Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
Why was he there that night?
The question plagued Sarai over two weeks of trials as she pushed herself to the brink of exhaustion, keeping nihumb and zosta glowing on her armilla while trying to reconcile a man who seemed to viciously, violently give a shit about his Quarter with the one who’d ordered that she be given a new face. But Kadra remained terrifyingly inscrutable.
Because he simply didn’t lie.
Over two weeks, he’d removed a man’s hands for domestic violence, branded the face of a slaver who’d been mutilating young girls for sale to a pleasure house—before castrating him for good measure—and ensured that a noble scion was whipped until gouges marked his back for abusing an elderly servant. But throughout it all, he’d never used any of the white lies or embellishments that littered conversation. He sent men to Death in the blink of an eye, but a simple lie was apparently anathema.
Not that he had similar trouble reading her. Every day after court, his eyes narrowed when she packed up her things and dashed off to Aoran Tower before nihumb could falter. She had no doubt that his otherworldly intuition sensed that she was hiding something, but by some suspicious benevolence of the gods, he hadn’t raised the issue.
Nihumb was also making visiting the Hall of Records impossible. Maintaining the illusion and zosta throughout hundreds of trials had her too low on magic to go at the end of the day, and archivists forbade removing sealed records for later reading. Progress on Jovian’s death and the treasonous crime he could have committed was at a standstill while Kadra’s vigiles combed the outer edges of Edessa for Livia’s mother. All of which left her with no suspects beyond Kadra and the Metals Guild, no proof or motives for either, no way of confiding in Cisuré without her panicking, and no Tetrarch she could trust.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sarai watched Kadra pronounce that the plaintiff’s neighbor—who’d been poisoning her well—was to immediately drink several cups from it. The onlookers roared their agreement. She sighed as part of her did as well. Four years of obsessing over revenge really had blackened her soul. By Temperance, I sound like Cisuré.
She vaguely registered the screaming neighbor being force-fed bowls of poisoned water. Why were you there that night, Kadra? She’d been soldered to him long enough to glean that he didn’t act without justification. Even if he was a bloodthirsty sadist.
“Petitor Sarai?” Gaius interrupted, drawing her attention to the puddle of ink growing around the inkwell as she dipped her pen for the umpteenth time. “The verdict?”
Hav?d. She printed the last line and waited for the ink to dry. “Why are we ending early?”
He cleared his throat. Despite still being stilted with her, he was less standoffish than the other vigiles. “The Tetrarchy will be meeting in six hours. Even Tetrarch Kadra needs his rest.”
She rolled up the judgment. “Has something happened?”
“No, no. Every three weeks, the Tetrarchy meets to determine which cases constitute matters of national importance and schedules them for trial with all four of them at the Aequitas. But, if you ask me, that takes up the first hour,” Gaius confided. “They spend the rest digging into the goings-on in each other’s Quarters.”
“So it’s cutthroat, not cooperative.”
Gaius shrugged. “If they agreed on everything, we’d have a dictatorship.”
She raised the inkwell in agreement .
“I’ve also been asked to deliver this.” He hesitated before withdrawing an ivory-and-silver square of parchment. “I’m told that the other Petitors will be at a tavern near the Tetrarchy’s place of meeting, if you’d care to join them.”
Unfolding the square, Sarai grinned at Cisuré’s neatly printed invitation. Come drink!
“Gods, yes.”
It was strange being on the receiving end in a tavern.
Sarai thanked the overworked barmaid when she deposited an amphora of wine at their table. The woman’s eyes widened, sweeping over the array of robes—Harion’s varying shades of blue and Anek’s crimson and bronze were draped over the backs of their chairs. Cisuré still wore her ivory and silver, as Sarai did her black and gold, albeit only because she was so low on magic that her illusion only covered her hands, face, and neck. She probably shouldn’t have come, but, by Radiance, she needed a break.
“Temperance’s tits, at last,” Harion groused, emptying the amphora into his cup. Taking a gulp, he sighed in bliss. “Now, all I need is a woman.”
“Good luck.” Anek moved their cup when he tried to fill it. “I’ll need my senses tomorrow.”
“Like Cassandane doesn’t get sotted. The Tetrarchs probably cut loose at these meetings.” Harion gnawed at a chicken leg. “On Wisdom, these cases have been stupid as shit. The parties lie to my face and start sobbing when I reveal it. Not a brain between them.”
But they don’t question your findings . There hadn’t been a day when someone hadn’t raised her lack of education or made pointed comments about her sex. The words rolled off her for the most part. It was the gossip she couldn’t stand.
