Chapter 20 #2
“But I have his full record here,” said Ana, “and can say much more! Burilis Burav did a great deal of bureaucratic maneuvering. His hand shows most clearly in who he suggested the Orbiis turn down for positions in Sapirdad—and in the fact that those who did not listen to his suggestions were often dismissed for very vague reasons! There is only one commonality among the officers that Burav was attempting to keep out—they all had extensive experience in arboreal alterations.”
There was a beat of silence.
“He did not want anyone who’d studied augmented trees…” said Tauri.
“Because he didn’t want anyone studying the forest?” asked Fotia. “What was he worried they’d find?”
“Or,” I said, thinking, “if he was the one managing the forest…then he could never be challenged?”
“Spot on, Din!” sang Ana. “Throughout his tenure, Burilis Burav fought like mad to control management of the ancient, altered forest, and he devoted enormous efforts to making sure his position would never be contested! And that is very strange, yes? Not a lot of money in that awful tangle of trees. I myself cannot guess, but…I do find one bit of timing very notable. For after overseeing the administration of the forest for nine years, he left the Orbiis—and then, suddenly, he announced to all the world that he had stumbled across a very unusual strain of neuro-fungus.”
“The guiding web,” sighed Tauri miserably.
“Indeed!” said Ana. “That was some thirty-one years ago now. Burav claimed he had come across a population of drokha-cats that had thrived next to a small oxbow lake created by the River Mavi. This oxbow lake, he said, had become heavily infected by the guiding web—not unusual, as the unaltered fungus occurs here naturally—but the cats had lived next to these waters for so long, with the fungus preying predominantly upon them, that it had shifted in very unusual ways. Useful ways, even, he claimed. The cats, and the oxbow lake, were regrettably washed away in the wet season of 1099—or so he reported. Thus, the Apoths could not study the population directly, but…Burilis Burav had so very luckily saved a specimen of the fungus. And he had done more than that! He had experimented upon it. Bred it. Trained it. Perfected it, one might say. He believed the Apoths could potentially refine it even further, so that it could condition and control any population of animals.” Ana made a flourish with her hand.
“And despite the dubiousness of this story, the Empire did so greatly rejoice to hear it.”
“They did?” said Fotia. “Why?”
“Because,” sighed Tauri, “of infertility.”
“Yes,” said Ana. “The greatest scourge of the Empire—after the leviathans and contagion, of course! Our people alter themselves greatly, and thus render themselves infertile. We are quite literally running out of folk to do the noble but unpleasant tasks like harvesting crops from the fields.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The plague of sterility in the Empire made no one comfortable, but it weighed a little heavier on me, given that I’d knowingly agreed to be sterilized when I’d become a Sublime.
Yet even with such a dismal threat, there were benefits: the Empire was all too eager to feed, educate, support, and heal its folk—not out of a sense of morality, necessarily, but because it needed the most out of every citizen.
Ana continued: “Thus, the Empire was downright fucking merry at the idea of breeding tiny little cat-workers to do all this work for us! With the web, we could continue to thrive, to flourish—and feed the massive herds of altered cattle all the grain their bellies could desire, so they could grow nice and plump.” The smile on her face was now nothing short of sinister.
“And so, the house of Burav became quite terribly rich within but two decades. They bought all their lands back. And the feud between the two grand cattle families of Sapirdad became even more venomous.”
“The Apoths accepted and used the web?” I asked. “They never worried it’d be a threat to humans?”
“They did not,” said Tauri, his chin placed unhappily on his palm. “We Orbiis did protest it as an inhumane and potentially dangerous practice. But there was no sign then of species crossover. Thus, the needs of labor—and the voices of the gentry farmers—outweighed our worries. And here we are.”
Fotia’s face tightened very slightly.
Tauri turned his sad, dark eyes on Ana. “You think what is in Burav’s vault has something to do with the origin of the web.”
“I do,” said Ana primly. “Not to speak ill of the dead, but I think Burilis Burav was a fucking liar. I think some evidence of his lies are likely in that vault. I think he was using your order’s methods to access the wood—his old stomping ground, so to speak.
Whether he had a hand in his daughter’s death, or the deaths of the Armentas, or his own house going up like a goddamn torch, I do not yet know.
But! I think now upon the contents of that vault—and another secret, impassable, hidden location…
” She leaned toward Tauri, grinning madly.
