Page 88 of The Tainted Cup

I waited for more. When nothing came, I bowed and said, “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Is it natural?” she said.

“My height? It is.”

“And your face? Your features? Those are natural, too?”

“Ah. They are, ma’am.”

“Hum. How audacious.”

“Afraid I had little say in the matter, ma’am.”

She studied me with that enigmatic doll’s gaze. “You have things, Signum,” she said, “you wish to ask me.”

I looked at her. Then I looked to the right and left, at the guards on either side of me, and then the Sublimes on either side of her. All of them watched me silently. This was not how I’d expected to do the interview.

“I do, ma’am,” I said. “But I had thought I’d question you at your home.”

She waved a hand, bored. “Ask me now.”

I hazarded another glance at our audience. Then I slid open my engraver’s satchel, slid out a vial, sniffed it—this one aromatic of mint—and said, “Tell me about the day before your father died, please.”

“Mm.” She narrowed her eyes very slightly. “We had a party. A big one. We had planned it for some time. Many come to our celebrations. Some wish to, others feel they must. Some of them were colleagues of yours, as you no doubt know.”

“How many came?”

She waved her hand at the engraver. His eyes shivered, and he quickly said, “Out of a list of one hundred forty-six invited, we had one hundred twelve attend.”

“Can you provide me with a list of all the attendees?” I asked.

“Certainly,” said Fayazi. “But not now. I am not going to fill my day listening to two engravers recite memories. But I will make sure you receive the appropriate information, in full.” I noticed she seemeda great deal less breathy and innocent now. “It was a rare event, you know. We used to open our halls many times a year—once a month, or more. But contagion has put an end to that. So much is brought in from the Plains of the Path, why, I almost hesitate to breathe the air in Talagray proper.”

“What is the purpose of these events, ma’am?”

“What is the purpose of any celebration?”

“Usually to celebrate something, ma’am. A betrothal. A birth. A sacred day.”

“Oh, no. Those things—the birth of famous folk, or the dates of their deaths—those are merelyexcusesto celebrate. People celebrate because they are desperate to reaffirm fellowship and remember what it is to be alive. It is at my halls that any officer in Talagray can come and hear the singers tell tales of the first Khanum coming to the Valley of the Titans. Or of the Sublimes Prificto, the first whose minds were altered. Or of the Third Emperor, Ejelgi Daavir, and his march along the Titan’s Path.” Her eyes shone bright with a queer energy, one I did not find wholesome. “My great-great-grandfather was there, you know. He was among the Legions that slaughtered the beasts and first cleared the path to the sea, and was awarded our first fief. That was before the cantons. Before the building of the third-ring walls.”

An uncomfortable beat.

“Very impressive, ma’am,” I said. “Can you tell me of your father’s movements? During the party?”

A glimmer of resentment in her eyes. Then she waved her hand again, bored. “He moved as one does during such a thing.”

“Can you describe that, though?”

“He entered on a palanquin carried by six men,” she said, “and waved to the attendees from its window before being taken to his antechamber.” She described such grandiose ostentation like I’d asked what size sandals he wore.

“I…see. Did he interact with many of your guests?”

“Not many. His time is precious—or…or was, I should say. Hewas very old, and frail. He spent his time carefully and spoke only to the most important folk. Commanders and the like. One or two from the Apoths…but none from the Engineers. Not that day.”

“And the Legion? Or the Iudex?”

A cold smile. “We rarely see their kind. And when they visit, it is short, and perfunctory. They consider themselves above such entreaties. They govern the world—but it is the Apothetikals and the Engineers who make it.”