Chapter 11
Eleven
The Dogs moved before Coyome’s body hit the floor. They surrounded Tallu, swords drawn, eyes everywhere.
I could no longer see Tallu through the crowd of them, although I could hear the Kennelmaster’s voice.
“No one leaves! Find every cook in the palace, every servant who touched a dish. Bring them here.” The Kennelmaster’s voice lowered, his deference just as much a show as Tallu’s chilly lack of response. “Your Imperial Majesty, let us take you to safety.”
The Dogs whisked Tallu from the room. Topi Bemishu had stumbled out of her chair, falling to her knees. Her wide eyes stared, unseeing, at Coyome.
Her lustrous skin had faded to gray, and she gasped, holding a hand to her mouth in horror. I thought she might be trying to say his name, but all that came out was a helpless whine, a desperate, pained, “No.”
I skimmed the room, and most of the servants looked just as shocked as Topi. Wide-eyed, all of them were realizing that they had survived the murder of the last emperor, and they were not about to survive the attempted assassination of the second.
The room seemed swarming with Dogs, even though I knew there could only be ten of them in the whole palace, and with four of them guarding Tallu, that left only six.
Coyome’s body twitched, more of the pink froth leaking from his nearly white lips. I took three steps and then crouched next to him. He had collapsed forward, and I pressed a hand to his back to see if he drew breath.
Through his thick armor, I couldn’t feel anything, so I carefully turned his body, leaving it on its side for a moment. His head lolled to the floor, more spit and foam leaking from his mouth, coating his mask.
Gently, I removed the mask that made him a Dog, setting it to the side. He was handsome, but I could already see his flesh beginning to swell, his cheeks and lips puffing up.
The poison was fast acting. He had only eaten the food a few minutes before, and it was so lethal that even a few bites would kill a man. It was flavorless. Coyome was too thorough of a taster to not have noticed a strange flavoring.
His body shook again, and I winced away from the blood that spilled out from between his lips. His eyes opened just enough that I could see his pupils so wide they took over the brown of his eyes.
Yes, he was still alive, and the only reason he wasn’t screaming in agony was because he was a Dog and not a man. It would be merciful for me to take out my dagger and pull it across his throat.
But I wasn’t merciful, and this poison hadn’t been intended for a Dog.
I brought my face as close to his as I dared. “Do you have any idea what it was?”
If we at least knew the food, if we at least had some idea where the poison had been introduced, that would give us a better idea of who might have done it.
Coyome began to tremble, unable to hold himself on his side, and he collapsed onto his back. I couldn’t tell if the shaking was because he was trying to say he didn’t know, or the poison had reached a part of him that no longer let him control his own movements.
He raised his hand and then lowered it, his finger trembling as he drew it across the floor. It looked as though he was trying to write a letter, but I couldn’t read it and puzzled through the marks he was trying to make.
Was he trying to write the word for “fish”? Or was that one of the vegetables I didn’t know the name of?
His hand stilled, and I looked at his face. His eyes were wide open now, glassy and unseeing.
“No!” Topi screamed and lurched forward, her dress trailing through the blood and vomit. She pounded on his shoulder. “You promised me! You promised me you would save my sister!”
I grabbed hold of Topi’s wrists, both of them fitting easily in my hands, and I dragged her off him.
“Topi,” I barked. “Stop.”
She collapsed against me, her wet face scrunched into my shoulder. Slowly, I let go of her hands, and she made no move to repeat her assault on the corpse.
Her horrible, pathetic sobs echoed in the room, muffling the footsteps of the servants who entered. No one tried to speak, no one tried to fight, and I wondered if this was how it had been when Emperor Millu had died.
Had everyone who continued to work at the Lakeshore Palace accepted that they were living on borrowed time, and their death would come for them soon enough?
“I need your help,” I told her, gripping her elbow tight to force her to stand with me. “Tell me everything on this table. Every food you know, anything the dishes might be called.” I pointed, shaking her when she squeezed her eyes closed. “Now.”
Topi blinked her eyes open, eyelashes wet. Slowly, she began to name the foods on the table, and I grew frustrated when none of them had the same letters I thought Coyome had been trying to write.
The footsteps finally ceased, and I looked out to see nearly half of the servants who had greeted us only hours earlier arrayed in the room. The Kennelmaster stood next to Tallu’s chair, his arms crossed as he looked over the crowd.
