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“Ah, our redheaded beauty. How could I forget? Is that all you want to say, my dear? Don’t you have any gratitude?”
“You need my gratitude like the Heavenly Deity needs a torch,” the girl said with a cynical laugh. “You wanted to ask me about your friend, is that right?”
“I believe we already asked,” Vordius shot back. “Now tell us everything you know. We’re listening most attentively.”
“Let me get my pants off first. They’re full of water and I need to wring them out,” Sorgius broke in.
“I don’t care if you dance naked, just keep your mouth shut!” Vordius growled.
Fenia tittered in the dark.
“Don’t get distracted,” the guardsman said, keeping her focused on their grim reality.
“Of course. The poisoning. Why do you think it was me?”
“Sorgius, did you get your pants off already? Let’s tie her up in them and toss her in the river. I think she’s forgotten that we just saved her life.”
“I was just asking a question. Don’t get sore.”
“I saw you pour something on his food,” Sorgius bluffed. “I thought it was a spice, but it obviously wasn’t.”
“I didn’t know it was poison, either. May my eyes never see the Sun again if I’m lying!”
Vordius whistled. “What are you saying?”
“They told me it was a laxative.”
“And you believed it?”
“I didn’t care, honestly. Two hundred leros is serious money.”
It was Sorgius’ turn to be shocked. “Good grief! That’s an enormous amount of money for a prostitute.”
“I’m not a prostitute!” Fenia cut him off. “And don’t you dare call me one!”
“I can call you whatever you like, but it’s all the same.”
“You don’t know anything about me, and it’s not your place to judge!”
Sorgius smiled. “But of course. You just look for men to be friends with. Money’s got nothing to do with it!”
“Listen, Fenia,” Vordius rejoined the conversation. “This isn’t an official interrogation, but whether you meant to or not, you almost caused the death of our close friend. You have to tell us about yourself, your ties with Asp and who gave you the cistrusa!”
For a while, the only sound they could hear was an occasional fish splashing. Finally, the girl took a deep breath.
“Fenia is my real name. It’s a common name, so there’s no reason to hide it. I never had a family. I made up my last name, Brazelo. I was adopted by the Iron Carp gang before the Iristenians killed them all. Rich men hired us – pretty little girls – for parties and other events. We danced for them. Sometimes they told us to just stand around smiling like nymphs. People at the parties told us we were beautiful, and we were glad if they gave us something to eat. We slept together on rough mats, and when it was cold at night, we huddled together for warmth. We were always hungry, but…” she paused, “…it was the best time in my life. The nightmare started when the Iristenians took over the port. They murdered all the Iron Carps and made all of us sisters sell our bodies. If a girl tried to refuse, they would beat her and then rape her. All of them.” Fenia was silent for a moment. “They couldn’t make me do anything, so they tossed me, beaten and bloody, onto the trash heap for the dogs to finish off. I still see one of those dogs when I close my eyes. We stared each other in the eye, each of us trying to survive. It wanted to fill its belly and the bellies of the other dogs with my meat. I wanted to force it to find easier prey. I don’t know how, but I won that staredown and the dogs left the trash heap. For a while, I lived there, eating whatever I could find. I was thirteen when I killed my first dog and ate it. I still remember it.”
She fell silent again, and Vordius thought he saw tears in her eyes. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for a person who had suffered more in her short life than he and Sorgius had been through, even put together.
Fenia took a deep breath. “I never thought I’d get out of that hole, but then everything changed,” she continued her story.
“Asp showed up?” Vordius asked eagerly.
“Yes. He brought together what was left of the old port gangs and kicked out the Iristenians who had grown soft and stupid because they thought they had absolute power. They had all the civil servants and the guards on their side, but Asp…they were like mice compared to him.
“Have you ever seen him?”
