City of Lies

by Sam Hawke

  He said something to the barkeep and the ancient fellow closed his lips over bulging teeth and shook his head. The man raised one hand then let it drop, shrugged, and turned away. Refusing to serve him? A reminder that the distrust within the city went beyond the Darfri; any outsiders were finding things hard in the increasingly tense conditions.

  I almost left then, until I saw who was sitting at the table he approached, and my heart started skidding around like a live thing in my tight chest.

  Varina the Theater-Guilder sat in a dark corner with Hasan, a prominent musician in her Performers’ Guild and, I remembered, the same man who had performed at Lazar’s lunch on the day of the poisoning. She must have come straight here after the Council meeting. Nothing prevented a Councilor having a break and a cup of kori, but this bar was nowhere near her Guildhall, her sector, or her apartments.

  I lurked at the edge of the window, keeping the Doranite man in my view but staying outside Varina’s line of sight. The three spoke briefly and then exchanged something, though a lamp and several cups obscured my view, so perhaps they had merely moved their hands at the same time.

  The Doranite man stood and strode toward the door. I stepped away from the window and pretended to be reading the sign, but needn’t have bothered; he went past me without a glance, cramming his hat back on, his pace quick. Before I could move away from the doorway to follow him, Varina was upon me, too, Hasan right behind her, a pile of coins on the table for the abandoned drinks. Her already tense face tightened at the sight of me. I suppressed my frustration at being spotted and sauntered up, casual, smiling, remembering how she had reacted the last time she’d been challenged. It gave me confidence.

  “Theater-Guilder! I was passing and I saw you through the window.” I gestured to the kori cups. “I was just on an errand—what brings you all the way over here?”

  Varina swallowed. She smoothed a hand over her hair and glanced at her companion. “I’ve had a busy day with Council business, dear,” she murmured. “And I met a friend for a drink. Even in these times, friendships are important, as you doubtless know, with your relationship with our Honored Chancellor.”

  The musician Hasan put a hand on her waist, one eyebrow raised and the hint of a smug smile on his lips. Varina wouldn’t be the only one to assume my friendship with the Chancellor was something more. I suspected Tain let people assume that, for convenience, and though I didn’t want to be bothered, it still had the power to wound me even after all these years. I couldn’t tell whether Varina meant to insult, provoke a reaction, or simply fish for information. I smiled more broadly.

  “Actually, I almost ran into your friend just now, coming in. I saw him sitting with you.” Impulse and sudden wild speculation took me, and it was my turn to fish. “He’s one of Credo Lazar’s servants, isn’t he? What was his name—Batbayer?”

  The forced smiles dropped off their faces. Varina’s gaze darted away to the side and Hasan’s fat lips twisted into almost a snarl. I kept my face smooth as they shifted from foot to foot, sweating, trying to decide what I knew and what I didn’t. Etan had taught me the value of silence.

  Varina tried for a laugh, but managed only a husky “ha.” “Not a friend, as such. Just a Guild member.” For the head of the Performers’ Guild, her acting was poor.

  “Wonderful. Tain’s been trying to speak to Lazar’s servants since the day our uncle died, but it’s been hard to find them. Now I know he’s one of your Guild members, you’ll be able to help us talk to him.”

  She didn’t meet my gaze. “I don’t know who he works for, Credola Kalina. And we don’t keep address details for our members.”

  “That’s funny,” I said, my tone still light. “I’ve been looking over the Guild rolls, and they definitely listed members’ addresses. Now that you say that, I didn’t see his name, either.”

  Hasan folded his arms, glaring at me, his thick eyebrows drawn together. “Why were you looking at our Guild rolls, then?” He took a step closer, and fear surged inside me. I glanced around, but the bartender was the only other person inside, and he was hunched over with his back turned at the other side of the room.

  Her companion’s aggression seeming to restore her confidence, Varina put her hands on her hips and tossed her hair. “You’re speaking with a Councilor, Credola. Kindly remember your manners.”

