Page 132 of A Drop of Corruption

“Dozens of them,” said Ana. “Forty or fifty or more. He is quite literally a marked man, in other words!” One scrawny hand reached out and grasped me firmly by the shoulder. “Here is your path now, child. First, you pursue Darhi. Question him, for we must find either Pyktisorthe stolen reagents! By achieving either, all our threats shall be ended.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Good. Next, Pyktis may be close to Darhi. But if you do not find him on your search, you must return to the High City and seek a man with many blotley welts upon his flesh. For no matter what face that man wears, he is surely Sunus Pyktis himself! Do not tarry—go immediately, for you cannot give him time to scry our movements and slip away! Do you comprehend this?”

I bowed. “I do, ma’am.”

“Then go, and make haste. And do not be slow to strike him down if you think you must! For he has proven a wily thing.” Her fingers released me, and again a glottal click emanated from the base of her throat. “Perhaps too wily to take alive.”

Chapter 48

The king’s hall of Yarrowwas a ghost of a place compared to when I’d seen it last. All its torches and bonfires were dark, and its many passageways seemed far emptier. As I walked the palace, I consulted my memories and gauged that nearly half the guards had fled. Had so many of the king’s guard truly been under Darhi’s influence? I found the idea unsettling, but I still seemed more composed than Malo and Sabudara: Sabudara appeared especially unnerved to dwell in the palace of her realm’s autocrat and clutched tight the large leather box she carried, while Malo whispered comments to calm her as they walked behind me.

“I’ve…I’ve no idea what to do now,” said Prince Camak as he wandered before us. “I have nothing now. No crown, nor throne, for I’ve not yet been formally declared regent. But neither do I have much of my treasury, nor many of the High City guards! Dozens followed Darhi to wherever he has gone, and the others fled in fear. And such is the amount that Darhi stole that I cannot afford to purchase more!”

“You’ve no word of where he’s fled to, sir?” I asked him. “You’ve done no searches, heard no news?”

“Jari Pavitar advises silence,” sighed the prince. “If word were to get out that I’d been so taken by Darhi, I’d never regain a steady hand upon the throne. Instead, he has insisted he go to his own allies in the kingdom and seek the traitor secretly. But…that will take time. Time I do not have. But I…I received your notice about what yourequire to find Darhi. I hope what we gathered may suffice.” He shot me an uncertain glance. “But you’re sure this will work, Signum?”

“I am told it will, sir,” I said. “But I’ve not a nose like my peers here.”

His gaze lingered on Malo and Sabudara. He made a disdainful pout, as if the sight offended him, and turned away.

We came to the same trophy room where Gorthaus had perished not more than two days ago. Now it contained a large table, and there upon it were the personal belongings that Satrap Darhi had left behind: scarves, robes, belts, jewelry, soaps, trousers, leggings, and other attire of a kind I did not know but guessed were Yarrow undergarments.

“Which piece would you, ah, prefer, Signum Kol?” the prince asked me.

I stepped back and gestured to Malo and Sabudara.

The two wardens sauntered up to the table and reviewed the garments like a carpenter might study planks of wood, estimating their grain and quality. Sabudara placed her leather box on the ground, and then the two of them went to work, plucking a few garments from the table and tossing them aside—rejects, I supposed. Then the prince and I were treated to an unusual sight: the two wardens began stooping and rigorously sniffing each remaining garment, swallowing occasionally as if they could taste the aromas on their tongues.

“Is such an act…common in the Empire, Signum?” the prince asked.

I watched as Malo came close to burying her face in a pair of leggings. “I do not know, sir,” I said. “But it is quite uncommon to me.”

Malo and Sabudara then stood and made hand signals to one another: speaking in a silent language of gestures, I reckoned, for they knew the folk about them spoke Pithian. It appeared to be a debate of ferocious belligerence, but finally Malo yielded and gathered five of the remaining garments from the table.

While she did this, Sabudara opened the leather box. Within lay a strange contraption, consisting of a small bronze barrel, lined with glass on the interior, with a crank jutting out from one side. Sabudaratook the barrel out and opened it at one end, and Malo dropped the garments inside. Malo then rummaged about within the box and produced a small vial of reagents, uncorked it, and dribbled it over the clothing. Then she corked it again, closed the barrel, replaced it, and began vigorously turning the contraption’s crank. The barrel spun within the box, whirling like a top. She spun it until her arm was exhausted, then let Sabudara take over.

When the two wardens had cranked the apparatus for nearly ten minutes, they removed the barrel from the box, popped the crank from one end, and placed it into a new notch on the box’s side. Malo turned the crank once more, but now the top lid of the barrel descended on a little track, squeezing the fluid-covered garments tight. When Malo could crank it no more, Sabudara produced four empty glass vials and held them out. Malo opened the contraption and, like a vintner doling out a precious liquor, tipped the barrel over. A tiny thread of umber fluid came dribbling out, which Sabudara quickly collected in the vials. Sabudara corked three of the vials, then held up the final fourth, shot Malo a loathing look, and took a sniff.

Sabudara then exploded into an attack of sneezes and coughing, but then she recovered and gestured to Malo—Yes, yes.

“It works,” sighed Malo. “We have distilled Darhi’s scent, unpleasant as it is. It is a horrid thing, to sniff at such a distillation, but it is our best hope. We shall disperse this to our wardens and be off.”

“Then you can track him?” said the prince. “And return all he stole?”

“We shall follow the scent as far as it goes, sir,” she said. “Beyond that, I can say no more, besides that the longer we wait, the more the scent shall fade.”

“Then by my father’s blood, go!” said the prince. “Find this traitor, and return my kingdom to me, I beg of you!” Then he sat down in a chair, buried his face in his hands, and began to weep.

—

As we leftthe king’s hall we were joined by six of Malo’s wardens. Eleven more watched from the wood, I knew, silently moving with us.I was unsure what kind of resistance we’d be met with, but given how I’d seen them perform in the jungles, I felt that seventeen wardens would be enough to overcome nearly any Yarrow force; or so I hoped.

When we left the High City, both Malo and Sabudara took another great sniff of the vial of Darhi’s scent. Muttering discontentedly, they then put pads upon their knees and thick gloves upon their hands, and then fell to all fours and crawled upon the earth, sniffing the wet grass as if they were hounds. Then Malo rose, pointed, and said, “That way. I catch it bright now!”

“Are you going to crawl the entire way?” I asked.