17. Cain
17
CAIN
Cain knocked on the door of the agents’ safe house near the docks. He still couldn’t quite grasp the magnitude of the situation he found himself in. Gladdis was planning to set off a chain reaction of Power generators to destroy the Capital and bring down the Empire. Or perhaps even trying to re-create the Star of Mersia, which according to Eldred could erase all life from the entire Imperial heartland. He had never heard of anyone even attempting such a thing. But that princess of Arland was said to be bold enough to take on an entire legion alone. Maybe this sort of plan required someone just as bold.
But it did not seem likely to him that the hero said to be facing an entire army by herself with only a sword would be plotting indiscriminate mass murder in a faraway city.
He found himself rooting for the princess before he’d even realized it. He hoped she would have nothing to do with what Gladdis was planning, so he could continue to root for her.
The door opened.
Septima wore her black stola. She was not wearing a different gown of the same color, but the exact same stola—the almost invisible spot that had appeared when her wineglass had been shaken by Lukan’s wiping of his bar was still there in the fold near her chest. There was a hint of powder under her eyes, perhaps to cover signs of exhaustion. She no longer smelled of perfume. A few strands of hair had come loose from her previously immaculate coiffure.
Devadas and the stout man looked similarly worse for wear. The stout man straddled a chair as he hugged its back, glaring at him with eyes full of suspicion. The giant Devadas leaned against a wall. Cain couldn’t tell whether he was dozing off or just had his eyes closed.
“You made it on time. Did anyone of interest come to the funeral?”
That hint of fatigue in her voice. Cain nodded.
“Was it someone you know?”
He shook his head. “Black coat, medium height, medium build, thick hair. It’s hard to describe. I never got a good look at his face.”
“You can throw a rock in the market square and hit someone with that description,” jeered the stout man. Cain still didn’t know his name.
Cain shrugged. “It’s hardly my fault he looks like everyone else.”
“You think because we paid you you’re Intelligence, too? You little—”
If it hadn’t been the stout man who called him “little,” Cain would have kept in his laugh. Something flew toward him and he ducked, hearing a shattering sound behind him. A jar had been smashed behind him. Not mad enough to get up from his seat, it looked like. Just as Cain was wondering what he had thrown at the jar, Septima said, “Look.”
“What?”
Septima didn’t say anything at first. She bit her thumb, thinking, before taking a step toward Cain.
“Was there anything else?”
“What?”
“Was there anything else that happened, at all?”
“Not really—”
“The badger is lying,” said the stout man with a sneer, using a pejorative reserved for people from the northwestern provinces. “We know you bought a load of things in the market this morning. We thought you were going to make a run with the little money we gave you, but then you sent it off to a whorehouse instead?”
Cain was annoyed at himself; he hadn’t thought they would be following him. Why would they? The money had been a generous sum, but not enough to change a whole life. Even if Cain had made a run for it, the amount would have been nothing to Ministry agents. Why were they surveilling some minor informant like him when they were so busy they had no time to rest their bloodshot eyes?
Maybe that was the wrong way to think. Maybe to the agents of the Empire, a provincial informant was a mere tool. And an artisan should always know where their tools are.
Devadas was now leaning against the only exit out of the room. His glowering eyes were now open and trained on Cain. Who knew what these three would do to Cain if he misspoke. His spectacles slipped down, just a little, along his sweaty nose.
Cain felt the urge to tell them everything about the silent man and the squirreled-away Power generator. But not yet—he had to find Gladdis first, he had to find out for himself first. He looked for something convincing to say, quick.
“You’re not as smart as you look,” said Septima. “How disappointing.”
“Maybe the headquarters would get more out of him,” said the stout man menacingly. Cain knew of a few people who had been dragged into the Ministry headquarters in the old city and released. One of them was still able to walk on their own.
Septima turned to Cain again.
“Think carefully before you speak. Lying has costs.”
Cain sighed.
“I know someone who is from Arland. She can’t be here anymore, so I am helping her leave the city.”
“Who is this?” asked Septima.
Cain decided to risk it, as they would have surely already heard about a runaway sorcerer. “A girl named Arienne.”
Septima and the stout man exchanged looks. It made Cain sure his lie would work.
“She said she was in debt with some dangerous people.”
“Do you know her well?” asked Septima.
“No. We’re both from Arland, but we’ve only just met.”
“Where did she say she was going?”
“Why do you want to know—”
Septima put the point of her index finger on Cain’s face, this time pushing up the spectacles that were sagging precariously on the tip of his nose.
Trying to seem hesitant, Cain said, “She wants to go back to Arland and become a farmer.”
Septima grinned. The stout man burst into laughter.
“Something we can finally sell to the Office of Truth.”
“The Office of Truth?” said Cain.
The stout man came over and slapped the back of Cain’s head. “You fool, do you know who you’ve just helped? A runaway sorcerer from the Academy!”
