Page 99 of A Drop of Corruption

“What? No. Not that I knew.”

“I ask because we found an oathcoin in a smuggler’s den, hidden in a box and buried in the earth. And I have only ever seen Darhi give one out.”

“That would be akin to giving a dog the first night with your daughter,” he said. “I cannot imagine Darhi being such a fool, nor any other noble.” He stood. “Enough! These questions grow foolish. I am loyal to the prince, and the prince wishes to give the Empire all they need, it seems, but…even my loyalties have their limits.”

We hastily rose and bowed to him.

“One more thing, sir…” I said.

His beard shivered as he gritted his teeth. “What now?”

“This time a very broad question…Have you seenanythingstrange here recently? Anything even remotely out of place? For the man we seek tampers with the world in strange ways. Anything of note would be valuable to us.”

That gave him pause.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “My…my dogs have perished.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My dogs, my fine hounds. Keen of nose and eye, and fierce of tooth. They were my pride, and I took them to court often, though Darhi protested. He disliked how they sniffed so at all who came and went. But six days ago…I took the prince hunting, in the west of here. When I returned, I found them dead or dying. Poisoned, my people suspected, or sickened.”

I narrowed my eyes. Another poisoning, perhaps. Yet I struggled to imagine how dogs might be connected to Sujedo, or Pyktis, or even the king’s murder.

“Do you have any idea how it happened?” I asked.

“At first I thought it sabotage by the boy-keeper, or perhaps stupidity. I debated having him beaten or taking a finger from him for it. But he is not so clever. Yet I know the cause.”

He pointed to the open window. I sat forward to see.

From this angle I could see into the Bay of Yarrow, the moonlight glittering on the dark seas, and there, rising above them, a shaft of shimmering green: the Shroud.

“Ever since that arose in the waters,” said Pavitar, “our lands have failed. Our cattle and lands blacken. And we have forgotten the ways of our fathers. It is a blight upon this world, an unnatural thing, compared to the natural, ancient rights of crown and throne. I pray each night to my fathers and forefathers that it shall fall. One day, perhaps, my wishes shall be heard.”

“What makes you say that, sir?” I asked quietly.

“It is merely a prayer. Is it a crime in your Empire, to beseech the fates for justice?” He made to leave, yet paused to look Malo over. “Tusim naim dikhadi ki uham neh tuhadi?” he whispered.

“The Empire can’t take away what the realm of Yarrow never gave me,” she responded coolly.

He glared at her for a moment, then swept out.

—

“Why the helldid you ask to see that man first?” Malo asked Ana once he was gone. “You knew he would fight us most! He practically swaggered up with a belly full of bile!”

“Did he lie, girl?” snapped Ana. “Did he ever once speak false to you?”

“His heartbeat was high, as was his sweat, but it rarely wavered,” she said reluctantly. “He spoke a lie but once—when he claimed his king was healthy in his later days. But nothing else.”

“Then that was why I asked for him first. He is stupid, and hostile, but he is mostly truthful. He lies only to give dignity to the dead—that, or he is so skilled an actor that even you could not see it, Malo.”

“But am I right in thinking that he directly threatened the Shroud, just now?” I asked. “Could he truly be so audacious?”

“Not so audacious as foolish,” said Malo. “But I am unsure if hating the Shroud is unique. Many Yarrow nobles curse and decry it every day.”

“Nor are his claims novel, really,” said Ana. “The Empire’s influence grows strong here, and as it does, less and less of the common folk of Yarrow wish to toil on farmlands under the watch of chiefs and nobles. They are all too happy to work for the Empire, which offers food and medicine in abundance. This means less folk to work their farms. Fields go fallow and yields dwindle—but it is easier to claim mystical imperial poison than upend the rule of the king.” She sighed. “But I still catch no hint of Pyktis about the jari—or not yet, at least. Let us speak to the trickiest one. Send in Darhi. We shall have much to ask him.”

—