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Andik walked towards the houses. He tried to concentrate on his task, not to dream of a bath and a bed. The Great Ensin had given him very, very limited instructions, probably to avoid a leak of information. This meant that Andik needed to rely on his intuition.

He suspected that someone else would give him more accurate information about where the corpse had been found. With luck, he might be able to see it for himself. Without a body to examine, his chances of understanding what had really happened would be drastically reduced.

His eyes widened as he recognized the tall, slender figure of Ensin Nalia Korr, servant of the Red Army. She, too, wore traveling clothes, so different from the uniforms or armor that distinguished men and women of her rank. Yet she looked proud and noble, as if ready to lead hundreds of warriors into battle. In the twilight, her dark skin looked as polished as marble and. She walked toward him, smiling, revealing a beautiful set of teeth.

"They didn't even give you time to unpack, Ensin Thawill?" she asked, pointing at the satchel Andik was carrying on his shoulder.

He nodded, trying not to look defeated by fatigue. "It seems there is no time to lose. But I can't understand why anyone would bother to ask for me if you're already here."

She rolled her large eyes skyward. "I'm not one of your girls, Andik. Flattering me will do you little good. But make no mistake, I'm surprised too."

"Why?" he asked as they exchanged a brief embrace.

"Because of the drain on resources. Marzouq is on his toes. In fact, I'd say he's scared to death that this will become public knowledge."

Andik felt the same way, and it only made him more uncomfortable.

They exchanged information, walked, and found that they knew little—too little. But Nalia had already visited the theater of tragedy. "This way."

A few men and women were busy carrying food and tools, and merchants were closing up shop as they walked through the sparsely populated streets.

"Here is the inn. The brigade commander in charge of this part of the city was on the verge of talking to the wrong people, and he had filled this hole with soldiers as if he was afraid it would catch fire," Nalia said, pointing to a three-story building clad in purple-stained lime.

The Spiced Rooms.

A name that promised very specific pastimes, Andik reflected. "How did you shut him up?"

Nalia laughed bitterly. She stroked the long, thin black braids that fell over one shoulder. "I reminded him that the power he has been given has a tendency to slip through the fingers with impressive ease. Especially when it gets in the way of an Ensin."

"'You're always as graceful as a hammer."

"I've already told you to stop the flattery."

The inn greeted them with a quiet air of anticipation. As they stepped inside, the walls themselves seemed to grunt in discontent; made of rough stone, bare and cold, they seemed capable of trapping sound. The flickering torchlight cast shadows that barely danced on the dark, weathered wooden tables. Despite the cleanliness and tidiness, there was an oppressive aura. This was often the case in places people frequented in secret.

The innkeeper, a stocky, grey-haired man with strong but shaky hands, greeted them with a smile that could not hide the shadow of concern in his eyes.

"Welcome," he said almost in a whisper. "We rarely see visitors like you here. And even more rarely do we witness such tragedies." He lowered his gaze.

Nalia stepped forward. "We understand, sir, you can be sure of that. But you would do well to hold your tongue. This is the kind of place where silence is still highly valued. And you must strive to keep that quiet intact. Do I make myself clear?"

The man's eyes widened, but he only nodded in response.

"Now show us the room. For the last time, if the gods grant us their favor."

They followed the innkeeper up a narrow wooden staircase, each step muffled by the silence that enveloped the upper floor, then all the way down the hallway to the second floor.

They stopped at the door.

The man slid a key into the slot and clicked the lock. He seemed unable to go any further. "I will leave you alone. You know where to find me, my Ensins."

Nalia nodded and the man left.

Andik pushed open the creaking door and blinked to adjust his eyes to the darkness.

Nalia stepped forward and lit a small lamp that rested on a low wooden cabinet. The dancing light illuminated a small, tidy room and a bed with surprisingly white sheets. The warm glow of the lamp made it look like a stone altar.

And on the mattress, the body of the young woman.

Andik slowly shrugged off the bag he carried on his shoulders, set it down near the door and stared at the girl. He held his breath, captivated by the image of youthful beauty immobilized by the caress of death.

Long black hair spread across the pillow, framing a beautiful round face. Full lips, thick lashes, pale skin. The tangle of sheets barely covered her.

