Miljin shook his head. “The shit with Oypat is well-documented. The idiot who brewed up dappleglass to make paper was drummed out of the Apoth Iyalet, and nearly got tossed in prison. The Hazas’ touch doesn’t lie there.”
“No,” said Ana. “But there is something there. Something they wish to hide, which touches all these other murders.” Then she extended a third pale finger. “And then there is the fernpaper miller, Suberek, and Blas’s secretary, Rona Aristan. Both with holes in their heads—and, increasingly, evidence that connects them to the Haza clan.” She dropped her fingers. “Ironically, for these murders, I am most certain of the motive, and the nature of the killer. But, unfortunately, I think we have the least chance of catching this culprit.”
I looked back and forth between Miljin and Ana. Miljin did not look surprised at all, and though both of them appeared troubled, they did not say any more.
“You are?” I said. “You know who killed Suberek and Aristan, ma’am?”
“Somewhat. As does Captain Miljin, I believe.”
I glanced at Miljin, who had a somber look on his face.
“Then…who is it?” I asked.
“That answer is complex,” she sighed. “Before we get into it, I would like to test out a theory I have…”
“About what, ma’am?”
“About you, Din.” She turned to Miljin. “Would you be ready, Captain?”
Miljin looked surprised. Then he sighed. “Are you sure about this, ma’am?”
“Very,” said Ana. “I am most curious. Are you ready, Captain?”
“Hell. I guess. Stand up, boy,” he said. He began unbuckling his scabbard from his side. “And take my sword.” He handed the sheathed blade out to me.
Ana cocked her head. “I thought you were going to see what he could do in combat?”
“Figured this was safer, ma’am,” said Miljin. “Less chance we accidentally cut our own heads off. Take it, boy.”
I eyed the scabbard. “For…for what, sir?”
“For a test. Gonna see how easy it is for you to remember how to get this sword out.”
I hesitantly took the scabbard from him. I was shocked at how light it felt. The blade within must have weighed hardly more than a feather.
He saw the look on my face and grinned. “Made from the core of a titan’s bone,” he said. “Hard as hell to craft such material. It’s strong, yet light—something to do with the pressure of the water, or some shit. Yet it holds its edge longer than the finest steel.” He tapped the locking mechanism. “It’s valuable enough that I had to get this fancy scabbard made for it. Have to move it right to unsheathe it. I memorized the way, though it took me damned long, but…Let’s see. You take the grip, shut your eyes, and I’ll show you the movements. And we’ll see what you retain.”
He took my hands and guided them through slowly unlocking his sword, the half turns and quarter turns and eighth turns this way and that. I could feel the mechanisms of the sword hilt click with each turn, the little pins sliding in and out. It was monstrously complicated. How Miljin had managed to memorize it, I couldn’t fathom.
“Now,” he said. He locked the blade in place and stepped back. “Open your eyes, and let’s see if you can get it out. Now, Kol. Fast as you can.”
“But you only showed me the once,” I said.
“So? Try.”
I frowned. Then I took the grip in my right hand and held the scabbard in my left; and then my eyes fluttered, and it was like someone breathed air through the muscles in my arm and my hand. I turned the sword, once this way, then the other, and then…
In the flash of a second I had the naked blade before me, pale green like the buds of new leaves upon the tree. I stared at it, shocked by my own success.
“Good job,” Miljin said, but he did not seem at all pleased. He looked to Ana. “He has it, then.”
“He does, it seems,” said Ana.
“I…I have what?” I asked. “What are you all talking about, please?”
“Memory in the muscles,” explained Miljin. “You learn how to move and you remember it, Kol, so you can do it again. Perfectly, every time.”
He said this with some awe, but it sounded more or less in line with all the rest of my alterations. “But…that’s because I’m an engraver, sir,” I said. “Yes?”
“Hell no,” said Ana. “Most engravers capture experiences—sights, sounds, and especially smells—but not movement. They can duplicate speech and words, but they can’t make their bodies act out something complex. That’s much harder. But if you are taught how to move in a way once, Din, then it seems you can move exactly that way again, and again, and again.”