Ignoring him, I went on. “The moment you break Her Magnificence's ws, nothing can protect you. Certainly not hiding behind a necromancer.”

  The woman in the bed examined her fingernails. I didn’t buy her ostensible disinterest. As for Melibe, he was putting up a good show out of looking wounded and angry in equal measure. Naturally, he had no innocence worth defending; all that was in question was whether he’d hired the necromancer.

  “I don't even know what you're talking about!”

  “Why don’t you prove it by telling me what you know about Azul Mamani? That’d help convince me.”

  “I don't have to tell you anything. What are you gonna do, attack an innocent man? You can’t do that. All bark and no bite.”

  “Very well.”

  Melibe briefly gnced down at his own body, as if he'd just remembered he was naked. “Aren't you going anywhere?”

  “Of course.” I didn't move.

  He let out a huff. “I know what this is all about. Harassing an innocent man! Tell your favorite starving peasant to quit this nonsense if he knows what’s good for him.”

  I didn't show any reaction; Melibe could hardly have expected anything different. He stomped into the ensuite bathroom, smming the door behind him. Soon enough the shower started pattering.

  Petty as he was, he had power enough to do some damage. I wouldn't forget him.

  I turned to the woman. “Sorry you had to see that.”

  “It's fine.”

  “Doubtlessly you’ve seen worse, but I can’t say that’s much of an excuse.” I gave her a hundred nureals, and she made a point to lower her knees down her breasts to gauge if I had any interest—with a tip like that I couldn’t bme her for trying. Hopefully I didn’t look away too te. I hate to give people hopes I can’t sustain. “If you find out anything that can be of interest to me, anything at all, you know what to do.”

  She nodded. Every post office in every city of the Protectorate allowed for a message to be sent directly to the King of the Dying Sun. The ones posted in Vorsa would usually reach me in a few hours.

  Melibe was a coward indeed, as was the entire lowest rung of the governors, a servile crowd that'd learned to keep their heads down and do the Megarchon's dirty work. What revenue they extracted from the poorer provinces wasn't quite worth the throat-cutting going on just a little bit above their heads. Or so we all assumed.

  What if his position was now threatened, not merely by a peer, but one of the starving peasants? Would that be worth a few murders? After all, it was the privilege of the curs to die for the hand they fed. Of course, for this to hold any water, Melibe had to believe his position was at risk. Well, regardless of what he cimed, he certainly wouldn’t believe the Megarchon summoned her missing great-grandson just because she missed him. Suppose she wanted Azul to help prop up her favored successor’s position—not a bad guess. After all, Azul had both a good head on his shoulders and a much deeper connection with I Doronte—and perhaps most of northern Zalmuric—than anybody in the capital. Worth a province or two.

  So far, nothing more than specution.

  A man in a secretary's pin bck suit stood conspicuously by the elevator. As I approached, he turned to me and bowed from the waist. The attending hazard of accosting governors in the Starry is of course being accosted by someone else’s employee. The concierge sells information; his silence is considerably more expensive.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Governor Cassel, Your Illustrious Highness.”

  Unsurprisingly.

  “Lead on.”

  We rose ten floors. The higher you go, the rger and more luxurious the rooms, the more important their occupants. The metaphor is transparent, but no less effective for that. This floor was done in reds and yellows, florally scented, birdsong a faint echo in the air. The secretary knocked at a particur door and we were admitted at once.

  Nobody inside had time for entertainment. The rule and administration of I Tabrul relied upon the work of many people—cousins, in-ws, friends. All of them had come together that night. This rger suite felt cramped. Trays of aperitifs had been propped up and forgotten on the most random of surfaces. I made a point of keeping my arms tucked close to my body. This time the crowd didn't split, but quietly slipped out of my way until I came to stand before Corrado Cassel in person.

  He sat in a couch by the window, fnked by his favorite son and daughter. Both by different mothers, if I didn't recall wrong. The wives, current and former, must be among the crowd as well. Cassel wasn't prone to personal melodrama, which had served him well so far.

  “What?” I asked.

  Cassel looked at me under the tufted arches of his eyebrows. “You know what.”

  A proximity to court requires a heightened tolerance for repetition.

  “If you say so.” I had a suspicion, of course, but certainly wouldn't be the one to make the first move. He'd summoned me; let him show his cards first.

  “Oh, so you’ll cim you don’t know?”

