“And…what did the Preservation Boards do regarding Oypat?”
“They moved quickly. Or…they tried to. But the cantons that would have to grow the reagents for the cure…Well, they brought many concerns. They protested how creating these new reagents could lead to environmental issues with all their other reagents and agriculture. They demanded tests and studies, wanting to ensure that there was no commingling or mutagenic possibilities.”
“I see…” said Ana softly. “Then what happened?”
“The process simply took too long. The dappleglass reached a critical point. It had devoured too much land. Too long a border for it to ever be properly neutralized. Like a tumor infecting the bone, or the tissue of the heart, it was too late. So we evacuated the canton, and then…then we applied a phalm oil burn.”
“Usually reserved for disposing of titans, yes?”
“For destroying their carcasses, correct,” said Nusis. “It burns hot enough to destroy anything organic. We burned everything within a half mile of the walls of the canton of Oypat. All the trees, fields, homes…everything. And…then we sealed it up. Like a tomb. And let it lie.” She swallowed. “And that was that. The Empire was saved. And the fertile fields and little towns of Oypat are no more.”
There was an awkward silence.
“It might have happened anyway,” admitted Nusis. “Years after Oypat, I personally led a team to retest the twenty little vials of cure we’d produced—just in case dappleglass ever infected another part of the Empire. Three of the vials had degraded until they were little more than water. So perhaps the cure might have been ultimately ineffective. We shall never know, unfortunately.”
Ana cocked her head. “Strange…Was Commander Blas ever involved in Oypat? Did he ever assist with containing the contagion there, or perhaps in his work with the Preservation Boards?”
“Blas?” said Nusis. She seemed surprised. “No. No, not that I was aware of. Why?”
“Just a question,” said Ana. She smiled wearily. “Yet there is one more thing I’m curious about…You mentioned that several cantons had curiously prepared protests about the dappleglass cure.”
“Yes?” said Nusis.
“Might you recall which ones those were?”
“Oh! Hm. Off the top of my head…” Nusis thought about it. “The Juldiz, Bekinis, Qabirga, and Mitral cantons, I believe.”
There was a long silence.
“You’re sure,” said Ana. “You’re sure it was those four?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“I see,” said Ana softly. “Then you may go, Immunis Nusis. Do keep me updated on that reagents key.”
* * *
—
I WAITED FOR the door to shut.
“Those cantons,” I said. “Those same four cantons again.”
“Yes,” said Ana quietly.
“The ones Blas’s secretary was traveling to, with the money. And the ones Kaygi Haza sent his scribe-hawks to.”
“Yes.”
“But…what’s it all mean, ma’am?”
“I am not yet entirely certain, Din,” said Ana. She smiled dreamily. “But it’s very interesting, isn’t it? Very interesting indeed.”
CHAPTER 32
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AS AFTERNOON TURNED TO evening, Ana, Captain Miljin, and I lounged in the courtyard of the Iudex tower, sipping clar-tea and listening to the troops filing in and out of the city. Miljin had brought Ana her list of Legionnaires altered for strength, and while she read I related the interviews to him, one after another.
He shook his head when I finished. “Poor old Uhad…They should have transferred him out of here years ago. Can’t take too many wet seasons, the engravers. They don’t age well. But I can’t find nary a thing in what you’ve told me that helps me make sense of what’s going on.”
“It’s all very tangled, yes,” said Ana quietly. She sat back and lifted her face to the cloudy skies. “There are, I think, three different crimes we are now investigating.” She raised a finger. “There are the poisonings—Blas, Kaygi Haza, and the ten Engineers. For this, we have a likely candidate—Jolgalgan—and though she may have involved more accomplices in her works, it is she that we are the closest to catching now.”
“We are?” I said, surprised.
Her finger swiveled to me. “Wait! Wait. I am not done yet.” She extended a second finger. “Then there is Kaygi Haza. He has committed some foul deed, something to do with Blas and Oypat. But I can’t yet see the shape or the why of it. Regarding this, all I have are suspicions, and very little proof at all. We are not helped that these events took place over a decade ago.”
“We don’t think the Hazas…well…introduced the contagion to Oypat, do we?” I asked. “That they poisoned the canton like one might a person?”
Miljin shook his head. “The shit with Oypat is well-documented. The idiot who brewed up dappleglass to make paper was drummed out of the Apoth Iyalet, and nearly got tossed in prison. The Hazas’ touch doesn’t lie there.”
“No,” said Ana. “But there is something there. Something they wish to hide, which touches all these other murders.” Then she extended a third pale finger. “And then there is the fernpaper miller, Suberek, and Blas’s secretary, Rona Aristan. Both with holes in their heads—and, increasingly, evidence that connects them to the Haza clan.” She dropped her fingers. “Ironically, for these murders, I am most certain of the motive, and the nature of the killer. But, unfortunately, I think we have the least chance of catching this culprit.”
I looked back and forth between Miljin and Ana. Miljin did not look surprised at all, and though both of them appeared troubled, they did not say any more.
“You are?” I said. “You know who killed Suberek and Aristan, ma’am?”
“Somewhat. As does Captain Miljin, I believe.”
I glanced at Miljin, who had a somber look on his face.
“Then…who is it?” I asked.
“That answer is complex,” she sighed. “Before we get into it, I would like to test out a theory I have…”
“About what, ma’am?”
“About you, Din.” She turned to Miljin. “Would you be ready, Captain?”
Miljin looked surprised. Then he sighed. “Are you sure about this, ma’am?”
“Very,” said Ana. “I am most curious. Are you ready, Captain?”
“Hell. I guess. Stand up, boy,” he said. He began unbuckling his scabbard from his side. “And take my sword.” He handed the sheathed blade out to me.
Ana cocked her head. “I thought you were going to see what he could do in combat?”
“Figured this was safer, ma’am,” said Miljin. “Less chance we accidentally cut our own heads off. Take it, boy.”
I eyed the scabbard. “For…for what, sir?”
“For a test. Gonna see how easy it is for you to remember how to get this sword out.”
I hesitantly took the scabbard from him. I was shocked at how light it felt. The blade within must have weighed hardly more than a feather.
He saw the look on my face and grinned. “Made from the core of a titan’s bone,” he said. “Hard as hell to craft such material. It’s strong, yet light—something to do with the pressure of the water, or some shit. Yet it holds its edge longer than the finest steel.” He tapped the locking mechanism. “It’s valuable enough that I had to get this fancy scabbard made for it. Have to move it right to unsheathe it. I memorized the way, though it took me damned long, but…Let’s see. You take the grip, shut your eyes, and I’ll show you the movements. And we’ll see what you retain.”
He took my hands and guided them through slowly unlocking his sword, the half turns and quarter turns and eighth turns this way and that. I could feel the mechanisms of the sword hilt click with each turn, the little pins sliding in and out. It was monstrously complicated. How Miljin had managed to memorize it, I couldn’t fathom.
“Now,” he said. He locked the blade in place and stepped back. “Open your eyes, and let’s see if you can get it out. Now, Kol. Fast as you can.”
“But you only showed me the once,” I said.