by Cayla Kluver
“You will handle it like a coward,” she sneered. “You will investigate, and you will determine nothing, and you will keep the foul nature of this deed a secret. If this were my Hytanica, the murder of one of my own would not be overlooked. Cokyri is the controlling force in this province, and these Hytanican curs need to be reminded of that, once and for all.”
Narian walked forward, kicking glass across the rug with the toe of his boot, halting when he stood face-to-face with her.
“This is not your Hytanica, Rava. I understand that Saadi was your brother and that you are grieving. Take time to do so. I will determine the cause of his death and what action should be taken.”
The silence echoed with pain, then Rava nodded. “Very well, Commander. I will see to Saadi’s burial. But he will not be given to the earth on Hytanican soil.”
She turned on her heel and departed, leaving Narian and I to stare at one another, fully aware of the volatility of the situation. Whatever had happened to Saadi, there was no way this would resolve well.
“I’ll look into it,” Narian murmured, then he followed Rava out the door.
* * *
Though as Grand Provost, Saadi’s death could easily have been my business, it became clear in one short evening that this was a Cokyrian affair. Rava’s brother had been a high-ranking soldier—unusual for a man, to be sure, in their culture—and there were many hushed conversations about him in the Bastion. Cokyrian soldiers glowered at any Hytanican who drew near, including me, and I stayed out of the matter both due to a desire to show respect and to keep tension from escalating. If I had not known the investigation was in Narian’s hands, I would have been afraid. The only positive aspect was that the matter was mostly a political issue, and so I went ahead with my plans for the Harvest Festival.
When I had concluded my duties for the day, I retired to my bedroom, anxiously awaiting Narian and whatever word he would bring on the alleged murder. I all but threw my book aside when he came through my window.
“Didn’t like what the author had to say?” he said by way of greeting.
I motioned him over, impatient, and he removed his weapons belt before sitting on the bed across from me.
“I went with Rava to examine her brother’s body.”
Though this notion gave me chills, I didn’t address it. “And?”
“No sword or dagger wounds. No wounds from any sort of weapon. He was either beaten brutally with fists or he fell from a significant height. Or he could have fallen from his horse and been dragged or kicked. From the bruises and the bones that were broken, the physicians think that he most likely fell, but they can’t be certain.”
This was a strange comfort to me, and I felt sick knowing that any attribute of Saadi’s death could lift my spirits.
“Then we have to assume it was an accident,” I forced myself to say.
“It looks that way, but Rava won’t easily accept that explanation.”
I frowned, imagining Narian’s attempts to deal with her, and what Rava would be feeling—no closure, no reason, no justice. It was terrible.
“Is there anything we can do for her?” I asked.
Narian shrugged. “Tomorrow I’m going to interview everyone who was on duty when Saadi died, to see if I can trace his movements. Other than that, I don’t think she wants anything from us, other than permission to transport his body to Cokyri. I am no friend of hers and neither are you. When the High Priestess is informed, she will offer Rava solace, and compensation for her brother’s sacrifice.”
“And until then?” The dim, flickering light of the lantern created an eerie atmosphere and seemed to finish my question: Can we trust her?
“Honestly?” Narian said, staring into my eyes and unintentionally increasing my foreboding. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“Well, then, is there anything I can do for you?”
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“From what I knew of Saadi, he was not only respected, but well-liked. And you would have known him better than I. You must feel his loss yourself.”
“He was a good man.” Narian stretched out on his back, and I tucked pillows underneath his head. “Saadi made it possible for me to believe that our goals were attainable, that Hytanicans and Cokyrians could come to understand one another and to cooperate with each other. His death, especially under suspicious circumstances, leaves me feeling defeated.”
He put his arm around me, and I curled up at his side, and I could almost feel him becoming more introspective.
“In some ways, Alera,” he quietly revealed, “I had more in common with Saadi than I did with any other Cokyrian stationed here.”
“You know, we Hytanicans have a name for someone like Saadi. We would call him a friend.”
“Interesting,” Narian said, and I knew I had given him even more to think about.
“Are you tired?” I asked, aware that he could not sleep on his back.
“Not particularly.”
“Good. Then I don’t have to move.”
He gave a soft laugh and kissed the top of my head.
“I will make any sacrifice for you,” he murmured, letting me drift into sleep.
* * *
As usual, Narian was gone by the time I woke the next morning. I rose and dressed, then went to meet Cannan in his office, generally my first meeting of the day. As I descended the Grand Staircase, I was surprised to find him talking to Narian in the Grand Entry.
“Come,” he said, as soon as his gaze fell on me. “We’re needed in the Hearing Hall.”