Andik was pierced by a blade of pure sadness, a pain that only a wasted life could create.

Even Nalia, usually so adept at hiding her emotions, let out a slow sigh. "So young," she murmured.

"Her name?" asked Andik, unable to look away from the girl and at the same time wanting to forget what he saw.

"Suna Monning. Daughter of Lugalen Mik Monning. She traveled under a false name. I found this in her luggage. Look at the last page." Nalia pulled a small bound volume from the folds of her cloak and handed it to him.

Andik handled it carefully, almost as if he was afraid it would turn to ash in his fingers.

It was a diary. The girl's handwriting, Suna, was both clear and refined. Few flourishes, lines that always kept the same distance. A skilled hand, no doubt.

Andik understood that he had to read every individual page, to delve into every thought that Suna had put down on paper. He had to do it for her; to understand, if possible, what had drawn her to Urook and to discover what had really happened. But even the thought of it made him feel unclean.

He followed Nalia's instructions and turned to the last page. The writing now seemed rushed, the ink slashing across the paper with an almost violent intensity.

He took my heart and vowed to marry me.

He promised me everything,

but he wanted only one thing from me.

Tonight, on this bed,

I had the greatest night of my life,

consumed by a fire that burned me to the bone.

I thought he felt the same way.

Instead, when I woke up, I found myself alone.

Abandoned.

There is a note on the sheets.

He wrote to stop looking for him.

He said he wasn't the right man for me.

That there was no future for us.

Andik read and reread those words, a desperate farewell, his eyebrows furrowed. "She wrote about a note." He glanced at Nalia, but she shook her head. "Do we have any idea who he is? The man she spent the night with?"

Nalia looked at the diary. "The girl wrote several pages about a soldier. One of ours. She met him while stationed in Napur last summer. They fell in love at first sight. Something tells me, however, that her lover may not be our man."

"Explain yourself."

Nalia leafed through the pages of the diary while Andik still held it in his hand. "If we are to believe what she wrote, their relationship seems to have stalled. The girl's parents frowned upon the difference in bloodlines."

"In reality, it may have deepened their bond. The allure of a forbidden relationship could have been even more captivating for a young girl, don't you think?" Andik spoke without much conviction. There was something wrong, a sickening tension in the air that had little to do with the corpse lying just a few steps away.

"The girl stopped reporting on him a few months ago. Until then, she had made sure to write down her love pains every day. Her attention shifted to the Trials," Nalia continued.

"Was she invited?"

"It seems so. Perhaps she decided to put aside her feelings for the soldier and embrace the family cause."

Andik scratched his forehead. "We don't know her. We don't know what she really wanted or what frightened her."

"She probably feared her parents would read the diary, so she stopped writing certain private details. My guess is that she met someone else," Nalia said as she walked over to the small wooden cabinet and looked at the chalice sitting next to the lamp. "But I think we should talk to the soldier anyway."

Andik nodded and looked at the chalice as well. The wine was cloudy and still showed traces of thin fingers. Maybe the girl had squeezed it hard. He took it and swirled the liquid. Hints of dark residue stirred in purple swirls like a tiny and deadly storm. He sniffed and recoiled instinctively. "Green Avendira. The smell is unmistakable, but it has been cut with opium."

Nalia approached the glass and repeated his chain of movements before agreeing with him.

Andik glanced around hesitantly. He had both the authority and the discretion to examine the body. He should have searched for wounds or signs of a struggle. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. In a way, it felt like prolonging the suffering of a death that was already far too painful.

"You haven't examined her yet, have you?" he asked Nalia.

"I would prefer to have you here as a witness. But I can do it myself if you wish."

"Thank you."

The sound of excited footsteps came from downstairs, followed by muffled voices. Soon after, the door swung open and slammed against the wall.

The man strode in with feverish eyes and a desperate expression. He paused, staring at the motionless body on the bed, then brought his hands to his temples and pressed them tightly, as if trying to push reality out of his mind.

"Suna! Suna, my baby!" he stammered, his eyes ready to pop out of their sockets. He approached the bed, reached out a hand to the girl, but then recoiled as if he had been bitten by a snake.

Something had changed in the man. Andik saw clearly the moment when desperation turned to deaf rage. "What happened? Do you know? Do you know who did this to her?" he asked in a cold voice.