“Are you kidding? Nobody’s ever seen Asp, except his most trusted chiefs. He is his own weapon and his own army. The Iristenians had nine elders – nine gray-headed leaders. Asp killed all of them with his own hands, some at night, some in bright daylight in front of their own bodyguards. He is invulnerable. He always appears out of nowhere, strikes like a snake, and disappears as if he had never been there at all. The Iristenians were warriors, puffed up with their own bravery and fearlessness, but he turned them into cowering dogs. They panicked like sheep. When the destitute people of the port realized what was happening, they raised up and turned on the Iristenians. It was a bloodbath. People wanted revenge for seven years of oppression. When it was over, Fire Asp owned the southern port and he put everything back in order. Every single person knew his place and his share. There was no more infighting. Under Asp, people are earning more. We’re doing business with important people from other provinces, but we make sure that part of the profits go to help the poor, the sick, and the orphans.”
“You make him sound like a humanitarian,” Vordius noted sourly. “I guess he’s been good to you.”
Fenia stared back at him. “He gave me a chance to do work that I’m good at. Yahey, his right-hand man, said that my body is beautiful, but it does not feel pleasure. Still, it would be a crime not to use it. So I work as an actress and I’m proud of what I do.”
“An actress?” They all heard Sorgius slap himself on the forehead. “How did I miss it? Your figure distracted me, that’s how.”
Vordius was ashamed. “I apologize for calling you an unpleasant word. I didn’t know you were from the world of the arts…” He would have continued, but the Vuravian’s laughter interrupted him. He scowled. “Why are you laughing like a horse? I just don’t have time for the theater…”
“We aren’t talking about the theater, you fool. Were you thinking she plays queens and priestesses in history plays at the Honto theater? You’re absolutely naïve. When thieves say a woman is an actress, they mean she draws in dimwits off the street, gets them drunk and relieves them of their cash.” He turned to Fenia. “Now I know why they had her go after me.”
“But who did the choosing? That’s the question,” said Vordius, chewing on his bottom lip. “Describe the man. How did he find you?”
“He was a client like any other,” the girl shrugged. “He approached me and took me upstairs to a room. I thought the Heavenly Deity had sent me an easy mark. But as soon as the door closed behind us, he changed like a snake sheds its skin, and I froze. He tossed a purse at me and told me it contained a hundred leros. He asked if I wanted to earn as much again doing what I was already doing. He gave me a phial of something to use on your friend and pointed me toward Sorgius in front of the tavern. Once you were inside, it wasn’t hard at all for me to talk my way into your party.”
“Ha! And you had your eye on her!” Vordius needled his friend. Turning back to Fenia, he asked, “How did he know so much about us? He had to have known about Uni’s appointment, that we were getting together at the Fish, and that he had a friend with a weak spot for pretty women. He must have had a source at the palace.”
“I don’t know about that,” Fenia said simply. “He just said that your friend Uni had jumped over his head to get an important job and he wanted to humiliate him in front of his friends. With the laxative. I think you understand…”
“What nonsense!” Vordius exploded. “How on earth could you believe it?”
“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “I didn’t really think about it. He gave me the money up front. It’s not my business what other people have in their heads!”
“Fine. But what did he look like? Can you at least remember that?”
“I can. I have a good memory for faces. Although I doubt anyone would forget a face like that.”
“Was he ugly?”
“Not exactly, but he wasn’t to my taste. I don’t like these folks from the plains. They’re worse than even the Iristenians.”
“Wait, he was from the wastelands?”
“Yes. He had a funny little beard and squinty black eyes. And his name was hard to pronounce. Abd…Abdarhyz, I think it was.”
Vordius threw up his hands. “And you believed that a nomad from the Great Expanse was angry at Uni over an official appointment?”
“I didn’t know if he was telling the truth or not. I told you – I didn’t care. He had money, and that was good enough for me.”
“How stupid could you be? People die because of fools like you!”
“Stop it, Vordius!” Sorgius interrupted the guardsman’s outburst. “Now inform me, my dear, how do you know his name? Did he go right out and tell it to you?”