Without giving me a chance to reply, he led Narian and me through the antechamber and into the hall, where numerous Cokyrian soldiers milled. My eyes immediately went to the head of the room where Rava sat in one of the hearing chairs.
“Good of you to join us, Commander,” she contemptuously greeted Narian as we walked forward. “I have gathered all the soldiers who were on duty or who had contact with my brother on the night of his death. It’s starting to look like our Hytanican pranksters may have had something to do with his so-called accident.”
My blood turned cold at her comment, and I felt Cannan stiffen beside me. Pranks were one thing, but there was no way Galen and Steldor would have beaten a Cokyrian officer to death—at least not without significant provocation.
“We shall see, Rava, but I will talk to the witnesses myself. You are, of course, welcome to stay, but I will be conducting this proceeding. Keep your thoughts to yourself and do not interrupt, or I will order you from the hall. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Alera, Cannan, since this may implicate certain Hytanican citizens, you may wish to stay, as well.”
We nodded and I moved to sit in the other hearing chair, Cannan standing nearby. I knew from the daily reports that Saadi had provided to me that the Cokyrians generally had reliable proof before imposing their brand of swift, sure and often horrific punishment. Still, I didn’t want any determinations in this case to turn on Rava’s judgments.
As Narian questioned everyone from the guards stationed at the officer’s barracks to those patrolling the streets of the Market District, one thing became quite apparent—Saadi had spent a good part of the night in the company of a young Hytanican woman. While no one had a name or a very good description, the possibility existed that this girl may have led Saadi into a trap and to his death.
Cannan sat quietly, calm
ly, while fear and anxiety made me feel alternately hot and cold. I knew Shaselle and Saadi were acquainted, for he had brought her to us when she had been caught with an illegal dagger. Could she be the girl in question? Could she have had some involvement in Saadi’s death? While I did not want to believe it, this investigation was turning into a nightmare.
Having gathered as much information as he could from the Cokyrian soldiers, Narian dismissed them, then he turned to Rava.
“I will see if I can find this Hytanican girl, but you are to stay out of it. We need to know the truth before any conclusions can be drawn as to whether Saadi’s death was accidental or some sort of ambush. But until we know the truth, no action is to be taken against any Hytanican. Is that clear?”
Rava defiantly met his eyes, but did not respond.
“Is that clear, Rava?” he more forcefully asked.
“Yes, Commander, I will await your determination.”
“Good. You may leave.”
We watched her walk toward her office at the opposite end of the Hearing Hall, and then Narian turned to Cannan and me.
“We need to talk—your office, Alera.”
The three of us silently entered my study, Narian closing the door. Then he asked the question that was lurking in all of our minds.
“Could your niece be involved in this, Cannan?”
“Involved? I don’t think so. I know of no relationship between them. But even if she were with Saadi that evening, I don’t think she could have played a part in his death. Shaselle doesn’t have it within her to deliberately hurt someone.”
“What about Steldor and Galen? Could they have been involved?”
The captain shook his head. “No, of that I’m certain.”
“Very well,” Narian replied, surprisingly willing to accept Cannan’s answer, and I wondered what was transpiring between them beneath the surface. It felt as though they were realigning themselves, almost allying themselves. “I’ll need to talk to Shaselle. But not here, not in the Bastion.”
The captain hesitated for a moment, seeming to take Narian’s measure.
“Let me talk to her,” he finally said. “I give you my word that I will report to you whatever I learn.”
“Even if it implicates her or some other member of your family?”
“Even then. I will bring you the truth.”
The two men locked eyes and Narian nodded, choosing to trust the captain. Despite the dreadful circumstances in which we found ourselves, this was good progress.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:
BLACK BILE
SHASELLE
After a time, I couldn’t cry anymore, but still I lay in my bed. Cannan had brought me home, thinking my mother would be better able to tend to me, but my ailment was not one she could heal. I lay still, staring at my window, trying not to move, trying not to blink. Sometimes I would hold my arms close to my body and pretend I was frozen; sometimes I felt so cold that I was certain I was. Then my mother or Dahnath would step into the room and try to talk to me. But I had no voice. Not knowing what was wrong with me, they kept the younger children away, afraid I had fallen seriously ill.
I was ill. I was sick in my heart, in my gut, in my conscience. Maybe if I’d climbed down after Saadi, I could have gotten help for him. Maybe if I’d refused to bring him to my house, he never would have professed to love me, and I never would have told him about the weapons. Maybe if I’d said no to the wine, he would have neglected to drink as well, and he would not have lost his balance. Maybe if I’d listened to instinct, I would have stayed away from him altogether, and he would still be alive, and he would not even know who I was. Yes, that would have been best.