Kadra’s Quarter had come up with many a reason for her residing at Aoran Tower, all of which involved sex. Willing, unwilling—of which he was the victim—and just plain disgusting—the theory had involved entrails. That she worked over fifteen hours a day, reading petitions and jotting notes for when trials began at dawn, was apparently irrelevant.
“The letters are so boring.” Cisuré groaned. “Tetrarch Aelius says I should read his to understand what Ur Dinyé wants, but they’re so dry.”
Sarai shrugged. “I like them.”
In addition to petitions, Tetrarchs received questions of law and policy from across the country. After she’d argued in favor of pardoning a deserter who had been forced into the military, Kadra had handed her a stack.
“Tetrarch Kadra, they don’t want an answer from me.”
“They want a response. How to raise taxes. How to exempt themselves from those taxes ,” he’d said laconically. “You’ll be fair.”
“I’ll be excoriated,” she’d muttered but had reluctantly answered a few. No one had complained. Yet.
Cisuré nudged her playfully. “You would like them. It’s like traveling for you, isn’t it? I keep forgetting how little you’ve seen of Ur Dinyé.”
“We haven’t either.” Anek sliced at a steak of venison with mesmerizing precision. “Our trip to Miduz in second year wasn’t exactly a tour of the country.”
“But it provided perspective,” Cisuré said earnestly. “Tetrarch Aelius often speaks of the value of broadening our horizons. It helps us know our place in the world. Serving the gods and guiding people.”
“People don’t want to be guided, Saint.” Harion waved his cup. “They need a whipping.”
Cisuré scowled. “They need to trust in the Elsar. Their problems would vanish if they looked to the gods, but they aspire to grand positions instead of being happy with their lot and descend into anger and entitlement when their path doesn’t intersect with wealth. Then, they resent the rich.” She shook her head. “I wish they’d see it.”
Realizing that her jaw had descended, Sarai snapped it shut. So much for only looking up to Aelius.
“My family must be doomed then,” Anek noted. “We don’t care much for the gods. ”
Cisuré’s face drooped. “You still haven’t given the Temple a try? Just once, Anek!”
“Don’t force it.”
“It’s for your own sake!”
Sarai drank more soup. Now this , she understood. Cisuré’s religiosity, Harion’s condescension, Anek getting straight to the point. It was only Kadra she couldn’t pinpoint.
Anek looked pained. “Cisuré, my parents’ souls and mine are our concern. It isn’t like we’ve ever seen a god.”
Harion seized a chicken thigh. “Regardless, we’ll all have to make our rounds of the Temple if we’re to keep ourselves in the public’s graces.” He wiggled the thigh at Sarai. “You too, if no one’s knocked you off.”
She gave him the finger, and he bowed, sauntering off to demand another amphora of wine. Anek fled the table when Cisuré continued proselytizing, and the other girl inched her chair closer to Sarai.
Cisuré dropped her voice. “No rush, but have you found anything?”
Sarai’s spoon froze halfway to her mouth. Visions swam before her of dead Guildsmen and freed debt-slaves. Tongues lying in dirt. Sunlight arcing off the blade coming down on Red Tunic’s arm.
“He’s been the same as usual,” she whispered.
“What about in his tower?”
Searching it was impossible with Cato there. She shook her head. “I don’t know what wards he could have placed around his room, so I need to be careful.”
Cisuré drummed her fingers on the table. “You could always pretend you’re ill. Wander around the tower and pretend you’re sleepwalking if you happen to trigger one of his wards.”
Kadra’s raised eyebrows flashed in Sarai’s mind. She shook her head. “He’d know.” The man really didn’t need her. During trials, he seemed to know who was lying before she spoke.
“Well, it wouldn’t be a lie.” Cisuré reached out and surreptitiously adjusted Sarai’s cuffs. The worry in her eyes said she’d seen that nihumb was covering only the visible portions of Sarai’s skin. “You’ve been draining yourself every day.”
“I’m managing.” Her head throbbed with exhaustion. “The past two weeks have been a whirlwind.”
“I’ll say.” Amphora in hand, Harion plunked himself down. “I hear you royally pissed off the Metals Guild.”
“What?” Cisuré bolted upright, shooting Sarai an accusatory look. “You never mentioned that.”
“Come now, Saint. If you’re going to mingle at the top, you need to have ears across Edessa.” He gave her a worldly smile. “Honestly, the Metals Guild reigns supreme as the magically–poor man’s greatest ally, so sending one of their own to the mines was a terrible idea.”
