Hollow Empire

by Sam Hawke

  “Yes.” I felt embarrassed, as though I had done it on purpose; Thendra wore a rather schoolteachery judgment on her face that made me squirm. “I don’t know what drugs they gave me, exactly. Something initially that knocked me out and left me a bit woozy—praconis leaf or Art’s tonic, probably—then something that must have been a recreational drug they’re using. It was in a compressed powder pill, and it was … disorienting. Mood altering. I couldn’t think straight.”

  She looked at me with narrow eyes. “I will need you to be more specific.”

  “I saw things. Remembered things. I don’t know if it was so much hallucinations as it was … just, everything around me suddenly seeming more sinister or threatening.” Feeling foolish, I described the strange sensations, the spikes of fear and the blurring of reality and imagination, how the masks and costumes worn by my tormenters had transformed them into mythological monsters. It had been almost akin to the kind of runaway panic I could find myself in during an episode, when being aware of the irrationality of the root cause did not help me rein the emotions in. “I don’t know why anyone would take that on purpose.”

  Thendra gave the weary sigh and shrug of a physic who had seen far too many inexplicable decisions by the citizens of this city to try to puzzle out motives.

  “Then they gave me something else, it definitely had Art’s tonic in it, but something else, too. I lost a good … hour? Several hours?” I looked hopelessly at Kalina and Hadrea, watching quietly on the other side of the bed. “Dija would know the timing better than me. I woke up much later with no memory of what happened in the interim. I … made myself sick when I got a chance, so I got some of it out of my system.”

  She must have followed us all the way to the house and through the terrible party. She must—oh, fortunes, she must have seen how they had left me, with the Talafan man. A child should not have had to see such a thing. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing so hard that I could take it all back. I had been a fool, I had been careless. Following the assassin might have been a necessary move at the time, but once he entered that house I should never have gone in. I’d not only put myself at risk, and a fat lot of good I would be protecting Tain if I was dead on the floor of some abandoned warehouse, but I had risked Dija’s safety, too. Proofing was not a job without risks, but they were supposed to be measurable, manageable risks. My little bit of foolishness had expanded on them into unacceptable territory, and from the undercurrent flowing dangerously between the women in the room, the topic would be discussed in the very near future.

  “Thendra,” Kalina said suddenly, in a tone rarely heard from her: openly authoritative. “Like I was trying to tell you earlier, what happened to Jov tonight is part of an attempt to discredit him. Over the next day or so he’s very likely going to be accused of having voluntarily gone to these events and then…” She paused, swallowed, then continued. “… then hurting someone. Another man.”

  “They killed him,” I said, hating how stark those words sounded out loud. I’d seen so many deaths, now. Deaths of people who didn’t deserve it. Deaths of people I had loved. But never had someone died so pointlessly, so blamelessly, for the sole purpose of harming me. “I couldn’t stop them.” I couldn’t look at Thendra. As a healer, what would she think of me?

  “His body is going to come in, likely in the morning,” my sister continued. “He was drugged and then strangled.”

  “I see.” The physic had gone very still. “And where is this poor fellow now?”

  “We couldn’t get him out safely. He’s still at a residence in the upper city, but I assume whoever set this in motion will have arranged for him to be found.”

  She propped one hand on her hip, and regarded the three of us grimly. “And what is it you wish me to do?”

  Kalina hesitated, then said, “Nothing inappropriate. If asked, say you treated Jov for a turned ankle and bruising after he reported he was waylaid and attacked by thieves. That’s true.” She paused, visibly considering her next words. She had a particular look about her, a feverish air, that worried me; she was clearly thinking up a plan on the fly, but it was obvious she’d not slept, and it was taking its toll. “Just—if you could, if you were asked, not volunteer anything else you know. He didn’t hurt that man,” she added hastily, as Thendra raised a silent eyebrow, “and if they can’t prove he was there, all they can do is make baseless accusations.”