  “My apologies, Theater-Guilder,” I said, all meekness. “I know you’re terribly busy. I’ve got the rolls. I’ll find the address myself, shall I?”

  I wanted to laugh as they pushed past me; the sensation of controlling the situation was so foreign and so welcome. If they were our enemies, whether connected to the poisoning or the siege or both, at least direct attack was obviously beyond them.

  * * *

  Our apartments reeked almost as badly as the sewers, though in a different way. “Jov? What’s going on?” I slipped the wet cloak off.

  He was in the proofing room, wearing spectacles and a cloth over his nose and mouth, and he gestured at me to stay back as he closed the lid of a chest on the bench. I watched, wary, and jumped when a shattering pop came from within. He checked my position then cautiously opened the chest.

  A puff of fine gray sprang out, and we both skidded backward. Jov waved me out and shut the door behind him. He pushed down his mask and gave me a satisfied grin; I’d never seen him look more like Etan, and I had to turn away to hide the flood of sudden, unexpected grief that struck me.

  “What was that?” I asked eventually, masking the emotion with sharpness.

  “You gave me the idea,” he said, setting down the spectacles and mask. “I’ve been thinking of things I should carry in the pouches you made. Then I thought, what if we could use some of these during the next attack? When I used them down there, the rebels were terrified. Half our city seems to be convinced they’re going to use some kind of spirit magic on us. So why not turn that fear around on them?” He showed me a list of notes, boyish excitement making him speak faster than usual. “Look, here’s what I was thinking. If we put stingbark powder in water and tipped it over the attackers, it’d make their skin itch and burn; and if we mixed it with something viscous, it’d stick to their skin. Malek’s acid will dissolve wood in a breeze, and metal, too, if you give it a bit of time; if we could get the engineers to make some—Etan knew how, he’s got all the instructions here—we could use it to try to disable a ram or even a range weapon, if we could fire a container of it accurately.”

  I looked over the list, leery. Etan had loved to experiment with various chemicals, but I recalled more mistakes than successes. “And whatever you just burst in there was…?”

  “Oh. Art’s tonic.” He carefully didn’t look at me. I was all too familiar with that heavy sedative. Etan had used it during my bad episodes, dissolving the powder in a solution, then boiling it so I could breathe in the steam. “If you breathe in the powder directly that works, too. Better, actually, though it’s a lot less comfortable. I was just seeing if I could make it pop and spread broadly if I sealed it in a container and then added something that would react together to make a gas. That was pica paste with vinegar in a jar.”

  I couldn’t remember what pica paste was, but it hardly mattered. “That’s really clever, Jov.” I paused. “And nothing that will kill.”

  He looked at his hands. “I would kill if I had to,” he said, almost fiercely. “To protect you or Tain, of course I would. I did, on the walls, in the battle. But…”

  But he didn’t want to. Protectiveness was built into him; it was impossible to separate his duty to his family and Tain’s from his identity, but I knew too well how fixated he was on the consequences of even his minor actions and inactions, playing out blame and judgment in a hundred different ways. He did not want extra burdens. “I understand.”

  He didn’t respond, but some of the tension left his shoulders. “Anyway, where have you been?” He opened the secret door to check if the cloud had dissipated. “I thought you’d be back here.”
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  I hesitated. Already his distraction was fading and his sharp eyes were taking in the damp ends of my hair and bottom of my dress. I’d been sure he’d be pleased. Suddenly that seemed shortsighted. As I recounted it my words faltered at his increasing frown.

  “You what?”

  “I followed him,” I said. “He didn’t see me.”

  “Lini.” He rubbed his forehead, pained. “He could have, though.”

  “He didn’t,” I repeated. “Jov, he was a Doranite.” I seized on his renewed interest and finished the story, avoiding eye contact as I mumbled through my confrontation with Varina and Hasan. My satisfaction with my discoveries had drained out along with my energy.

  “What made you think it was Batbayer?”

  I shrugged. “I had his name on a list of people to watch out for in any of the rosters. And when I saw them together I just made a guess. I didn’t really expect to be right.”

