“I see,” I said. “But—what’s this to do with Jolgalgan, ma’am?”
“You have heard that Jolgalgan has a curious look to her,” she said. “Yellow, curly hair. Yes?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“That is because though she has a Kurmini last name, the captain was not born to a Kurmini family. She was adopted. Her birth name was Prarasta. An uncommon name—mostly because all the people who’d normally have such a name are now dispersed or dead.” She fixed me in a sad gaze. “Jolgalgan was Oypati, you see. She escaped the dying canton when she was a child. Lost her parents. And was resettled. Such a history…Well, it’s no wonder she displayed afflictions of the psyche.”
I felt my skin break out in goosebumps. “I notice, ma’am, that you haven’t told me whether Jolgalgan died with her cohort.”
“I haven’t,” she said. “Because Captain Jolgalgan has been missing for weeks.” She handed the scroll of parchment out to me. “She vanished just a few days before the assassination of Commander Blas, as a matter of fact. And just before so many Engineers suddenly started dying of the very contagion that killed her canton. Curious—isn’t it?”
CHAPTER 19
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IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON when I raced across the Iudex tower atrium, Jolgalgan’s parchments rustling in my pocket. I felt I looked quite a sight, but then I saw Captain Miljin doing the same, sprinting across the atrium, though he was going out rather than in.
He skidded to a stop as he passed me. “Kol!” he breathed. “Where the devil…”
I took in his flush face, his wild eyes. Instantly I knew he had found Aristan.
I fought to keep my voice steady, and asked, “What’s going on, sir?”
“We’ve just found the maddest mess of shit, simply the maddest thing, but…” Miljin looked back out the door. “But I have business to tend to. Go and ask your immunis. She can fill you in!” Then he dashed away, moving surprisingly fast for a man of his age.
I watched him go. I wondered if Ana’s little experiment had yielded results.
I raced up the stairs for the second time that day, my head spilling over with thoughts. Yet when I came to Ana’s door, I paused.
Voices from inside: hers, then a man’s. Soft, not agitated—or at least not yet.
I knocked. The customary singing “Come!”
I opened the door. Young Captain Kepheus Strovi sat in a chair in the middle of the room, dressed in Legion blacks with his legs crossed—a casual pose, like he was perfectly at home here. He looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened slightly when he saw me.
I stopped short at the sight of him. It took me a moment to recall he was meant to be helping Ana find information on all the fernpaper millers in Talagray.
I looked about for Ana but couldn’t find her. Then the overpowering scent of fish struck my nostrils, and I heard her voice: “Din! What good timing. Strovi here has just brought me all those fernpaper orders I’d requested.”
I looked down. Ana was lying on the floor on her back at Strovi’s feet, half-concealed in a pile of parchments, blindfolded as usual. To her left was a tray containing the remains of a fish, salted and piled with herbs, the flesh so pink it must have never known flame.
“Why are you…” I said.
“On the floor?” she said. “I can feel the movements of this tower better from here, Din, reading the wind and the weather with my back.” She grinned. “It’s marvelous. You ought to try it sometime.”
Strovi was watching me with a half smile on his face, amused by the madness of it all. He was not nearly as disheveled as he’d looked that night when he and Vashta had come to Daretana: now he was clean-shaven, his mop of curly dark hair was elegantly clipped back, and his black cloak was pressed and his boots polished. Between his size and his vitality he seemed to take up the whole of the room, even sprawled in a chair with Ana on the floor beside him.
There was a ceramic cup in his lap and a pot of tea on the table beside him. I took off my straw cone hat, bowed to him, and entered. Then I glanced into the teapot—half empty—and laid a finger against its side. It was cool to the touch.
“He’s just brought you your orders, ma’am?” I asked. “From the shape of things, he’s been here awhile. You’ve been interrogating him, haven’t you.”
“It, ah…” Strovi cleared his throat. “It has been an hour or so, ma’am. Possibly two. Or, ah, three.”