  “Is this about the unrest in High Tomenedra? I wouldn’t call it advisable to discuss that with strangers.”

  Cassel's fists closed on the knees of his blue merino pants. “Did you think I wouldn’t catch your stench all over it?”

  Unfortunately for him, I hadn’t involved myself in High Tomenedra. This crowd believed, absent all evidence, that the Megarchon would turn a blind eye to my meddling into politics. Every movement I made drew me closer to the edge of her very short tolerance. Funding social upheaval could very well have me killed. Not that Cassel and his ilk would ever believe it.

  “Naturally,” I put in, “you’ve found no proof of anything under this stench. I don’t know what you’re trying to do here. What I do know is I haven’t been offered a drink. Someone with such disregard for politeness can hardly compin about other people’s behavior.”

  His daughter gred at me. It was only Corrado Cassel’s parent who’d earned the governorship—a negligible dynasty. It made them sensitive to remarks about their ck of propriety, especially coming from someone like me.

  “Despite your better attempts, I can tell what’s going on,” Cassel said.

  Someone presented me with a tray with a bottle of whisky and a couple of clean gss shots, so I poured myself a drink. “As for myself, I can’t.”

  The son practically jumped on his seat. “I heard you threaten him! And so did dozens of others at the Pace!”

  “Oh, not threaten. Simply expin the inevitable result of an action.”

  “A violent death?” The daughter pointedly enunciated the st word.

  “Hasn't Ms Cassel heard of blood calling for blood?”

  “And that isn’t a threat?” the son hissed.

  I shrugged. “No more than a doctor threatens you with an impending heart attack. What advice I'd give to Governor Cassel is to step down from his position, cut his losses, and let someone with a different approach handle I Tabrul from now on.”

  Cassel stood up. Unfortunately, I still looked down on him. “You want to go back to the days when kingship was more than an empty title, pontifex. When your ilk held the threat of the Underworld over decent people’s heads.”

  I downed my shot, bowed my head to the entire assembly and left, making a point to walk slowly.

  Governors couldn't touch me, I couldn't touch them. A senseless circle. Worse, I’d have to look into Cassel’s ravings, just in case there was anything to them. Azul would be in High Tomenedra in a few days.

  Not a coincidence in the slightest. I didn’t know yet what my Azul was pnning, but he was already one of the people making my life harder.

  Yet another person awaited for me by the elevator, leaning on the wall with her hands on her pockets and her legs stretched out before her. She sported a green feather on her cap and a green badge on her white-and-gold uniform. I couldn't say I knew her, but I'd met her. She was on Oriana Lemarezin's side.

  She straightened up. “Shall we go?”

  Shrugging again, I entered the elevator before her. This time, we were the only ones. We looked like echoes of each other, both pale and lean and almost monochrome.

  I cked a name for her. This didn't seem reasonable.

  “Your name?”

  “Who cares?”

  “Me.”

  She sighed, hinting at what an unreasonable request this was. It came close to making her sound like a surly teenager, though she had enough force of personality to avoid it.

  I felt in the presence of a kindred soul.

  “Major Hira.”

  “Thank you.”

  The door opened for us. We'd reached some truly rarified heights. Not only metaphorically, either; this floor was, if memory serves, meant to capture the atmosphere of the peaks of Gelkenon. The pristine mountain range from the balds and paintings, showing not a trace of mining or sky travel. Why the Protectorate was so eager to hide the traces of something they'd worked so hard to achieve was beyond me. If you listened closely you could hear the distant whisper of the wind, and almost feel it in your skin—a product of suggestion, this. The sisters had conjured some hellishly good illusions for the inside of the building too. I didn’t want to know how much it costed to mantain them in pristine state.

  Hira didn't bother to check if I followed, though follow I did. This floor, I think, was divided between only four rooms. Only one of them belonged to a Lemarezin. Until they become Megarchon, most of them aren't very influential. And when they fail to become Megarchon, they’re disposable.

  The suite door unlocked and opened automatically for Hira. You can have that spell set in your house if you’d care to pay for it, but that was the first I'd seen of that particur perk afforded to a rental.

  We stepped into soft lighting and a bnd popur tune pyed by unobtrusive strings. The sitting room reached almost as far as the eye could see, poputed by women and adjacents. After all, it was Oriana Lemarezin's suite. You'd think this was a high-css bar, so many were the tables and plush seats we had to walk past, tended to by an entire team of waiters in smart bck-and-white uniforms.