Andik approached him. "My condolences, Lugalen Monning. We can only begin to fathom the pain you must be feeling right now. We are trying to piece together what happened and we need your help. Any information you can give us about Suna or the people around her could be crucial."

The man trembled. He shook his head and stumbled over his first words. Then he fell silent, took a deep breath and tried to regain control. "Was she killed?" His eyes darted to the chalice, then back to the body. "Who could have done such a terrible thing to my little girl?"

Andik kept his distance. He had seen enough death, felt its sharp, poisoned claws on his own skin, to know that there were no words in the world that could ease the pain this man felt. There were also infinite ways to respond to that agony. From silence to screaming, from wide eyes staring into emptiness to the most bitter of tears.

Monning chose rejection. He looked around as if every speck of dust, every long dark hair on those damned white sheets, every drop of wine could give him a foothold to wake up from an all too real and cruel nightmare.

The Lugalen continued to ask questions. When had she arrived? How much time had she spent there, and with whom? Why had no one noticed that she was too young to travel without her family? And who, damn it, damn it, damn it, was the person who had done this to her?

Andik and Nalia listened to his questions, but were sadly unable to answer them.

"The investigation is ongoing. We will need to ask you questions. But not now," Nalia said. Her voice was warm, calm, almost maternal. "Your daughter still has much to tell us, in her own way. Do you know what I mean?"

The man looked at her as if she were speaking another language. Then he raised his eyebrows and nodded. "I want to be there," he whispered.

"Of course," Nalia replied. Then she met Andik's gaze.

"I will be downstairs," he replied, and left the room with a heavy heart and a stinging anxiety in his throat.

Andik talked to the innkeeper again. The man cooperated and was more than willing to call the rest of the people who worked at the inn. They were all family members, sons and daughters, but also a son-in-law. Eight people in all.

They were sitting at the largest table in the common room.

Apparently, all the other guests had been turned away hours before. The innkeeper swore that no one understood what had happened in Suna's room. Andik made a mental note: he needed to ask Nalia how much she really believed that statement. Was there any way to make sure that the guests, who were certainly upset about being evicted, would not begin to distort the truth and make the situation even more complicated?

A description emerged from the conversation, though it lacked critical details. Suna Monning had been seen with a man who was older than her, but still relatively young. He was tall, handsome, with dark hair and skin. His plain clothes contrasted sharply with the girl's.

It was the innkeeper's wife, a petite, gray-haired woman, who added, "She tried to look like one of us. Just an ordinary person. But skin like that and delicate fingers are not found here." She raised her palms and showed him her calluses. Then she smoothed her long dark apron. "And though she wore simple robes, the fabrics were too clean, too soft. I've seen so many rich, bored young women looking for fun outside their gilded palaces. She was no different."

The name the man had left in the register was certainly false. No one had seen him leave the room, but he could have slipped out of a window in the middle of the night.

Andik wasn't surprised to find so few useful clues. Nobles were adept at hiding their escapades and preserving their reputation. He knew this very well from his own family heritage.

Now, all he had to do was to compare the description with the soldier who had inflamed Suna's heart until recently.

What if they were two different men?

What if Nalia had been right?

Andik had to bitterly accept the very real possibility that they would never find this man. Nor were they sure that he had acted against Suna in any way. Maybe her death was really the result of a young love gone wrong. The feeling that the death hid something darker was hard to articulate. And in a way, it wasn't even the most disturbing aspect of the situation.

Grand Ensin Marzouq's cursory letter focused more on containing the possible consequences of the tragedy than on finding out what had caused it.

Andik could sense the potential fallout and understood the desire to conduct these investigations in secret.

For now.

He rose from the table with a low groan of exhaustion. How long had it been since he had rested? The previous night, just the last part of the ship's journey, had been sleepless. The Ymm Tide had thrown high waves against the ship and the wind had beaten them mercilessly.

Andik had feared the worst, but the storm had passed just as it had started: suddenly. And now he could hardly stand.

Nalia and the Lugalen came down shortly after. The man marched past Andik in silence, without a glance at him, and left the inn.

