《City of Flies》 Chapter 1
Beyond the Lapis seas, the endless waste of G_d, a greater sea of grass, where great Menander trod. He clove the leaves and turned the roots and bent them to his name. the cattle knelt and crooked their necks, the rivers did the same. The rivers red with salmon ran, still silver in the night, the mountains split to crown his head with crimson rays of light.
¡°And how would you know?¡± Datra mumbled. He crushed the page into a coarse, yellow ball and tossed it across his office. The poem flew past his toes and hit a tower of papers. The foundation held strong, but ten or twenty reports lurched sideways and littered the floor like leaves. Datra rolled his eyes and rocked back in his seat, reaching for the decanter behind him. He refilled the chalk-white horn, chair balanced on two wooden legs; and even as purple droplets ran down his knuckles, Datra kept his heels off the varnished surface of his credenza. He plucked the next manuscript from the bundle and lifted it into the light. He was only a few lines in¡ªsomething about the Scouring of the Archives¡ªwhen he heard a familiar tromp of feet. Datra kicked himself upright and tucked the poems under a pile of receipts, giving the accounts his full, brow-furrowing attention as the visitor knocked twice and turned the handle. The door creaked open, and from under his brow Datra saw two legs step over the threshold, pale at the knees, toes almost as brown as the cords which bound them. The fallen reports crunched under the woman¡¯s sandal, and her second toe, longer than the first, confirmed her identity. Datra hunched over that month¡¯s food bill, but Anya¡¯s heavy brow and sandy hair gazed up from the polished wood beside it. He searched her face for some sign of intent, but a fresh stack of papers slammed over the reflection. The sergeant turned to leave, but Datra grunted and she stopped. Without looking up, he fanned the papers across his desk, took two forms¡ªdossier pull and request for new construction¡ªthen scooped his hand under the rest and slammed them together like a deck of cards. He slid the stack forwards, and Anya had it before it reached the lip of his desk. She made a second try for the exit, and Datra peeled back the balance sheet, eager to return to his manuscripts, but while the door squealed shut, he did not hear it latch. Datra looked up to see the door held ajar, Anya¡¯s fingers curled around the frame. Footsteps and broken chatter echoed through the gap: What do you mean? Did he say? Just go in. The door swung open, and Anya stepped in with a girl of about eighteen: shorter, no baton, dark hair stuck to her neck with moisture. ¡°Sir,¡± Anya said, ¡°another outbreak.¡± Datra leaned back and folded his arms with exaggerated sternness. ¡°What is that, four?¡± ¡°Five,¡± said Anya. ¡°Oldtown?¡± She turned to the rankless, who seemed unaware she was allowed to speak. ¡°Y-yes. It happened in Clade J. Three people died.¡± Datra topped off his drink. ¡°The dead were residents of J?¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°And since you have a number, I take it everyone else is latched down and safe?¡± ¡°Yes, sir. We think so, sir.¡± Datra nodded and took a long, slow sip. Anya looked impatient, so he took another. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re keeping me informed, miss¡­¡± ¡°Dana.¡± ¡°Dana. Casually sharing news is a good habit, and I¡¯m glad you thought to tell me, but this is not a casual room, and that is not a casual door. From here on, go to your superior unless it¡¯s an emergency. Tremaine can fill me in over dinner.¡± Datra glanced at the clock, its glass tube nearly three-quarters full. ¡°Or in the pool, or at breakfast. If it¡¯s urgent, he¡¯ll let you know.¡± The girl nodded and turned to leave, but Anya grabbed her elbow. ¡°Tremaine sent her,¡± she said. Datra cocked his head, peeking around Anya as if she were made of marble. ¡°Why?¡± he asked. Dana only stared. ¡°He needs more men? More supplies? Barlow?¡± ¡°No, sir. He just, just wanted you to know.¡± Datra took a deep breath and rubbed his face. ¡°So, he sent you away from the outbreak to tell me everything¡¯s fine?