Page 82 of A Drop of Corruption

“A very good question,” said Ana dryly. “Did he wish us to act onthe evidence he left for us, and send us barreling down the wrong path? Or does he signal a crime already done, and wish us to react wrongly to it? I don’t know.”

“Shall we always subject ourselves to such doubts as we pursue this bastard?” asked Malo, frustrated.

“Oh, probably.” Ana smiled. “Infuriating, isn’t it?”

—

“I suppose,” I sighed,“that it would be wisest to return to what wedoknow. Correct, ma’am?”

“A wise point, Din,” said Ana. “Yet we might find little comfort there. For we know he has stolen many grafts, any of which he could use against us.” She turned and rummaged around in a pile of parchments. “Especially those of obfuscation and subterfuge.”

Malo nodded. “You worry he changes his appearance.”

“I do.” She finally fished out a paper and held it out to her. “He could approach us now, wearing a new face, and we’d not know it. Here is what he has. What is your estimation, Malo?”

Malo reviewed the list. “He has some tools, yes, but not enough to grant him an entirelynewface. He cannot change his bones, for example—so he will be mostly the same size and shape. He could alter his skin color, but it would only last a few weeks, for, being a Sublime, it would eventually revert to gray. But he could thicken himself somewhat or purge himself of fats. Or he could add hair to his flesh or remove it. Small changes, really.”

“What about teeth?” proposed Ana.

“He has calcious grafts, true, which can mend bones or regrow teeth,” said Malo. “But that is not an unusual treatment.” She handed the parchments back. “None of this hides scent, which is our preferred sense.”

“I suppose that is a relief, then.” Ana flicked a finger at me. “Din—tea, please.”

“White, ma’am?” I asked. “Black? Or something more exotic?”

“Something delicate. The white peony, I think. I have had my fill of strong flavors this eve.”

I busied myself with the kettle atop the blackwood fire, aware that Malo was watching me with some bemusement. “A swordsman and a tea-maker,” she remarked. “Shall I see you in an apron potting plants next?”

“Perhaps I shall borrow the one you wear in the ossuary,” I said. “Though I’d rather handle tea leaves than innards.”

“Enough jibes,” snapped Ana. “I must focus, and it takes too much effort for me to invest any fucking wit in your idiotic banter!” She pressed her hands together, then tapped the gleaming tips of her fingers against her nose. “Din—I believe Thelenai mentioned that Prificto Kardas is no longer in the city, correct?”

“She said he is not, ma’am,” I said. My eyes trembled, and I echoed: “He comes to and fro from the High City in the west and goes nowhere else. He is there even now, I understand…”

“But we must get a message to him, and quickly, too,” muttered Ana. “Yet to do so by foot or horse is much too slow.” She turned her face to Malo again. “So, Signum—I have a question for you now as an Apoth, not a Yarrow.”

“Yes?” said Malo.

“A Treasury prificto on a diplomatic mission is often outfitted with a pheromonic signal, yes? For scribe-hawks?”

“Yes, that is so. If he is following policy, Kardas carries the pheromonic marker with him, so a hawk can find him and bring him communications whenever and wherever he travels. But to my knowledge, he has not used it here yet! Those creatures are highly augmented and very expensive, and the environs of Yarrow are not forgiving.”

“Then we shall use it for the first time tonight!” said Ana. She turned, wandered blindly to her table in the corner, pulled out a sheet of parchment, and started writing. She sealed the letter with a dab of tarn-paste and handed it to Malo. “Have this sent to him, by the fastest hawk in the roost. It is a desperate measure, but…I must try something.”

Malo took it and exchanged a worried glance with me. “I shall do so, ma’am, but…what is it I am sending?”

“A warning,” said Ana. “Pyktis has targeted the Treasury beforeand may do so again. But I worry my warning will come far too late to be of use!”

There was a tense pause.

“Do you know what Pyktis plans to do now, ma’am?” I asked.

“You ask me what Iknow?” snapped Ana. “Iknownothing! I am surrounded by information—data, testimonies, evidence—yet I can draw no firm conclusions at all! I am so vexed by this man’s countless fucking plots that I worry I am his puppet, and I should search the airs about my limbs for strings! For now, we can only consent to be pulled. And there is little for either of you to do at all tonight, except what I have already said.” She fell silent for a moment, her lips working. Then she opened her mouth, hesitated for a long while, and finally said, “But…but,I will share one revelation I have had during my days buried in documents…for I have found a pattern.”

“One you didn’t mention to Thelenai, ma’am?” asked Malo.

“Indeed,” said Ana. “For it is a veryconcerningrevelation. One I cannot trust her with. Yet I feel I can trust you two with it, if no one else.” Ana sat forward, her face shining in the light of the fire. “Listen close to me now, children. For during your jaunt upriver, I pored over countless records—many thefts, many murders, many missing materials. I believe I identified nearly all the crimes that were perpetrated by our mysterious Sunus Pyktis. Yet I quickly noticed somethingunusual.For Pyktis and his smugglers only ever raided shipments in the second and third weeks of the month, somewhat rarely in the fourth—but never, ever,everin the first.”