Page 40

Chapter 40

Ana had once remarked to me that an Apoth officer gathers specimens like a hog might collect burs in the forest, and indeed, Commander-Prificto Thelenai’s office was no exception: though hers was a stately chamber, with a high fretvine ceiling and teardrop mai-lamps hanging about the oval windows, much of the walls were consumed by hanging pots and trellises, each containing a flower, vine, or shrub. Though it was too dark by now for me to make much out beyond the riot of stem and leaf, the room was so redolent with aromas and fragrances that I could tell each little plant received a great deal of care.

“I apologize for the state of things,” Thelenai said absently as she fetched pillows for us to sit on the floor: the traditional Rathras method of seating. “This place mostly acts as a nursery for my courtyard garden, where I nudge the little ones along before being planted…”

I guided Ana to her pillow, and then Malo and I sat on our own. Thelenai gracefully rearranged her robes: again, the Rathras method of swooping the skirts forward, sitting with one’s arms out, and then folding the fabric of the arms in the lap. It was quite a production, especially on a person so tall as she. “How shall we begin, Immunis?”

“With where our story begins, I think,” purred Ana. “With Sunus Pyktis. I would like to tell you all we have collected of him—and I hope these comments shall spark some memory in your mind, Commander-Prificto.”

Thelenai nodded, her bald pate gleaming blue like a new moon. I touched Ana gently, indicating she could proceed.

“We know, of course, of the tragedy that occurred on the Shroud in 1127,” Ana began. “The one that supposedly killed Pyktis to begin with. Your augurs were to enter and explore the carcass of a leviathan, and though their warding suits had been cleaned and prepared most thoroughly, somehow a dusting of pollen came to be on one of them. The pollen met the kani, the titan’s blood, and reacted. The kani then found the flesh of the augur within. And thus, all was lost.”

“The greatest catastrophe in the history of the Shroud,” said Thelenai softly. “It might have consumed the structure itself, had not the envelope of the Shroud itself sensed the contagion and contained it.”

“Yes,” said Ana. “How Pyktis survived this, we do not know—but I now believe I know where he went immediately after his survival. I believe he went to the High City of Yarrow.”

“You have evidence for this?” asked Thelenai.

“I have testimony,” said Ana. “And guesswork. One of the smugglers told us that during their first meetings, Pyktis brought a great deal of money to his clan, seeking to buy their favor. But how could he get such a thing, unless he’d fetched it from the High City first? Which meant he’d met with his agent there before ever becoming the pale king of the swamps, as he later became known. But it is quite a leap from catastrophe to castle, is it not? In fact, it brings up all manner of practical questions—namely, how in hell did Pyktis even manage such a maneuvering? Imagine this figure, staggering ashore after his escape from the Shroud. How could he—stranded, with no resources—get to the High City? Most imperials do not even know such a place exists! And even if he could get to the High City, how could he secure an audience with a court official who had access to such funds, and convince this person to lend them to him? I mean, this man is a Rathras axiom! Could he even speak the Pithian tongue? Perhaps with his augmented mind, Pyktis could do such a thing. But it still leaves much unanswered.”

Thelenai blinked her large, dark eyes. “I agree,” she said softly. “But I have no answers to give you here.”

“Unfortunate!” said Ana. “But expected. Yet a deeper question awaits—why do any of it ?”

“Why?” echoed Thelenai.

“Yes. Why leap to consort with smugglers and Yarrow nobles? Why become the murderer among the canals? Why did he so steadfastly set himself against us?”

“I…I assumed he hated us,” said Thelenai. “For what I had put him through. His brush with death, and the many burdens of his duty.”

Ana grinned madly. “I think otherwise, ma’am. He has moved too quickly for that. Indeed, I do not think the disaster upon the Shroud in 1127 was an accident. Nor was it solely intended to fabricate Pyktis’s death—rather, I believe it was an attempt to destroy the entire Shroud —yet he failed in doing so. And when he washed ashore in the realm of Yarrow, I believe he immediately began plotting how to attempt this again. To complete this attack, he needed kani, the titan’s blood. To attain that, he needed reagents. To get those, he needed smugglers. To secure their allegiance, he needed money and allies—one agent in the High City, and another in Yarrowdale.” She waved a hand. “A simple enough chain. And it has worked perfectly thus far, I must admit! But now, he is executing his final stages…and to ensure that all goes as he plans, I think he is eliminating all his allies, one by one, so they cannot betray him.”

