Theron scowled but obeyed before he could find me something warmer. I shivered, and Calix put his arm around me.
It was warm and comforting, and as the boat rocked and moved, I wondered if this was what marriage was meant to be—slowly finding ways to need each other and comfort each other. Perhaps this was how it had been for my parents at the start—perhaps love was something that grew, not something that was determined by who removed my veil.
But then I thought of the man who even now was probably having his eyes taken away. I was capable of caring about Calix, I knew that was true. I could live with him and I would love our children with every bit of my heart. But as I shuddered against the cold, I sent a dark wish out over the sea that I would never grow to love my husband.
The skies grew dangerous with heavy, rain-filled clouds as a new shore came into sight. Even the smudge on the horizon was an incredible relief to me.
Calix stood, going to the front again and shouting orders at the oarsmen. Two rocky jetties came out into the ocean, curling around the harbor to allow for only a narrow passage that no more than a single boat could go through at a time.
The rock walls were thick and rough, with huge columns jutting above them to support a narrow ledge. I could see guards walking the length of it, illuminated along the way with bowls full of fire, and at uneven intervals, I saw something trailing from the ledge, swaying in the wind like a banner.
As the boat slid through the narrow passage, I saw that the banners were bodies.
I gasped, covering my mouth, looking at Theron. He leaned closer to me. “Punishment,” he said. “For disobedience in the communes.”
There must have been thirty bodies hanging along the length of the wall. From what I could see, some had been there for a very long time. In some places there was an empty rope, moving in the breeze, and I imagined there had been bodies there, swinging until the wind broke the ropes and let them fall onto the rocks.
I stared as long as I could. It felt like the only way to honor them.
The oarsmen brought us deep into the wide harbor. It looked like a bustling city; there were many ships in the harbor, more still at a complicated network of floating piers and docks. The boat brought us swiftly to a dock with no other boats on it. Soldiers were flooding down the planks, and they all fell into place at the precise moment that the boat sidled up alongside the dock. Calix made a gesture that I thought meant for me to stand, and I did, on stiff and shaky legs.
Calix moved with confidence, stepping on the side of the boat and grabbing a soldier’s hand to jump onto the dock. The boat pitched hard and I yelped, my legs twisting weakly underneath me. Theron caught me, pushing me up off the boat and into Calix’s arms.
The motion was too much, and I gripped his arm for a long moment, trying to steady myself. Even though I could see the dock was still and unmoving, I felt like the ground was shifting and rocking beneath me.
“You’ll be unsteady for a while. Come,” Calix said, tucking my hand in his arm, leading me down the walkway with a tug. My legs were weak and watery, and I found myself clinging to his arm, and my husband never looked so pleased.
The army led us to a horse, which I mounted to sit in front of Calix, and as we rode slowly through the city, I saw the people first. There were long lines of men walking in slow, even paces, like a ghostly version of the soldiers’ march. These men wore torn clothes that all had a chalky white on them. They were emaciated, their bodies looking bent and stooped, if not entirely broken. And they were marching down into the ground.
When the road turned again, I saw where they went. The ground was hollowed out, hundreds of feet deep, a stone cavern that was filled with men and the unfinished bones of a huge warship.
A crack and a boom sounded, so loud I jumped, but no one else reacted. Everyone just kept on working, blind to the others around them, and I wondered if nothing had actually happened, or if it simply didn’t matter.
“We have the best shipbuilders in the world,” Calix told me, his voice in my ear. “Our workers have unparalleled skill and dedication. The results are extraordinary.”
I nodded, struck mute by the sight of it. As the road turned again, I could see two more stone caverns, and yet somehow, my eyes caught on a pair of very worn men’s shoes, askew and abandoned by the side of the road.
The city was laid out in a tight, confined grid. It seemed that there were enclosures, their walls high and impenetrable, and around each large enclosure were spaces where only the soldiers could go. Above it all, I saw a tall tower, and Calix went on straight, heading toward a hill above the flat area extending out from the bay.
There was a grand palace set in the hills, white stone like the Tri City but low and wide, with looming white gates that stood open for our approach. Calix rode slowly through the guarded gates and into a wide expanse of garden that stood before the palace itself, full of archways and breezy courtyards.
He called a servant over and helped me down into the man’s arms before dismounting behind me. “Welcome to the Summer Palace, my love,” he told me. “This was a favorite retreat of my mother’s, and the current home of the quaesitori’s inquest.”
A man in a long black coat came out and bowed, which made his hair flop over his face. “My king, welcome. My queen. We have much to show you.”
“Excellent,” Calix said, his arm around my back. “There is no time to lose. Show us your work, Quaesitor.”
The man bowed again, and then turned, leading us into the palace as his coat flapped out behind him. He led us through a long room paneled with ornate wood, and into a room that must have been, at one point, a grand reception chamber. It shone, panels of metal and mirrors lining the walls to make the whole place glitter. There were two chairs set in the center and, in front of them, a table with liquids and glass containers upon it.
Calix’s arms left me the moment we neared the table. “Is this it?” he asked, picking up a glass bowl with a liquid so dark red it looked black until the liquid moved.
It looked like blood.
“No,” the quaesitor said, going to a stoppered glass bottle. “This is.”
This liquid was dark green, and Calix frowned. “It didn’t look like this the first time.”
“In my experience, we can never replicate nature’s exact formula,” he said. “Something is always different, even in a small measure, but the result is the same.”
Calix nodded sharply. “Show me.” He took my hand, kissing it and drawing me over to the chairs. I sat beside him, holding on to his hand, nervous as the quaesitor walked out of the room.