Cain summoned all his skill to look as surprised as possible. “I… I had no idea! She never mentioned anything like that to me!”
Septima tilted her head, looking at him. Really? She was asking this with her eyes, not her mouth. Her eyes looked like they could bore through his lie. Cain tried not to resist her gaze. He concentrated on believing what he was saying.
Her gaze finally faltered. With a voice that was softer and more placating than before, she asked, “Think, Cain. Which route did she say she was taking?”
There would be no room for mistakes here. Cain said, “The docks would be watched by debt collectors, so she was going to take the land route… I didn’t hear which.”
“She’ll take the boat for sure,” said the stout man.
“What?” Cain said, as if he couldn’t understand what the man was saying.
“No one is foolish enough to share her plans with someone she’s only just met,” explained Septima patiently.
“But what if she was lying about going home?” said Cain, feigning innocence.
“A child who was practically imprisoned in the Academy since she was ten? Where else would she go but home? She only speaks Imperial and her native tongue. She would be noticed wherever else she goes. The Office of Truth already have their people looking for her in that direction.”
The very advice Cain had given Arienne.
“What are you going to do with me?” He no longer had to act scared. He was begging the heavens in his heart they would still find him useful. If he was handed over to the Office of Truth, it was all over.
Septima smiled. “You should be glad you told us about her. The Office of Truth… Who was in charge of this case?”
“Grand Inquisitor Lysandros,” said the stout man.
“That ancient monster himself, over some runaway…” Septima trailed off. “The Office of Truth requested we look into this, as discreetly as possible. We haven’t slept at all. If you’d said what you just said to anyone else besides us, you’d be dragged off to the dungeons by now. They don’t know how to do anything besides torture,” Septima finished with a roll of her eyes, looking somewhat relieved.
“I still don’t understand why they wouldn’t let us enlist the legions in the search, if this runaway is so important…” the stout man grumbled, crossing his arms.
“You know that if they want to issue a legion bulletin, they have to file a formal request to the Board of Legates. The Senate will find it suspicious, and the Office of Truth is clearly trying to keep this quiet.”
“A runaway sorcerer is so important that she must be kept secret from the Senate?”
“The Academy has also been given a gag order. Have you ever heard of the Office of Truth making a request to us? This is serious… Of course there is more to it than meets the eye. But if we play nice and dig a little deeper, we may find something useful to us down the line.”
In that moment, it came to Cain: The Imperial offices and ministries were not as omnipotent as everyone assumed. They needed each other to do their jobs. They had things to hide among themselves. The Ministry of Intelligence didn’t know everything. The Office of Truth, with all its infamous inquisitors, needed help catching Arienne while keeping things secret from the Senate. From this new perspective, Septima and the others seemed less like a force of fate, and more like ordinary people trying to do the jobs they had been assigned to.
The stout man looked at Cain, his face more relaxed. “You’re an unlucky one. Getting caught up in all this.”
Septima picked up a glass of wine from a dusty side table, took a sip, and said to Cain, “Let’s talk about your mission, shall we? Black coat, medium height, medium build, thick hair? Anything else?”
Cain shook his head. “Only that he slipped through crowds like a ghost.”
“Did he catch you following him?”
“I don’t think so. But he really did move in the crowd almost like he was dancing. Like a snake…”
Devadas took his back off the door. Septima and the stout man looked at him. Cain also hadn’t expected him to respond.
“Safani,” said Devadas.
Cain had never heard this giant say a word. His voice was deep, and he had drawn out the name into three slow syllables.
“Safani is dead.” But the stout man’s voice lacked conviction.
“We’ve thought he was dead before,” said Septima in a low voice, “and we got Aquilla killed because of that.”
“Who is Safani?” asked Cain.
“A mercenary often involved in provincial rebellions,” answered the stout man. “Ten years we’ve been dealing with him on and off, but we still don’t know his name. Safani is a code name Devadas gave the man. It means ‘snake’ in Varatan.”
Septima sipped slowly from her glass of wine, thinking for a moment before saying, “Did you see where he went?”
“Gladdis’s house, near the docks.”
Giving them the most believable lie was Cain’s only option, as he couldn’t talk about the empty house yet. Septima spat a tut.
“We can’t go in there. Why is the Senate always protecting her?”
The stout man answered her: “Because Senator Juliana is close to Gladdis—”
“It’s not just Juliana. That badger merchant has at least seven senators in her pocket. To think of all that money she bribes them with!” Septima eyed Cain, as if regretting the slur.
Fienna’s death was now connected to Imperial politics. Cain felt frustration at how the case was slipping out of his control. He cleared his throat, and the three of them looked at him again.
“Why don’t I go? Isn’t that why you’re paying me in the first place?”
Septima gave a satisfied smile. The stout man gave the smile a puzzled look, turned his head to Cain, and said, “All right. But watch out. If Safani was really the one you saw, he’ll have the likes of you for supper if you get caught.”