Page 80 of A Trade of Blood

“Y-yes?” said Fotia.

I blinked. “What? I don’t recall hearing tha—”

“It is a ridiculous proposition,” Ana continued. “Really, revoltingly childish. A brother-and-sister detecting team, trotting out into the wilds to put the world to rights! It is like an odeon for dimwitted infants. If I pay you both for your work, I’ve no doubt you’ll spend it on sticky sweets or shiny baubles!” She took another sip of her horrid crimson broth. “And yet, I find myself all too eager to accept. You are our sole trustworthy civilian in this region. Even if you have been here only two years, you know more than we, and have been closer to the scrum than the estimable commander here. So tell me—what do you know of Burilis Burav and his work in the forest?”

“Nothing, ma’am! I’ve only heard curses of him, given that I serve the Armentas. They say he is strange, and brilliant, yet all too willing to turn his innovations against the Armentas, who consider themselves the elder keepers of the ranching life here.”

“What of his son, Jalin?”

“Well…Jalin had no stomach for the ranching life, that I know,” she said. “His father put him to work in the flensing halls, to toughen him up—always with the firstborn son, I suppose…”

I avoided her gaze.

“…but it only made him more broken. Burilis wished the boy to be a weapon against the Armentas, but he never fit the mold. Jalin tried to overcompensate—he’s the only Burav I’ve ever known to actually wear a gentry tughra ring, the rest don’t bother—but he was always found wanting.”

“Not the murderer type, then,” said Tauri.

“Possibly,” said Fotia. “But I know he hated one Armenta passionately—Lyimo Armenta, Velona’s firstborn.”

Ana sat up. “Really!” she said softly.

I summoned the memories of the painting I’d glimpsed of the Armenta children. Lyimo, the eldest, had seemed tall, dashing, charismatic—but there had been something slightly cruel in his smile. A little princeling, inclined toward cheerful gaiety and cruel torment equally.

“Lyimo was said to mock Jalin endlessly whenever he glimpsed the boy in town,” said Fotia. “Or even anyone who knew him. He made Jalin’s waking days an utter hell. Eventually Jalin stopped visiting town altogether. I never said this among the Armentas, but Jalin’s life was likely a very sad one—at home, brutalized by his father, and abroad, terrorized by Lyimo.”

“Intriguing,” said Ana. “Did Jalin harbor any other personal enmities? Perhaps of Sagma Armenta, the girl who hanged herself?”

“No. Nor Gevma. He had nothing personal against them—but there were plenty of impersonal reasons for dislike. They were feuding families, after all.”

Ana was silent for a long while. “Your testimony is helpful, Miss Kol,” she said finally. “Yet it is but words. We need more.” She leaned forward. “I’ve a task for you, if you’re willing.”

“Ah—beg pardon, ma’am?” I asked. “I think my sister has done enough—”

“No, no, Din,” said Ana. “She’s proven herself a wily and useful thing! And my mind now turns to the three dead Armenta children. For I donotthink Velona knew all. I’ve more questions, but I do not believe the household will be inclined to answer them honestly now. So I would like a morehonestface to ask those questions—very quietly, and very secretly, instead.”

“You wish her to be our operative?” I said angrily. “I won’t have her put at risk, ma’am,”

“Yet she is at risk!” said Ana. “She and her husband-to-be. I thought that was very clear.”

“You use her jailed husband to bait her?”

“I remind her of herprioritiesnow, Din!” snapped Ana. “The Burav fire is obviously the work of our web-killer, but we will learn little from it. We should return instead to the beginning. To our poisoner, and thefirstdeaths we know of. And that wi—”

“I’ll do it,” said Fotia.

I turned to her, shocked. “What! You…Fo, you don’t even know what it is!”

“But I will do it,” she said. “I was clear to you, brother. If this killer isn’t caught, I’ll never be safe, nor will Ip or anyone else. And I’ve afiercedesire to bring hell down upon their heads.”

“The girl is of your infuriating ilk, Din,” said Ana, grinning. “A little too decent and impetuous for her own good. You cannot resent her for that. Besides, I have a very specific target I wish her to ask about—the murder ofSagmaArmenta, and no other.”

I blinked through my anger, and asked, “Why only Sagma?”

“Because,” said Ana, “Sagma’s death was different. Shehangedherself.”

At that, Tauri said, “Oh! Aha! Yes. Very wise!”

We turned to him.