“No, it wasn’t like that,” she said cautiously. “He gave me another name first, and I didn’t even bother remembering it, because it was obvious he was lying. But later, when he took me downstairs to show Sorgius to me, a strange man came up to my client and wouldn’t stop talking to him. It seemed like he was an old friend or even a relative. He kept asking my client to drink with him, but the man put him off, saying he didn’t have time. Not now. The other man said ‘How about tomorrow?’ and my client said ‘No, I’ll be racing to Lumdyrbag tomorrow.’ So the other man sighed and asked him to caress the mouths of his relatives.”
“What?”
“She’s right, Sorgius, that’s how the Sotrays talk. But you can’t make me believe they were speaking Herandian. Or do you understand Sotray?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the girl.
“I don’t speak Sotray,” Fenia said with annoyance, “but it’s very close to Iristenian, especially the simple words, and I learned Iristenian on the docks when I was a child.”
“That could be,” Sorgius sighed. “Where does that leave us? A Sotray named Abdarhyz from Lumdyrbag. It’s enough to tie your tongue in knots! He’s obviously just a middleman, and anyway, he’s off racing his horse across the sands of the Great Expanse. You couldn’t catch him now, even if you had the world’s biggest net!”
“Don’t be so hasty, Sorgius. In case you didn’t know, Lumdyrbag isn’t a province. It’s a town. And the people who live there are more or less settled.”
“A town in the wasteland?”
“It isn’t exactly in the wasteland. To be precise, it’s located between the wasteland and the Zabotay mountains.” Vordius was enjoying himself. “There used to be a king there named Drazgarb who did a good deal of trading with the Iristenians. He tried to unite all the Sotrays under one throne, like our Empire, but it didn’t work out and he got himself killed. By his own men. Or that’s the official story. But he did manage to build a town or something along those lines. It isn’t a big place, but at least we have an address to start with.” He scratched his head. “Although to be honest, I don’t know what to do about it. Or what we are going to find there. The Expanse is a long way off…”
“Exactly. Right now, we’re the ones who need finding,” Sorgius sighed. “Now get up and row before the current carries us all the way to Ulin.
“But which way? It’s pitch black out here, and I bet all the cutthroats from the port are waiting for us on the bank. We’re Asp’s personal enemies.”
Sorgius laughed. “Didn’t you used to call them a bunch of rabble from the port?” He shook his head. “Just row in place for now. If we see a boat with lights, we’ll try to follow it. Once we get back to the city, we’ll find a place to jump off. But there’s one thing. What are we going to do with Fenia? They’ll chop her into tiny pieces if they find her!”
“She’s not my problem,” Vordius shot back. “I have a fiancée.”
“I can’t take her home,” Sorgius objected. “My father told me not to bring any more women home. After that one time…”
Something in the bow rustled and they heard Fenia’s voice. “Don’t bother. I already owe you my life. I’ll spend the night in some lice-infested hostel for the homeless, and in the morning I’ll strike out for one of the provinces.”
“How could I forget about the inn!” Sorgius exclaimed. “Have no fear, we will put you up in style. You’ll be fed and have a clean bed to sleep in.”
“Sorgius!” The guardsman sounded shocked in the dark. “You don’t mean…”
“I do! It’s all settled! Don’t bother arguing. Look!” he cried, “there’s a light just above the water. Stop talking and get behind it. I’m sure it’s a Capotian merchant. Don’t worry, Fenia. Your fate is in good hands!”
Chapter 2. All about Her
The man behind the table read the scroll closely, and the careless way he held it contrasted strangely with the deep attention in his eyes, which looked as if they were prying what he needed to know out of the very parchment. His chair was of light-colored Torgendam oak, but it had been made so long ago that it had turned dark red-brown. The rest of the furnishings in the room – rugs, paintings, a massive bronze lamp, bookshelves, a marble bust of Norius the Founder, and even the quill pens on the desk – had at least three things in common. First, all of them bore the visible mark of history, because they were very old, some of them even ancient. Second, they were extremely expensive, and not only because they were antiques. And third (which only an expert in antiques would have noticed), they had all belonged to different people in the long-gone past. To be precise, they all once belonged to the greatest emperors of Herandia, who had led the country for the last four hundred years. But the room’s inhabitant would not have liked a loud statement like that. He was vain enough to want to enjoy his treasures in the peace and privacy of his own study.
