Chapter 11
The carriage ride east to the Armenta lands was only marginally more comfortable than our trip to Lacanthim the day before.
Though I’d rested well, both the dinner and breakfast I’d been served at the Green Drover had been replete with beef and sweet tallow—and while they tasted delicious, I was unused to their heaviness.
In the Iyalets, we mostly dined on rice and lentils, as these offered plenty of nutrition, were cheap and easy to transport, and had also been augmented to appeal to the human palate.
This much animal flesh was new to my digestion and had lingering effects.
With each bump, a greasy bubble came bubbling up from my innards, followed by a reprimand from Ana: “Keep your filthy air in your own goddamned body, boy!”
When we first entered the Armenta spreads—demarcated, of course, by the high, trellised “bird-perch” gates of the gentry—my first impression was one of a great agricultural power.
The pastures were rich and green, with drovers and hands atop destriers flitting this way and that, lances glittering in the sunlight.
More impressive than these were their herds.
Each urhosi cow was easily as large as the carriage I now rode in, and sported so much bulk that I wondered how their legs kept them upright.
It became very easy to understand why the drovers of this land needed destriers: a normal horse would be like a small dog to these creatures.
But though the urhosi were magnificent, I could spy colorations to their joints, and backs, and shoulders: a purpling here, a bulge of bone there.
They had been grafted and altered, manipulated to grow to such tremendous sizes, and then reinforced in countless places to support such weight.
Each cow had to have been fed enough reagents and tinctures to breed a whole cohort of augmented Legionnaires.
How odd it was, to imagine the amount of wealth poured into each specimen, only to be sliced and served upon a plate.
But as we neared the clan seat of Aimafall, the mood of our surroundings changed.
The herds dwindled and vanished. Then came the statues placed on either side of the road, depicting tall, narrowly built, humanlike figures, each one offering a gift to travelers: a chalice, a rod, a branch of a fruiting tree.
Many of the figures had a symbol engraved upon their brows, one I did not recognize: two spheres separated by a single vertical line.
Though they were beautiful statues, immaculately carved from dark stone, I could only think of them as “humanlike” as opposed to simply human: there was something strange to the shapings of their cheeks and brows, and their fingers (did I spy one knuckle too many there?) that made me think they were not common folk.
These had to be the celestial Daljen, I assumed. I did not describe these to Ana, for I had no desire to bring up this subject again.
Once we passed these first stone heralds, however, things grew even stranger.
I spied fretvine constructs hanging along the roads: little cages dangling from staves, some containing papers, others urns and ceramic vessels.
Some held what appeared to be the carcasses of small birds.
Each cage was festooned with long, colorful ribbons painted with symbols, and they twisted and twirled in the gentle breeze.
“Ah!” said Ana when I described these to her.
“Those are offertories, avarias. Religious structures, built to attract the attentions of the unearthly. In the inner rings they build them quite tall—I believe the assumption is that the best spirits are very, very high up in the sky—as if such entities purchased property the same way ordinary humans do, and the least accessible is best!”
“But why are there dead birds in some? And urns in others?”
“I cannot quite say, but—I suspect Velona Armenta is attempting to earn favor with the Daljeni spirits, yet isn’t exactly sure how to do so.
Thus, she is pulling from several different pantheons…
The birds are for Yaprak, the Rathras deity of forests, who so delights in their plumage.
The urns likely contain the ash of blessed trees, and are surely for Ochima, one of the old Tala gods of the hollow hills—you probably know that one, Din.
” A cruel smile. “My guess is that Velona doesn’t know what will make the fates stop persecuting her, but she’s willing to try anything! ”
“Odd to know, ma’am,” I said as I glanced outside, “that the culprit is human, and the weapon the guiding web.”
“Know? We do not know anything, Din! Rather, we strongly suspect. Recall our goals here, please—we must learn more of how Castus’s siblings died.
Perhaps our killer arranged their deaths, too—but it might be mere chance!
Regardless, we seek a pattern. If we cannot determine who our killer might be, we at least need to find a way to identify who they’ve infected!
