The Tainted Cup (Shadow of the Leviathan, #1)(93)

“Truly, ma’am?” he said. “That seems preposterous. I mean—she’s a Haza!”

“She’s the daughter of the third prime son of the lineage,” said Ana. “Which is not, genealogically speaking, an elite leadership position within the clan. And she’s been stuck out here on the Outer Rim, standing in the back rooms while her father ran the show—and it seems he kept many secrets from her. She now suspects we have figured out those secrets, but we have not. Not yet, at least. It’s very strange. She sounds so clumsy, so erratic…Like she was told to find things out, but was not told enough to comprehend what she found.” She chewed on her lip for a moment. “I think Fayazi is a puppet.”

“For who?” said Miljin.

“Why, the rest of her family, of course.”

“The rest of the Hazas?” asked Miljin. “Aren’t they one and the same?”

“Oh, no. The Hazas are a far bigger operation than what we see here in Talagray—and Fayazi is in a rather tough spot within that operation. Her father died, and she was suddenly put into power in his place. However, I suspect she quickly came to realize that her father was running secret little schemes for the family, ones she hadn’t been privy to—and, worse still, letters then came pouring in from the family proper, deeper in the Empire. Orders. Directives. Commands. Commands that probably told her nothing, other than what to do, not to ask questions…and to look for something here in the canton. Something important that they’re worried we’ve found. Perhaps this mysterious third. Fayazi is now probably sweating under all those silvery robes—and worried that if this truly goes south, it’ll be she who hangs, and none of her illustrious kin.”

She allowed a silence as Miljin and I absorbed this.

“This, of course, is only conjecture,” she said. “But I feel it’s close to the mark, given what you’ve told us, Din…” A savage grin. “The Hazas seek something—an object, or evidence. Perhaps they seek this third. But what it actually is, I don’t think Fayazi is permitted to know. Fascinating!”

“Maybe something to do with the ten Engineers,” said Miljin. “Being as Fayazi lied to Kol here about that—and he faced down a fucking court plaizaier to prove her wrong.”

I wiped sweat from my face as I struggled to free my mind of that memory. “But I still don’t understand why the ten Engineers would have been there at all,” I said. “Why would Kaygi Haza invite such low officers into his estate?”

Ana laughed gaily. “Oh, that’s simple. The answer is patronage.”

“Patronage?” I said. “As in—giving gifts?”

“Right,” grunted Miljin. “Though it sounds like Kaygi Haza was giving them a hell of a lot more than gifts, though…”

“Aptly put,” said Ana. “The man must’ve been operating here for years. All these bright young officers coming to Talagray for acclaim and attention…and Kaygi gave it to them, putting them on the high road to better positions, better projects. All they had to do was give him information, or do small favors for him…or a big one, perhaps.” She trailed off, as if struck by a thought.

“Like Blas, ma’am?” I said.

“What?” she said, startled.

“It sounds like the treatment the Hazas gave Blas. But he was far older, and his treatment seemed special.”

“Hm. Yes…” she said quietly. “It did, didn’t it?”

Miljin snorted. “But we’re still missing lots of pieces. Patronage ain’t exactly illegal—being as it’s the gentry who have a lot of say in making the laws. We’ve also got no real indication of what Kaygi Haza was actually up to, or how Jolgalgan got to him. Unless Uhad, Nusis, and Kalista give us something useful when we interview them tomorrow—which I somewhat doubt they will.”

“No…” said Ana. “But, Din—there is one thing that’s missing. Tell me, were you unable to get into the Haza rookery at all?”

I hesitated, a lump of ice wedged between my ribs. No avoiding it now.

“I did, ma’am,” I said. “But the Hazas had burned all of the household’s correspondence, claiming a fear of contagion.”

“Damn…” muttered Miljin.

Yet Ana shot forward. “But you didn’t stop there, did you, Din? Surely not.”

I took a breath, trying to suppress the dread fluttering in my throat.

“I didn’t,” I said. “I reviewed all the scribe-hawks of the Hazas, trying to see which locations they were in communication with—as well as which locations had recently sent a message, or received one.”

Miljin stared in astonishment, then cackled. “By hell! Finding out which places the Hazas were watching and listening to? That’s a damn coup, that is!”

Yet Ana cocked her head, sensing the hesitation in my words. “What’s the problem?”

“The problem,” I said slowly, “is that the locations were all written in Sazi.”

“Sazi?” said Ana, surprised. Then she sat back, jaw set. “Ah…”

“Ah?” said Miljin, puzzled. “Why ah?”

Ana was silent for a moment. “Sazi, Captain,” she finally explained, “is one of the trickiest languages to learn—especially in writing. I am Sazi myself, and know the tongue and the letters. But besides Sublime linguas, I’ve never known a soul who’s managed the feat.”