Page 68 of The Tainted Cup

“Nice to have a bit of civilization, isn’t it?” he said as we finished. “The only thing missing is a puff of pipe.”

“Oh. Wait a moment, sir,” I said. I reached into my pocket and produced the half of a shootstraw pipe Miljin had givenme.

Strovi laughed. “What magic! I’ve half a mind to ask what else you hide in there.” He waved to one of the boys, and they brought over a hot iron from the fire. Strovi held it to the tip of the pipe and sucked at it until its end flared hot. Then he drew deeply and savored the smoke, letting it leak out of his nostrils. “I haven’t tasted such a fine bit of weed in ages. Where did you get this?”

“From Miljin,” I said. Then: “Or, really, from a Signum Vartas, who happily volunteered his pipe after Miljin, ah, threatened castration and disembowelment.”

Strovi laughed dully. “The old man hasn’t changed, then. The iron fist in the iron glove, about as subtle as six blows from a hammer.”

“You might say that, sir.”

“Don’t have to be so formal, Kol. I mean—I’m following your lead here, a bit, aren’tI?”

I didn’t know how to answer that. The idea of such a veteran officer following me was baffling.

He held out the pipe to me. “Go on. It’s yours, I shouldn’t take it.”

I took the pipe from him and drew deeply, my lips touching where his had been. I had never smoked before—I couldn’t afford such a habit—but I found myself reveling in the taste of the smoke, the way it seemed to twirl in my belly like a dancer.

“This,” I said, “is something I could get used to.”

He laughed. “You look quite at home here, with your cone hat and your shootstraw pipe!”

“Then I only look it, sir. It’s not at all where I expected to be. Last month I was earning my dispensation by chasing down pay fraud.”

“It’s not so uncommon, though.” Strovi looked out at all the Legionnaires, all coming and going in the light of the flickering fire. “So many come here by so many roads, having made deals or signed contracts or bartered away some bit of their life for a bundle of talints. Yet when they’re here, standing among one another, and they realize what we hold back…That’s when they see.”

“See what, sir?”

“What the Empire really is.” He grinned at me. “Those walls out there—some stretches are four hundred years old. Made back when the Khanum still walked these lands in full force. Planned and wrought and manned by ancient peoples, some of them far stranger than anything the Apoths could brew up now. And since those first stones were laid, no leviathan has ever walked the Titan’s Path again, has never made it into the inner recesses of the land. And none haseverapproached the Valley of Khanum. Because of how we suffer, and labor, and serve.” His grin grew rather dreamy. “The Empire is the people next to you, and before you. Bodies in boots on the wall, taking up posts served by the ancients. We are the fulcrum on which the rest of the Empire pivots. And we are all made equal and common in that service, and before its long history.” He paused. “Though perhaps I’m being sentimental.”

“I’d say Talagray could use some more sentiment,” I said honestly. “Especially after all we’ve discovered, sir.”

“Ha! But no need to be so formal.” The smile faded from his lips. “I mean, you call your immunis by her first name.”

“Ana is…different, sir. As you’ve no doubt seen.”

“Yes, but.” His smile was gone now. “You’re not in my Iyalet. I could be different, too. You could just call me Kepheus, if you liked.”

A strangely earnest look stole over his face, and his eyes searched mine. Despite his warm words he suddenly seemed terribly lonely, standing there in the light of the fires, his curls clinging to his temples. I reminded myself to stay controlled and contained.

“Never mind,” he said suddenly. “Perhaps I overstepped. Apologies. We should continue on, yes?”

I nodded and followed him into the night.

—

BY THE TIMEwe got to Suberek’s neighborhood it was fully dark. As Ana had suggested, Suberek’s fernpaper mill was one of many in this industrial section of town, which was stacked with tall, narrowwooden structures built next to the canals, all using the water’s trickle to power their many wheels and mechanisms. The mills were all quite similar, with stables and large doors at the back for the loading of their wagons. The great wheels hung still and blue and ghostly in the starlight. It must have made a merry scene in the day, but tonight it was strange and spectral.

Strovi pointed into the dark. “That one at the end. That’s it.”

I studied Suberek’s mill carefully. Utterly dark, no trace of light within. Fernpaper walls clean and thick, framed by stonewood posts. A sturdy structure that should withstand the fiercest of quakes.

“I’ll knock,” said Strovi, as we approached, “but I am empowered by the Legion to enter by force if unanswered. So if we can’t get in, I shall break in, to make sure this fellow still lives. That make sense?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

A gleaming grin. “Should be entertaining. I expect this will be the first time you’ve ever broken into a house.”