"I need a drink." Nalia put her hand on his arm and asked the innkeeper to clear the room. When she was alone with Andik, she approached a wooden cabinet that held an assortment of dark bottles. As she uncorked them and sniffed for the best wine, she said, "The girl has had sex. There are no cuts or bruises, but her lover was enthusiastic, to say the least." She raised a bottle to her mouth and took a sip. "Now her lips are green and her eye sockets are black."

"So she died from the poison." Massive doses of Green Avendira, especially when mixed with intoxicating powders, produced that effect.

They were silent for a moment.

"I allowed the Lugalen to take his daughter tonight. There's not much more the poor girl can tell us now."

"Did he make a fuss?"

Nalia shook her head gently. "He just wants his daughter back, that's all. Even though he's upset, he seems like a cautious man. I don't think he'll talk."

"Marzouq will be pleased."

"Careful, Thawill. I know that tone."

"What tone?"

"The one you use when you're about to do something very stupid." She nudged him with her elbow.

Andik took the bottle from her fingers and drank. The wine set his throat on fire. Coughing, he replied, "We need to talk to the soldier she seemed so in love with." He put the bottle back in Nalia's hands and she looked at him, but seemed distracted. "What's going on?"

"While I was examining the body, I spoke to the Lugalen," she explained, “I asked him about the soldier. Apparently he only met the man once, after he found out about the matter. Monning managed to scare him enough to break off the relationship."

"That's why Suna stopped writing about him in her diary."

Nalia nodded. "There's more," she continued, leaning on the edge of the next table. "The Lugalen has seen to it that the soldier will be very, very busy for the foreseeable future."

Andik frowned and waited for her to continue.

"He had him assigned to one of the troops patrolling the Ymm Tide. The soldier is most likely out at sea and will be there for months. Maybe years."

Andik tensed. There were dozens of ships, much like the one he had traveled on, charged with keeping the waters off Kenjir safe. Most of the soldiers loyal to the three Households would sooner or later play their part in that aspect of the war effort. These were often temporary assignments, unless one was part of a ship's permanent crew.

The slimy crawl of an intuition, the twist in the pit of his stomach, heralded the rise of an idea. "Where is the girl's journal?" he asked suddenly, his mouth dry. "Does she mention him by name? Her lover, I mean."

Nalia answered him, pulling the volume out of her tunic. "Yes, of course. Wait, I'll show you." She flipped through a few pages, turned the book over and lifted it up. "Jaesh. His name is Jaesh Rebi."

Andik widened his eyes. "I know him. He wasn't here tonight."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because he traveled with me for weeks. I left him in Belur a few hours ago."

Andik and Nalia stayed at the inn late into the night to make sure they had not overlooked any details. They helped the Lugalen prepare the body and load it onto his luxurious carriage. They also had to remind him to remain silent throughout the investigation.

Andik felt as guilty as a thief, because the elements to investigate were practically non-existent, and because his superiors had already decided that no further questions needed to be asked.

The Lugalen cocooned himself in an icy silence, using it as a thin shield against the overwhelming pain. He responded with monosyllables, nodded briefly, and then ran off, carrying his daughter with him.

The two Ensins continued to speak with the innkeeper and his family, then checked every corner of the room where Suna Monning had died.

Andik was shaking with exhaustion and risked collapsing on Nalia as the first light of dawn touched the inn.

She put a hand on his shoulder and stared at him, "Let's get some sleep. I know a place within walking distance."

"A dark corner would do for now. Even the floor looks quite comfortable."

Nalia laughed softly. "There's an air of death between these walls. If we stay here, we'll end up dreaming about Suna, I'm sure. Let's go." She hoisted his bag onto her shoulders and dragged him out of the inn after exchanging a few words with the innkeeper. The poor man looked like a beaten dog.

Andik hoped that this tragedy would not be the end of the inn. "I will come back to see you," he promised him, hoping that the man did not take his words as a threat.

They walked through the streets of the neighborhood, which gradually came to life, until they reached a building similar in shape to the inn they had left behind. But this one was in much better condition. The stone pillars were smoother and shinier, the red plaster gleamed in the cool light of the coming morning, and the woodwork had recently received a generous coat of wax. There was no sign in sight.

Waiting for them was a handsome man with blond hair and brown eyes. He wore only dark leather pants and rested one shoulder on a pillar by the door. "Ensin Korr," he said, bowing briefly and smiling. He took Nalia's hand and kissed the back of it. "You honor us with your presence."