“Ah!” he said gloomily. “The forest.”
“Indeed.”
He muttered for a moment, twirling a strand of pale gold hair about a finger. “Much has already been broached, it seems. I suppose I can broach the rule forbidding this discussion as well.”
—
“Many say the forest is not a forest at all,” Tauri began. “The folk of this land claim it conceals a tomb, a crypt, a catacomb. The truth would disappoint them—or, at least, the truth I know. Because sitting in the center of the altered forest is one of the Empire’s Touched Sites.”
I went very still at that. I wasn’t sure what was more disturbing: the idea of the forest containing a mystical graveyard or a Touched Site.
Touched Sites were places that the Empire had sealed off, having been deemed too dangerous or irreparable.
Most of them were from the ancient days, when the third emperor conquered the Titan’s Path and began building the sea walls.
Many leviathans were slaughtered during this era, and the Empire’s forces hadn’t yet developed the fires to burn their strange bloods.
Therefore, they’d bricked up their unearthly bodies like fabled kings within their tombs, and the Touched Sites persisted across the cantons like wounds in some colossal creature’s hide.
Yet not all Touched Sites were caused by dead leviathans.
Many were alterations gone awry, like Oypat in the south, infested with contagion.
These places were not to be breached, not to be tampered with.
Thus, it was mad to hear a whisper that one slumbered here in some of the most valuable farming lands in all the Empire.
“I thought those were all in the Outer Rim,” said Fotia, shaken.
“No, no,” said Tauri. “The exact number of Touched Sites in the Empire is unknown, even to me, but I know they are found all across the Empire’s rings. The task of monitoring and maintaining these sealed places falls to my order—the Orbiis. Though it is no glorious thing.”
“You have been there, then?” asked Ana. “Seen it?”
“Oh, yes. We are tasked with wandering through the old forest’s seams, thuribles smoking, to review the Site and ensure that all is well.” He leaned forward. “Would you like me to describe it to you? The Site itself, in all its glory?”
Fotia and I balked, unsettled, but Ana nodded. “Do so, yes,” she said.
“I could draw it, but it’s not much to look at!
It features a wall, about twenty span high.
Past this wall is a huge stone plug, about four hundred span across.
Great, big circle of a thing, stuck in the ground.
It is quite perfectly flat, and black, and featureless—even I, a trained spatiast, cannot comprehend the nature of its making.
In the evening light, it confounds the eye.
It swallows all luminescence, like you are standing upon a circle of perfect night.
” He made a gesture of surrender. “But as to what it stops up, or is built over, or hides…I’ve no hint!
Whatever it contains, the ancient Khanum were fanatical in protecting it.
The altered forest about it was once ten times the size of what it is now.
They did not wish anyone to get close to that black stone circle and snipped all mention of it from all historical records.
We Orbiis are jailers without any idea of who or what is in the cell.
And now it sits next to some of the most valuable farmland in all the Empire! Troubling, no?”
We said nothing for a good while. Only Ana moved, rocking back and forth as she so often did when excited.
“The Daljen tribe vanished in the late fifth century,” Ana said softly, “a hundred years before the rest of the ancient Khanum began their decline.”
“True!” said Tauri. “I myself had made note of that interesting discrepancy…”
Fotia looked at her, horrified. “Do you suggest, ma’am…that what’s under there is what killed them?”
Ana turned her face away and did not answer.
—
“We are left now,” said Ana after a long silence, “with only a few paths forward. Some more plausible than others.” She turned to Fotia. “Miss Kol—you came here to me and pledged to assist my investigation in any way you could.”
“Y-yes?” said Fotia.
I blinked. “What? I don’t recall hearing tha—”
“It is a ridiculous proposition,” Ana continued.
“Really, revoltingly childish. A brother-and-sister detecting team, trotting out into the wilds to put the world to rights! It is like an odeon for dimwitted infants. If I pay you both for your work, I’ve no doubt you’ll spend it on sticky sweets or shiny baubles!
” She took another sip of her horrid crimson broth.
“And yet, I find myself all too eager to accept. You are our sole trustworthy civilian in this region. Even if you have been here only two years, you know more than we, and have been closer to the scrum than the estimable commander here. So tell me—what do you know of Burilis Burav and his work in the forest?”