  “The evidence is there on Credo Jovan’s body, yes?” Thendra pointed out, her eyebrow still favoring us with her skepticism. “He was beaten. Why can you not tell the truth about the full extent of the attack?”

  I shook my head, already seeing Kalina’s strategy. Little bitter cuts opened up inside me. I could tell everyone what happened, and offer supporting evidence, and even a witness. But faced with the choice between my outlandish story, and the more dramatic and almost-plausible idea that a Credo had overindulged or experimented with some street drugs and ended up in some kind of terrible romantic encounter gone wrong, some, at least, would favor the latter. Having my own heir as a witness would hardly provide unbiased proof. No doubt there were witnesses who would attest they saw me at the party. Things were still a bit foggy but I remembered the sly comment the Wraith had made—you weren’t so stuck-up an hour ago—and the man with the smile, pressed up against me, the woman with the rippling hair, catching the lamplight so enticingly, on the other side. Cup in my hand, the taste of food and drink on my tongue. I had not been unconscious that entire time, only unable to recall it.

  “Reputation is everything on the Council,” Hadrea said, before I could say anything, and there was a familiar and unwelcome twist to her lips as she watched me. “His will be damaged by the accusation, and any part in it he admits will lend credence to it.”

  “You don’t have to lie for me,” I said to the physic, determinedly avoiding looking at Hadrea, trying to ignore the stab of hurt at her words. “I wouldn’t try to make you. It’s just … you know me. You know I have enemies, both within the city and without. This was meant to ruin me.”

  “It’ll be bad enough anyway,” Kalina said, shaking her head. “The dead man was one of the Talafan Imperial soldiers.”

  Only when she said that aloud did I remember her saying it to me, in that hazy fog of the rescue. My heart plummeted all over again. This hadn’t just been a setup for me. It had also created a diplomatic incident. How would the Imperial delegation react when one of their own men was pulled out of that house?

  Thendra looked at us all in turn. “And your young niece, she saw someone else murder this man?”

  “No, thank the fortunes,” Kalina said. “She was hiding. She didn’t have to see … that.”

  But I thought I understood why Thendra had asked it; not out of concern for Dija’s composure, having witnessed a murder, but because she was determining whether there was a true witness.

  She clucked her tongue and began to pack up her things. “I have heard many disturbing things about what people are capable of under the influence of these evil narcotics,” she said. “But I do not wish to believe you would strangle a man even in those circumstances, Credo Jovan.”

  “Don’t wish to, or don’t?” Kalina pressed her. She had subtly repositioned herself to be between Thendra and the door; the physic’s eyes darted momentarily to the exit and then, resigned, back to my sister. She didn’t say anything, and by the fortunes, that hurt, too. We weren’t close personal friends, so I had no right to her unconditional loyalty, but even so. She had known me for years, known my absolute loyalty to the Chancellor and the country. She must know I was no killer.

  “The man who strangled him,” I said quietly, staring down at my own hands. “He had enormous hands. Far bigger than mine. Is there a way to tell, on the body … would that make a difference?”

  She looked back at me over her shoulder, one hand fussing with the case of potions and bandages she carried. “I will look closely at any body that comes in,” she said.

  “Thank you,”
Kalina said, letting her pass.

  When Thendra had safely left the apartments, Hadrea settled herself down cross-legged at the end of my bed. “She will not cover for you,” she observed. “If she is not satisfied you could not have killed that man.”

  Kalina’s lips were very tight. “Thendra’s known our family her whole career. She’s never let on, but I think she knows what we do. We’ve always trusted her, that’s why she was the only one I’d have let come here tonight. But I wonder, now.” She bit her lip, looking thoughtful. “I wonder whether that stupid rumor…”

  “More poisoner than proofer.” The play that kept on giving.

  “I guess we can’t blame her. There is a certain element of … violence, about our family.” She gazed into the middle distance, assessing, wearing a strange expression I didn’t recognize. What was she thinking about? “You should get some more rest, Jov. We need you to be coherent tomorrow if someone comes knocking.”

