I am not sure if what I have found helps the case of the Kaj . … I have discovered more letters from the Kaj’s inner circle during his time on the Continent, immediately after the capture of Bulikov, when he sank into a depression so severe he spoke to no one at all.
I have confirmed that the Kaj’s mysterious weapon was, indeed, “black lead” or “hard metal”—a metal whose reality could not be altered by Divine means. Both the Divinities & their servants were helpless against it: the Kaj merely needed to decipher a way to propel it forward, much as one would a common firearm.
But how he created it … That I did not anticipate.
After the brutal Massacre of Mahlideshi, when Saypuris revolted after the horrific execution of that simple girl, it seems the Kaj was so horrified & so furious that he did conduct experiments, as we thought … but he conducted them on his family’s djinnifrit servant! From what I have read, it sounds very much like torture, even monstrous torture: the djinnifrit was bound to serve the Komayd family’s will, so the Kaj forced it to comply with his efforts, burning & wounding the djinnifrit until he had created a material that worked not only on the djinnifrit, but on all Divine creatures, including the Divinities themselves … & upon succeeding, he executed his childhood servant.
Will this endear him to the more nationalistic factions in Saypur? Or will they, like myself, be horrified by what I have learned? I have still not found any account of the Kaj’s maternal lineage. … Did he, like the Divinities, simply manifest, with no explanation, coughed up on the shore of Saypur from the seas of history?
19th of the Month of the Bear
I no longer believe myself to be safe.
I am spied upon—I am sure of it. The cab driver in the street, the maid at the university, the newspaper seller who never seems to leave my street, nor to sell any newspapers … I am being watched.
I performed a test today—I sent my report to the minister via our telecommunications device, & kept an eye on the street. The newspaper seller was still there, still watching me, yet a young man came running up, whispered something in his ear, & sprinted away. … The newspaper seller remained there for a few minutes more, then crept away.
Is he reading my reports? Are our transmissions being intercepted?
How can I tell the minister? Could I perhaps get word to Shara? The governor?
Could I even move without their knowing?
6th of the Month of the Lark
I am sure of it now: some of my sketches have been stolen, & some of the governor’s Warehouse list is missing too . … Yet I am not sure if I can trust the governor. Perhaps she has informants in her staff!
The City Fathers rail against me. They wish me lynched, assassinated. … There are protests at the university, & the embassy is no help, either, as the chief diplomat is a blithering toad. What a fool I was to come here!
I have begun sending the minister messages that I hope will arouse her suspicion, if not anger: delays, excuses, etc. She must realize that something is wrong.
Yet I begin to suspect even her. I think all day about the Blessed, & what this could mean not just for Saypur, but for the Continent. …
Is everything we believe a lie?
29th of the Month of the L
Should I even write in this honesltly
Honestly honestly
Can’t even spell
Blessed
Watch the windows, watch
4th of the Month of the Rat
History will not let us forget: it wears disguises, reintroduces itself to us, claims it is someone new & wonderful. … But it will not let us forget.
I shall die in Bulikov, I believe.
And perhaps then, the chrysalis will open. …
*
Shara takes the last piece of paper, gently turns it over, and places it with the others.
Someone downstairs calls for more coffee; an answering cry that it’s coming.
Pigeons coo and mutter on the embassy rooftop, sharing gossip in their own language.
Shara is faint. She nearly falls out her chair.
A worldview is a series of assumptions, of perceived certainties, a way things must be because they have always been that way, and they cannot be otherwise: any other way, any other world, is completely inconceivable to that worldview.
Shara has always felt that certain worldviews are more flexible than others: some are myopic and strict, while others are quite broad, with permeable borders and edges, ideas and events floating through without any resistance. … And for so long, Shara thought she possessed the latter.
Yet now … Now it feels like all the assumptions and certainties that made up her world are dissolving under her feet, and she will plummet down, down, down. …
What a brittle, tiny thing the world is.
All the mysteries and murders and intrigue of the past days shrink until they are meaningless to her.