Chapter Twenty-Three
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Rain slammed into the ground under Silun’s bluish glow, turning the landscape outside Aoran Tower into a blur of midnight and thunder.
Her hurt at Cisuré’s barbs tangled with a thousand worries. Aelius’s warrant, the trial … Kadra. Sarai glanced at the window, knowing he was out there, soaked to the skin and throwing lightning back to the sky. She wondered how often he’d brushed fingers with Death, if he’d ever seen a bolt tunnel down to earth, and wondered if he would fail in altering its path.
He knew Aelius and Tullus wanted his head, but she hadn’t told him of the choice they’d given her between removing him as Tetrarch or being whipped to death. At first, it was because she’d barely been able to think straight that night. But afterward, she hadn’t wanted him to know. He’d already killed two Guildmasters to prevent her from going to the mines, at complete consequence to him. Against a more imminent threat, she had no doubt he’d do worse and bear the blame for it.
She needed something so irrefutable that it would strip the teeth off Aelius and Tullus before they could even begin to accuse her of calumnia . If only she knew what that was.
She barely tasted her breakfast, and her mood didn’t improve a whit upon finding Kadra absent from his study hours later, despite the storm having faded to a dull pattering.
“He was on the city battlements,” Cato explained. “The storm was a bad one, so he’ll need to recover. Gaius will accompany you to the Temple instead. ”
It felt wrong to think of Kadra ever needing rest. “He always seems relentless.”
Cato gave her an appraising look over his cup of tea. “He’s been alone too long to know much else.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask whether the owner of the ribbon in his room had been the reason for that solitude, but she forced it down. Casting a worried glance at Kadra’s bedroom door, she left for the Grand Elsarian Temple with Gaius.
Master Cleric Linus greeted them at the doors, glower in full bloom, and huffed all the way to the library. She exchanged a weary look with Gaius at the books squeezed into every corner of the octagonal room.
“I’ll take the left wall,” she said resignedly. And they began.
It took them three days to find the first letter. Gaius fussed about, bringing plump pastries into the library, much to Linus’s outrage. He’d apologized at least fifty times for having left her vulnerable to Tullus’s abduction and seemed keen to boost the count to triple digits by the end of the week. They worked through the shelves, day after day, squinting in the dim light, and pacing the room to keep awake when nighttime fell.
Five days before the trial, she’d gathered a list of other scuta that Jovian and Livia had witnessed bursting along with the land parcels that the Metals Guild had then bought up post-disaster. While Livia’s notes had grown terse, Jovian had redoubled his efforts to amass proof. He’d been a meticulous researcher with the sort of dogged resilience that Sarai wished she could have known in person. He’d dug into her fall, suspecting that Othus had purposefully destroyed the records. But his line of deduction hadn’t taken him to Kadra.
I don’t know why everyone thinks our STG was a jilted pleasure worker. I doubt a noble would bring one to Aelius’s conviviums. Aelius would have a fit.
But even if they slipped one past, the theory still falls apart. No seasoned pleasure worker, especially one accompanying a powerful, well-paying noble, would throw their life away over something as inconsequential as feelings. It’s insulting that the theory’s lasted this long.
But you won’t believe who went to that function four years ago. Helvus! It was around this time that his star started to rise, after finding that iron mine. That convivium has to be when he was contracted by Aelius to manufacture scuta. None of this looks good at all.
He hasn’t suspected anything yet. He thinks I’m praying away at the Temple, but there are moments when he looks at me, and I could swear on all the Wretched that he knows.
I think we should leave. I’m as lost as you are.
Yours,
Jovian
Sarai buried her head in her heads, blinking back tears. Elsar rest their souls . Searching for Livia’s reply, she lost track of the hours, only realizing that it was near four in the morning and that Gaius was fast asleep when she accidentally dropped a book.
