“And the canton can’t spare a care for it, it seems. Not with the leviathan coming. Feels wrong.”
“It feels wrong because it is wrong, Din,” she said. “Civilization is often a task that is only barely managed. But harden your heart and slow your blood. The towers of justice are built one brick at a time. We have more to build yet.”
I helped her up the last steps. “You don’t think it’s really over?”
“Hell no,” said Ana. “I don’t think Jolgalgan was looking to damage the Empire. I think her killing of Blas and Kaygi Haza was personal. I just don’t yet know why. And then there’s what Ditelus said…‘He did it to her, didn’t he?’?”
I opened the door for her. “I take it you don’t think it was the twitch who poisoned Jolgalgan, ma’am.”
“Of course not. The twitch doesn’t kill with dappleglass. So Jolgalgan’s death either really was an accident—something I consider unlikely—or it was someone else. Possibly this third poisoner, whom I worry about. Fearing they were to be caught, they sabotaged Jolgalgan’s lab, and when she fired up all her brewing kits, she poisoned herself—and then Ditelus, when he came to check on her. And they left us a neat little story.” She sat at the open window, blindfolded, and tilted her head, listening to the churning city below. It was the one time I’d ever seen her expose herself to such stimulation. “The city awakes, and empties…with some going east, to fight, but many more going west, to flee. Yet you and I shall stay here, Din. We shall stay until the work is done. And it is very nearly done. Yet I must now think.” Fumbling, she shut the window, and the room was veiled in darkness. “A third…” she whispered.
“Pardon?”
“A third—that was what you overheard Fayazi Haza saying as well. Someone from her clan was looking for a third…For a long while, I thought they meant the third poisoner, the one I now suspects exists. But now I am unsure.”
“Then…what are we to do, ma’am?”
“I…I will do what I do best.” She sat on the bed. “I will think. But you—you should go to the banquet, Din.”
“Beg pardon, ma’am. But I don’t—”
“Yes, yes, don’t feel like banqueting. But a Banquet of Blessings is a profoundly rare occurrence. More so, Vashta has specifically requested we be there. Since she’s basically the dictator of the canton, it would be wise to keep her on our side. I will have use of her soon. And besides, you’ve had a horrid few days, and I think you need reminding of what the Empire is even for.”
I cocked an eyebrow at her, puzzled.
“It’s not all this!” she said. She waved her hand at the shuttered window. “It’s not all walls and death and plotting! Nor is it dreary dispensations and bureaucracy! We do these ugly, dull things for a reason—to make a space where folk can live, celebrate, and know joy and love. So. Go to the banquet, Dinios. Otherwise, I’ll find some truly dreadful shit for you to do.”
CHAPTER 35
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THE SUN HUNG LOW in the sky as I approached the Legion tower. The streets about it were already filling up with Iyalet officers, most in Legion black, but many in Engineering purple and Apoth red, and the occasional flash of Iudex blue. As we lined up to enter the Legion courtyard a singing began from within, a high, ululating, solemn song in a language I did not recognize.
The ceremony had begun, I realized. The line moved faster, and soon I passed under the black-bannered arches, took my place among the crowds gathering along the circular courtyard walls, and looked to see.
In the center of the courtyard were two lines of people, bluely lit by the lanterns: one line composed of some two dozen Legionnaires, all kneeling, heads bowed; and there, standing over them, was a line of people of a sort I had never seen before. They were all from many different races—Tala, Sazi, Kurmini, Rathras, Pithian—and each was arrayed in strikingly different raiment, all swirling dark robes and fine gold chains, or veils of silver and high, peaked hats.
They were holy folk, I realized: priests and clerics and rectors and curates from all the imperial cults. I struggled with this for a moment, wrestling with the idea of an Empire so vast it could accommodate such wildly different cultures. Yet all of them intended to make their blessings known here, it seemed, invoking their pantheons to stem back the titans of the deeps.
I glanced about the courtyard. The front area seemed to have been reserved for the senior officers: I spied Vashta sitting among them, her breast covered with so many heralds and tributes that her whole front twinkled like the night sky. When she wasn’t solemnly watching the ritual she studied the crowd, marking who had and had not attended, I guessed. When her keen eye fell on me, she smiled tightly and nodded. I bowed in return.
The holy folk sang aloud from their texts and swung their thuribles before the kneeling Legionnaires, bathing them in incense and sacred smokes. Then they wrapped the soldiers in holy cloths and anointed their brows with paints and the bloods of pheasants and calves, slowly layering them with prayers, with hopes, with calls to the divine.
Among this sea of strangeness I saw something I recognized: a round, gold effigy mounted high behind the holy men, depicting a long, gaunt face that was both sympathetic and stern, with words written below in an ancient, half-forgotten language—Sen sez imperiya.
I stared back at the face of the emperor. I tried to make his words mean something to me, knowing that the twitch and the Hazas had killed two people at least, and perhaps ten Engineers and countless others as well; and not only might they go unpunished for it, but Ana and I might never comprehend what had really happened here. Blas, the breach, the party—all of it might be washed away like footprints in a rainstorm.
The more I thought on it, the more I wished to leave this holy rite. The emperor offered many blessings to the Legion, it seemed, but precious few for the Iudex. How simple the titans seemed, and how impossible justice felt.
The ceremony appeared to be drawing to a close: three holy men touched the brow of the kneeling Legionnaire at the very front. Then they proclaimed something in ancient Khanum and kissed him upon the head, bowed, and drew back. All the Legionnaires stood and bowed in return; and that seemed to be the end of it, for the courtyard then filled up with mutterings and quiet conversation.
The scent of incense was pushed away by the aromas of fats and spices and wine. Food arrived, the tables suddenly piling high with sliced meat and pickled vegetables, and cask after cask of sotwine. I had no idea what else I was to do at such a ceremony, so I ambled forward to fill my bowl.
A voice behind me: “It’s a pleasure to see you triumphant, Signum.”
I turned. Immunis Uhad emerged from the crowd in his stiff, storklike gait, his blue Iudex cloak swirling behind him, his face still as gaunt and bleak as ever.
“Good evening, sir,” I said, bowing.
“I’ve heard the news,” he said to me, “and all the details of all your victories. You and Ana have handled things marvelously. No, no, don’t bow again. Be merry. This is the time for such things, after all.”
I filled my cup and raised it to him. “I’ve never been to such a ceremony before, sir. I wish them luck and fortune.” Yet I noticed Uhad bore neither wine nor bowl.
“Can’t indulge myself much these days, Signum,” he admitted. “Too much wine leads to too many, ah, afflictions. And social events cause no end of headaches.” A weary smile. “Enjoy it now, while you have it.”
“Do you mind me asking, sir…When did you start having afflictions?” I asked.
“Oh, when I was about fifteen or twenty years older than you. So you have some time still. Though it’s moments like these that make it worthwhile. Engrave this victory deeply, boy. It will be a treasure to you.”
I said nothing.
“But…I suspect you are likely pained by the way it ended.” His tired eyes lingered on me. “Not all who perpetrated injustice have met justice, after all.”