“I won’t admit to something I didn’t do!”
“All evidence speaks to the contrary.” Drusilla perched on the edge of the desk, leaned close to Mia. The obsidian key at her throat glittered in the smoky light. “You are the only left-hander among the current flock. You stand to gain most by Carlotta being removed from Spiderkiller’s contest. You cannot account for your whereabouts yestereve, and the victim’s blood is found on your sheets—a fact which you yourself cannot explain. Has Carlotta ever visited your room?”
“No, but—”
“Was she cut in the altercation at the Sky Altar with Jessamine, perhaps? Could her blood somehow have gotten onto your clothing?”
Mia considered lying for a moment, but knew Drusilla would ask these same questions of everyone who witnessed the brawl. And to be caught in a lie now …
“No, Lotti wasn’t cut.” Mia frowned. “Why were you in my room, anyway?”
“Searching for Carlotta’s missing notebook, of course.”
“You honestly thought you’d find it? I’d have to be some kind of idiot to keep it in my room after slitting her throat, wouldn’t I?”
“But if you were being framed for the murder as you claim, would the killer not be best served by planting the notebook, rather than a single drop of blood?”
“So if you’d found her notes, would that prove me innocent or guilty?”
Drusilla scowled, folded her arms.
“Are there none who can speak to your whereabouts?”
Mia’s fingernails bit her palms. Of course there was someone who could vouch for her. But for Tric to admit he’d come to her room would mean admitting he’d broken curfew. They’d scourge him for it. Probably worse than Hush.
“… there is one who can speak to her whereabouts …”
Mia’s belly surged. Mister Kindly had materialized on the Revered Mother’s desk, staring at the old woman with tilted head. Drusilla turned to regard the creature, skepticism plain in her eyes. But Mia knew he had no affection for Tric. No loyalty. He’d sell the boy in a second if it meant sparing Mia another second of this indignity.
“O, really?” Drusilla said. “Dare I ask?”
“… i do not know. dare you …?”
“Mister Kindly, don’t,” Mia warned.
“… and why not …?”
“Because I’m asking you not to.”
Drusilla turned sharply at that, regarding Mia with narrowed eyes. “Acolyte, I should not need to explain the seriousness of this crime. If you are found guilty of murdering Acolyte Carlotta, you will be scourged at the very least. Perhaps even killed. If there is another that can provide alibi for you yestereve …”
Mia’s gaze was fixed on the not-cat. Pleading.
“… you used to trust me more …”
“Please, don’t.”
“… what changed, mia …?”
“Enough,” Drusilla snapped. “I am mistress of these halls. Speak not to her, speak to me. In Our Blessed Lady’s name, I command it.”
Mister Kindly turned his head at that, his bottomless stare fixed on Drusilla.
“… it is obvious, really …”
“Mister Kindly, don’t.”
The not-cat swished his tail. Looked the old woman up and down.
“… it is me …”
In the silence following, Mia swore she heard Adonai chuckling. The not-cat glanced at her, seemed to shake his head as if to say she should have known better.
“… i never leave her side. i watch while she sleeps. i know exactly what she did last eve …”
“Do you take me for a fool, little passenger?”
“… there are fools in these halls, revered mother, but you and she are not among them …”
Mister Kindly nodded in Mia’s direction.
“… she would not, and could not have done this …”
Drusilla snarled and rose from her perch, seated herself behind her desk. Adonai wandered the alcoves, still touching a phial here, a phial there, smiling faintly. The old woman steepled her fingers.
“Acolyte Mia Corvere. You are confined to chambers. Your meals will be brought to you, along with any materials you require to continue your studies. You will be permitted no outside contact, and a Hand will be posted outside your door until this matter is resolved. The Ministry will meet this eve and discuss your fate.”
Two Hands seemed to materialize beside Mia’s chair. Realizing there was no sense in incurring the Mother’s wrath further, Mia rose slow, bowed deep, and marched from Drusilla’s chambers. The Hands escorted her all the way to her bedroom, ushering her inside and shutting the door behind them. A quick glance through the keyhole saw the hooded figures lurking in the hallway outside.
Her room had been turned over, drawers upended, bedding stripped. Mia flopped down on the bare mattress, lit a cigarillo, and stared at the ceiling.
“Well, shit.”
Mister Kindly materialized on the bedhead, peered down into her eyes.
“… I would prefer your apology in writing, though particularly eloquent spoken word may suffice …”
“Aye,” Mia said, clearing her throat. “Sorry about that.”
“… this must be some new breed of eloquence i am unfamiliar with …”
“’Byss and blood, I’ll write you a fancy one on gilded parchment and sing it from the mountaintop later. We’ve more pressing matters to mind, neh?”
“… even if they find you guilty, they’ll not kill you for it …”
“What makes you so certain? They might make an example of me.”
“… it makes little sense to do so. the murderer was skilled enough to escape their bedchamber after ninebells, sneak to the hall of truth, cut the girl’s throat ear to ear, wash off gouts of blood, and sneak back to bed, all without being seen …”
Mia blew smoke into the not-cat’s face. “Her name was Carlotta, Mister Kindly.”
“… be that as it may, the murderer shows considerable skill in precisely the arts they teach here …”
“O, aye, they might even pin a ribbon on my baps.”
“… doubtful. but i also doubt the masters of a school of deadly assassins can get too upset that one of their students actually turned out to be a deadly assassin …”
The girl sucked hard on her cigarillo, breathed a gray curse.
“… jessamine is the obvious acolyte to blame. not necessarily the correct one …”
“Who else, then?”
“… who is the third most skilled novice in venomcraft …?”
“… Probably Hush? But Osrik and Marcellus are up there too.”
“… and any of them are capable of the stealth required to have done this …”
Mia drew on her smoke, thoughts racing in her head. Jessamine had to go. But if she or Diamo were to simply end up dead, the Ministry would immediately suspect her. And all that was irrelevant at any rate. No sense in pondering Jessamine and Diamo until she knew what the judgment over Carlotta would be. Her stack of problems would shorten considerably if the Ministry just cut her throat …
Instead of simply stewing, Mia set back to work on Spiderkiller’s formula. Hunched on the ruin of her bed, scribbling thoughts in her leather-bound notebook. Hours passed in the gloom, Mister Kindly offering what little help he could. The puzzle took her mind off the Ministry, the possibility that all her well-laid plans might come crashing down in a few hours’ time. What would Mercurio say if all this went to pieces?
Focus on what you can change, he’d counsel. The rest will sort itself.
Mia sighed.
One way or the other.
A knock on her door hours later pulled Mia up from the arkemical dance in her head, back into the dim light. She’d unwittingly chain-smoked her way through half her remaining cigarillos, the cup beside her bed piled high with ash. Her throat felt raw, her head swimming. She crushed what was left of her smoke out, grimacing.
“Maw’s teeth, I’ve got to cut down.”
“…there are more dangerous things around here to put in your mouth …”
Mister Kindly peered at her through the gray pall.
“…dweymeri boys, for example …”
“O, bravo. Been working on that one for a while, have we?”
“…most of yestereve …”
“Time well spent, then.”
“…there are more dangerous ways i could—”