The Tainted Cup (Shadow of the Leviathan, #1)(73)
“At the moment, all their involvement seems ill-advised but coincidental, ma’am.”
“And what in hell does this new reagents key open?”
“We don’t yet know that either, ma’am,” said Ana. “It appears far plainer than the Haza key, so I doubt if it shall open anything quite so controversial, but…we have given it to Nusis to analyze. I have not yet heard if she has had time to work on it.”
Again, Vashta glowered at us. “Get an update from her when you interrogate her next. We must uncover as much as we can about all of this as quickly as possible.”
“Understood, ma’am,” said Ana. “But…first, of course…”
“The Hazas,” sighed the commander-prificto. “You would like to go to their home, I assume.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And inspect the residence.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And get lists of all their guests and relations present.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And, surely, talk to all their servants and advisers. Like they were simple country folk.”
“That would be most preferable, ma’am.”
I almost scoffed. Ana could be quite unctuous when attempting humility.
“I have fought back leviathans for five wet seasons,” said Vashta quietly. “But at least the titans are straightforward. Yet the gentry…That is another matter.” She fixed Ana again in a cold, steely gaze. “I will do what I can. But I wish you to know this.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I am seneschal—but only of this canton. The Hazas own some of the most verdant, potent lands in all the Empire, in many cantons. Without the reagents grown on their properties, defense of the Empire would be impossible. We would have no grafts for stonewood, for slothiks, for cracklers. For healing grafts, for mending pastes, for any of it. Hell, a full twenty percent of all our fretvine grafts come from the Haza lands! So I will consent to this—but you must, and I mean must, step carefully.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“Particularly if you happen to actually find yourself in the presence of a member of the family! I think it quite unlikely—the Hazas remain very cloistered, especially here on the Outer Rim, where there is so much contagion—but if by chance you happen to meet one of them, I must insist you be polite, thoughtful, obedient, an—”
Then came a hard knock at the chamber door.
Vashta’s rage boiled over. “Damn it all!” she bellowed. “I said we were not to be disturbed! Who the hell is it?”
The door opened, and Strovi poked his head in. His boyish face looked anxious—but I could tell Vashta’s anger wasn’t the cause of it.
“Strovi?” shouted Vashta. “What in hell?”
“Th-there’s someone here to see you, ma’am,” he said.
“I told you, Captain, we were to be left alone!”
“I know, ma’am. But I knew you would wish to see this person, ma’am.”
“Then who is it? The damned emperor?”
“Ah, no. It is Fayazi Haza, ma’am.”
Vashta’s fury was wiped clean from her face. She gaped at Strovi, then at Ana, then stood.
There was an awful silence as she considered what to do.
“I see,” said Vashta. “Well. Let her in, then.”
He bowed and opened the door.
Then she walked in.
* * *
—
SHE LOOKED TO be about my age, and she was as tall as I was, with a long neck, enormous purple eyes, and thick, silvery, straight hair that fell in a shining sheet. Eyelids dashed with blue and purple, traceries of red paints about her ears. Lashes as thick as a stonetree’s trunk, her snow-white brow encircled by a gray ribbon threaded with pale green. Her pale skin was so unblemished and luminous it almost appeared to shine, cracks of ethereal white peeking through her robes, which covered nearly the whole of her being from the neck down—except her feet, which carefully shuffled forward on tall platform sandals.
She was without doubt the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Not the most beautiful woman, nor the most beautiful person, but the most beautiful thing. She seemed to emit a silver shimmer simply walking through the adjudication chambers, followed by her retinue of servants and bodyguards, all armed and watchful—but for a while, at least, I had eyes only for her.
Then I noticed something: the point of her nose, the shape of her face…She was Sazi. Just like Ana, the only other Sazi person I’d ever met in my life.
I looked to Ana to confirm my suspicion. I saw that not only was I right, but Ana herself showed no reaction at all to the young woman’s arrival. Her expression had turned strangely inward, so much so it was hard to tell if she was even awake.
The young gentrywoman came to stand before Vashta, followed by two servants: both Sublimes, judging by the heralds they wore upon their breast, though they carried no imperial insignias with them. Having never met a privately employed Sublime, I found this remarkable. Her six bodyguards clanked along behind her, almost as tall as cracklers, bound up in complex plate armor that was nothing like what they used in the Legion—custom stuff, then, not refurbished or reused. Everything about them seemed expensive.