  At the end of the room stood a dais holding a dozen or so teak chairs, which, if I wasn’t wrong, hailed from Letheia V’s reign. Their intricate carvings came close to cshing with the sparseness of the rest, but thanks to a few strategic rugs and potted pnts, instead made the point they were supposed to: the people invited onto this dais were in a css apart from the rest.

  I recognized my host at once, naturally—the strawberry blonde in a white flower dress from Zenia, not that you could see her hair beneath her hat. Knowing her, I wouldn’t be surprised if the st minuscule pearls had been sewn on the bodice yesterday. As I came closer, a few of its petals fell to the floor, infusing the air with their sweet scent; it didn’t matter, as the dress was always growing new ones. Thus was the abundance of ornate chairs and blossoms and bright threads expined: they were meant to set their mistress’ monochrome scheme off to her best effect.

  Oriana turned to us, looking as if she was pleasantly surprised by the arrival she'd ordered. Her pearl earrings matched the dress. It pleased me that I hadn’t forgotten to put on one of my favorite silver earrings before I left.

  “Vanth, you've come!” She offered me her hand, cd in a silk opera glove, and I bowed at the waist over it.

  Hira went to stand behind Oriana's chair. Someone else cleared out a seat near by. I remained standing.

  “The quality of my conversation will suffer until I've had a few more hours of sleep. I'd rather not inflict my present self on Your Excellency and her companions.” I bowed my head left and right toward the circle of women, who stood up as one to bow and curtsey back. Naturally, Oriana remained seated.

  “Oh dear, I don't think it's your fault at all. Even so, no good host allows their guest to embarrass themself, so I won’t press the matter any further.”

  “How may I help Your Excellency, then?”

  “Have you heard anything about Azul Mamani?” she asked.

  Well. Luckily I could trust myself not to show any sort of reaction. “Should that name ring a bell?”

  “Oh, seriously! You're so boring you could make moss wither! You should be surprised I know about Azul Mamani!”

  “Should I?”

  Oriana turned to Hira. “He's impossible.”

  “I've heard that many times before. If Your Excellency must know, nobody told me anything about Mamani.”

  She inhaled sharply. “And now you're twisting the truth! Fine, nobody told you, but you still know!”

  “Know what?”

  I thought I could detect a gleam of amusement in Hira's eyes. Could be just an effect of the lighting.

  “That isn't important. Mamani must reach the capital safely. Tell me he hasn't been harmed.”

  “He hasn't.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “Her Excellency doesn't know? Color me shocked.”

  Oriana didn't bother concealing her scowl. Her eyes might've darkened, too. Always a bad sign.

  “What is Azul Mamani's safety worth to Your Excellency?” I asked.

  “Vanth! I thought you had sworn to protect all of Her Magnificence's subjects! What is this mercenary behavior?”

  “My duty involves those threats from behind the gates. I can hardly be expected to intervene every time a foot approaches a banana peel.”

  She raised her head in righteous indignation. “I think you know this Azul Mamani is a Lemarezin by blood.”

  “With Your Excellency’s apologies, I’m not one of your genealogists, and I keep track of too many things as it is.”

  Even with a few notorious prunings of her family tree's branches in past generations, Letheia VII had accrued around forty great-grandchildren. And the great-great-grandchildren were pouring in. Anybody who knew their history would wonder if another such pruning would happen once a new Megarchon had ascended. Oriana knew.

  “Quit your evasives! Even if you didn't know, which I don't believe, I just told you. Do you see now why Mamani must be allowed to reach the capital safely?”

  “With all due respect, I don't. He's simply one of your several dozen cousins.”

  “You're missing the point, and that might be on purpose. Her Magnificence has summoned Mamani for whatever reason. You know how sensitive her health is, these days. If she heard he was harmed—on purpose!—she might suffer a... well, that doesn't matter. But I don't think we should run those risks. She was always very fond of him, as you may know. Or did you forget? That was years ago. He only stayed for what, a season? A year? Poor thing, imagine going back to that so soon. There's nothing there. Only rocks. And Her Magnificence used to take him everwhere—the theaters, the shops, the gardens, all the best pces in the world.”

  “Openly,” I said.

  “Exactly, anybody could see Mamani mattered so much to Her Magnificence.”

  “So anybody could be targeting him.

  “Guess so. But shouldn't you be able to handle it? After all, anybody could be a necromancer and I don't hear you compining about it.”