More than anything, I was terrified. I was terrified that someone would discover my secret, that the soldier we’d encountered on the street would remember I had been with Saadi that night and identify me to Rava. I was terrified of my own mortality, of the idea that I had been more inebriated than Saadi when we’d been climbing the tree. I was terrified that if I kept this to myself, I would be damned to hell, and I was terrified over my lie to Cannan about what had happened—Saadi had not brought this on himself. I had invited him to his death.
Strangest of all was that Saadi was gone. There was no warning when it came to death, there was no going back, there was no chance for one last conversation.
He had told me he was fine. At that thought, dry sobs racked me, making my throat ache. This was the worst kind of grief—my eyes had no more tears to shed, my body had no more energy to cry, and yet the urge to do so persisted. Why had he said he was fine? To protect me? He had dragged his broken body as far from my property as he could, probably to keep anyone from connecting me with what had happened. He must have known he was dying; he’d certainly known he was grievously injured. Yet he hadn’t told me. Was it because he’d loved me?
I hadn’t been in love with him. I knew that. But I could have been. I truly believed I would have been, eventually. A course that would have led to misery in the end, for Cannan never would have sanctioned a marriage between us. I would have been left heartbroken, and would always have yearned for him, wondering what type of life we might have had, Saadi and me together. The same sort of pain I was feeling now. But at least he would have been alive. If one of us was to die, it should have been me.
These thoughts spun round and round in my head, sometimes in a different order, but always the same. I knew nothing but the torture of my own mind.
The door opened, but I did not look. I never looked. My mother came around the bed and pulled up a chair to sit beside me, blocking my view of the window.
“Shaselle,” she said, reaching out a hand to push back my unkempt hair. “Shaselle.”
I stared at her with no alertness in my eyes.
“Love, please talk to me. Please say something.”
I clenched my teeth, feeling hot tears burning the corners of my eyes.
“I need to see the window,” I choked out, and it was enough to send those tears streaming down into my pillow.
My mother leaned closer to soothe me, moisture glistening on her own cheeks. “Don’t cry. No, don’t cry, darling. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
Clutching the underside of the pillow, I turned my face into it. How could I tell her? She stroked the back of my head, not minding my dirty tresses, eventually moving her hand down to rub my back.
“Shaselle, you know you’re safe here. Please tell me, are you ill?” She hesitated then pressed, “Did something happen?”
Her voice told me that she was afraid of the answer she might receive. I knew in that moment that I could never tell her what was wrong. It would hurt her. I couldn’t let her know that I’d been spending time with a Cokyrian, and I certainly couldn’t let her know that I was responsible for his death. And I couldn’t tell her of the weapons. I’d broken my vow of silence once, and was not about to do so again.
I shook my head back and forth, my face still buried in the pillow, wondering if it would be possible to suffocate myself. She sighed, then stood and departed. After an hour or so, she returned with a bowl of soup, which she left on the side table. I didn’t touch it.
Night fell, the best and worst time to be alone. The best because at long last, the city and my household slumbered—no one was thinking of me, no one was suspecting me, no one tried to talk to me about what had occurred. The worst time because the darkness of the world melded with the darkness of my nightmares, and I fe
lt I was losing my mind, myself, my very soul.
I dozed in and out of awareness until the sun rose once more, the day crisp and clear. As I studied the bit of sky I could see through the window, sounds from the hallway infiltrated my gloom—the shuffling of footsteps, my mother’s voice and that of a man, the creak of the door as it opened.
My visitors entered and stepped around to my side of the bed, three in number. I had only heard one man, but there were two. I shouldn’t have been surprised—Galen had brought Bhadran, physician to the royal family, known to be the best doctor in the kingdom, no doubt at Cannan’s instruction.
My mother and Galen stood together in the background while Bhadran took the chair next to the bed that she had vacated. I watched him despondently. Why did everyone insist on blocking the window? I needed to see the window.
“Good morning, Shaselle,” Bhadran greeted me. “Will you permit me to examine you?”
I didn’t bother answering. Doing so would have expended energy I did not have, and his question was posed out of politeness. He would examine me regardless of my response. After a moment, he lifted my wrist, feeling for my pulse.
“Well, you’re alive,” he joked, then he spoke to my mother and Galen. “A good, strong heartbeat.”
My mother pressed her palms together in an attitude of prayer, apparently having entertained the possibility that I was dying.
“No fever,” Bhadran next pronounced, removing his hand from my forehead. He lifted the blankets, checking the skin of my arms, legs, abdomen and back. “No rashes or injuries, either.”
His voice had grown puzzled, and he considered me with a crease in his brow.
“Shaselle, do you remember being around anyone of late who’s been ill?”
I shook my head, knowing the silent reply could be interpreted more than one way, but feeling too dreary to care.
“Has she been vomiting?” the doctor asked my mother.