On the day in question, the lover of costly antiques had made an exception. This exception half-reclined on a sofa made of ekva wood, which only grows in one place on the island of Rbun, which is a two-day sail off the coast of Unguru. Some said that a sofa very much like it had been presented to Emperor Nazalio by an ambassador from the high priest of Mustobrim, who had hoped to prevail upon the Emperor to allow priests of the one invisible god to preach their faith in Herandia. The request had been denied, and now the sofa was occupied by a woman of somewhat less than noble blood. Perhaps it was this knowledge of her humble origins, which had caused her much suffering in secret, that caused her to compensate by means of the most extravagant clothes. Enormous gold earrings with turquoise stones matching the color of her loose dress of the finest Ulinian silk – all in the style worn in the times of the continent’s first kings – contrasted oddly with a lavish necklace of sparkling diamonds, emeralds and topazes, each the size of a fingernail. The effect was antiquated and even a little tasteless, but altogether, the woman radiated a strange, unapproachable magic.
“You’re early,” the man said in a monotone without looking up from the scroll.
“I know,” the woman said in a distracted voice. “But you’re still happy to see me, aren’t you?” The question did not sound like a question.
The man sighed heavily and set aside the scroll with the look of a man who knows that he won’t get much done today.
“You’re certainly dressed up!” he observed skeptically, casting a glance at his companion’s new image.
“I have to wear it all sometime,” she shrugged. “I always dreamed of wearing heavy earrings like these so that my earlobes would stretch to my shoulders like those gorgeous Unguru women's!” At this, she laughed.
“Very well!” the man smiled generously. He scratched his shoulder and began to massage his deltoid muscle. This was made easier by the simple sleeveless tunic of linen he wore.
“I hate it when you do that,” the woman said, making a face. “It’s unhealthy narcissism, if not worse.”
The man’s face took on a business-like expression. “Tell me, how are our affairs?”
“Did you see the report from the inspectors?” she replied with a question of her own.
“What’s the point?” the man yawned. “Sometimes I think we pay them just to distract attention from our real agents.”
“Perhaps, but you always manage to find something important. If not for the present, then for the future.”
The man leaned his head to the right and gestured with his left hand as if he was rolling a piece of bread into a ball.
“They met,” the woman said, sounding as if she were communicating a terrible secret.
“Yes! I knew it.” The man leaned back in his chair and held his arms up in victory. “In Vuravia?”
“In Vuravia,” the woman nodded. “Now I suppose you’ll say that your intuition never lets you down.”
“Who was there?”
“We’ll have a full list by evening. But I know there were Capotians, four of them.”
“From the Council?”
“One was a Secretary. There was also one from the navigators’ guild, one merchant, and a representative of the banking houses.”
“That all makes sense: men who know cargo, trade and finance. And the men who offer protection,” he added. “What about our own people?”
“The heads of all three banking houses – Halava, Repu and Mankarin – were there. All three Big Kinsmen. And a man from the shipbuilders’ guild was there on behalf of the Great Provider.”
“The same people, but from our side. What about the capital?”
“Just Mastersium Krikey.”
“Enel Forsey’s deepest pocket. That’s nice. Who else?”
“He was the only one.”
“That’s not possible,” the man rubbed his chin and gave the matter some thought.
“Here’s the most interesting thing. Do you know where they met? At Dracasium Nerey’s estate. What do you think of that?”
“Ha! Very nice. Vuravia’s richest landowner. Now it all makes sense. Wonderful. But one thing doesn’t make sense. They have to sell the grain once they get it to the Empire. It has to get to the port and then be transported to the granaries and the markets. Who is handling that part of it? And who stands to make money from it? Why didn’t he – whoever he is – send someone to the meeting?”
“What about Forsey’s man?” the woman raised an eyebrow.
