then rest. Both of you must rest. Sleep long, and sleep well. You have had hard days. I think the ones to come shall be harder still. After all…” She gestured with a greasy finger. “Why do you think I have dined so, if not to prepare?”