Page 34

Chapter 34

The prince led us through a narrow, dark, wind- ing passageway. When we finally came to a set of enormous oaken doors, he turned to study us, seeming to debate something. Then he steeled himself, opened the doors, and led us inside.

The chamber within was a tall, circular space, almost akin to a chimney, rising until it opened onto the sky. It featured no other windows, but it did possess three doors, facing west, east, and south. Tiny cubbies were set along the rounded walls, and standing inside them were totems of past kings, wrought of stone. Each one was frowning and bearded, much like those on the exterior of the great hall itself. I was almost reminded of a scribe-hawk’s roost, with tiny stone figures in place of birds.

Yet it was the table in the center of the chamber that caught the eye most. It was a long and heavy thing, and upon it was a tremendous mound of flower blossoms of pale white; and there, placed at the mound’s peak like a child upon a stack of pillows, was the body of a man.

He was an ancient creature, swaddled in fur robes atop the mound of pale blossoms, with a golden circlet set winking atop his lined brow, and a braided, graying beard cast across his chest. He seemed small to me, and his face was so long and drawn it was nearly fleshless. It had not been death that had shriveled him so, surely: he had been terribly elderly in life, and had lived his last days a withered creature.

The prince shut the doors and walked to block our view of the dead king. “Pavitar spoke truth,” he said. “We have never admitted imperials to this chamber before. But I shall permit you to stay here…provided you can show your honesty.”

I turned to Malo and said, “Three doors here. Anyone eavesdropping behind them?”

Malo cocked her head, listening, then narrowed her eyes at the one we’d just passed through. Then she shook her head. “We are alone.”

I reached into my coat, slid out the message the prince had sent to us, and handed it to him.

Prince Camak read it, then took a deep, relieved sigh. “ Asimana da dhanivahda …Thank the fates!” His regal demeanor dissolved before our eyes: he pressed a hand to his chest and sat down on the marble floor, breathing hard as if in a panic. I noticed that his teeth were even worse than Darhi’s and Pavitar’s, and were as black as tar. “I apologize, I…I had no idea if you’d come on my accord or your own! What a relief it is, to be free with someone here. This is the only place in all the High City where I am left truly alone. Now—you must tell me who this murderer is, and where we can find him, and end this nightmare!”

A rare look of discomfort fluttered across Ana’s pale features. “Mm. I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?”

The prince stood, noticing her hesitation. “Did I not read your letter correctly? You wrote to Kardas saying you knew of a smuggler operating here in the High City, who intended to kill with poison, true? And that is exactly what happened. And the Treasury folk said you have a genius skill with such things! One that defies belief!” A tone of desperation crept into his voice. “Surely you can just tell my court who he is, and have him fished out, and, I don’t know, tortured to confession—true?”

Ana raised a hand. “We go too quick now, sir. I am no sorcerer, able to summon the culprit out of the shadows. Such things take time and caution.”

“Then that is ill news! For Pavitar and his supporters expect me to have Kardas slain before this day is done!”

“Before the end of the day ?” asked Ana.

“Yes, and I was lucky to delay it that long! The very second my father died, this hall filled up with eager counselors. Darhi and Pavitar were but keenest and most powerful among them. They’d never even spoken much to me before! They spoke only to my father, and their own nobles, and the Treasury, but never me. Now I cannot get them to stop!” He moved to bury his face in his hands, but stopped, remembering his paints.

“Then we must move quickly, sir,” said Ana. “May my people inspect the body of your father?”

“You…you may view my father,” said the prince uncertainly, “but you cannot touch him. That I cannot permit, even in these times.”

“Certainly, sir,” said Ana. Then she waved to Malo and me.

I stepped forward and studied the dead man. I did not need to grow close to see his swollen, red lips and mottled throat: the telltale signs of kerel poisoning, just as Ana had said. It must have been a significant dose, I gauged, so much so that his death had to have been quick.

Malo leaned over the body and sniffed deeply. She shut her eyes, as if savoring the aroma, then opened them and shook her head— Nothing of note here.

I returned to Ana and whispered all I saw into her ear. She listened closely, gripping my arm, and when I finished she bowed her head, lost in thought.

