Page 9 of A Drop of Corruption

I opened one window and stuck my head out, squinting through the sea breeze. A deathly drop yawned below me, made all the more alarming by the tilt of the tower. The idea of anyone going in or out of these windows was utterly mad.

I looked about, squinting again as the ocean breeze struck my face. I could see the cheery peaks of New Town to the east and south, the Apoth works puffing steams and smokes. Canals coiled all about them in slashes and tangles, each teeming with rippling ship sails. To the south and west I glimpsed some of the steaming, sprawling expanse of the jungle, cut through here and there with tiny farms and vales, and then, to the northwest of us, mounted atop a high clutch of hills, was a clutch of bone-white towers.

The High City: the domain of the king of Yarrow. It seemed smaller and more distant than I’d seen in the maps. I couldn’t help but think of it as a spirit kingdom from the stories, a place where playful sprites would lure children with a piper’s song.

Then, with great reluctance, I finally looked north.

The Bay of Yarrow unrolled before me, the afternoon sunlight glinting merrily off the vast waters.

And there, leagues away in the ocean, stood…

Something.

It looked a little like a tent, tall and pointed and swirling like the ones you might find at a canton fair, and though it was quite far away, its enormous scale was still evident, rising hundreds of spans out of the water, taller than anything I’d ever seen save the sea walls of the East. It glowed slightly in the midday sun, a soft, viridine glimmer. I narrowed my eyes, wondering what it was made of; perhaps vines or grasses, so closely grown they seemed to form shifting panes of green glass. Protected within this green cocoon, I knew, was the citadel at its center. I imagined I could almost discern the shape of walls and roofs somewhere within it.

“How bright it looks today,” remarked Malo, joining me at the window. “They say it gets brighter as the wet seasons approach, and darker as the leviathans slumber. The year has worn on faster than I’d thought.”

“That’s the Shroud?” I asked quietly.

“It is. Perhaps the most valuable thing in all of Yarrowdale, and the thing people fear most. And who can blame them? We are taught to fear the leviathans as children. It is only natural to fear their graveyard.”

I gazed at the Shroud, hypnotized by its movements, its surface roiling and undulating in the bright sun. It almost seemed to beckon to me.

“Sujedo didn’t have shit to do with the Shroud,” said Malo. “Nobodywants anything to do with that, except for we Apoths. Seen enough here?”

I coughed, muttered, “Yes,” and gladly turned away. Though this investigation already offered no end of puzzles, I took solace in knowing it would have little to do with that unearthly place.

Chapter 4

I then interviewed the staffof the Old Town tower, the maids and washerfolk and servants and cooks. Sujedo had come and gone so briefly, however, that most hadn’t even seen the man.

“I assisted him to his rooms, sir,” said the porter, an elderly man named Hajusa. “He was most kind, and agreeable.” An impish glint crept into his eye. “He even gave me a silver talint for my trouble. Not exactly to the rules, however,” he said, placing a finger alongside his nose.

I gave him a conspiratorial smile, then asked him to describe Sujedo.

“Oh, he was a handsome man,” Hajusa said. “As many from the inner rings are. Thick hair, black and curling. Pale eyes. He was rather short, however. I’m not as tall as I used to be, but I was still taller than he…”

“Did you see anyone else coming or going from the building that night? Anyone at all?”

“Only servants, sir, and no one untoward. This is the finest building in all of Old Town. Used to be the palace of the king, in the ages before the Empire.” He attempted a haughty pose. “We hold ourselves to a high standard here.”

“Do you know what business he was coming here for?”

“Oh…well, I assumed it was the adoption of the realm,” he said uncertainly. “Making Yarrow a proper imperial state, I mean.”

His face was guarded now, and his eyes no longer met my own.

“How do you feel about that?” I asked. “You can speak honestly. I know little of it.”

“Well. I…suppose it’s always been coming. All that was decided decades ago, by kings who were long dead before I was born.” He attempted a deferential smile. “But it’s not my place to speak on the stuff of kings, of course.”

I glanced at Malo, who shrugged and extended a hand—What else did you expect?

I thanked him and moved on.

—

Next we spoketo the maids, who were both of Pithian or Yarrow stock, with eyes as green as Malo’s and a greenish hue to their gums.