The Tainted Cup (Shadow of the Leviathan, #1)

“Truly?” asked Vashta, aghast. “Do you truly think this is how such a tragedy began?”

“I am almost completely certain,” said Ana. “That would explain why it took so much longer for the infections to—what is the word—to bloom. For the Engineers had likely consumed fewer spores than Kaygi Haza himself, and those who drank more wine died fastest. But none had sat and soaked in the spores and breathed them in, like the elder Haza did. I also suspect the spores succeed more in the lungs than the stomach. But still they succeeded, eventually. And all ten perished.”

Fayazi looked at her Sublimes, who stared back, speechless. The silence stretched on, and on; and Ana allowed it to swell, waiting for the perfect time to puncture it.

“And if things had gone just slightly differently,” she said, “just ever so slightly differently, we’d simply have ten dead Engineers on our hands, and nothing more. A tragedy, surely, but not a catastrophe. Yet two of those Engineers just happened to work on the wrong strut within the walls at the wrong time…and thus, the breach, and countless casualties.” She paused. “It really is unfortunate, isn’t it, Madam Haza.”

“What is?” said Fayazi.

“It is so unfortunate that you locked down your estate,” said Ana, “and burned your father’s corpse, and did not alert the Apoths to the contagion. For if you had, well…perhaps the past weeks might have gone differently.”

The temperature in the room begin to change then.

I could see it in Vashta’s face; the slow, boiling realization that this gentrywoman—powerful as she was—had perpetrated a conspiracy that had directly caused the breach; and I could see it in Fayazi Haza’s posture: in the stiffening in her back, as she came to understand that the seneschal of the canton was now beginning to believe that her own personal deeds had caused the collapse of the sea walls, and brought about the dire situation of the Empire.

“I…” stammered Fayazi. “I thought this was an interview…I thought there were threats against me?”

“I am getting there,” said Ana. “But to explain that, I must first explain Jolgalgan’s most unusual method of murder, which I am sure must have puzzled all of us. Why bother with dappleglass at all? Why use the same contagion that had once killed her canton, her home? Dappleglass, after all, is difficult, temperamental, and—obviously—murderously uncontainable. It seemed a symbolic choice. Almost like a personal vendetta. It made no sense—until we discussed the history of Oypat with the late Immunis Nusis, who had personally served there during the canton’s death.

“Nusis told us a most curious story,” said Ana. “She told us of how the Apothetikal Iyalet successfully created an effective graft against the dappleglass—a cure, in other words—but that they were not able to put it into production. For when they tried to implement their plan to do so, too many cantons raised too many legal entreaties about growing too many new reagents—and by the time those complaints were resolved, the contagion had spread too far, and Oypat’s fate was sealed. But…Nusis mentioned that there were four cantons in particular that were the most effective at blunting this plan to save Oypat. That would be the Juldiz, Bekinis, Qabirga, and Mitral cantons.”

Vashta blinked, lost in the weeds. “Dolabra…what is the significance of this?”

“I wondered that myself,” said Ana. “Especially when my assistant investigator collected evidence that Rona Aristan, Blas’s secretary, had traveled extensively among those same four cantons in the past nine years—and had been carrying a fortune while doing so. And then I wondered it again, when Din reviewed the Haza rookery, and found that between the murder of Commander Blas and his own death, Kaygi Haza had sent scribe-hawks aloft to four destinations—the Juldiz, Bekinis, Qabirga, and Mitral cantons.”

Fayazi’s silver veil was fluttering very quickly now. She must have been breathing rather fast.

“I speculated on the meaning of all this,” said Ana. “What could connect all this? The money, and Kaygi Haza and Commander Blas—who had been killed by Oypatis, in the same manner as Oypat—with these four cantons that had quibbled so much that Oypat itself had perished?” She paused. “But then I wondered…What if all this had happened before?”

“Happened before?” said Vashta. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Kaygi Haza, after all, had been a very old man when he died. Somewhere around a hundred and thirty, if I recall,” said Ana. “What if, in his time, he had guided through several—how shall I put this—graduation classes of beneficiaries during his time here in Talagray, just like the ten dead Engineers? Several generations of Iyalet officers who had received his patronage, and been seeded all throughout the Empire—embedded to offer advice, information, or favors as needed?

“What if,” Ana continued, “Commander Taqtasa Blas himself had been one such officer, once upon a time? What if he and a handful of compatriots had been members of one of Kaygi’s clever little cabals, just like Jolgalgan had been? And what if some members of his group had eventually found their way to important stations in the Empire? Perhaps in the cantons of Juldiz, Bekinis, Qabirga, and Mitral?” She grinned that predatorial grin. “And…what if, eleven years ago, Kaygi Haza had requested a very, very big favor of Blas and his peers?”

Fayazi’s engraver shot to his feet. “These are preposterous lies!” he snarled. “We came here after being told of threats, not to be…be tarred with such a poisonous brush! Commander-Prificto, I must tell you that I will no—”

Then Vashta said a single word—as cold, hard, and vicious as a stab from an icy blade: “No.”

Stunned, the engraver stared at her, then looked to Fayazi. “Madam, I…This is slanderous…”

Fayazi seemed to remember herself and leaned forward. “I beg your pardon, Commander-Prificto?” she said, affronted. “What did you say to my staff?”

“No,” said Vashta. “I said no, Madam Haza. I am listening. And I am not done listening. Thus, we shall all sit, and not interrupt.”

The engraver hesitated for a moment, then looked to the axiom, who was watching Ana with her cold, needle-like eyes.

“We are of the clan of the Hazas,” said the axiom. “And we shall not be spoken to in such a manner by anyone.”

Vashta leaned forward from the bench. “And I am the seneschal of Talagray,” she said. “I hold in my hands the heart of the Empire, of which your clan is but a part. And if you wish to ever rejoin your clan, you will all be quiet.”

I could see Fayazi’s mouth open beneath her veil, wishing to say something. Then she shut it, pursed her lips, and gestured to her engraver, who sat.

Vashta turned her furious face to Ana, and said, “Continue, Dolabra.”