Groggy-eyed, he left her at Aoran Tower, promising to be back at it in a few hours. She fished out the key from around her neck. A quiet footfall sounded behind her. She stilled at the soft snick of metal sliding against metal.
Pretending to be unaware, she reached for her armilla and got beshaz active, just as her late-night visitor reached her. Then, she struck. Sarai seized a muscular arm, her magic reaching through their skin to locate the closest tendon and sever it. Their hand went limp, the dagger falling to the ground .
“Next time, be quieter,” she hissed.
“Bitch!” Her completely unfamiliar assailant yanked her by the braid, slamming her head against the barrier of Kadra’s wards.
Why is it always the hair? Reaching behind her to the hand on her head, she snapped three of his knuckles. Hair-Yanker let her go with a high-pitched howl. Gripping her key, she prepared to flee into the security of Aoran Tower when the whisper of a blade leaving its sheath sounded unnaturally loud in the night. The edge kissed her neck. A sliver of pain followed in its wake. Shit, two men .
“I think I’ve had more than enough of men mauling my neck,” she muttered.
“It’s the only part we need,” The second Guildsman’s eyes were greedy. “It’s worth five thousand aurei.”
What? “That’s more than my salary.” She didn’t know whether to be pleased or offended.
The men shrugged. The knife rose. She jerked back, inserting a hand between the dagger and her neck as he plunged it downward. The soft flesh between her thumb and index finger split, the point of the blade emerging through her palm. Cursing, she wrenched the dagger loose, and drove it into his shoulder.
A roar of fury rent the night. Evading both men, she palmed the head of her key, debating on how to distract them so she could run inside when another voice cut in.
“Sarai?” Anek looked mildly confused, glancing at both Guildsmen. “Well, this is something.”
Hair-Yanker nudged Dagger-Shoulder. “The neutralis is here too.”
“Two heads.” Dagger-Shoulder looked gleeful. “Eight thousand aurei.”
Sarai did the math. “Wait, why is their head worth less?” She ducked when Hair-Yanker attempted his signature technique again and let him shove her to the ground.
Closing her eyes, she reached with her magic, found a tendon and sliced it. His screams told her she was on the right track. She continued, ripping into muscle, metal clashing in the background as Anek handled Dagger-Shoulder.
At a piteous squeal, she opened her eyes and peered past a now-wailing Hair-Yanker to where Dagger-Shoulder had gotten another dagger through his hand and was now fleeing. She let go of Hair-Yanker to allow him to do the same, and he quickly followed.
“Ruin’s tits.” Anek plopped down beside her on the grass. “You’ve been busy.”
Sarai nodded, harsh breaths sawing from her. “So have you. How do you have a bounty too? You’re the quintessential Petitor.”
They heaved a sigh. “You first. That’s a dangerous skill you’ve got.”
“Don’t tell Harion.”
“That you could have healed his nose? Never.” Anek toyed with the scarlet hilt of their dagger. “Have you heard of a Petitor named Livia?”
Her head jerked up. “Yes.” She eyed Anek warily. “Why?”
“I was looking into her.” They returned Sarai’s start of surprise with a speaking look. “She was my predecessor after all.”
“Did you find anything?”
“I wish I hadn’t.” They passed Sarai a familiar square of parchment. “This was in the spine of the last volume she ever requested from the Hall of Records. She died the next day.”
Sarai curled her fingers around the letter. “Have you read it?”
“My Urdish is rudimentary, but I got the gist. I spoke to Livia’s mother and heard you’d been by. When you started practically living in the Hall of Records, I figured you were looking for what I’d found.”
Unfolding the letter, Sarai steeled her nerve at Livia’s shaky writing.
My dear Jovian,
I’m going. I can’t ask you to come, but if all goes well, we’ll be at the center of Edessa’s most explosive case tomorrow. I just need a scutum to prove it .
I overheard a few of the Metals Guild’s guards saying that they’ll be drinking on their shift tonight. I can sneak past. A scutum isn’t that heavy. I’ll be in and out before they notice. If we crash a trial at the Aequitas and reveal it all, no one can hurt us with the whole city watching.