“Then he shouldn’t have forced children into servitude. Debt-slaves were abolished centuries ago.”
“Tell that to the everyday Urd working themself to the bone for coin.” Harion waved a hand. “Irrelevant. What I want to know is whether Kadra really swept in to rescue you from the ignominy of a punch to the face.”
Shit . Her eyes flew to his in surprise, and he choked on his wine.
“He did?” Sputtering, Harion wiped his chin. “I thought my man was lying.”
His sources are good . A look at Anek’s unruffled features confirmed that they’d also heard about Red Tunic’s case. A few sidelong glances told her that at least half the tavern was following the conversation.
“Well, tell us the secret.” Harion’s stupefied look melted into an ugly smirk. “How’d you get the ice man besotted?”
She snorted. “It wouldn’t reflect well on him to allow his Petitor to get walloped. He was protecting his reputation. I benefited. That’s all.”
“What, so nothing goes on in that tower? A man and a woman alone .”
“Enough, Harion. We’re in public,” Anek interjected coolly. “I’d rather not have us be the talk of the city tomorrow.”
“The voice of reason, our neutralis . She’s got a point.” At Anek’s glower, Harion snickered. “He’s got a point? ”
Their features tautened.
“We’ve known each other for four years, and you’re still acting like what you’ve got between your legs is some big secret. Are you ashamed of being a woman or something?” He tipped his head back with a squint. “Or a man?”
Red climbed up Anek’s cheekbones, flags of fury risen to full mast. “I said. Enough.”
“We’re all thinking it. You don’t get to pronounce that you’re something unnatural and whine when you’re questioned on it.”
Cisuré examined the table with interest. Sarai glanced at the rest of the tavern, her skin crawling at the curious, gleeful eyes watching. I’m back in Arsamea . But tonight, she wasn’t the target.
She thought about it for all of a second. Then, snagging Harion’s amphora with practiced ease, she dashed the contents in his face.
“What the fuck?” He jumped to his feet, crimson darkening the robes on his chair.
Cisuré clapped her hands to her mouth. Anek looked like their wages had come early.
“Sorry,” Sarai said without an ounce of sincerity. “You’re drunk. Spewing nonsense. Thought this might snap you out of it. Really, Harion. We’ve a workday tomorrow.”
“It’s on my fucking robes!” he spat.
“It’ll stain,” Anek noted gravely. “Tullus won’t be pleased.”
“Fuck!” Harion stormed out of the tavern. Seconds later, everyone heard the splash of him throwing his robes in the horses’ water trough and starting to scrub.
Anek shook with silent laughter, clinking their cup with Sarai’s.
She grinned. “I know you can handle him, but I really can’t stand him.”
Cisuré looked like she’d gained Sarai’s headache. “What were you thinking?” She leveled a look of such disappointment that a knot formed in Sarai’s throat. “You’re a Petitor, not a common drunk! No—don’t tell me. You got angry, and you thought assaulting a colleague was the right choice. ”
“He was being an ass—” Sarai raised a placating hand and froze when the illusion over it wavered. Shit, I’m almost at my limit . Cisuré’s gasp said she’d seen it too. Thankfully, Anek hadn’t. “At any rate, probably best if I leave. Good seeing you, Anek, Cisuré.”
Grabbing her birrus, she apologized to the barmaid for the mess, tipping her with one of the shiny new aurei she’d received as wages, and ran outside. She’d barely gotten a foot in the stirrup when a figure blocked her horse.
“Get out of my way, Harion.”
The tinny whistle of an object through the air was her only warning. She ducked right as a knife thudded into a post by her head. Caelum jumped in fright, and she stumbled off, catching herself on her knees. An inch to the right and I’d have lost an ear.
“You—” She struggled to keep her voice calm. “What the fuck was that?”
“What?” Harion spread his arms. “I didn’t see anything.”
She had to get out of here before she ran out of magic. “I’m not doing this. You’re drunker than I thought if you’re trying to assault a hav?d Petitor.”
“Are you one, though?” In two steps, he bracketed her against the wall. Fear slipped down her spine like ice. “My family saved for years to get me into the Academiae. Worked themselves half-dead and used decades of savings for four years of tuition. And you just sauntered in from the middle of fucking nowhere to act like you’re one of us.”
Insecurity pricked at her. “This isn’t going to solve—” She flinched when his hand balled into a fist by her head. “Harion, take it up with your Tetrarch. They agreed to abolish training. The dead Petitors left a vacancy.”