  * * *

  Someone came knocking just after dawn. I was already awake, remembering fragments of the evening in all their humiliating glory, but unwilling to get out of bed and face it all. I heard Sjease’s smooth tones, the sounds of other voices. Guards? Despite everything, a coil of fear was building in my stomach. I should have found Tain last night, at least left him a message. Would he find out after the fact that his best friend, his closest adviser, the person supposed to protect him, had been dragged out of bed and arrested?

  But it was Sjease who came first to my door. “You have guests,” they said quietly, not bothering to pretend they thought I was asleep.

  “You sound far too chipper for someone on the morning after the masquerade,” I muttered, trying for a smile. They wouldn’t haul me anywhere. I wasn’t there, no one can prove I was there. “Didn’t I say you weren’t to work today?”

  Sjease crossed to my bedside. They were dressed in a bright robe and their skin and eyes looked clear. The only sign of the late night our house manager must have had was the faintest trace of gold paint still speckling their cheekbones and chin. If anything, that seemed like an arrestable offense. They handed me a warmed cup, which I sniffed carefully. Ginger, and the color suggested milkwort. “That should soothe your stomach.”

  I realized they must think I had overindulged at karodee, but I felt grateful all the same. I was partway through a sip when they added, quietly, “The Captain of the Order Guards is here to see you. I’ve left her outside, for now. Your sister is sleeping and looks unwell, so I didn’t want to wake her. Credo … I saw the physic come in late in the night.” My gaze was drawn up, almost involuntarily, to meet theirs. Sjease’s eyes were arresting, a layered dark brown that always appeared to be seeing right into me. Their gaze now was sympathetic, but very knowing, and left me feeling uncomfortably scrutinized, not knowing quite what to say.

  “Yes,” I said slowly, trying to think and finding my head frustratingly thick. I wanted Kalina here, always quick with a convincing story.

  But Sjease spoke before I could make up some explanation. “Do you remember what I told you when you hired me?”

  My lips twitched into an involuntary smile. Etan, Lini, and I had always managed on our own, even when we had to deal with my mother’s occasional visits leaving the household scattered like the aftermath of the Maiso. But after the siege, after Dija moved in, we needed a third adult to be in the apartments, as Kalina and I were often required to attend the same nighttime functions. And I had needed a secretary to stop me failing at managing the laborious burdens of being a Councilor during a period of dramatic change for the country. I remembered very well interviewing Sjease for the first time—Al-Sjease, as we called them then, the formal Darfri address for a person who was neither male nor female. They had worked in Telasa in the north, and on some of both our family’s and Tain’s lands farther west, and had been the first candidate to make Dija laugh. And I remembered what they’d said that had sealed the decision. I’d told them our family’s needs were perhaps a bit peculiar; unlike many other Credol Families our apartments housed just me, Kalina, and Dija, with occasional disruptive visits from our mother, Lailana.

  “We like to cook, so we’d keep doing most of the food preparation ourselves,” I’d said. “We’re very tidy—”

  “Credola Lailana isn’t,” Dija had said. “She needs tidying after.”

  “—and so we would just really be looking for someone who can help us with ordinary household cleaning and administrative tasks, responding to routine invitations and such, managing our schedule. It would be a live-in position, because one of the things I’d need would be someone to be home to supervise Dija when my sister and I have to go out at night.”

  “I don’t really need any supervising,” Dee had interjected.

  “Does that sound like the sort of job you’d be interested in?”

  “Yes, Credo. You can see from my background I’ve done work as a clerk, too, and I cared for children at several of my placings.” I remembered being skewered on the end of their rather thorough gaze. “If you don’t mind me saying, I heard a bit about your family from servants who’ve worked for the Chancellor, and I think we might be a good fit. I gather you like your space and your privacy and I’m very quiet and spectacularly un-nosy about things that aren’t my business.” Al-Sjease paused, then added, “I should say though, I’m an excellent cook, you’re missing out if you ban me from the kitchen.”

  The memory made me smile. Sjease was a perceptive and insightful person, but they had not exaggerated; if they were curious about the strange activities our family indulged in, they hid it so thoroughly it was impossible to tell from the outside.