“You mean…the smugglers in the jungle,” said Thelenai. “And…and the king of Yarrow…?”

“The smugglers I am sure of,” said Ana. “The king, less so, for I have many questions there. I do not even know how he managed it, to be frank!” She sighed. “I think most on what Malo once told us…Din, kindly recount her words regarding how Pyktis may fashion a new face for himself!”

My eyes shimmered, and I spoke: “ 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. ”

Malo scowled at me. “How I dislike your impression of my words.”

“Thus, we come to it,” said Ana. “We know much of Pyktis and his movements. And yet we still know nothing! We do not know what form he has woven about himself. We do not even know why he so wishes to destroy the Shroud.” Her head twitched toward Thelenai. “Thus…we must speak to those who know more. Do you understand, ma’am?”

A cold needle stabbed into my heart at that. I suddenly felt my flesh crawling with sweat. “Pardon?” I asked, softly.

“Yes,” said Thelenai. “You wish for your signum here to go to the Shroud now and consult with the augurs.”

“Indeed,” said Ana.

“Oh, shit,” said Malo.

—

“Ahh—pardon?” I said again.

“It is the only way, Din,” said Ana gently. “We know now that Pyktis has been planning all this for years. He has controlled his own story at every step, with lie after lie. A masterful performance, truly! But the truth comes out in moments of extreme stress—and the Shroud is a terribly stressful place, is it not?”

“True,” said Thelenai heavily. “And we do have many ships breaking the containment there now, for we must bring many resources there to prepare the marrow for its journey. One of them could ferry the boy across the bay.”

“As I hoped,” said Ana. “But I wish for Din to do more than simply speak to the augurs—I wish him to inspect the marrow itself, and all you prepare for it.”

“I’m sorry— pardon ?” I said, my voice now hardly more than a whisper.

“That is a heavy ask, Dolabra,” said Thelenai. “The marrow is our greatest prize. The odds of us securing one again are so small it plagues my dreams.”

“I sympathize,” said Ana. “But I am plagued as well—namely by a question…Why hasn’t Pyktis attacked yet ? He has possessed these poisonous reagents and known of the marrow’s location for some time now. Why delay so long that we become aware of him? Unless his attack has already been made, and we do not know it.”

“That is not possible,” said Thelenai lowly. “We inspect all we receive.”

“But this is Pyktis,” said Ana. “And thus, I worry.”

Thelenai meditated on this, her face wan. Then she whispered, “All right. I shall make it so. Yet we have never let an engraver within the Shroud, and certainly never allowed one to glimpse our greatest treasures. It is against policy. Policy can be waived in an emergency, but engravers may still be fragile in such a place. Such memories lie differently within the mind. It will require a different formula of soothings and grafts to calibrate him.”

“You’re going to…to alter my moods, ma’am?” I asked.

She laughed lightly. “Of course! Almost all who go there receive such treatments. Yet I have never done so for an engraver…”

“May I assist, ma’am?” asked Ana. “For I must have all of his memories to do my work.”

“Certainly,” said Thelenai wearily. “I would welcome such help…”

She offered Ana an arm, and together they went to her desk on the far side of the room to plot my fate.

—

I sat on my pillow, dazed and horrified. It was not the first time my duties had required me to go to unholy places, yet the Shroud was another thing entirely. The sea walls of the East were dangerous once a season; the Shroud was a dangerous thing at every hour of every day of the year, like a dreadful chrysalis always threatening to hatch. And here I was, set to go traipsing within the guts of the thing, the marrow perhaps sleeping just beneath each footfall.

“Feeling doomed, Kol?” asked Malo beside me.

“Yes,” I said faintly. “You know, I rather am.”

