Page 67 of The Tainted Cup

“Yes. Suberek was apparently given a very big, frantic fernpaper order from some mysterious personjustafter the Engineers were poisoned. So big was this order, in fact, that he had to buy some panels off of his neighbor to fulfill it! It’s rather like how the groundskeeper hurried to replace the fernpaper door just after Commander Blas waspoisoned—but far, far larger. And yet now, why…Suberek doesn’t answer the door, even when the Legion comes knocking.”

Strovi sat forward, looking alarmed.

“You think this Suberek might be in danger, ma’am?” I asked.

“I would at least like to discover his whereabouts,” she said. “And I would like to find out where this order wassentto. For that site is likely either where this Jolgalgan brought her poison, or where the poisoning itself happened.” Her blindfolded face turned to Strovi. “It’s late afternoon now. We’ve burned up almost all the day just digging through papers. I shall notify the rest of the investigation team of what we’ve found—but the curfew extends to everyone in the city except Legion personnel, correct?”

“That’s correct, ma’am,” he said.

“Then I would like to see if you could escort young Din here to this Suberek’s fernpaper mill to check in on him. And bring the Engineers’ reagents key as well, Din—just in case you find out where that order went.” She raised a finger. “But before you go, Din—a word?”

—

I WAITED FORthe door to shut before asking, “How went today, ma’am?”

“Inconclusive,” she sighed. “Miljin found the corpse, and the money, and the wall pass. He was outraged and shocked. He then brought it to Uhad, who was similarly outraged and shocked. Uhad showed it to Kalista, who wasalsovery outraged and shocked. Then Miljin departed to bring Nusis in—I suspect you passed him as he left—and I expect she, too, will be appropriately outraged and shocked. I have done a lot of insipid pretending today, Din, but I have not yet detected a false note from any of our colleagues. All have reacted as they should.”

“Then do you trust them now?”

“Oh, no. I continue to feel something is amiss here. I just don’t know what it is. Yet still—tonight, stay sharp. We must establish the death scene, and there is most certainlysomeoneout there who wishesyou not do that. Strovi seems a solid sort, but…keep your hand close to your sword.”

I paused. “My sword is, ah…still made of wood, ma’am.”

She frowned and cocked her head. “Oh. Well…in that case, make sure your boots are laced up proper, boy, so you can run like hell.”

CHAPTER 20

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STROVI AND I EXITEDthe tower just as the curfew bells stopped ringing. The streets of the city were now silent and empty, the buildings half lit by a moon shrouded in clouds. There were no lanterns or lights to be seen, except for the one swinging from Strovi’s hand and those carried by the patrolling Legionnaires.

If I’d not had Strovi striding along with me I’d have been locked up within twenty paces: each time a Legionnaire spotted us, they’d hurriedly advance, then pause at the sight of the captain, bow, salute, and let us proceed. Strovi would often shout a word of encouragement to them, or clap them on the back and bid them farewell. In the dark of that night, he seemed far older and more at ease than I. I had to remind myself we were almost the same age.

“Deserters,” he said to me at one corner, almost apologetically.

“Beg pardon, sir?” I said.

“That’s why there’s so many patrols. Streets aren’t often safe at night. Too many mutineers and deserters trickling back from the walls, trying to make it out of the canton. Captain Miljin might have acted a bit mad with you yesterday, flashing his sword about, but he wasn’t wrong when he mentioned that. They hide in houses in the day and move by night.”

I tried and failed to suppress a yawn. “I-I…I see, sir. I’ll take note.”

He smiled sympathetically. “Tired?”

“Somewhat, sir. I’m not used to sleeping so high up in a tower. Especially one that moves with the wind.”

“Let us stop at a station, then. I could use a hotfoot myself.”

He led me to the next corner, where a huge black canvas tent had been set up in the street. Legion officers in varying states of armor milled about before it, resting, regrouping, or receiving orders. Though I was tall, most of these men were taller, thicker, stronger than I, augmented chaps who could cleave me in two if they so much as tried. Yet they all saluted Strovi as the captain led me through to the back, bowing their heads and tapping their collarbones respectfully.

At the back sat a clay stove, the fire within bright and flickering. Three young boys squatted nearby, tending to the flames and boiling pots of water. Strovi held up two fingers to them, and they poured us two cups of tea, then grabbed a clay cask and dropped in a healthy finger of sotwine to each.

Strovi held his cup up to me. “Hotfoot. Clar-tea and mulled sot. We’ll be dancing and prancing for hours now, Kol. Chin to roof.”

He tossed his cup back and I did the same. It was hot and acrid and sweet, but not unpleasant. Instantly I felt warmth fill my bones, and then I felt a strange bubbling at the bottom of my brain, as if it were cooking in a pot.

Strovi grinned as he saw my face. “The Apoths have made many amazing alterations, but this strain of clar-herb is my favorite.”

We tarried in the warmth of the fire, drinking the dregs of our tea—“The last sip,” Strovi commented, “you could practically chew”—while the captain politely inquired about my time in the Iudex, and Daretana, and with Ana. It felt quite strange: I hadn’t had such casual conversation with anyone in months—certainly not with Ana—but definitely not with someone like Strovi, who seemed to embody the full bloom of imperial service. The man’s movements were easy and graceful, and his face was handsome and noble, with a laugh that never entirely left his pale green eyes.