Greystar

by C. L. Polk

  Those yellow flags were unadorned, but if they’d borne a ring of fifteen stars, they would have been the flag of Uzadal, the league of nations settled by the Samindan people. I paid the cabbie seven more marks, nodding as he touched his cap in thanks.

  I walked into the main entrance of the prison, battered by facts. Samindans didn’t oppress witches. They taught magic to their talented citizens.

  I fished my identification out of my hand-warmer and passed it to the gate guard. She looked at it, and then at me. “Your business?”

  “Visiting a prisoner,” I said, accepting my card back.

  “Which one?”

  “Avia Jessup.”

  The gate guard looked it up. “She’s still in processing.”

  “I will scrutinize the processing, then. Please provide an escort to her location.”

  The guard stepped out of the booth and unlocked the prison doors. “Howard. Take the Chancellor to see Avia Jessup. Prisoner 25318, Sedition.”

  Howard barely made the height requirements for guards, but he was wide across the shoulders. He led the way through stone halls to a lower level, and looked at a clipboard next to a heavy door marked “Medical.” He nodded and opened it, ushering me in.

  I walked into damp, chilly air and the smell of carbolic soap doing its best to fight the swampy aroma of mildew. Avia shivered on a table, clad in a thin hemp shift, the shoulders dotted from droplets falling off her wet hair. Her bare feet dangled above the floor, her makeup scrubbed off. She watched me walk in and her shoulders rose.

  “What do you want?”

  “Leave us,” I said.

  Howard shut the door, grinding the lock closed.

  I came closer. Avia shied away. I stopped, holding up empty hands. “Did they hurt you?”

  She rubbed one shoulder. “They would say no.”

  “And you would say?”

  “They stripped me,” she said.

  I nodded. “And then they scrubbed you. Louse control. The water was ice cold, and they soaked you. No towel. Then they gave you those charming garments to put on.”

  “They did it to you?”

  “The whole drill,” I said. “It tears your dignity away. Strips you of your citizenhood. Humiliates you, knocks you down. And if you struggle—”

  Avia winced. “You struggled.”

  I let that pass. “I had to know if you were all right.”

  She scoffed. “The guilt got to you?”

  “I didn’t do this,” I said. “I know you don’t believe me.”

  “It’s hard to prove a negative,” Avia said, “but try.”

  I reached into my pocket and handed her typewritten sheets of paper scattered with red ink. She held them up and read her own words, her lower lip caught between her teeth. She flipped the page, her eyes tracking over the lines.

  “You lean on passive voice.”

  “Occupational hazard,” I said.

  “Shh.” She read more slowly now that the words weren’t hers. She glanced at me. “So if you’re not a weather mage, you’re a weather mage’s lackey?”

  “It’s a terrible system,” I said.

  She nodded and read on, the light flaring in her eyes. “This is everything. You told them everything.”

  It made me warm to see hope in her eyes. “I also talked to a very handsome man who asked me questions about your arrest. They’re doing a story about it.”

  “Samindan? Ivory beads in his hair, likes bow ties, dresses like he’s teaching at university?”

  “Yes.”

  “John Runson. He’s my competition. He’s good.” She crossed her ankles and shivered. “You know, they could look at this new article and use it as evidence.”

  “I thought of that. I wondered if you would want to run it anyway.”

  “Out there, I would have said yes.” She looked away. “Feels different, once Kingsgrave swallows you whole.”

  “Was it a mistake?”

  She clutched the paper to her chest. “No,” she said. “I’m going to hang. I might as well go down swinging.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” I said. “I hired Dorothy Naismith.”

  Avia whistled. “She’s expensive.”

  “Money’s got to be good for something,” I said.

  She looked at me again, trying to push her hopeful expression into something neutral. “You really didn’t have me arrested?”

  “I didn’t.” Please believe me. Please.

  “Who did?”

  I bit my lip. “My father.”

  “You said that before,” Avia said. “But you didn’t say how he managed it, up in that cell.”

