Page 5

Chapter 5

It was late afternoon when we finished up at Sujedo’s lodgings—too late for us to venture to the Treasury bank and interview the clerks there—so Malo and I began the long return to New Town.

“So?” asked Malo. “Have you dug out some clue or hint that I have missed?”

“I’ve hardly been here a day,” I said.

“Then that is a no. How kind you are, to allow me my pride.” She cocked her head, listening. “But let us dine, then. For I’ve had no food all day, and I can hear your stomach rumbling even now.”

I paused, feeling faintly violated. “You can?”

“Yes. You need broth. Otherwise you shall be of no use to me tomorrow.”

We turned onto the main street to New Town. Yet just as I was beginning to find the idea of a bowl of soup appealing, we heard a high voice behind us: “Ah—Signum Kol? Signum Dinios Kol?”

We stopped and turned. A short woman in an elegant but simple gray dress was wandering down a lane after us, hand raised. Again, she called out my name, her voice high and tremulous, like a distressed person seeking help.

I studied her, perplexed. As far as I was aware, there was no one in Yarrowdale who should know me, nor indeed know that I was here, save for my commanding officer and Malo.

I looked to Malo, who merely shrugged. “ I don’t know her,” she said. “Do you?”

“Not at all,” I said.

We watched as the woman approached. I thought I saw something to her eye—a sharpness, perhaps—that gave me pause. “Yes?” I said as she came before me. “Can I help you?”

She smiled broadly and bowed, panting. A leather satchel hung from her neck, with many small rolls of parchment carefully sealed with wax within. “I’m so glad I caught up to you, sir,” she said breathlessly. “And I thank you for stopping. I am Sorgis Poskit, with the Usini Lending Group.”

Again, I glanced at Malo, who looked as baffled as I.

“All right?” I said.

The woman smiled again, seemingly deaf to my confusion. “You may be more familiar with one of our ancillary offices, Signum Kol,” she said. “Specifically, the Sapirdadi Creditor’s Body ?”

My breath went cold in my lungs. I fought to keep my face even.

“Oh,” I muttered. “I had not expected to…to find you here in Yarrowdale.”

“The Usini Lending Group has offices all throughout the Empire, sir,” she said sweetly, bowing again. “As you are a client of ours, I was wondering if I could perhaps have a word with you.”

—

I walked with the woman a far ways, mindful of Malo’s keen ears. Then I turned, looked her over, and tersely said, “I apologize, ma’am, but I was not aware any civilians were knowledgeable about my duties in Yarrowdale. Especially given the importance of my work here.”

“The Usini Lending Group manages much credit within the Iyalets,” Poskit said, still in that saccharine tone. “It is our prerogative to maintain awareness of where our clients are stationed at any given moment.”

Of course, I thought. The one institution that was more capable than the Iyalets themselves, naturally, were the Empire’s moneylenders.

Still trying to maintain some level of haughtiness, I said, “Even those of Special Division?”

“Oh, especially those of Special Division, Signum Kol.” Something glittered dangerously in her gaze. “Given the type of work they do, that is. I wished to discuss the terms of your father’s final line of credit with you.”

“Why?” I demanded. “I thought the situation simple. He got sick, took out an enormous loan to pay his medikker’s fees, then died. I have been punctually paying down that loan ever since—correct?”

“You have been doing so under the conventional terms, yes, Signum Kol.” Madam Poskit’s smile became positively treacly. “But now you have been posted here, to Yarrowdale, which is not yet formally part of the Empire—and is, as I am sure you are aware, exceedingly dangerous.”

I realized what she meant. “You’re going to demand a higher loan payment of me,” I said, “because I’ve been posted to a place where I might die before I can pay you off?”

“I do not demand anything, sir,” Poskit said, feigning outrage. “It is simply part of your liability allowance! One your father agreed to, if you recall.”

“My late father,” I said heatedly.

A tiny, sympathetic pout. “As you say, yes. Very sad. We also have not yet taken into account the manner of your new assignment, Signum Kol. The Empire’s Special Divisions often experience high changeovers in personnel, you see. So many are dismissed because of their inability to keep up with their demanding duties. Or the officers quit out of stress, or they fall victim to…other circumstances.”

“You mean they get killed,” I snapped, “in service to the Empire.”

“Oh, I cannot say, sir!” Poskit said. “I simply observe the actuarial reports. Thus, I wished to inform you that these two liability allowances have been applied, and your line of credit is now subject to a new payment scheme.” She produced a tight roll of parchment and handed it to me. “The details are there, along with information regarding the first required payment.” A flash of her treacly smile, and she bowed. “I apologize for interrupting you, Signum Kol. I would not wish you to pay any penalties in your labors for this! Good day.” With that, she turned and strutted away.

I watched Poskit go, stunned. I looked down at the roll of parchment in my hand, my blood burning in my veins.

No. No, I would not look at it. Not now, anyway.

I stuffed it in my pocket and rejoined Malo at the corner. I found her leaning up against a fretvine wall and idly staring out at sea.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Nobody important,” I muttered.

“Didn’t look like nobody important.”

“Can we keep going, please?” I asked. “I am quite hungry.”

She bowed. “Of course.”

—

My father had been, in his own way, a man of some talent. He had been talented at being born to a moderately prosperous family in the Outer Rim; talented at fathering children on my mother, to the point that it eventually killed her; and, last but not least, talented at choosing the worst possible investments and political interests to give his money to, eventually achieving total bankruptcy.

This was why I had become a Sublime in the first place and labored as an engraver for the Iudex: the Empire paid well for such servants, granting generous dispensations and eventual lands in exchange for the penalties to our well-being. By bearing witness to corpses and killers—and indeed, becoming a killer myself—I had intended to pay off my father’s enormous debts and eventually earn enough to move him, my grandmother, and my sisters out of the dangerous Outer Rim and into the third ring, behind the safety of imperial walls.

But then the man had sickened and died, yet not before he incurred more debts made under even more odious terms. This meant that even though I now had an imperial position that paid quite well, I was still nearly as impoverished as I had been when I first applied to become an engraver.

Yet even more galling than my own destitution was what this had done to my future: though I considered myself a reasonably skilled Iudex investigator, I secretly dreamed of serving in another Iyalet, in another service, in a canton far from here.

As I trudged through the streets of Yarrowdale, my heart felt shadowed. If my father’s new debts were to follow me about the Empire like a ghostly lamia from the children’s tales, then my dream of a new service would remain just that: a dream, and nothing more.