  “You shouldn’t have baited them,” he admonished. He started to pace, but broke disjointedly to look me up and down, as if searching for undisclosed injuries. “I don’t like any part of this. What were they exchanging? Something for Batbayer to smuggle out of the city? Information? We need to let Tain know.”

  My throat burned with things unsaid. Hating my silence but lacking the energy to quarrel, I followed him into the Manor. We met Tain, returning from the training grounds, outside the Manor gate. He dismissed his servant guards as we came inside.

  When we passed Argo in the Manor entryway, I smiled at him, and fancied I saw a flicker of a response on the old man’s face. Tain stopped. “Argo, you’ve been here all day, every day for weeks,” he said. “Let me get some assistance for you to manage the entrance.”

  Argo shrugged, not making eye contact. His heavily lined face twitched a little as he replied. “I don’t have any family, Honored Chancellor. I’m too old to help the defense on the walls. If I stay here, no one comes into the Manor without my say so, and there aren’t any surprises for you.”

  Tain clasped the little man’s shoulders. “Thank you,” he said. “You’ve served my family so well. I want you to know I appreciate it.”

  Argo blinked, his pursed mouth working silently. I turned away to hide a smile. Tain had the charm his uncle had sometimes lacked. If we lived through this siege for him to rule properly, perhaps he’d be a leader to be reckoned with.

  We filled Tain in on his way to his rooms, waiting while he cleaned and changed.

  “And you’re sure it was Lazar’s servant, Lini? They admitted it?” Tain appeared, looking more presentable in a clean paluma.

  “No,” I said. “But there wasn’t any doubt. It was like I’d slapped her.”

  “Then we need to find this man,” he said. He fished around in his satchel and brought out a dark fold of bread, which he raised to his mouth. Jov sprang to his feet.

  “Where did you get that?” He snatched the bread. “I haven’t proofed it.”

  “I picked it up at the ration station when I was done with training,” Tain said, his tone defensive. “No one knew I was going there, so it can’t have been tampered with.”

  Jov sniffed the bread and opened the fold. “There’s oku meat on this, which means it’s not part of the normal rations. Who made it? What ration station?”

  “The one in Bradomir’s sector, up near the tournament grounds,” he said, eyes on the food longingly. “I don’t know who made it—whoever was manning the station, I guess. There was a woman there who helped me. Jov, I haven’t eaten in forever. I want that. I’m not waiting for hours.”

  “You can have it once I’ve proofed it and we’ve waited. Were you even listening to Lini? A member of your Council meeting secretly with a servant who was there when our uncles were poisoned, and you think today’s the day to start being a fool?” He broke off a small piece of the bread and sniffed, examining it with fingers, eyes and nose, then tongue. To me, of course, it looked like regular flat black bread. But like Jov had said, meat was not part of the rations being divvied out in the stations. Either someone had specifically prepared that meal for Tain, or ration stations were reserving superior food for certain classes of people. I hoped it was the latter—a problem, but one that could be fixed.

  Behind us, Tain paced about, scowling. Hunger made him irritable. But my eyes were only for my brother. Even though I’d seen this a hundred times, my heart raced still. Always, always, at the forefront of my mind was that if Etan hadn’t detected the poison that killed him, Jov wouldn’t either.

  “I’ve safe food at my apartments,” Jov said. “We can—” He broke off, looking at his hand. I drew closer as he rubbed grease between his fingers, smelled it, then licked it gingerly. He took a bite of the meat and chewed. Tain was looking between Jov and the food and back again. He started to say something but even as he opened his mouth Jov spat the meat into his hand.

  “Slumberweed,” he said, stricken. “Honor-down, Tain, it’s poisoned.”

  Praconis/slumberweed

  DESCRIPTION: Long-living and hardy ground cover favoring exposed, dry conditions, used by physics as a sedative for centuries. Grows small thorny fruit containing hundreds of lightweight seeds. Green parts and seeds are toxic.

