Chapter 76 One Final Letter
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One Final Letter
Though Karvas’s death sent shock waves through the Order, Auria was privately thrilled to see Tenébo Jebat behind the captain’s desk.
“Congratulations on your promotion,” she said, taking a weary seat in front of her mentor. Exhaustion had turned the marrow in her bones to lead.
“Many thanks, Marriosan.” Jebat too seemed utterly drained. He poured them both a cup of much-needed coffee. “Of course, the circumstances are rather grim, but…”
“You’ll be a far better captain than Karvas ever was.” Auria lifted her chin defiantly. “You won’t let the highest-profile prisoner in decades escape, for one thing.”
Jebat handed her a gold-rimmed cup of coffee, then raised his own in a mock toast. “Here’s hoping.”
“Captain, I…Saffron.” Auria swallowed hard. “Is there really nothing we can do?”
Jebat sighed, long and slow. “You and I both know she was undercover. Naszi knows too. Could vouch for her, testify for her. But if Killoran is really going to dig her heels in, refuse to testify for herself…what can we do?”
“Sebran lied,” Auria said, hurriedly, as though the words were so bitter she didn’t want to taste them for too long. “I read his transcripts from the conversation with the kingpin. Why would he do that? Why would he tell Celadon that Saffron had turned him in?”
Jebat shifted in his chair. “That I don’t know.
Aduran has been placed on a leave of absence following his imprisonment in the Bloodmoon compound.
He will spend the next few weeks or months recovering, debriefing.
For now, my best guess is that he simply wanted to hurt the kingpin as much as possible.
Revenge for his own capture, I suppose. Although I sense there’s a missing piece we’re yet to uncover.
In Lunes…he and the kingpin seemed to have an especially charged conversation.
I was nearby, but couldn’t quite make out their frantic mutters.
It was as though they knew each other beyond their roles as scarlet and silver. ”
“There’s always a bigger picture, isn’t there?”
“Always.”
A column of despair towered in Auria’s chest. “We can’t see Saffron hang, sir. Please.”
“That is a matter for the courts and the courts alone.”
“Perhaps I should represent her,” Auria suggested, knowing already what Jebat’s response would be. “I successfully defended myself and Nissa at the inquest. Maybe—”
“Clean hands, Marriosan,” Jebat replied gently. “Embroiling yourself in this mess, representing a known traitor…you could wave goodbye to the Grand Arbitership forever.”
Would that not be worth it, to save the life of my friend?
A decision for another day. Saffron’s trial was high-profile; there would be months of preparation. Auria had time to figure out how to help, if at all.
“So what happens now? With the kingpin having escaped.”
Jebat turned in his chair to peer out over the skyline of Atherin, where life continued mostly as usual for its citizens—except, perhaps, for speculation over how an entire block of buildings had burned to ash, or why all the Bloodmoon-run gamehouses in the city had suddenly shuttered.
“We’re allocating extraordinary departmental resources into finding him, but since Karvas’s body was found down in Aredan…” Jebat sighed. “I’d imagine Celadon is tucked safely away in Mersina by now. And as we all know and despise…”
“Mersina does not have an extradition treaty with Vallin.”
A defeated nod. “Not for the Highcloak of Justice’s lack of trying. Perhaps a new Grand Arbiter might have more luck, but it could be many weeks or months before that high seat is filled.”
An interim Grand Arbiter had been instated, of course, but they wouldn’t be able to make any major moves or decisions.
Auria still could not quite decide how to feel about Dematus’s death.
On the one hand, the Grand Arbiter had been corrupt, and the country was better off without such a rotten figurehead.
On the other hand, a death was a death, a life was a life, and some things were not so clean-cut as lawful and right.
“So what else can we do? To bury the Bloodmoons for good?”
Jebat patted the frankly enormous stack of files on his desk, some so new the ink was barely dry.
“Round up as many scarlets as we can. Many perished in the fire at the mansion, but many, many more escaped. It’s our job to find them, bring them in.