I couldn’t see his expression, but I knew what would happen next. He would start with the servants who had touched the dishes last and likely torture them in front of their peers so that the next group would be more eager with their answers.
Someone in the palace had tried to kill the emperor, and they were all about to pay for it.
“Is this all of them?” Tallu’s voice came from the doorway like an arctic wind, and every servant shivered. Tallu’s Dogs didn’t move—they might as well have been puppets who responded only to Tallu’s commands, their strings connected to his fingers.
“This is every servant who touched a dish on the table,” the Kennelmaster confirmed.
I glanced at him sharply. He had made the list so quickly, so sure of every servant in the palace. Then again, he was the Kennelmaster. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had a few spies in the Lakeshore Palace as well as spread throughout the kingdom.
Tallu walked across the room, careful not to step on the results of Coyome’s poisoning, his leather boots shining in the light. He moved slowly, unhurried, the expression on his face such mild disinterest that I felt a shiver run up my spine.
Then, Tallu’s eyes cut to me for just a moment, the russet brown sending a shiver of a different sort into my heart. Tallu had a plan. Now, I just needed to figure out what it was, figure out how to fit into it.
He reached the chair he had vacated and then sat back in it, fingertips pressed together in front of his mouth. Silence stretched in the room.
“Well? Begin the questioning.” His gaze fixed on the Kennelmaster, and the Kennelmaster’s eyes widened before they narrowed.
He looked out over the crowd of servants, their eyes downcast. He raised his hand, but before he could point at the first victim, I spoke.
“Before he died, Coyome was trying to tell me which of the dishes he believed was tainted.” I waved my hand over the dishes. “If it was merely a single dish on the table, then perhaps that is an easier way to narrow it down than questioning the servants at large.”
I blinked, playing innocent, although I wasn’t sure why I bothered. There were no courtiers here to perform for, and both the Kennelmaster and Tallu knew exactly how dangerous I could be.
“What do you mean?” Tallu asked, and for the first time since entering the room, he smiled.
It wasn’t pretty, and the servants seemed to understand exactly how dangerous he was now—the kind of predator that showed its teeth before tearing out the throat of its victim.
Only I knew Tallu. I knew he was here because otherwise the Kennelmaster would have tortured everyone in the room, and Tallu couldn’t stand the idea of innocents dying for this game we were both playing.
“If only one dish was tampered with, then perhaps we should have the servants try each of the dishes they touched. To prove their loyalty.” I frowned, considering the dishes.
If someone wanted to make sure they killed the emperor, they wouldn’t put a small bit of poison on one of the dishes. It needed to be enough that it didn’t simply make him sick. It also needed to be spread over the entire food. They couldn’t chance that he wouldn’t eat the poisoned portion.
“I’ve already eaten the salted meat,” I said, lifting the serving tray and putting it further down the table. “As I feel no ill effects, it must be safe. And you, my lord, have eaten the fish. Do you feel ill?”
Tallu shook his head. “That still leaves a great many dishes.”
“Well, we do have time.” I turned to the Kennelmaster. “I leave the rest to your discretion. You seem to have a good understanding of who touched His Imperial Majesty’s food.”
The Kennelmaster’s eyes took on an intrigued light, and he reached for one of the appetizers. Holding it out, he said, “Who made this dish?”
A servant dressed in white, wearing a yellow armband, stepped forward. He bowed to Tallu, his fingers forming a triangle. “As head chef, I have had a hand in making all of the dishes.”
“A hand, perhaps,” Tallu said. “But you did not personally make it. Who did?”
The chef hesitated, and the Dog nearest him shifted in position, a blade flashing as he pulled it silently free from his sheath.
The chef looked down, then swallowed. There was a scar across his cheek, and I wondered if it was from his years in the kitchen—a stray knife or a bit of splattered oil—or if it was from the torture after Emperor Millu’s death.
Finally, the chef named two other servants, and they each stepped forward.
They glanced at each other only once before stepping toward the table and each taking a bite of the creamy dish.
When they stepped back, the Kennelmaster demanded the servant who had put it on the table.
She inhaled a shaky breath as she approached the Kennelmaster.
He was nearly a foot taller than her, and, trembling, she took the spoon from his hand and tasted her own portion.