All this will be quite pertinent when we finally cut up Zansay Burav’s corpse and take a peek. ”
Another discomfiting bubbling in my belly, but this one had nothing to do with tallow.
“So stay watchful, and speak with care, boy!” said Ana. “Do not upset the lady of the house—who is, as we’ve been told, both delicate in body…” She turned her blindfolded face to the closed window. “…and, apparently, in mind.”
—
The home of the Armentas—the structure known as “Aimafall”—was a massive, sprawling thing that had obviously been added onto for over a century, as the styles of fretvine, stonewood, and old-fashioned brick were strikingly different from portion to portion.
The southern great hall was the most recent bit, and sported enormous glass windows of pane glass—still a rare luxury in most of the Empire.
But all the glass windows were blocked on the inside, with great sheets or curtains pinned up to keep out the light.
A strange choice, to build features of such elegance, then cover them entirely.
Though the house was a grand thing, it had its ghastly touches.
An immense number of horns were arranged over the main entryway, all grouped together in twists of ivory and keratin and bone, until the entire face of the building seemed to be bristling.
It was in no way a welcoming sight for a visitor.
We came to a stop before the entryway. Then the great doors below this ferocious display flew open, and Trikao Armenta came striding out.
For a moment it was odd to see him without his leather armors, dressed as a country gentryman might on any day—but because of his size, and the naked anger in his countenance, I found him no less intimidating than when I’d seen him yesterday, wielding his great lance.
“So!” said Trikao as I opened Ana’s door.
“I made my wishes known to you, Signum Kol. I did not wish you to go about digging up all my sister’s sorrows.
Yet you have gone behind my back and used other influences to circumvent me.
” He squared up to me, his great beard bristling.
“In my own home. During this tragedy. This offends me, sir. So much I wonder what defense you may offer.”
“I’d say, sir,” said Ana, stepping out with her customary blindfold and grin, “that he was following my orders. I am Immunis Ana Dolabra, and I am commanding this investigation.” She bowed, one hand extended in a courtly flourish.
“I thank you for not spitting my assistant here on the spot! I have kept him alive for nearly three years now. That is something of a record for me.”
Trikao’s tremendous brows converged as he looked her over. “It is you who wishes to pester my poor sister?”
“It is, I’m afraid to say. I wish to do so because we have spoken to Castus’s friends—to Din’s sister, and your son, I mean—and they can no more explain his actions than you!
Given the gravity of this investigation, we are obliged to ask all involved their opinions.
And what a dereliction of duty it would be, Master Armenta, if we did not at least call upon the suspect’s mother but the once! ”
He stepped close to Ana. “You do not understand. I am seneschal of this family. It is my duty to protect them in all things. You would cause her pain by discussing this. I cannot allow it.”
“You protect her even though you will not inherit?” said Ana.
“I find such devotion very fascinating, sir. Rare to find true loyalty amid the verdant fields of the Empire nowadays. But was it not Velona who bested you to win the prime seat? If so, she’s surely a woman of strength.
I shall bow to her will—when she delivers it to me, sir. ”
Trikao’s eyes, which had so often seemed both weary and warm to me, turned icy. His huge hands flexed, as if dreaming of wrapping his fingers about Ana’s neck. Then, without a word, he turned and marched back into the darkness of the hall.
We waited. A servant emerged, bowed nervously, and gestured for us to enter.
“I suppose, ah, we are permitted inside, ma’am,” I said.
“I’m not sure why you worried so, Din,” said Ana with a sniff. “My diplomacy skills seem to be very adequate so far.”
—
The air within Aimafall was close, dark, and musty. The number of lamps were few, and almost no window was left open, so the light was very poor. I squinted to peer about—and then realized hundreds of glass eyes were staring back at me.
Hanging about the high fretvine walls were dozens and dozens of preserved urhosi heads, each one fixed to stare down at us, their eyes glimmering in the weak light of the lamps.
They had fond-names below them, etched on little plaques—“Glad-Walker,” or “Proud-Milk,” or “Fly-Chaser”—and below each plaque was a square of hide, set within a frame.
I was so perturbed by this sight that I almost leapt when the Armenta servant shut the door behind us, bowed, and whispered, “This way, sir and madam.”