The prince gazed down at his dead father. “A strange sight he makes,” he said softly. “I come and watch him, sometimes, hoping his chest will twitch. A breath, perhaps, or a heartbeat. But not because I love him and wish him to live—for a king is a difficult thing to love. Rather, if I see he lives, then…then I will be saved from this waking nightmare. I can go back to how things were. Isn’t that a horrible thing to say?”

Ana said nothing. Her face shivered as she swept through some complex mental calculus. “Prince Camak, were you present for your father’s death?”

“I was.”

“Then I would like you to provide me with your account of it,” she said. “As quickly and carefully as possible—for we cannot sit with you in vigil forever, surely.”

“Oh! Of course.”

—

The meeting had been a diplomatic tea, the prince told us, taking place yesterday evening. It was a somewhat common occurrence in the court of Yarrow: important folk would gather and drink a brew of the saca berry, a bright red, bitter concoction that grants one an unpleasant buzzing feeling—one that the Yarrows believed made people more honest, he said.

“Where did this tea occur?” asked Ana.

“In the eastern hall, just down that passageway,” said the prince, pointing to one of the three doors. “It is a passingly good place, with a fine view of the water. My father and I were in attendance, and Darhi and Pavitar, of course. And Prificto Kardas and his…girl. The one with the twitching eyes.”

Ana gestured to me impatiently.

“Signum Gorthaus, ma’am,” I said. “She is his engraver.”

Ana’s face briefly brightened. An engraver would be a very useful witness. “Please continue,” she said.

The meeting had concerned high state business, the prince said, so they’d had no servants present. This meant all six people at the meeting would have to serve their tea themselves, going to a cauldron along the wall and pouring a cup with a ladle. They went back and forth a few times, pouring their cups of saca as they discussed matters. This went on for nearly an hour, with no issue.

“I brought my father two cups of tea, as is my duty,” said the prince. “Then Prificto Kardas poured and brought him the third. My father sipped from it several times, but then he…he cried out and…” His words trailed off.

“It was the same cup, every time?” asked Ana. “He was never brought a new cup?”

“No,” said the prince. “It was always the same cup. I refilled it for him, and later Kardas did the same.”

“And the times you served him, sir—when he finished with his tea, what did you do with this cup?”

“I returned the cup to the cauldron, until he asked for more.”

“So, there was a moment, then,” said Ana, “when this cup sat by the cauldron empty, before Prificto Kardas filled it for him?”

“I…believe so.”

“Do you know if anyone else approached the cauldron then?”

He hesitated. “I do not recall this clearly, I am sad to say.”

“Mm. What happened then, sir?”

The king was taken away to his chambers, the prince said, but was pronounced dead before they ever even laid him on his bed. When this news was heard, Jari Pavitar began crying that it was Prificto Kardas who had done it, and that the Empire had killed their king. Swords were drawn, and the hall was instantly clapped shut.

“Pavitar said this the instant this news was heard?” asked Ana.

“Very quickly, yes,” said the prince. “Then everyone began saying it. Pavitar demanded we kill Prificto Kardas right then and there, and Darhi began shouting as well. It took everyone some time to remember that I was even in the room and had just inherited the kingdom.” A weak, miserable smile. “I admit, it took me some time to remember, as well.”

The prince had finally declared that they should take the Treasury officers to the guest chambers to be held, he said: a choice that had appeased nobody, including Darhi, who had counseled that they should seek aid from the Empire immediately. The hall guard did so, and then there was much debate among the court about what to do, with many advocating swift execution.

Then there came a screaming from the guest wing. A guard appeared and told them the captives were saying that Kardas had collapsed as well. The prince, Darhi, and Pavitar then went to investigate.

“Prificto Kardas was lying on the floor, wheezing and coughing,” the prince told us. “His lips were swollen, and his throat crimson. His people were distraught, yet he did not perish. Pavitar claimed this was yet more sign of his guilt, but…even then, I felt the Empire would employ better poisoners than this.”

Those calling for execution then began to balk, he said, and Darhi’s nobles grew loud in their claims that if Kardas were to perish in their custody, it would be a blow from which the realm of Yarrow might never recover. Yet still no decision was made.

“As morning grew near, I went to visit Kardas again to see if he still lived,” continued the prince. “It was then that I saw the bird at the window—a hawk that carried letters, the Treasury people told me. I read your message, and I realized you had tried to warn us of this tragedy before it’d ever happened! Yet I did not think the court would believe me, and…truth be told, I…” His face crumpled, and I saw a terrific fear in his eyes.