A bitter laugh. “At least if the Shroud kills you, your death will be quick. Others will have to wait and dread ours before it finally falls.”

I frowned a bit, then realized what she meant. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know what the Treasury planned for…for Yarrow.”

She grunted but said nothing.

“Surely they won’t abandon you here?” I asked. “You’re an Apoth signum, after all.”

“Will they? I do not know. I am not a citizen of the Empire. And even if they did get me out, where would I go? I’ve never been beyond the borders of these fetid swamps. But this pain feels small, knowing how many others will be damned to useless toil on the land of some noble or another, for all their miserable lives.”

“I can’t imagine what it’s like, to have this glimmer of hope, and then have it so quickly smothered.”

“I can,” muttered Malo.

I glanced at her. “Were you one of them once?” I asked. “A naukari ?”

She debated answering, then shrugged. “As were many.”

“Did you run away?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Only if you wish to tell me.”

She was silent for a long moment. “I did not flee. I was freed. But…such an act came at a cost.” She looked back at the window and the slice of the moon shining through. “I have seen only three oathcoins in all my life, Kol. The second was the one you have now in your pocket. The third was the one we discovered in Pyktis’s den. But the first…it was when a boy I toiled alongside saved the life of our lord. Lord Prabhu di Gudia was the nobleman’s name. A lover of horses but a terrible horseman. He was thrown from his steed and broke his arm in a ditch. The bone cut through a vein, and he could have bled out—had not young Dokha leapt into the ditch, tied off the wound with his belt, thrown the lord over his shoulders, and run him back to his ancestral house. He saved his lord’s life, and for this act, Dokha was granted an oathcoin, passed down from the king through many lords.

“But there is a silent agreement of how oathcoins work. You return it to the man who gave it to you for a favor. You could go above him, to a higher lord or even the king—but only if the need is great, and the favor does not bring insult. Otherwise, you would be in tremendous peril. But Dokha…he was a very good boy. Very selfless, you see.”

“He asked for your freedom?” I guessed.

“He did,” said Malo. “The freedom of all the naukari who were below the age of ten. And they made us watch as they killed him for it. Struck his head from his shoulders as if it were a piece of clay, then sank his corpse to the bottom of one of our holy lakes.”

“That’s horrible,” I said softly.

“Yes. But that is what it takes to break so much tradition, so much old power. Yet do you know what saddens my heart most, Kol? It is not that Dokha died so, though I grant that is a horror. It is how my folk so eagerly cling to the poisoned relics of throne and chain. They would gladly die clinging to them and proclaim it salvation.” She plucked a leaf off a plant and kneaded it between her fingers. “So. You will leave, as any wise people would. We will stay here, ruled by the king and the nobles. Those who once served the Empire will be hunted, I expect. And things shall stay the same—or grow even worse. Maybe I will go into the swamp and live as one of those people. I could find a use for my nose and eyes there, at least.”

I gazed at Ana and Thelenai, murmuring at her desk on the other side of her chambers. “What if…what if I could get you out?” I asked.

“Out? To where?”

“To somewhere else in the Empire.”

Malo grunted. “Are such powers available to a signum?”

“I have no control over the Apoths, but…I could ask Ana. You could transfer, perhaps, to the Iudex, who could then assign you to other duties deeper in the Empire. The Empire makes it easy to become a citizen, for so many cantons decline in population—but you must be on its soil to do so.”

“Do you know of what you speak?” she demanded. “Have you done this before?”

“No,” I confessed. “But…it could be tried, yes?”

She thought it over. “Would I have to serve under Ana, to do this?”

“Oh, no. She is…not easy to serve, and she only ever has one assistant. Why do you ask?”

“Well. She is brilliant, I suppose, but…” She shuddered. “I confess, there is a strange scent to that woman sometimes. One I don’t quite know. It troubles me. You can ask her, if you like. But to me, your plans taste like the fantasies of a young man, attempting to invent a way out. We are small things, Kol. We are given no charity in this world.” She gave me a sad smile. “But I thank you for thinking of me, even when your own fate takes such a black turn.”