“What was that, Signum?” he growled.
“It’s the policy, sir,” I said. “I cannot discuss it. It might endanger the investigation.”
“You little son of a bitch,” he said. “If I tell you to brief me on what you’ve done, you had damned well better do it!”
“But you are not my commanding officer, sir,” I said stoically. “Not anymore. The Apoths commanded me after my alteration, but that changed when I was assigned to Immunis Dolabra at the Iudex Iyalet. I am only permitted to discuss the death scene with her.”
Thalamis’s eyes went cold and dead. “You think,” he said, “that because you got to such a position with that…with that lunatic, you can hide from me. But let me tell you a story, Kol.”
He started pacing around me in a tight circle. I was reminded of a wolf waiting out a treed squirrel.
“A student arrives at Daretana to be inducted as a Sublime,” he said. “And yet, though he pays his fee for the suffusions, and is granted them, this student remains abysmally, incredibly stupid. Reads slow, writes not at all. Applies to all the Iyalets—Legion, Engineering, Apothetikal, Treasury—but fails all his exams, and fails them miserably. It’s like a child took his tests for him. Soon it’s obvious to everyone that he is the most dunderheaded Sublime to have ever been evaluated, and possibly the dumbest fucking oaf in all of the canton.”
The beat of my blood rose. How wonderful it would be to drive a knife into one of Thalamis’s squinty little eyes.
“But then,” said Thalamis, “the Senate appoints an Iudex Investigator to Daretana. And she requests an engraver. A specialized role, requiring an unusually talented Sublime to fill the post. But then…why, suddenly out of nowhere, this young Sublime swans in and scores the top marks on his Iudex test. An absolutely phenomenal performance—so much so that he’s given another Iudex test, just to confirm it’s real. And again, he gets top marks. And so, this investigator picks him. I’d say it’s remarkable…but that’s the wrong word, isn’t it? I think a better one is unbelievable. Perhaps impossible.”
I focused on my breath, on my posture, on anything but the face before me.
“I will figure out how you cheated, Kol,” said Thalamis. “And when that happens, your time here is deader than a butchered hog. And all your dispensation, and any lands you might be rewarded at the end of your service term, are gone. But before you go, I’ll have you caned—again—just for wasting my time. Is that clear?”
I said nothing.
“Is that clear, Signum?”
“I understand, sir,” I said grudgingly.
He stepped back. “But maybe I won’t need to wait that long, Signum,” he said. “Maybe you’ll piss off the Hazas so much that they’ll find a way to get your apprenticeship terminated.”
He walked away. I stood in the dark street, still standing at attention. I could feel my blood beating in my ears and my breath hot in my nostrils. I watched Thalamis go, wishing it had been he, and not Blas, who’d been torn to pieces by those trees.
Yet I remembered the hunger in his eyes, and his very specific questions.
It suddenly felt like Captain Thalamis was working for the Hazas. That seemed valuable to know.
Yet I wondered—how many other officers were friends of the Hazas? What exactly had I gotten myself into this morning? And what did Ana know?
I supposed I’d find out tomorrow. I turned and slinked off to bed.
CHAPTER 5
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THE NEXT MORNING I led my three reluctant witnesses to Ana’s house, my practice sword swinging at my left side and my engraver’s bonds tinkling at my right. The sword was uncomfortable to carry, for the blade was made of lead and wood to build strength, so it was far heavier than a common sword. Gennadios moved the slowest of the three, her painted nose high in the air. Perhaps it was out of protest, but she also wore the platformed wooden sandals associated with high-gentry servants, forcing her to shuffle through the muddy streets. After her came Ephinas, the older servant girl, and then Uxos, the groundskeeper. Both of them seemed utterly terrified.
After what felt like a damned day of walking, we made it to Ana’s porch. “I’m going to need to confirm none of you have weapons,” I told them.
Gennadios’s tiny, glittering eyes widened. “You are not,” she said, “laying a finger on me. Or my people.”
“I’ll touch you only through your robes, ma’am,” I said.
“You will not!” she said.
“I have to,” I said. “It’s my duty.” I wanted to tell her I certainly wouldn’t be enjoying it any, but that didn’t seem diplomatic at the moment.
She huffed for a moment. Then she said, “I will pull my robes tight about me, and Ephinas will do the same. Then you will see we have no blades on us. Uxos can do as he pleases, of course.”
Ephinas and Gennadios then did so, pulling their clothing tight against their bodies while I looked them over, blushing, for I found this more mortifying than just searching them. Then I cleared my throat and searched Uxos, checking his waist and leggings. Nothing.
“Satisfied?” asked Gennadios.
I ignored her and knocked on Ana’s door. I heard a short “Come!” and opened the door.
Ana had redecorated. The books and projects had all been removed from the meeting room. Instead, she had produced a small desk, and she was sitting behind it in her short stuffed chair, waiting for us with her blindfold on her eyes.
She smiled as we trooped in. “Good morning. I am Investigator Dolabra. Please take a seat.”
She gestured before her. Two chairs awaited the witnesses, along with a stack of books to serve as the third seat.
The three servants stared at her. I took up a position standing behind Ana, my hand on my practice sword. It seemed unlikely that these anxious people would try anything, but Ana had told me to be ready, so I would be ready.
“Excuse me,” said Gennadios. “But—the investigator is blind?”
“Only occasionally, Madam Gennadios,” said Ana. “I find that reducing one or several senses often makes it far easier to absorb information, and think. Please—sit.”
They did so, with Uxos taking the seat on the pile of books.
“Thank you for joining me this morning,” said Ana. “I know it is unusual—but then, these are unusual circumstances. A man is dead, killed in a most unusual way. I have a few questions for each of you that I thought would be better asked directly.”
Gennadios shifted her posture into that same damned position from the house: knees together at an angle, her whole body facing away like Ana wasn’t worth looking at. I was surprised to see her treat an Iyalet officer so, but then I remembered what Ana had said of the gentry: Such folk don’t necessarily feel like they need to obey all of our laws all of the time.
“It would have been easier,” Gennadios said, “if you had come yourself.”
“Of course,” said Ana. “First, Madam Gennadios—I would like to begin by asking you more about why Commander Blas was staying at the estate in the first place.”
“He is a friend of the Haza family,” Gennadios said. “Surely your boy told you that.”
“He did. He repeated what you said—that friends sometimes stay with one another. However, the Hazas were not present. Correct?”
“Obviously.”
“And did they have any intention of being present?”
“I am not always informed,” said Gennadios, “of my masters’ plans.”
“Nor were any other Iyalet personnel or imperial officers present.”
“No,” she said coldly.
“And Blas did not visit any Iyalet personnel or imperial officers in Daretana.”
“If you say so.”
“So the suggestion seems to be,” said Ana, “that Blas was staying totally alone in someone else’s mansion with no one but the servants, without any of his colleagues in Daretana being aware of it.”