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The Tainted Cup (Shadow of the Leviathan, #1)(67)

Author:Robert Jackson Bennett

I stared at her, incredulous, but she seemed quite serious. “You’re going to, what, talk down the seneschal? Tell her your mind?”

Ana went very still then. She seemed to turn these words over within her mind, testing how they fit. Then she grinned horribly and leaned forward; and I saw a strange, unsettling light in her eyes that I had not seen before: one I did not wish to look at, let alone challenge.

“I would!” she said cheerily. “I would tell her all I knew. And she would come to agree with our deeds. For who would not, Din? We are here to review the foundations of the Empire’s defenses—and that, of course, begins with testing the resolve of its most important officers. Now go, boy, and sleep. If you can.”

CHAPTER 18

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THE NEXT MORNING I arose before dawn, dressed, picked up the bag containing the thousands of talints and the wall pass—it felt very heavy now—and went downstairs and slipped into the streets.

Once again, Talagray was rumbling to life with countless esteemed and veteran officers beginning their duty. I felt terribly self-conscious as I walked among them, trying to control my gait, my posture, my bearing. Was I walking too fast? Did anyone hear that soft clink from my bag? Yet no one had any mind for me at all. There were far more greater things to care about in this place than I.

I’d left the back door to Aristan’s house unlocked, so it was a simple thing to open it and slip inside. Once again, I was battered with the awful reek of corpse-stink. I prowled through the house like a common burglar and found Aristan still in her bedroom, the toes of her bare feet still purple and curling.

I stared at her body, heart beating. Then I glanced around the room, wondering where to hide a fortune where Miljin and Uhad might find it. Yet I remembered: I’d seen Miljin search a room just the other day, hadn’t I? I knew his methods.

I walked to the other side of the bed, crouched, unsheathed my knife, and pried up a floorboard. There was not much room below but still room enough. I carefully placed the seven thick coins below, along with the wall pass. Then I replaced the board, paced back to the backdoor, cracked it to confirm the lane beyond was empty, and departed, my heart still fluttering in my ribcage.

I made it back to the Iudex tower before midmorning, climbed the steps, and knocked five times on Ana’s door—the signal that that job was done. I was met with a lilting “Thank you!” then ran back down the stairs, suddenly worried any one of these officers might stop me.

Yet they did not. I dabbed sweat from my brow as I continued on to the next task.

How queer it suddenly felt: I’d been a model officer for almost all my career, but I had to join the Iudex to become a true criminal.

* * *

“ARE YOU ALL right, Signum?” asked Nusis. “You look a little antsy.”

“P-pardon, ma’am?” I said, startled. I wiped more sweat from my brow and glanced around her office, as if worried someone else might have noticed. “Oh. I apologize.”

“Oh, don’t,” Nusis said. “I was just worried it might be a reaction to your new immunities grafts. Or, maybe it might be something you caught out on the Plains of the Path.” She leaned forward over her desk, interested. “Have you felt any curious flickering sensations when you defecate, perhaps?”

I wondered what to say to that. “I think it might just be the stress of the job, ma’am,” I said honestly.

“I see…Well, if you need any stimulants or sedatives, let me know. I’ve got a variety here, and most are very safe. Now…you have a reagents key for me, I think?”

I handed over the plain little bronze disc I’d found in Rona Aristan’s empty house. “Yes, ma’am. Found it yesterday among the possessions of the individuals we were investigating. I was hoping you could check it for me.” I sweated slightly, though nothing I said was a lie.

Nusis studied the little key. She no longer seemed like the cheery red flicker-thrush as I’d come to think of her, for she moved slower, and she looked like she hadn’t slept in some time. The cause was clear: there were piles of parchments mounded on her desk, enough to challenge even Ana’s usual seas of texts. It had taken me hours to get in to see her, as well: apparently whatever she was working on was even more important than a visit from the Iudex.

“Hmm,” Nusis said, peering at the key. “This one is rather shabbily made. Simple bronze, with tin prongs and a crude bridge. Very amateurish. I don’t perceive any gaseous emissions of note…though they may be masked by my specimens.”

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