The Tainted Cup (Shadow of the Leviathan, #1)(97)
“I’d never dare suggest so,” said Ana, grinning. “Did you see anyone about this fireplace beforehand?”
“No. As I said, I didn’t see it.”
“And you didn’t see anyone unusual entering the party from the gardens?”
Kalista stared at Ana placidly and blinked. “I’m afraid,” she said, “I’d had a bit too much fumes and wine by that point to be, ah, reliable.”
“You mean you were sotted enough to piss your trousers,” said Ana, “and never know it.”
“Well,” said Kalista, scandalized, “I…I wouldn’t quite say tha—”
“You know now of Kaygi’s death, yes?” demanded Ana.
Kalista stopped and nodded nervously.
“And you likely know of the nature of the death.”
“Dappleglass. Again. Yes.”
“Do you know of any connection between Kaygi Haza and Commander Blas?”
“I know they were friendly,” said Kalista. “But Blas was known by man—”
“By many people, yes, yes, yes,” said Ana. “But you are not aware of any special relationship between the two?”
“No. I am not privy to such things, of course.”
Ana nodded slowly. “And are you aware of any connection between Commander Blas, and Kaygi Haza, and the canton of Oypat?”
There was a long silence.
“Beyond…” Kalista said slowly. “Beyond that all three were apparently killed by the same contagion?”
“Yes. Is there anything else that could connect the three?”
“No. But why should there be? As far as I am aware, Blas has never served in Oypat.”
Ana nodded, her smile retracting very slightly. “I see…Then thank you, Immunis Kalista. I believe that is all we need from you.”
* * *
—
NEXT CAME IMMUNIS Uhad, entering slowly in his storklike gait, his blue Iudex cloak swirling about him. He looked exhausted and beleaguered as usual, like a piece of vellum worn so thin you could see the cloudy sun through it. He sat down in the chair, his fingers threaded together, and sighed and said, “So…Kaygi Haza is dead.”
“Correct!” said Ana.
“In fact,” he said balefully, “the man has been dead for over two weeks.”
“So it seems.”
A taut silence.
“They’re going to come at you, you know, Ana,” said Uhad.
“I beg your pardon?” she said.
“I’ve worked as Iudex investigator here for too long to think otherwise. The Hazas will find a way to attack you. You might think this is their key play—coming in and announcing this hidden murder, starting off this bit from the negotiator’s chair—but they will have other designs, surely.”
“Do you really need to tell me, Uhad,” said Ana, “of all people, that the Hazas are prone to schemes and plots?”
“A fair point. Now. Do you want the…how did you put it for young Kol here…the full vomit? I did not anchor the experience with an aroma, so what I offer may seem disjointed.”
“Whatever you give us would be lovely.”
“Fine.”
He sniffed. Sat up. Then his face trembled, and he began talking.
What came forth was a blistering, startling rush of words and descriptions, snippets of sentences and bursts of clauses, all capturing the simple experience of walking through the Haza gates, up the path, and into the party within. Some of the things he said were so abrupt, or so stark and spare, that it was difficult to glean any meaning from them. He would rapidly utter things like, “Immunis Eskim, male, short, west of the thirdmost column, Apoth colors, shirt untucked on the left”; or, “Wine lukewarm, freshly mulled, six spice pods floating at rim, spoon rattling in the ewer,” and you’d have to struggle to conceive what he was relating.
More startling was Uhad’s demeanor as he spoke: he trembled, spasmed, tremored, and twisted as his memories poured out of him. Fingers twitching, knees shaking. Eyes dancing horribly, pulled about by some mad muscle in his skull. He seemed like a man in a vision, overcome with divine revelation.
I listened to all he said, sniffing my vial and engraving all the names and times and details in my memory—but it was difficult to focus. I had never seen another engraver give such a thorough recounting before. I realized I must look the same, during all the times I gave my reports to Ana, and found the prospect horrifying.
An odd pair we were then, like two insects from some bizarre species, with one forcefully inseminating another—yet he was filling up my mind with facts, data, information. And almost all of it was unimportant, or so it seemed to me, just names, dates, times, people; and none felt terribly critical.
He stopped talking. Then he sat back in his chair, panting.
“Good,” said Ana. “Very thorough. Thank you, Uhad.”
He mumbled a welcome.
“From the sound of it,” said Ana, “you weren’t at the event long!”
“I wasn’t,” muttered Uhad. He pushed back his graying hair. “I am not as young as I once was. I must spend my time judiciously. Social events force me to absorb a great deal of information…” His eye lingered on her blindfold. “…surely something you can sympathize with, Ana. I saw few people and departed.”