Gather testimonies, evidence, so that when we finally rearrest Levan Celadon—which we will, if it’s the last gods-damned thing I do—there’s no way he’ll wriggle free of a conviction. ”
Auria took a sip of almond-sweet coffee. “An enormous undertaking, rounding up hundreds of scattered scarlets.”
Jebat latched his gaze onto her. “Which is why I’ve created a new task force—and why I’d like you to lead it.”
Auria’s hand halted with the cup halfway back to her lips, suspending it stupidly by her chin. “But I’m—the inquest. My insubordination in the Lunes operation. Going behind Karvas’s back.”
She’d come here expecting to be placed back under suspension, not given the most important task force of the city’s recent history.
“There will be no inquest,” Jebat said calmly. “This just became war, and war calls for special measures.”
Auria struggled to make sense of this. “But…I’ve only worn silver for a year. I don’t have the experience to lead a task force, let alone—”
“You have one of the finest investigative minds I’ve ever encountered.
Were it not for your own captain’s treachery, you would have secured an arrest and a charge many before you believed impossible.
” Jebat’s gaze intensified. “You are brilliant, Marriosan, and brave, and determined. Integrity like no other mage I’ve known.
There is no one else I would have lead this final charge against what remains of the Bloodmoons. ”
Trying not to be ashamed of the warm tears that very quickly spilled down her cheeks, Auria smiled and nodded, thinking, I can’t wait to tell Nissa.
“Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”
“You what?” Nissa sat bolt upright in the slouchiest sofa in the common room. Behind her hung a new set of navy-blue curtains, as though the kingpin had never broken into the Order and almost slain them both.
“I’m leading the Bloodmoon task force,” Auria repeated, still in a state of deep shock.
“Hells, Marriosan,” Nissa muttered, raking her clawed hand through the silken black sheets of her hair. “Talk about failing upwards.” For a moment, Auria thought her colleague might resent this development, but then the dragonborn broke into a feral grin. “That’s fucking fantastic.”
Some of the tension in Auria’s chest eased, and she allowed herself to match Nissa’s smile with her own. It felt wrong when so many were hurt or dead, but for the first time in weeks, months—since before Tiernan died—Auria felt some of her old optimism return.
Karvas and Dematus were gone, could no longer crush any significant developments beneath their corrupt boots.
They finally had Bloodmoon arrest warrants coming out of their ears, and while their targets had scattered and the kingpin might be beyond legal reproach, it finally felt like they could win this thing.
And Saffron…well, Auria had to figure out what to do about her old friend. Perhaps she could convince her to change her mind. Now that the kingpin had fled without her, had made no attempt to rescue her from death row, her loyalties might not be quite as staunch.
After months of grief weighing her down, Auria once again believed that in the great arc of humanity, goodness would always win.
“Thank you,” she whispered to Nissa, and then the tears fell once more.
“No, none of that,” Nissa said tersely, slapping her thighs and climbing to her feet. “We’re going out to celebrate. Jaded Saint? First flamebrandies on me.”
Auria laughed and nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude for this unlikeliest of friendships.
“Oh, this came for you, by the way.” Nissa rifled in the papers that had spilled over the couch when she leapt up, tossed Auria a parchment letter, then headed in the direction of her own bedroom to freshen up.
Frowning—for she rarely received correspondence to the Order directly—Auria tore into the envelope, hands trembling as though her body knew before her mind did that this was not the sort of letter she’d ever wanted to receive.
Detective Marriosan,
Allow me to cut right to the heart of the matter, without the meandering preludes for which I am ordinarily known. I am miraculously and fatally sober, you see, and not feeling especially loquacious.
So: the heart of the matter.
I was listening to every word uttered during your stakeout in the apartment opposite the Whitewing drophouse. A little enchanted artifact not unlike your own bracelet—so useful for hearing what the ear cannot, for keeping record where a quill cannot.
This is how I know Nissa Naszi perjured herself during an official inquest.
This is how I know you let her.
If this got out, it would be the end of both of your careers, no?
Oh dear, Marriosan. I think that means you’re mine now.
Yours enchantedly,
Harrow Claver