Page 10 of A Drop of Corruption

“He was polite, sir,” said one woman. “Quiet, sir. Didn’t talk much at all, sir.”

“Very neat,” said the other. “Very spare. And very sick. Hadn’t touched a drop of his broth when I went to collect it.”

They nodded one after the other, again and again, their cadence so regular I was reminded of a child’s wooden toy dancing at the plucking of its strings.

“What time did you go to collect it?” I asked.

“Oh…evening, or thereabout,” said the second woman. “After dinner. It was dark out. The gentleman was lying on the bed, eyes closed, breathing hard. I left in a hurry, worried whatever he had might be catching. He did not seem well…His hand twitched, I recall, his fingers flitting against his belly.”

“His hands shook?” I asked.

“Just the one hand, yes,” said the first maid. “Like a palsy, almost. Beating against his belly. Like my mam had, before she faded and perished.”

“And the windows,” I said. “Were they open then, or closed?”

The maids thought about it.

“Closed,” one said finally.

“Yes, closed,” said the other. “And locked. I remember he had thelamp on, on his table, for it was very dark by then. We left him, and then in the morning…well, the gentleman had disappeared, leaving nothing but blood and savagery behind!”

“And no one heard anything?” I asked.

“Nothing!” she said.

“It was as if a spirit had whisked him away,” said the first. “Stolen out of his bed, like a sea spirit snatching up children from the old tales.” She paused. “You don’t think that’s what itwas,do you, sir?”

I paused, surprised to be asked if a specter from a folktale might be our culprit. “In my experience, ma’am, regular people are more than dangerous enough.”

“You think it’s mad, for us to talk of spirits,” said the second maid archly. “But given what they do with the Shroud out there in the bay…perhaps the ghosts of those things linger, and hate us, for all we make from their flesh.”

“What about this bit of iron?” I asked, holding it up. “Did he have this?”

They peered at it and shook their heads.

“Never seen that before,” said one.

“Not once,” said the other.

I pressed them more, until Malo began yawning where she leaned in the corner. I let them go.

—

Last was the guardwho had accompanied Sujedo through the city, an Apoth militis named Klaida.

“It was a very common day, sir,” he told me. “The immunis came. Moved in. Then I took him to the bank and waited outside the vault, for I’m not allowed in.”

“How long did you wait?” I asked.

“Oh, less than a few minutes, sir. I believe he was just making a deposit at the vaults. He had a bag with him, of about this size.” He gestured with his hands: about two span wide and tall, and a half span thick.

“Big enough for more than documents, then?”

“Yes, sir. He had something inside and left it there. The Treasury clerk there can tell you more—his eyes fluttered just as yours do, sir.”

I perked up at that. “He was an engraver?”

“Yes, sir. Likely has to be, to remember all who come and go to the bank. Immunis Sujedo then came out, I took him back to his rooms here, and that was that.”