“But there were no doors stained,” said Gennadios.
“True!” said Ana. “But that is because Uxos, being a gardener, realized that the assassin’s presence must have stained it. So, he removed the door after Blas arrived, replaced it, and then burned the tainted one in his stove.”
A stain of sweat was spreading across Uxos’s shirt.
“One of the servant girls complained of an intense heat the night before,” said Ana. “Because, naturally, the kirpis shroom near the kitchens had died, so it couldn’t cool the air. But how did it die? Well, they’re vulnerable to too much moisture. If someone leaves a door open for too long, and if the air outside is too humid…”
“Then the mushrooms wither,” said Ephinas quietly.
“Correct,” said Ana. “Which is exactly what happened as Uxos—very quietly and stealthily, to his credit—removed the door from its sliding tracks and replaced it. Something he did very commonly, as the groundskeeper. He probably would have replaced the ones in the bathing chamber, too—if Blas himself hadn’t been sleeping in there as the poison spread in his body.”
There was another tense silence. All eyes slowly turned to look at Uxos, who was still paralyzed, eyes wide, brow blooming with sweat.
“I suspect you were paid well for the job,” said Ana. “And you might think that we don’t have any evidence. But…dappleglass is very resistant even to normal fires. It’s a contagion, after all. A normal fire would actually make the spores float about on the smoke, though it does delay their bloom for a little while. But your hut is made of fernpaper as well, isn’t it, Mr. Uxos?” She cocked her head, smiling. “So…when the two Iudex soldiers I sent to the estate review your hut where you burned those doors, I wonder…What colors shall its fernpaper b—”
Then Uxos screamed, stood up, and dove for Ana.
* * *
—
I’D TOLD MYSELF to be prepared, but I had not been ready for this. Uxos had seemed a timid man; yet in one second, he changed into a snarling, furious creature.
I watched as his hand dipped down to his boot; and then, as it came up, there was a glitter of silver in his fingers.
A knife. In his boot. Where I had not searched.
Then I moved.
I hadn’t really intended to move. There was no conscious thought: it was like the muscles in my arms and legs had minds of their own, and they all woke up and hauled me along with them. The next thing I knew I was drawing my practice sword—the big, dull blade wrought of lead and wood—then stepping forward in front of Ana and slashing out with it.
My sword cut across him horizontally, smashing into Uxos’s arm with the knife, and then clipping his chin and splitting his lip. Out of sheer momentum, he kept hurtling forward and crashed into me.
I fell backward with Uxos on top, landing on the floor beside Ana. I managed to keep my sword up, using it as a barrier between myself and Uxos, who was clearly stunned by the blow but still frenzied. He screamed and raised his knife, intending to plunge it into my throat, perhaps; but I held my practice sword like a stave and shoved the pommel up, smashing him in the face again, this time far harder than the last blow.
He fell backward, stunned, and dropped the knife. The whole room seemed to be screaming: me, Gennadios, Ephinas. Then I was on top of Uxos, grabbing his hair with my left hand and pummeling his face with my right fist, again and again and again.
“Din!” said Ana.
I hit him again, and again, and again.
“Din!”
Uxos’s eyebrow split. His nose broke. His mouth was brimming with blood. My knuckles were aching, but I couldn’t stop hitting him.
Then something struck me on the side of the head—not enough to knock me over, but enough to stun me. I blinked, flustered, and stared stupidly as a copy of Summation of the Transfer of Landed Properties, Qabirga Canton, 1100–1120 landed on the floor next to me with a thud.
I realized Ana had thrown a book at my head—how she’d managed to land the hit despite being blindfolded, I didn’t know—and I looked up at her, outraged. “What the hell?” I snarled.
“Din, I don’t mind your violent appetites,” Ana said. “But I would very much prefer it if you didn’t beat the one man who knows anything about Blas’s assassination to fucking death! Especially not in my goddamn house!”
I looked down. Though I’d barely been cognizant of my actions, I had pulverized Uxos’s face to the point of being unrecognizable. He lay on the floor, bloodied and weeping.