“You’ve yet to develop sufficient influence, sir?” said Ana politely.

“That is so,” he admitted. “So I wrote to you. And here we are.”

Ana bowed her head, frowning. Her fingers drummed on my arm as she thought.

“If it is this poisoner,” said the prince, “I admit, I can’t comprehend how it was done. There was no one in that room save my father, Pavitar, Darhi, and Kardas and his girl. And I do not recall any of them touching my father’s cup—save Kardas, who I do not suspect.”

Ana remained silent for a long while. “Some other questions, please, Your Majesty. First—are you aware of anyone at court with any dealings with the jungle smugglers to the south?”

Prince Camak shook his head. “No, no! I can’t imagine that. Those folk are landless and considered brigands. To consort with them is beyond imagination!”

“I ask, sir, because we found an oathcoin in the possession of this smuggler in the jungle. I understand this is a prized token in the High City. Can you imagine how this man might have gotten it?”

“No!” said the prince, astonished. “That is a precious thing! It must be stolen, I suppose. Or perhaps this villain simply found it.”

“Who at court controls or dispenses the most of such favors, sir?”

“Well…that would be Darhi, of course. The satrap came into possession of many coins, and gave them out to freely distribute influence, as he manages a great deal of the kingdom. Such things are common for one of his station,” he added.

“Thank you, sir,” said Ana. “But one final question…There is a chance you have seen this smuggler here in the hall, though he is adept at disguising himself. Din—please describe the drawing, if you could.”

I described Pyktis to the prince, and he nodded along uncomprehendingly, before finally saying, “No, no. I have not seen a man of this sort.”

“In the Empire we would call a man of his kind Rathras, ” I said. “From the Rathras cantons of the Empire. He would stand out quite a bit here, I imagine, sir.”

“Why?” said the prince blankly.

I glanced at Malo and saw that she looked as puzzled as I.

“Because…I would think Rathras people are quite rare here, sir,” I said.

“Oh!” said the prince. “I see. But that is not so—for I am one quarter Rathras. As are many in the High City.”

There was a stunned silence.

“You…you are ?” said Malo. “I had never heard of this.”

“Yes,” said Ana quietly. “How is this so, sir?”

“Well, this is old history,” said the prince. “But…when the Empire came here a century ago, the king moved his court from the old city by the bay, where the towers now lean, to here, which was once the site of our holiest temples. Our court grew much smaller. This meant fewer potential wives for our kings, and their number was already quite few—many of our court are interrelated, you know. So my grandfathers simply, well, looked beyond,” he finished vaguely.

“To…to imperial brides, sir?” Ana said, incredulous.

“Yes,” said the prince. “My grandfathers found many imperial visitors who were more than happy to become a wife of the throne, as it meant living in great finery. They came here, Tala, or Kurmini, or Rathras, and gave children to the king and the most esteemed members of his court. It was my grandmother who was Rathras, you see.”

I peered closer at him, and though it was dark in the chamber and the prince’s bearded face was adorned with gold inks, I began to see what he meant: there was something faintly aquiline and delicate to his looks, features common to those hailing from the Rathras lands.

“It has become an unpleasant bit of history these days,” admitted the prince. “My people do not love a prince who has any imperial look to him. But in truth, many here in the High City have the same look. Satrap Darhi, in fact, is also part Rathras.”

“I see. So it would be an easy thing for a man of his kind to hide here?” said Ana.

“Perhaps, yes. But could an imperial know such a thing?”

Ana was silent and did not answer him.

“May we review your servants later, sir?” she asked finally. “To see if perhaps this thief and murderer may be among them?”

“Well…certainly. But you would need to ask Darhi for that. He runs the household of the king’s hall.”

Ana allowed a tight smile. “Thank you, Your Majesty, for all your time and answers. I may have further questions for you, eventually…but for now, I should like to visit Kardas and his people. Then I will need to speak to Pavitar and Darhi. From there, I do not know where my search shall take us.”

“Of course,” said the prince. “I shall stay here, as is my duty. Ask the guard in the hall to please take you to the Treasury folk—and let him know if he does not, he shall have to answer to me.” The prince swallowed, and he suddenly looked very small next to the mound of white blossoms on the table. “I am still regent of this realm, even if not all know it yet.”