Nalia stroked his bare chest. "We need rest, Stephel, not entertainment. Prepare a room for us."

The man nodded, bowed again, and snapped his fingers. Two young women, dressed in thin linen that left little to the imagination, ran to do his bidding.

"With great pleasure, my Ensins. But let me say that we would be more than honored to brighten your morning. Are you sure you just want to sleep?"

Andik was on the verge of delivering a mighty elbow to Nalia's ribs and asking her why on earth she had dragged him into a brothel, but exhaustion threatened to break him right there. "We're sure of that, no doubt," he hissed with all too much harshness.

Nalia looked at him sideways. Then she added, "My friend is tired. And when he is tired, he forgets the elegance and bearing that should distinguish him." She shot an understanding look at the man, who stared back at her as if she were the personification of desire.

They followed him through the dimly lit corridors. The smell of fragrant herbs and sweet smoke was overwhelming, mingling with that of wine and sweat. The guests had been celebrating until a few hours before, it seemed.

They went up to the second floor, Andik struggling to stifle groans of frustration and exhaustion, and reached a hallway lit by a half-open window. The dawn light was warm.

Stephel opened the doors to a richly furnished room. Dark red silks covered a large bed and a sofa piled high with pillows. Heavy curtains covered a high window.

Andik barely looked at them as he pulled off his cloak.

"Will you join us for lunch?" asked Stephel.

Nalia gave him a kiss on the cheek as she pushed him out. "With great pleasure."

The man smiled at her and bowed, then left, closing the door behind him.

Andik dropped onto the bed, sinking into scented silks and all-too-soft pillows. "I should have known," he groaned. He blinked his heavy eyelids.

"What?" she asked, dropping the heavy bag.

"That you would choose a place like this."

She sat down beside him. "You seemed too tired to go to a more elegant place. But if you don't feel comfortable," she tapped his chest with a finger, "we can go right back on the road."

"No, no," he sighed. "It's not that bad."

"Want me to help you take your boots off?"

"I can do it myself." As he took off his left boot, Andik watched Nalia. She, too, looked tired. "Would you like to come with me?"

She stood and began to undress. After years of training and serving together, the awkwardness of seeing each other with little or nothing on was gone. "Of course I want to. Do you think your friend is still in Belur?"

"For at least a week. I would rather be the one to tell him about Suna's death. Jaesh is a good man. I don't want him to find out by accident."

"That's nice of you, Thawill. I'm glad there are people you can be less grumpy and unapproachable with."

He removed his other boot and began to undo the laces that closed his tunic. "I'm too tired to take that as an insult, Nalia."

She giggled as she lay on the bed wearing only a thin purple tunic, the same one Andik wore on his skin.

"You are right. We must get our strength back. I'm afraid we're going to need it." Nalia yawned. "Have we hit a dead end?" she asked, her eyes on the wooden planks that covered the ceiling.

Andik lay down beside her. "Not necessarily. We'll keep asking questions, at least for a few days. Maybe something will turn up."

"But we have nothing. Nothing at all. The man who spent the night with Suna took great pains to erase all traces."

"Nobody disappears into thin air. We will talk to the guards who have been patrolling the city gates for the last few days. They must have met Suna. And they probably asked her where she was going and how long she planned to stay," he said and yawned again. "Maybe the girl was really desperate, convinced that her life was meaningless. Or maybe someone used her and then got rid of her in the worst possible way. But I will not take this doubt to my grave. I will keep asking questions." His voice had softened to a whisper.

Nalia turned on her side. She stroked his cheek. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm just tired."

"No, there is more. Even if you don't want to tell me." She sighed. "Don't get caught up in it, Andik."

"Caught up?"

"You know exactly what I mean. We have orders to follow and nothing more. Do you understand me?"

There was a precise weight to Nalia's words. She was one step away from using her seniority against him.

"I understand."

"Now sleep. And try not to snore or I will smother you with a pillow." She smiled and turned onto her other side, and pulled the sheets up to cover her head.

Sleep was near. Andik could already feel its coils enveloping his mind.

He silently prayed that the lifeless face of Suna Monning stayed far from his dreams.

Then he closed his eyes.