Page 38 of A Drop of Corruption

I sighed deeply, now tired to the bone. “And what of the fourth attack front?”

“The fourth?” she said, puzzled. “Did I mention a fourth?”

“Even when I am this fatigued, ma’am, my memory is not.”

“Oh. Ohh, yes! The fourth…” She shrugged. “Well, the fourth is that we wait and see what this impostor is going to do next. Or who he’s going to kill.”

“You…wish to wait for this killer to kill again?”

“Well, I don’twantto, Din. I’d prefer it if I could just toss a stone out my window and strike this fucker in the head! Yet that is unlikely. We shall pursue the threads I’ve laid out here, yet…when he makes his next move, he shall surely be vulnerable again, yes?”

“Is there no chance he’s finished?”

“Oh, Din…” She laughed lowly. “He is not done. He’s left anote,and a trophy with many secret meanings! He has opened lines of communication.” She lay back on her bed, her fingers threaded dreamily on her belly. “The question is—who is his audience? And what form shall his next message take?”

Chapter 16

The next morning I calleda carriage for Ana, and together we rode to the Apoth advanced fermentation works. The sky was dreary and overcast, the clouds low and resentful as they gathered over the hills, until they finally released a drizzling rain. All the world felt stagnant, with little light, and no wind.

Ana—blindfolded, of course—spoke constantly as we rattled on over the muddy roads. “Apoth fermentation works are some of the most complex of all their facilities—did you know that, Din?”

“I did not, ma’am,” I said, yawning. However many hours of sleep I’d captured last night, they’d not been enough.

“Oh, yes. They are mostly found in the inner rings, these great, sprawling piles of pots and pipes and telltale plants grouped about the canals, all put together to prevent impurities and maintain nutrient concentrations…The materials and tissues they produce are so complex that even I have a little trouble following the—Oof! My,thatwas a big bump, I wonder how that brick back there got so dislodged…” She then launched into a winding dissertation about roads: one of her favorite topics.

We arrived at the advanced fermentation works just past midmorning. It was set behind a high fretvine fence, and it resembled a dense, misshapen clutch of large fretvine orbs clumped together. Glass windows topped each orb, and in the center of each set of windows was a chimney releasing a narrow thread of steam. With the high fretvine fence closely circling this lumpy design, the whole thinghad the look of a complex Rathras pastry, the fluffy dough piling out of the dish.

We exited the carriage, and I paid the pilot to wait for us. We showed our heralds at the gate—Ana’s took some time to decipher as she had sorted hers by color—and were admitted inside. The interior of the building was no less strange than the exterior: it was akin to being within a giant hive, with so many interconnected, bulbous chambers with railings and walkways yawning above us, and all teeming with the red coats and tunics of Apoths going about their day.

While we waited for our escort, I studied the Apoths swarming about us, my eyes fluttering as I perused my memories. I saw no face I found familiar, yet I did note many Sublimes. Nearly all of them were axioms, though here and there I did see a spatiast, or a lingua.

Then I noticed something.

“There are no engravers,” I said quietly.

“What’s that?” said Ana.

“There are no engravers here, ma’am. I see many Sublimes and many augmented folk, but no engravers.”

“Hm! Interesting. Perhaps they do things here they don’t want anyone remembering.”

A militis emerged from the crowd, bowed, and asked us to follow. Ana took me by the arm, and we wandered into the sprawling hive.

—

We were broughtto a large meeting room that was dominated by a giant, circular table wrought of black stonewood. Tiny mai-lights hung from the rounded walls, and the windows above allowed in the gray, watery light of the stormy skies. In the center of the table sat a strange contraption resembling a great brass teapot, yet it had many leathery tubes protruding from its base, each one ending in a small black nozzle.

“You may sit where you like, ma’am,” said the militis. “And you may feel free to partake of our percolator as you please.”

“Oh, you’ve a percolator!” Ana said. “What might the steams do? I’m afraid I can’t see any labels about the damned hoses, of course.”

“Uh, yes…” said the militis, befuddled. “Well. This first hose here is a stimulant, and this second one is a slight sedative, for agitation. This next one offers focus, and then this fourth is physical relaxation. Finally, that fifth one there on the end is an appetite suppressor. For very long meetings, you see.”

“Excellent!” said Ana. She sat, fumbled for the stimulant hose, popped its black nozzle in her mouth, and gave it a mighty suck. The brass percolator burbled and warbled; then she sat back and exhaled, releasing a roiling cloud of thick steam. “Thank you. We shall wait in comfort, then.”

The militis departed, shutting the door behind him. I watched guardedly as Ana took yet another outrageous suck from the stimulant nozzle.

“Are you sure you wish to be doing that before our meeting, ma’am?” I asked.