Page 98 of A Drop of Corruption

“Do you consort much with swampfolk, sir?” asked Malo innocently.

An affronted pause. “I do not. They are low folk, akin to vermin.”

“Then if they are such low folk, why does their passing concern you?” she asked.

He glared at her. “Because they were still Yarrow! They fell under the domain of the king. Any curtailment of the king’s power is a harm against him, and the realm of Yarrow.”

A trace of a smile played at the corners of Malo’s mouth. She had rattled him, and took great delight in it.

“Could anyone else at the meeting wished to have harmed the king?” I asked.

Pavitar smirked as if I’d said something foolish. “No. Only an imperial could do this. We Yarrows worship our ancestors, the kin of before. The king is ancestry madeflesh.All of his judgments are the judgments of the ancients.” He shot me a glare. “Nor will I have it suggested that it was the prince.”

“I didn’t make such a suggestion, sir,” I said.

“But you did,” he said. “You asked me to consider if anyone else atthe meeting meant harm to the king, and the prince was present. I know how your minds work, pulled to this idea that the prince might kill his father to inherit. But this isapavitari,a terrible sacrilege, an offense to the ancestors. He would do no such thing.”

I watched him carefully. His eyes and movements were full of conviction. Either this was truth, or he was a very convincing actor.

I recalled Ana’s orders then, and asked, “How was the king’s health in the days before his poisoning?”

“You think his death natural?” demanded Pavitar. “Are you so foolish?”

“Not at all, sir. But it is procedure to ask.”

“His health was very good,” he said forcefully. “My king was strong in flesh, spirit, and mind. Never have I beheld a man so strong, in fact.”

At that, Malo reached over and gently tapped my thigh, without ever taking her eyes off Pavitar. A lie, then.

“Are you sure of this, sir?” I asked.

“Very!” he said angrily. “Or do you suggest I did not know my own king?”

I paused, worried he would storm out if I pressed him on this.

Suddenly Ana spoke from behind me: “Thank you for that, sir! I would like to know—who is it that conducts most of the negotiations with the Imperial Treasury?”

Pavitar could not keep his words from dripping with disdain: “That is Darhi.”

“And how do you feel the negotiations are going?” she asked politely.

“I think having them at all is an offense to our holy ancestors. The contract with the Empire should never have been signed.”

“And yet, by saying this,” said Malo, “you doubt the ancestors—for was it not King Yodhi di Lalaca eh Cautha, fourth of his name, who made this pact with the Empire?”

A vein slowly began to calcify at the edge of Pavitar’s thick, purple head. “He was deceived in doing so. Lalaca eh Cautha did not know what the Empire planned to do with his lands.”

“Do you think Darhi feels the same way, in his negotiations?” Ana asked.

“Darhi…Feh!” spat Pavitar. “No. He has always been the Empire’s thing. He seeks trade, and wealth. As we say—Ika a?akohsa la’i ika siki da parasi. He has a purse for a scrotum, and coins instead of balls.”

“What a colorful colloquialism. Does Darhi ever hold any meetings with Treasury folk in thereliquary,sir?” asked Ana.

“The reliquary? Of course not,” said Pavitar. “We never allowed an imperial foot to fall in that sacred place before today, and that was only because the prince insisted.” He glowered for a moment: this plainly still displeased him. “But he should be given some grace, I suppose, given the darkness of today.”

Ana nodded and gestured to me, indicating I should continue.

“Did Satrap Darhi ever meet with smugglers?” I asked. “Or swampfolk?”