  “My first thought was that he subverted a guard,” I said.

  “Logical,” Avia said. “But traceable.”

  “Right,” I said. “I think it’s even wilder than that. I think he used birds.”

  Avia gave me a bemused look. “You’re going to have to explain that.”

  Behind me, the door swung open. Two guards and a clerk entered. The clerk blinked at me. “What are you doing here?”

  “Seeing to the accused’s welfare,” I said. “You need to supply her with warmer clothing. The prison’s unheated.”

  “She’ll be warm enough in the courtroom,” the clerk said. “We’re taking her to enter a plea.”

  “But her advocate isn’t here yet.”

  “An advocate will be assigned to her.”

  “No,” I said. “She hasn’t had a chance to be consulted. Her advocate is on the way here—”

  “The assigned advocate can do that.”

  “You don’t listen very well,” I said. “What is your name?”

  “Daniel Swan.”

  “Daniel Swan. I am declaring myself Avia Jessup’s interim advocate. I will act in her interest as needed.”

  The corners of his mouth pulled down. “This is highly irregular. You can’t do that.”

  “Can’t I?” I asked. “Am I not educated in Aeland’s laws?”

  “But you’re not a jurist. You—”

  “Write the laws jurists employ in the pursuit of a fair and uncorrupted pursuit of justice. Are you implying that I am unqualified?”

  He went pale. “No, but—”

  “Avia Jessup,” I said. “Do you accept me as your advocate in the interim, while you wait for Dorothy Naismith?”

  “I do.”

  “It appears I’ve been hired, Mr. Swan,” I said. “And as Miss Jessup’s advocate, I charge the court with misconduct.”

  Swan spluttered. “What?”

  “By law, an accused person gets six billable hours, not including time for meals, rest, and exercise, to consult with their advocate before a plea hearing. It can only be waived by the advocate and the client together—which is why you were trying to hustle my client out of here.”

  “You can’t—”

  “I can.” I looked at my watch. “Oh. It’s four hours after noon. The legal business day is over in thirty minutes, and then the clock doesn’t start again until seven thirty tomorrow morning.”

  “Chancellor,” the clerk protested. “That’s why we have to get her into court.”

  “Not today, Daniel.” I gave him a tight smile that invited him to go straight to the void. “Tomorrow’s not looking good either. I suggest you let the court know that they’re going to have to answer for misconduct before they can hear a plea.”

  The clerk shrank back. “No one told us she had an advocate—”

  “Did you ask?”

  “They never asked,” Avia said.

  “It’s time to go, Daniel,” I said. “Goodbye.”

  I watched him hang his head and leave. I counted to three before I let out a sigh and turned back to Avia. “You’re not leaving my sight until Dorothy gets here,” I said.

  “You—” Avia’s muscles tensed, and then paper crackled as she pressed right against me, her face buried in my sable fur. I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed.

  “You didn’t do it,” she s
aid.

  “I didn’t.”

  “You went to the Star and told them everything.”

  “I did.”

  “So now you’re a seditionist too,” Avia said. “For me.”

  “I won’t let you die.” I buried my nose in her wet, liniment-smelling hair. “I don’t care. I’ll spring you out of jail if I have to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” I said. “Because I want to be who I am when I’m with you.”

  “I don’t know if I can handle all that responsibility,” Avia said.

  “It’s not just you. It’s Miles too. And Tristan. All of you make me want to be better. All of you know exactly who you are, even if it’s not what you’re supposed to be.”

  She stood in my arms, her cheek resting against my shoulder, just as she had when she was asleep. I stood there with her, swaying gently as I held her close.

  A knock came at the door, and a guard opened it. “Prisoner Jessup, your advocate is here to see you.”

  Avia stepped away from my arms then, swiping at her cheeks. “Thank you. Please let her in.”

  “I’ll tell Dorothy’s assistant what happened. Here.” I stripped off my coat and settled it on her shoulders. “So you don’t get cold.”

