What came forth was a blistering, startling rush of words and descriptions, snippets of sentences and bursts of clauses, all capturing the simple experience of walking through the Haza gates, up the path, and into the party within. Some of the things he said were so abrupt, or so stark and spare, that it was difficult to glean any meaning from them. He would rapidly utter things like, “Immunis Eskim, male, short, west of the thirdmost column, Apoth colors, shirt untucked on the left”; or, “Wine lukewarm, freshly mulled, six spice pods floating at rim, spoon rattling in the ewer,” and you’d have to struggle to conceive what he was relating.
More startling was Uhad’s demeanor as he spoke: he trembled, spasmed, tremored, and twisted as his memories poured out of him. Fingers twitching, knees shaking. Eyes dancing horribly, pulled about by some mad muscle in his skull. He seemed like a man in a vision, overcome with divine revelation.
I listened to all he said, sniffing my vial and engraving all the names and times and details in my memory—but it was difficult to focus. I had never seen another engraver give such a thorough recounting before. I realized I must look the same, during all the times I gave my reports to Ana, and found the prospect horrifying.
An odd pair we were then, like two insects from some bizarre species, with one forcefully inseminating another—yet he was filling up my mind with facts, data, information. And almost all of it was unimportant, or so it seemed to me, just names, dates, times, people; and none felt terribly critical.
He stopped talking. Then he sat back in his chair, panting.
“Good,” said Ana. “Very thorough. Thank you, Uhad.”
He mumbled a welcome.
“From the sound of it,” said Ana, “you weren’t at the event long!”
“I wasn’t,” muttered Uhad. He pushed back his graying hair. “I am not as young as I once was. I must spend my time judiciously. Social events force me to absorb a great deal of information…” His eye lingered on her blindfold. “…surely something you can sympathize with, Ana. I saw few people and departed.”
She then asked him the same questions she’d asked the others: what connection could there be between Blas and Kaygi Haza, and the canton of Oypat?
“Well,” said Uhad. He smiled bleakly. “Two of them were murdered. But the canton of Oypat merely died, correct? Eaten by contagion. Beyond that, I know no more.”
Ana asked him more questions then—about the Hazas, about their schedule of events and parties, about their relations with the Iudex, about Jolgalgan—but she got nothing more. She thanked him and let him go, and I walked him to the door.
“Have you felt the displacements yet, Signum?” he asked me.
“Beg pardon, sir?” I said.
“The displacements,” he said. “A psychological affliction. You might spy some object, or catch some scent—and suddenly you are displaced. It reminds you of something, and pulls a memory forward, or the object itself literally speaks to you in your mind. The memory describing itself to you, like it was a person living in your head. Have you had one yet?”
“N-no, sir,” I said, startled.
“You will,” he said grimly. “When they start, it is best to begin living ascetically. Fewer things to remind you of anything, you see. It’s something I wished they’d told me when I was your age.”
Then he turned and left. I stared after him, bewildered by his comments. I looked to Ana, who merely shrugged.
* * *
—
LAST CAME IMMUNIS Nusis. “I’m afraid,” she said as she sat, “that I haven’t made much progress with the reagents key you gave me, Dolabra.” Despite the abashed look in her eye, her dark red Apoth’s coat was clean and starched, and she wore a bright coppery scarf about her throat—still the cheery little flicker-thrush, despite all the recent sorrows.
“What seems to be the issue?” asked Ana.
“Well, I’ve exposed it to the usual pheromonic telltales,” Nusis said. “Plants that should wither or react upon being placed close to it. These should let me know what kind of reagents portal the key is designed for—but thus far, I’ve had little luck. It is most unusual.” She coughed into her hand. “Though I don’t mean to begin the discussion with bad news, of course…Where should you like me to start?”
Ana asked Nusis the usual then: had she seen anyone unusual at the party, anyone dirty, or strange, or someone loitering near the fire?
“No,” said Nusis. “No, no. I saw nothing like that. If I had, I would have told you already.”
“Thank you…Next, I wish to inquire about a potential graft,” said Ana. “Are you aware there was a fire at the party?”
“Yes…I did hear about that. Something about a rug?”
“Correct.” She waved a hand at me. “Din here saw the fireplace and spied white scorch marks in the corner of the firebox. They had a curious aroma, yes, Din? A rather urinal tang?”
I cleared my throat. “Aptly put, ma’am.”
“And Kalista noted the smell was much stronger,” said Ana. “She said the whole hall smelled of goat’s piss after the flare—her words. I believe the woman is surprisingly well acquainted with goats, you know.” She grinned. “Are these phenomena in any way familiar to you, Immunis?”
Nusis sat up, and some of her perk returned to her, as if pleased to be back on known territory. “A urinal tang…That sounds like blackperch mushrooms.”
“And what are those?”
“They were a fire starter, suffused by the Apoths in the Rathras canton. They build up highly flammable deposits in their inner cores. They were eventually abandoned as fire starters and kindling, being as their fires were so unreliable. Some would create bursts and flares of heat. And the smell afterward was in no way desirable, of course…”
Ana went very still. “How long would it take for them to flare?”
“Oh, not long. Many would flare the second they touched flame. Another reason why they were unpopular fire starters—people would place them within a little nest of flaming kindling, and the next thing they knew their whole hand was alight.”
“So it would be immediate. An immediate reaction.”
“More or less, yes.”
Ana’s bearing was grave now, as if Nusis had just given her dreadful news. “I see,” she said quietly.
“Was this…this information not welcome, Immunis?” asked Nusis.
Ana was silent for a long while, before finally saying, “It was unexpected, I should say.”
“I see. But that is all I know. Is there any other way I can assist?”
“Actually, there is,” said Ana, coming alive again. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Oypat.”
Nusis balked, surprised. “Oh. Oypat? I thought I had talked of this to Signum Kol…”
“You did. But I wanted to ask you a very simple question.”
“Yes?”
“Why did the canton die, Nusis?”
“Oh. Well…the canton of Oypat perished,” she said slowly, “because the dappleglass spread too quickly for the Apoths and the Engineers to intervene. But that’s well known, of course.”
“But too quickly for what?” asked Ana. “What was the Empire doing to stop it?”
Nusis cleared her throat. “Well…here. I only know all this from a distance, mind, as I was a very junior officer at the time. But we Apoths sought to make a cure for the spread of dappleglass, to treat the contagion like it was a disease, neutralizing its ability to bloom within flesh or soil. We had to formulate this cure within weeks.”
“It must have been a preposterous task.”
“It was. The very idea was ridiculous, frankly. But then—rather miraculously—we appeared to be successful.”
Ana’s mouth fell open in shock. “Wait. You were? You mean you actually made a cure for dappleglass?”
“Possibly,” said Nusis, somewhat reluctantly. “That is a question of some controversy. The senior Apoths created a graft that held promising capabilities of neutralizing the contagion. Twenty little vials, all ready for testing and review. We simply had to get approval to scale it up and begin deploying it within Oypat.”
“Then why didn’t you?” asked Ana.
“Because, as I said, we needed approval. Namely, by all the Preservation Boards. The first rule of the Engineers and the Apoths—outside of Talagray, of course—is to do no harm. If you wish to intervene in the Empire, you must first prove that what you do will not damage anything else in the Empire. This is where the Preservation Boards step in, ensuring that the status quo will never be threatened.”