Page 43 of A Trade of Blood

She reached behind her chair and produced a long, unusual pipe. My nerves twanged like the string of a bow at the sight of it: it lookeda good deal like Ana’s shawm, being about the length of a man’s forearm, but this one was curiously fluted, with many apertures running its length. I quickly engraved its likeness in my mind—for this, I felt sure, was the instrument that controlled the guiding web.

Velona took a breath, then paused. “I’ve no air,” she murmured. “Osumlik!”

“Yes, madam?”

“Take the pipe and make dear Coral dance. It’s the only thing that can mend my heart after so many awful tales.”

The medikker reluctantly took the pipe, shot a grudging look at the little green beast in her lap, then placed the instrument to his lips and played.

What happened next was very strange. It was not quite that I did not hear the note as much as my ears acknowledged thatsomekind of sound was occurring, but they could not catch it. It was beyond my hearing, I presumed.

Yet Coral reacted instantly. She began to jump madly up and down in Velona’s lap, leaping again and again, as if reaching for an invisible fruit on a branch above her.

“No, no!” snarled Velona. “Stupid man! That is the tune for herexercises! I wish to see her dance, not leap about!”

Osumlik apologized, then played again. Once more, that unsettling sense of an inaudible note in my ears—and then Coral leapt down and began to dance.

It was a sight both bemusing and repulsive. The little green beast rose to her back feet and made stuttering, awkward little steps about on the floor, gesturing with her long-fingered hands to a silent beat. Yet her silver eyes remained wide, and fixed, and joyless. I couldn’t help but imagine a miserable panic in them.

“Yes, yes!” said Velona. She clapped her hands softly. “I do love it. It is the dance known as the qu-alm, you know.”

I affected a smile but kept watching the creature’s terrified gaze. Had Zansay and Castus felt the same thing, I wondered, when they’d been forced through such horrors together in the night?

—

As we leftVelona’s chambers, Ana’s skinny hand flashed out and took Fotia by the shoulder. “I would like a place to talk in private, girl.”

Fotia took us to a tiny antechamber leading to another room. It had been a bedroom once, with a sumptuous four-poster bed, and a large silvered mirror hanging from the far wall. A dressing table was placed before it, covered with many fine boxes containing countless luxuries: perfumes and oils, rings and necklaces, and—most of all—ribbons and scarves of many colors. All were covered in a thick layer of dust. This chamber must have sat undisturbed for months.

“This was Sagma’s, once,” said Fotia softly. “Velona hasn’t had any of it removed. She said it would pain her too much. Or maybe she doesn’t want to disturb anything hanging about here. The lady has tried to cleanse the room of ill spirits, as you see.”

I followed her gaze. There, hanging from the chandelier, was a chain with a little brass charm at the end, bearing the two spheres separated by a vertical line.

“The sign of Master Gaddar?” I said.

“Yes,” said Fotia. “The Daljeni seer of fertility, regrowth. This chamber’s like a…a limb, poisoned and rotting after an adder’s bite. She asks for Gaddar’s attentions, for him to breathe life back into this wing of the house.”

“Fascinating,” said Ana idly. “Is it working?”

Fotia shot me a sullen glance but said nothing.

“Was all your madam said true?” asked Ana.

“Yes, I think so,” said Fotia. “As to whether her line is truly cursed…”

“I cannot control the divine! I am interested in only the details. I wish to ask about the manner of burial—she mentioned something aboutpreservation.Did she mean a sepulcher?”

“Yes. The Armentas keep a sepulcher, and tombs within. The bodies of their dead are washed of all agents of rot and preserved within airtight casks. It is a…a considerable process, I am told.”

“I see. Thank you. One last question—have there been any otherunusualdeaths here? Or any sightings of any agents or ill-wishers interfering in your affairs?”

“Well…no. Not that I am aware of. But I’ve only been here two years. Lyimo’s and Sagma’s deaths were both before I came.” She glanced at me sidelong. “Why? I…I thought you didn’t believe Castus was guilty, but…what is it you worry about?”

“I don’t know, precisely,” said Ana. “But—Iask you to do your utmost to keep our visit here a secret. We do not want gossip to spread!”

“Gossip of what?” said Fotia. “And who do you worry about hearing it?” She paused. “You asked of the Buravs…Do you really thinktheymight be managing this, somehow?”

“If they were,” said Ana, “canyouimagine why Burilis Burav would allow Castus to kill his own daughter?”