  “So you think the purpose is to harm Her Magnificence through Azul Mamani.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You did imply it.”

  “No, I said harming Mamani could have deleterious effects on Her Magnificence, even if that wasn’t the intention."

  “I see. What other reason could there be for anybody to harm him, then?”

  I could swear Hira's metaphorical tail was waving angrily from side to side. The others had to be keeping up as well. Their silence all but proved so: there was far more to be gained from listening in than from trying to show off for their patron or impress their loyalty onto her.

  “Well, how am I supposed to know that?”

  I nodded. “So you had no reason to make that request of me.”

  Oriana huffed. “Oh, I see. You're the only one who is allowed to be irritatingly circumspect.”

  “Good to see we're on the same page.”

  She ignored me. “I never cimed to know why anybody would want to harm Mamani. I only know they do, and their success would harm Her Magnificence. That is all.”

  “And a very long detour we've taken to reach such a succint destination, don't you think? I must ask you to tell me why you think somebody is targeting Azul Mamani. This intelligence could make the difference between life and death for him.”

  “It's barely anything, mind you.” Oriana turned to her left. “Sabi?”

  A willowy woman in an exquisitely tailored suit and almost invisible makeup stood up and bowed to me before occupying the vacated seat by Oriana's side. “Sabrina Nieto, at your service.”

  A courtesan without a doubt. I avoid their company. They live and breathe the court.

  “Last Thursday,” Nieto said, “we heard a Sabrewing had been dispatched north. Inevitably, this was cause for specution, much of it nonsense I won’t repeat.”

  “But isn't separating the wheat from the chaff part of the sport?” I asked. Had I been a loyal subject of the Megarchon, I could've asked why didn't they simply mind their own business. That'd be a senseless question, though. If you didn’t know the way wind blew at court, you risked being accused of treason without warning. And through the Protectorate's seven centuries of history you can count the people who survived an accusation of treason with the fingers of one hand.

  Nieto smiled pleasantly, pying along with me. “Long story short, the Sabrewing turned out to be headed for I Doronte. And only one retive of Her Magnificence lives in that province, which makes the guessing easy enough. Soon after people began ciming someone wanted Azul Mamani dead.”

  People indeed. I’d wager the source of the rumor was before me.

  “And I can’t rest easy,” Oriana went on, “knowing that’s a possibility.”

  “I see. Even if there’s no truth to any of this, preventing harm should be our priority. Many thanks.” I bowed my head.

  “Are you even listening?” Oriana intervened. “The risk is already present!”

  I crossed my arms. “And Your Excellency would know this how?”

  “Don't even dare. I'm not the one who knows more, you are.”

  Good bluff—necromancy was indeed the favored magic for assassinations. Correct, too.

  Did Oriana know anything else, then? I didn't want to assume anything. After all, the best way to hide lies is to nest them alongside truths like cuckoo eggs.

  I took a step back and bowed, taking care to encompass the entire circle of women. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Rest assured, I will see to it that Azul Mamani reaches the capital safe and sound. Now I must bid you goodbye.”

  Oriana bowed her head. Her displeasure with my reticence was clear.

  To be sure, she wouldn't want the Megarchon to die while someone else was a more likely successor. But it occurred to me that she might have another reason to be interested in Azul's assassination. Namely, she might want to pin the bme on a certain someone. At this point, an accusation of treason was one of the few things that had any chance of knocking Cris out of the race for good. It wouldn't even be the first time someone had staged a murder simply to get rid of an inconvenient third party.

  I returned ter than I expected, and unsurprisingly Suri was asleep in bed. Unsurprisingly? Let’s say “thankfully”. She’d started kicking the covers away. I kneeled by her bed to tuck her in. Before I could stand up, Ms Vi?as was already at my side, asking if I didn’t want a sandwich or something.

  Well, I’d told Berganza I’d have one.

  “Do we still have any of that beef tongue?”

  We did. After all, Little Master didn’t like beef tongue, and Master forgot to eat with distressing regurity these days.

  “Didn’t Berganza told you I dined in I Doronte? Careless of him. Make sure to put some lettuce and anchovies on it. Oh, and capers. We still have capers, right?”

  Ms Vi?as simply cared about my health. Someone had to, seeing how I didn’t seem to.

  It felt tactless to point out a dead person might not be in the best position to comment upon other people’s health.

  broccolifloret