A twitch in the muscle behind the old woman’s nose. “It is a very fine residence,” she said. “We labor daily to keep it so. I would expect many would travel across the cantons to spend a night there.”
“Perhaps so.” Ana cocked her head, grinning. “But I do find it curious that Blas, as a commander in the Engineers, also had access to the senior officers’ quarters here in Daretana—which is quite a nice accommodation, I understand. Yet he did not stay there, nor even visit.”
“A Haza estate,” said Gennadios, “is doubtlessly far superior to any Iyalet barracks.”
“Of course. But then there is the fact that Commander Blas served in the Engineering Iyalet, on the sea walls. And the wet season is approaching. If such a person were to break away from his duties, I would assume it could only be for official Iyalet reasons. And if that were the case, I would assume he would stay at the senior officers’ quarters, to discuss his labors with his colleagues. Wouldn’t you?”
There was a long silence. The smug look had been wiped off Gennadios’s face now. I was so curious where this was going, though, that I didn’t have much mind to enjoy it.
“Was there another guest coming to the estate, madam?” asked Ana. “One whose purpose was to attend to the commander?”
“My masters’ business is their own,” said Gennadios. “I…I have no need to tell you more.”
“You do, though,” said Ana. “As this is an official Iudex summons. But I am impatient, so let me cut to it. I will conject that a woman was arriving to visit the commander. Possibly more than one. A very courtly retinue, perhaps. After all, it seems like the commander liked women a great deal. He certainly couldn’t keep his hands off the servant girls, for example.”
Gennadios turned to glare at Ephinas, who was resolutely staring at the floor, and hissed, “What did you tell them?”
“They all told Din,” said Ana. “Not just her. Perhaps they all hated the commander that much. Allow me to make a conjecture about Blas’s relationship to the Hazas…The Hazas treat the commander to a good time and provide the girls—even at a critical time like this, the start of the wet season. What I’m wondering is…what did the Hazas get out of the relationship?”
Uxos started rocking back and forth on his stack of books.
“I…I have nothing to say to you!” Gennadios spat. I saw gaps in the paint on her face. Evidently she didn’t often make such hysterical expressions.
“You don’t need to,” said Ana. “Din here is an engraver and acts as a living legal embodiment of my work. His testimony is considered sacrosanct. As you’ve said many things in front of him, that’s enough.”
“Nothing wrong has been done!” Gennadios said. “Amorous arrangements are not illegal in the Empire!”
“But they do have political implications,” said Ana. “Who is in bed with who—literally or otherwise—can ruin a man’s career.”
“Then…then what reason could I have had for killing the commander?” Gennadios said. “Or any of us? And how could we have killed him, anyway? Even the Apoths can’t understand it!”
“I’m not suggesting you did,” said Ana. “None of the staff, I think, was the true killer.” She sat back in her chair, and for a moment the shadows fell across her blindfolded face. “But it is also my job, Gennadios, to figure out why he might have been killed. And I must admit, I am mighty curious as to why such a powerful family would ever bother having an estate in the godless backwaters of the Outer Rim. One they don’t even visit. Yet…I am far more curious to see what will happen when the Hazas find out that their housekeeper not only let a commander get murdered on their property, but then went and chatted about it to the Iudex.”
Gennadios now looked positively ill. “You…you made me come here! I was legally obliged to…to…to come here, to…”
“As anyone who’s been past the third-ring wall knows,” said Ana, “the Haza clan is not terribly interested in the boundaries of the law.”
The three servants sat before Ana, bewildered and terrified. Uxos had stopped rocking and was now frozen on the pile of books.
“What did Commander Blas provide to the Hazas?” Ana asked, every word as percussive as the blow from a hammer.
“I don’t know,” whispered Gennadios.
“Was it some act? Information?”
“I don’t know!” she said. She was panicking now. “I don’t! I really don’t!”
“I see. Then you, Madam Gennadios, are going to tell me all of the commander’s movements before he arrived at the estate,” said Ana. “And the timing of all of his previous visits. I very strongly suspect you know this—it would be very useful to have records of when and where a powerful man had been playing about with prostitutes, no matter how legal it may be. If you don’t give me this, I will make it known to the Hazas that you have given me far, far worse things. This would be a lie, but it would be one they’d believe.”
Gennadios was trembling. “You wouldn’t.”
“Of course I would.” Again, the predatory grin. “I’m not at all as morally upstanding as Din here. You give me that, and I’ll stay quiet.”
“But…but just being here,” said Gennadios. “Just this happening at all…I might be doomed already.”
“I think the Hazas may likely forget about that,” said Ana. “After the revelation of how Blas was killed.”
A pause.
“You know how he was killed?” asked Gennadios.
“Of course I do. He was killed by an assassin.” Ana turned her blindfolded face to Uxos, the groundskeeper. “And you helped them do it, sir.”
* * *
—
“WHAT?” SAID GENNADIOS. “You’re suggesting that…that Uxos here…”
Uxos shook his head, his beard mopping his collar like a paintbrush. “N-no. No, I…”
“Dappleglass is what killed the commander,” said Ana. “A very powerful contagion. After all, it killed a whole canton. But besides its murderous, infestatious qualities, it is also known for its odd effect on fernpaper, causing moldy splotches to grow on its surface—notable, as fernpaper is so resistant to other blights. This is what Din saw in the bathing closet—dappleglass stains on the interior of the fernpaper walls and concentrated at the top. Because, you see, the contagion was delivered to Blas in the bath. I suspect a small length of the grass was placed in the shootstraw pipes. Blas arrived, bathed first thing in the evening…and as the water steamed, he inhaled it, lining his lungs with the spores. Yet it also floated up, staining the fernpaper walls.”
Uxos was now sweating prolifically. “But…but I don’t do anything with the pipes…”
“No,” said Ana. “But you do lots with fernpaper, don’t you? Especially fernpaper doors, and windows. You’re the helpful person who replaces them. You let the assassin into the grounds with your reagents key, probably the night before, to tamper with Blas’s bath. The assassin then entered and exited the house through a fernpaper door. But it wasn’t until after they left that you noticed the door they’d used now had black spots on it—a consequence of either carrying the dappleglass past the door, or perhaps the assassin themselves were unusually dusted with the spores, tainting their very touch.”
“But there were no doors stained,” said Gennadios.
“True!” said Ana. “But that is because Uxos, being a gardener, realized that the assassin’s presence must have stained it. So, he removed the door after Blas arrived, replaced it, and then burned the tainted one in his stove.”
A stain of sweat was spreading across Uxos’s shirt.
“One of the servant girls complained of an intense heat the night before,” said Ana. “Because, naturally, the kirpis shroom near the kitchens had died, so it couldn’t cool the air. But how did it die? Well, they’re vulnerable to too much moisture. If someone leaves a door open for too long, and if the air outside is too humid…”