  The hem touched the floor, settling on top of her bare feet.

  There was something I should say here, something that would mean everything I wanted it to. Cold air prickled at my skin while I searched for the right words.

  “I’ll let you and Mrs. Naismith talk,” I said.

  “Thank you.” Avia curled the coat around her, giving me one last smile before she shook Dorothy’s hand.

  * * *

  The cold in Kingsgrave Prison sank into your bones. I climbed stone stairs to the well-lit, labyrinthine halls of the main floor, and stopped at a hallway where all my routes into the prison crossed: the way that led to the palace, the way to the isolation cells, the way to the Tower of Sighs.

  I still burned to climb the tower and confront Father. But that was exactly what he wanted, and I wouldn’t give it to him. He’d find a way to further his schemes if he did—and I knew exactly what he wanted. Severin on the throne. Himself freed from prison—hang everyone else, but he would walk free, ready to weave his web back together again. He’d want the Chancellor position back, and he already had a plan to get it.

  I could go back to my office, where nothing I did was safe from the eyes of my secretary—Father’s secretary. I could pretend nothing was wrong, that I’d lost my coat somewhere—no, I wasn’t about to return to that particular den.

  The noise of marching boots echoed off the stone, and scarlet-coated Queensguards accompanying a gray-suited stranger strode past me and into the hall where we kept Niikanis. A premonition prickled against my spine, and I followed them, straight to Niikanis’s cell.

  “Stop! What are you doing?” I let my voice bounce off the stone. “No one is to interfere with this prisoner.”

  “Queen’s orders,” the lead guard said.

  “To do what?”

  “The Queen wishes to employ alternative methods of persuasion.” She nodded toward the man, who had cold blue eyes and lines that frowned on a clean-shaven face. “This is Examiner Johnson. He’ll be handling the questioning of the prisoner.”

  An examiner. I felt slime dripping down my neck. This man specialized in extracting confessions from witches. He used their own talents to torment them. He was going to use all those skills on Niikanis. He’d get his answers, or Niikanis would break like an egg.

  “You’re talking about torturing a diplomat,” I said. “You’re talking about committing an act that will plunge us straight into war with Laneer again—and the Queen told you to do this?”

  “She needs him to talk.”

  She needed to be able to blame Laneer for their attack on Aeland. She wouldn’t want to walk into Aife’s presence with nothing. “Do you want to do this? Do you want to hurt this man, listen to his screams? Will you enjoy it?”

  She glanced away. “It’s an order.”

  “Let me try,” I said. “Give me a few minutes with him. One last chance.”

  “Ten minutes.” She lowered her voice. “If we’ve spooked him, it might work.”

  I nodded. “Ten minutes.”

  They let me into Niikanis’s cell. A tray of food lay untouched by the door. He watched me with dull eyes.

  “I suppose you heard all that,” I said.

  “Let them take me,” Niikanis said. “I deserve to die.”

  And he deserved to suffer? I wasn’t going to ask him. I already knew the answer. “Is the ruler of the Star Throne more important than your daughter?”

  He looked at me, unspeaking.

  “I have a father,” I said. “He’s a power-hungry manipulator who was directly responsible for the reason Aeland declared war against Laneer. And he loves me.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, a defeated little smile on his face. “Fathers love their daughters.”

  “I believe you didn’t kill your daughter, even if she was going to betray the Star Throne. I’m positive you didn’t. But that means someone else did, and I don’t know who. But you might.”

  “Do you really care about that?”

  “Yes. Because Sevitii was about to negotiate peace between us. She was going to tell us who orchestrated the attempt to devastate Aeland with a necromantic attack. And in return, we were going to recognize Laneer’s right to govern itself. I don’t think Sevitii’s killer meant to prevent that peace, so it must have been to keep a secret.”

  He listened. He sat up straighter when I told him about her bargain but slumped when I mentioned secrets. He shook his head.