  “I said I knew a bit about your family,” Sjease said. “And I had a sense, even then, what kind of people I was joining in with, so to speak.” They looked me over. “Overindulging in something isn’t what I’d call in character for you, Credo.”

  I sipped the milkwort beverage gratefully and returned Sjease’s gaze with bleary eyes. Suddenly, perhaps recklessly, I realized I did trust them. For all our careful rules we’d established, and however well they’d played along with them, over the course of the last few years they’d become a member of the household in their own right, and I wouldn’t lie and pretend we were dealing with a bit of karodee foolishness. “No. You’re right. That wasn’t me overindulging.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  I took a breath. The man, kicking feebly, his pleasurable oblivion turning to panic and fear before the end. “No. Not really.” The steam from the cup made a misty, warm coating on my face. Honor-down, my head hurt, but at least I could think. I had to stay calm, had to get through whatever interrogation I was about to suffer, and get this new information to Tain as quickly as possible. I took a calming breath, trying to silence the clamor of increasingly awful scenarios vying for attention in my head. “Sjease. Do you trust me?”

  Sjease cocked their head to one side. With their habitual carefully organized locks spilling from the central topknot, wound with a variety of beads and ribbons, and the remnants of gold paint giving their angular face a gleaming edge, there was something almost alien about the look. “I’ve lived with you and yours for two years now, Credo. I’d say if I was still here and I didn’t, the problem’d be with me.”

  Some of the tension in my fists released. “There was some trouble last night. I followed someone and ended up in the middle of something I shouldn’t have. Kalina and Hadrea got me out, but I don’t know if we did enough. People are going to ask questions.”

  A pause as they considered this. “Well, then. You know sticking my nose in isn’t my style, so I’ll just ask you this: Is there something I can help with? What can I get you that’s going to help you manage this?”

  I couldn’t stop Dija and Kalina from being involved, but at least I could insulate the others, stop them having to lie for me if at all possible. “I don’t want anyone involved who doesn’t have to be, I don’t think. Can you keep Etrika and Ana and the boys
from coming out to talk to the Guards?”

  They must have noticed who I left out; a tiny flinch, barely registered, passed over their features. Sjease was very protective of our youngest family member; they’d grown close, and perhaps the fiction of incuriosity about our affairs did not extend to indifference to dangers to which Dija might be subject. “I can. Anything else?”

  I grimaced. “A new head?”

  “All out of those at the market last I was there, but I do have some very refreshing finger-limes, fancy one of those?”

  “Sjease, could you just be fractionally less cheerful?” I muttered, rubbing my pounding forehead.

  “Yes, sir, somber it is.” They gave me an appropriately serious look. “How much time do you need for the Order Guards?”

  “I’ll be out before you make the tea. Just—delay them a little, all right?”

  They left the room and I struggled to dress myself without aggravating my injuries. The cold bucket last night hadn’t been pleasant but it seemed to have improved the ankle a little—I could walk on it, at least—but moving my arms enough to pull on a tunic and paluma set off a range of fresh pains in my chest and ribs. I heard Sjease’s voice at the external door, and Chen’s crisp tones in reply, then the door shut again.

  I creaked myself out of my room; Sjease stood looking between me and the door in turn, an unreadable expression on their face. Dija was emerging from her room, wrapped in a robe and her small face determined. There was no sign of Kalina, but perhaps she would sleep through this—last night would have cost her dearly in energy.

  “Are you all right? Are you ill?” I hastened over but Dija only nodded impatiently. She had a sick pan in one hand and she smelled like she’d just thrown up. She set it down beside her and grabbed one of my hands.

  “Sjease, was that the door? Would you mind getting it? I’m feeling unwell and Uncle Jov is too sore to get up.” Her voice was firm, and she looked at me with eyes entirely too knowing. “Trust me, please, Uncle,” she added quietly. Her gaze flashed to the kitchen, to the entrance to our hidden workroom.