The Tainted Cup (Shadow of the Leviathan, #1)(78)

Ana’s initial fury now changed to concern. She pivoted her head to me, like she could hear the beat of my heart, and thought for a moment. “I will consent to this,” she said, “but I would like a moment to talk it over with Din and Miljin.”

“As you wish,” said Vashta. We bowed to her, and she departed.

Strovi looked back at me as he departed. He seemed so shaken it was as if it were he who’d been condemned to this task, rather than I. “Go safely, Kol,” he said. “The halls are a dangerous place. Not all who walk in return.” Then he followed Vashta out.



* * *



—

“WHY…WHY’S SHE asking for me?” I said. “I mean, out of everyone in Talagray…”

“Seems likely they want you there so they can push you around, yeah?” said Miljin. He turned to Ana. “Someone young. New. Pretty. Suspect she thinks the boy’ll be putty in her hands.” He spat on the floor. “I’d normally begrudge you for fooling about with Aristan’s body, boy, but given what’s coming now, I’ve naught but pity.”

“But what in hell would Fayazi get out of pushing Din around?” said Ana. “The boy knows fuck-all of anything important!”

“I am standing,” I said tersely, “right here.”

Ana ignored me, drumming her fingers on the sides of her legs. “The more I consider it, the more I think Fayazi wants to find the killer before us.”

“You think she seeks vengeance?” asked Miljin.

“Not quite. I suspect Jolgalgan knows something about the Hazas and Blas. Something to make her go to a lot of trouble to kill the two men in such a symbolic fashion. Something I think the Hazas are desperate to keep secret. And then there are the murders of Aristan and Suberek…” She fell silent, her face grave. “That is what Fayazi will try to weasel out of you, Din. She wants you to give her something that will help her find the killer first and make this all go away before we can dig any further.”

“How’s she going to do that?” I asked. “Will her bodyguards hold a blade to my throat?”

“Oh, no,” she said. She blew a strand of bone-white hair out of her face. “Rather, Din, I’m much more concerned that Fayazi Haza might try to fuck you.”

I stared at her, speechless. I looked at Miljin, who stared grimly back.

“I am not sure,” I said, “that I heard that correctly, ma’am.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be the first,” Ana said drily. “You are young and male—and boys are always a lot sillier about these things. And she has several thousand talints of beauty at her disposal, not to mention her pheromonic grafts. Regardless, it is well known that the Hazas use amorous relations, and blackmail, to get what they want. Fayazi likely means to get you under her thumb, Din.” She thought about it. “Or under some other part of her person. Or perhaps under a member of her household…”

“This metaphor,” I snapped, “wears rather thin.”

“Yes, yes. But! She might be in for a surprise. For you are not only a curiously focused person, boy, but you’re also one of the most emotionally repressed human beings I’ve ever met. If there is anyone who could resist the allures of the Hazas, it’s you. Or, well, I hope it’s you.”

“Besides fending off unwanted advances,” I said, frustrated, “what am I supposed to be doing there?”

Ana thought for a moment. Then she said, “Correspondence!”

“Beg pardon?” I said.

“Correspondence! Communications. Letters. That is precisely what we need. News of Blas’s murder surely reached her father the second we started investigating in Daretana. So who did he talk to after Blas died? Who did he send messages to? And what did those messages say? That’s what you must find.”

“How am I supposed to do that, ma’am?” I asked.

“The Hazas are known to possess a small fleet of scribe-hawks,” she said. “All you need to do is get to their rookery, boy, and look about for anything useful.”

I was familiar with scribe-hawks, of course, for the Iyalets used them to carry urgent communications across the whole of the Empire, flying with stunning speed between two fixed locations. The idea of someone privately owning a small fleet of them, however, was nothing short of astonishing to me.

“And…how am I supposed to get in their rookery, ma’am?” I asked.

“You’re there looking for contagion at a fucking murder scene!” she snapped. “That gets you access to all kinds of places! Make some dumb shit up, improvise, and figure it out, child!”

“Make some dumb shit up,” I said sourly. “Very clear orders there. What else, ma’am?”

“Investigate! Go, see, ask—and remain cold and aloof. Find evidence of how the killer did their work, speak little, and glower much. I mean, that’s your specialty, isn’t it? And remember, this is the second time the killer has struck at a Haza house. I suspect they used similar methods. Am I clear?”

“As mountain water, ma’am,” I grumbled.

“Good.” She grabbed my shoulder. “Eat nothing she gives you, Din. Do not drink any proffered drink. Be mindful of any smokes or fumes you perceive. Do not urinate or defecate on the property, and do your best to leave few hairs behind. Finally, keep your distance from Fayazi—and do not let her touch your face with her bare skin. Understood?”