  I softened my voice. “Sevitii an Vaavut had a glorious destiny ahead of her. Her omen said so. Someone cut that destiny short. And I don’t believe that it was because Laneer would be better served by her silence. I think someone was saving their own skin. I think you know the person who killed Sevitii. You may not know that you know. So I’m going to tell you how she died.”

  Niikanis looked away, but he nodded.

  “When we found her, there was no sign that she’d fought an assailant,” I said. “Her chambers were locked. She was a prisoner. No one could get past the locks, or the guards at her door. She suffocated. She couldn’t get any air. We know this because of her eyes. They showed the signs of her fighting for air; she couldn’t breathe. But there were no signs of anyone covering her mouth and nose to keep her from breathing. No bruising around her mouth or her nose or her throat. Her airway was clear.”

  He glanced at me. “How did the murderer get in, if the doors were locked and guarded?”

  “We think that the attacker used magic to paralyze her lungs,” I said. “It’s just a guess. But we think it was done by means of the hair inside her star bangle, providing a magical link to Sevitii. So we know it’s a magic user. What we don’t know is which of the priests in your delegation had the most to lose if Sevitii talked. But one of them did.”

  He shook his head and looked at the floor.

  “What? I’m missing something,” I said. “Please. If I know who killed Sevitii, that’s the key to everything we need to know. One of your priests was involved in the decision to use the spells that bound Laneeri soldiers to the Aelander soldiers, so they could come here and fulfill the plan to usurp power here. You know who it is. I know you do.”

  He shook his head again, his gaze far from this room. He licked his lips, opened his mouth, and closed it again.

  I took a tiny step closer. “You know who it was,” I said. “Now you know exactly who it was, because of what I told you. Who pushed the plan forward?”

  He crumpled, bowing his head. He wrapped his arms around himself. “It’s no use,” he said. “Send in your torturers.”

  “Niikanis. Don’t you give up on me, not when we’re this close. Avenge your daughter. Tell me who pushed the plan.”

  He sighed and rubbed one side of his face. “We all
did,” Niikanis said. “All of us were in agreement. All of us learned the spell and then taught it to the other priests. We all persuaded holy people to commit this terrible act.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” I said. “This idea started with one person. One person with the knowledge of necromancy saw the potential for this spell to save your nation from the soul-engines. You know who it is. And you’re protecting them, even though they killed your daughter. They killed Sevitii. Her murderer denied her the air she needed.”

  Niikanis rocked back and forth, shaking his head, his eyes shut tight.

  “It took three minutes,” I said. “Three long minutes where Sevitii couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard she tried. Three minutes where she was terrified. Three minutes where she saw her death coming and couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

  Tears rolled down Niikanis’s face.

  “I’m so sorry she’s dead.” I crouched in front of him, looking into his face. “Not just because she was going to work on the side of justice. I liked Sevitii. She was bold. Brave. She had confidence in herself, complete faith in her abilities to serve a country she loved with all her heart. I thought we were a lot alike, and if I had been in her shoes, I would have done the hard thing to save the country I love too, because that’s what my father taught me to do.”

  His voice cracked on a sob. He took a deep breath, sat up straight, and gave me a tiny, sorrowful smile, the tears drying on his cheeks. “There’s nothing you can do. Sevitii will never be avenged. Her murderer cannot be punished.”

  “Why?” I said.

  Behind me, the cell door opened. “Time’s up,” the guard said. “Did you get an answer?”

  “One more minute,” I said. “Please.”

  “No,” Niikanis said. “Thank you for trying, Dame Grace Hensley. I will not forget that you tried.”

  “He’s one of your delegates,” I said. “What makes him so special?”

  Niikanis rose to his feet. He held his hands out. “I am ready.”

  “No!” I tried to get between him and the guard, glaring hard at the examiner. “I’m so close.”

  “We’ll handle it from here,” the examiner said. “You did a good job opening him up.”

  I shuddered at the compliment. “He’s not going to tell you,” I said. “He’s going to suffer at your hands because he wants to be punished.”