“They didn’t leave ,” he hissed. “The man you’re fucking killed them.”
I don’t know. Blood hummed in her ears. “Is it that hard for you to understand that some men don’t get their rocks off by forcing colleagues to sleep with them?”
“Keep defending him. He’ll still kill you.”
“I’m defending myself , damn it! ”
A familiar glint lit his unfocused eyes that she’d seen many a time on Marus. “So am I.”
Shit. She reached for her armilla when he wrenched her head by her braid, throwing her against the tavern’s outer wall. One hand seized one of her wrists, the other gripped the back of her head and dunked it into the water trough. Liquid burned up her nostrils. Her vision was black. She struggled uselessly, elbowing his side with her free hand, trying to find purchase on the trough to rear back and slam into him.
“Maybe now you’ll respect your betters,” he panted, lifting her head. “Or maybe I’ll just keep you here.” He shoved her back in.
Squirming to reach her pockets, she found the knife Kadra had given her and slammed the hilt into the wrist on her head. Harion yelped, releasing her. She swiveled, gritting her teeth when the other wrist he still held wrenched at the motion, and slammed her fist into his face. She took vicious pleasure in the snap of bone.
He collapsed, howling. “Bitch!”
“Don’t fuck with a tunnel rat.” She wiped her knuckles with a feral smile. The blood vanished into her robes. Perhaps this was why Kadra liked black so much.
“Sarai? What are you doing?”
Damn it. She closed her eyes with a wince and turned to face a white-lipped Cisuré. “I was just … leaving.”
Horror and distaste warred for prominence on the other girl’s face. “Harion, I apologize on her behalf. She’s just sensitive—”
“Shove it,” he spat, with a look so spiteful she was nearly impressed, before running for his horse—undoubtedly to find a healer.
Cisuré was ashen-faced. “I thought you’d finally learned to control yourself.”
“I had to! He—”
“Do you think the gods want us to lash out at the first sign of disrespect?” She examined the swelling on Sarai’s wrist and flinched. “Rage and violence are ugly tools used by people who don’t know how to resolve conflict without resorting to bloodshed. This was unnecessary. You’re better than that.”
“Look at me! I’m sopping wet for a reason . He would’ve drowned me.”
Cisuré stared at her, disbelieving. “I’ve known him for four years. He has his flaws, certo , but he was just angry after your stunt with the wine. He’d never behave like—”
“A self-absorbed man who took a blow to his ego? He can, and he did. Should I have drowned and returned from the Bright Realms to tell you that I stayed kind and true to the waterlogged end? Do you think he’d have stopped if I asked nicely ?” She realized she was yelling when Cisuré’s face crumpled, eyes taking on a hunted look.
Gods. She needed to leave, but not with Cisuré like this. Marus had been happy to bruise and wound Sarai in public, but Cisuré’s scars had occurred in darker places.
She took Cisuré’s hands. “I’m sorry. I am. I tried to hold it in.”
“There’s something in you at times. I saw it earlier. You enjoyed hurting him.” Cisuré squeezed her hands, and Sarai winced as her sprain throbbed. “I don’t want Kadra to rub off on you. Take this matter with the Metals Guild. Why antagonize them? We’d be done for without their scuta. Do you know what it was like without the scuta four years ago? Nothing was certain. All it took was more lightning than the magi protecting the area could control and homes would go up in flames. The Metals Guild hold the safety of our country.”
“Debt-slaves are illegal!”
“What if the Guild just meant to give them a job like Cretus did for you? The children just misunderstood the rigors of work, and started complaining.” Cisuré shook her head. “You’re a Petitor. Try to see both sides instead of only your own. Please.”
Sarai dropped her chin to her chest. “I have to go.”
“You don’t have to like what I’m saying,” Cisuré said ruefully. “Just try to believe me. ”
She swallowed a glum sigh. Sometimes, Cisuré could be a little too ignorant of the real world. “I’ll see you soon.”
Balling up her soaked birrus, Sarai led Caelum to the front of the tavern and stilled at the figure waiting by the door. Kadra considered her wet hair, then made a sweep of her bedraggled frame. She sighed.
“First assassination attempt.” She climbed onto Caelum, shrugging when he suddenly looked murderous. “I sent him to the healers. I’m tired. Goodnight, Tetrarch Kadra.”
She spurred the mare on. Glancing back, she froze at the faint smile forming on his face. And the question returned. Why was he there the night of the Fall?