I’m leaving at midnight. If you’re coming, I’ll be by the side doors into the forges.
Your fearless friend,
Livia
Sarai returned the letter to Anek. They both knew what had happened next. Livia hadn’t made it out of the Metals Guild that night. Jovian had died two weeks later.
Anek stretched out on the grass. “I went to the Guild and asked about how a young woman could possibly fall into a vat of molten metal. The openings for those are narrow to keep the metal from cooling. The Guildsmen didn’t like that. Hence the bounty.”
“When was this?”
“Right about when you caused all that trouble with Helvus.”
Sarai winced. “Bad timing.” She healed the stab wound in her palm. “Stop looking into this. You have your family, people you can lose. I don’t.”
“Believe me, I’d rather leave it to you and Kadra.” They squinted. “Does Cisuré know?”
She stiffened. “She doesn’t believe me.”
Anek sucked air in through their teeth. “She’ll learn. Just because these gods-obsessed men created the rules, doesn’t mean they should be above them. Especially if Helvus and our Saintly Head Tetrarch have been running a dangerous con for years.”
“Don’t forget our Violent Senior Lecher Tetrarch. ”
Anek let out a bark of laughter. “He couldn’t look a woman in the face if it killed him. It’s right down to the tits.” They tossed their dagger in the air and caught it. “But we all play the game.”
“You sound like Telmar. He’s been telling me to keep my head down from the start.”
“Never discount what Telmar’s seen. He’s been a magus for decades.” Anek withdrew a crimson handkerchief and handed it to her. “I also came by to give you this. Cassandane says that her offer to leave still stands. If you’re ever in need of her assistance, place that somewhere visible.”
“That’s kind of her.” Sarai sighed. “She knows everything too, doesn’t she?”
“She’s the fulcrum,” Anek mused. “Not powerful enough to support Kadra without causing a civil war, and too weak to whittle at Aelius and Tullus like Kadra does. If he falls, then Aelius and Tullus will stand uncontested.”
“He won’t fall,” she said firmly.
“Perhaps not. But he’s been acting uncharacteristically reckless. Bringing that strike on Admia’s home was a bad move. I’ve seen him change only once before and that wasn’t for the better.” At her confused look, they explained. “He went a little mad with the bloodshed when he first ascended to Tetrarch after Othus was killed. I thought it was because he cared for Othus in his own way, even if Othus wasn’t particularly kind to him. But, sometimes, I wonder if there was something else that changed him four years ago. Just like you seem to be the catalyst now.”
Four years ago . That number kept cropping up.
Anek raked a hand through their curls. Getting to their feet, they stretched out a hand to help her up, then stopped. “Sorry, forgot you don’t like being touched.” They laughed at her shock. “Did you really think you were being unobtrusive, flinching sky-high whenever Harion prodded at you?”
This city was going to pry all her secrets from her. “It’s just … men,” she muttered and accepted their hand up. “You’re fine. ”
Grinning, they slapped her shoulder, then cleared their throat. “You don’t seem as uncomfortable with Kadra, though.” Her eyes narrowed, and Anek winked. “Now, don’t tense up. It isn’t just me. Every vigile across Edessa was probably assigned to watch you two at the start.”
“Care to share what you discovered?”
“Some other day.” They chuckled at her unamused stare. “Hold Kadra back. Cassandane’s convinced that he’s up to something. Keep him on his throne. And Sarai”—their face turned serious—“be very, very afraid of Aelius and Tullus.”
Shoulders slumping, she watched their departing figure grow smaller in the distance. “I am afraid. That’s the problem.”
Perhaps this was why Telmar drank. There was nothing sweeter than oblivion in a world this ugly. But as she fell asleep in Aoran Tower for what could be her fifth last night, she prayed to a silent sky that she wouldn’t see that oblivion soon.