  SYMPTOMS: Consumption of leaves will induce drowsiness, peaceful sleep, eventually coma, depending on quantity. Seeds are far more dangerous and cause slow reduction of motor control, lack of energy, heart irregularities, and eventual sudden heart failure.

  PROOFING CUES: Taste of the leaves is bitter, astringent; smell is refreshing, reminiscent of rain. Seeds are distinctively oily and have a burn similar to pepper.

  9

  Jovan

  I rinsed the oily taste of the slumberweed seeds from my mouth. I hadn’t swallowed any of the meat, and had an antidote on hand, but still my pulse pounded as I rinsed and spat a dozen times in the basin. Closing the secret cupboard containing antidotes and other supplies my Tashi had kept in Chancellor Caslav’s rooms, my hands shook. I had taken the seeds in small doses before, with Etan, but finding them in Tain’s food was different. Had he consumed the quantity in that portion of oku, his heart would have failed within the week.

  Tain hadn’t said a word since we’d arrived at Caslav’s rooms—just helped me to the cupboard, handed me things, and refilled my cup after each rinse. His silence was unnerving and my nerves were frayed enough as it was. I wasn’t enjoying being proved right about his being in danger. Kalina went back to our apartments to fetch him some proofed food and Tain dropped bonelessly into a cushion, burying his hands in his armpits, hugging his chest. I helped myself to Caslav’s collection of kori, knowing it was probably a mistake—alcohol dulled the senses. I passed a cup to my friend and he accepted it in silence.

  We put away the best part of a bottle together, more than I’d drunk in years, but finally setting my empty cup down, I had never felt more sober.

  Tain looked up at me, haggard, his eyes years older than they’d been an hour ago. I didn’t want to have the conversation lurking there.

  “We need to know who made that,” I said, blocking the topic before he could raise it. I knew the moment would come. I’d known since Caslav died, and probably before that, if I was honest, that Tain had reservations about my role. “We’ll need to go back to the ration station. We’ll need to know who was there, who had access to the food.…” I rubbed my forehead, conscious again of the headache the poison had temporarily made me forget. Our enemy was still here, targeting Tain, and he or she wasn’t familiar with only one poison.

  “Jov, I’m sorry,” Tain said, voice croaky. “I should have listened to you. I just…” He trailed off.

  “I know,” I said, heaving myself out of the chair, my stiff body and the alcohol making me awkward. “You stay here. I want to see where you got this.”

  It was a mark of how shaken Tain was that he didn’t argue. I’d never seen him so unsettled, not even the day our Tashien had died. I left him sitting alone by the door, head in his hands.
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  Next I traced Tain’s steps to the lower city, wishing I’d not drunk so much. In a way, though, the queasiness distracted me from the throbbing headache, the bruised ribs, and the compulsions threatening to overcome me. The miserable on-and-off drizzle was a welcome sensation on my hot skin. I wanted to first investigate the station alone; bringing an Order Guard would just announce to the poisoner that we had caught the poison and were actively looking for our enemy.

  Every season since childhood I’d sat at the tournament grounds with Tain and Kalina, cheering and betting on my favorite athletes. Now it was barely recognizable. Where once the mighty stands had enclosed obstacle courses, marked fields for games and running tracks, the soggy grass was now peppered with groups of men and women under the direction of a few uniformed instructors. One sodden group fired arrows into straw targets while another hacked at one another with cane swords and axes. Marco, directing the archery group, spotted me and waved.

  I joined his group. “It’s been years since I’ve taken a martial class. Think I can still shoot a bow?”

  He handed me one with a smile. “This shift is almost done, but join the line, Credo Jovan. I will soon have you in shape. Even in this weather.”

  There were a variety of men and women in the line, their tattoos showing a mix of Guild membership and even the occasional Family sigil. The arrows were cane ends blunted with fat little sacks. The arrow that had protruded from the man’s neck on the wall had been bone. I made a note to ask Kalina if she could find out which countries used bone arrows.