¡± Datra drained his horn and flipped it onto his coaster. It landed off balance and settled with a low, ceramic ring, the point wagging like a tutor¡¯s finger. ¡°Um¡ª¡± Datra¡¯s chair screeched across the floor. He squeezed out from the credenza and opened a floppy leather satchel: paper, matches, half-bottle of quine. He added the stack of poems and tucked his head under the strap. Anya stepped aside, and Dana scurried down the hall as Datra marched through the doorway, snatching a wool greatcoat off a nearby peg. He spun it around his shoulders as they emerged from the short corridor. Behind him, Datra listened for the click which proved Anya had locked his office. They stepped into the common area, and Anya returned to her desk in the corner, picking through memos as if nothing had happened. Datra strode along the massive, central table and tugged open the doors at its head. He held them for Dana, but the initiate was standing between her two superiors, staring in circles. Datra jerked his head, and Dana hurried to his side. ¡°Don¡¯t run,¡± Datra said. ¡°Sorry.¡± Datra fumbled for his keys and dipped into a storeroom. ¡°Running means someone¡¯s hurt or about to be. Walk fast, but walk.¡± Datra¡¯s baton clacked against barrels and thudded cheese as he weaved through the lopsided piles, stopping where an ironmesh grate broke up the wall of shelves. Datra opened the padlock and uncovered row after row of spring-stoppered bottles. He tucked one into his satchel and tossed a second to Dana¡ªthe vial glowed with a hint of white as it arched under the skylight, then fell clear as it returned to the shadows. Dana flailed after the bauble, almost dropping it several times. Lucky for her, it fell down her sleeve and slid past her armpit, settling against the crook of her sash. Datra walked past and shot his hand into the folds of Dana¡¯s robe, plucking out the vial and dropping it into her pocket. ¡°Better place for it,¡± he said with a pat. Dana flinched¡ªtoo slow to matter¡ªand Datra shoo¡¯d her from the storeroom. On his way out, Datra filled his own pocket with a bottle of grappa. They stepped into the antechamber, a long, bright room connecting the polished brass entrance to the (vacant) reception desk: much like Datra¡¯s credenza, but longer and without the wings. He stood on the seal in the center and turned to face a flat span of wall. The city sprawled across it, white enamel on dark, leathered stone. Crosshatched bureau streets balled against the front gate like the yolk of an egg, split by an anemic waterway which carved a spermy path through Ze, breaching where the wall sagged in to avoid the delta. A tomentose web of canals shattered the remainder like an ancient riverbed, each mottled gray shard labeled with a bold capital letter. In the Northwest quarter, three X¡¯s broke the pattern, scribbled in bright red chalk. ¡°So,¡± Datra said. ¡°Where is our goodly fere?¡± Dana leaned back on her heels and squinted. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t figure out which bridge we went through.¡± ¡°How did you leave the bureaus? Clade A, Customs, or Palace District?¡± ¡°Palace.¡± ¡°Come on,¡± Datra said. ¡°I¡¯ll get us close. You¡¯ll find him.¡± They took the path towards Market District, following the inner curve of the outer wall: brown, chipped face draped in the shadow of aqueducts, topped by frayed banners which twisted in a breeze Datra could not feel. Still, the moist air ran cool on his shins, and Datra fastened his coat. The square loomed ahead, and Datra pulled Dana into the web of courtyards and alleys which grew around it, shortcutting the market, but not the piss stink of opium which wafted out from it. The Seir ran fat and slow under the weathered stone bridge. Upstream, a crescent of blue-orange sky crept under the gate¡¯s arched peak, outline marred by rooftops and the teeth of a rusty portcullis. Across the water, an outer rim of townhomes gave way to a ring of blocky apartments and offices. In the center, the gray spires of the Old Palace towered above all. Datra took a few steps onto the bridge, then passed through a gap in the handrails, sliding onto a long exposed staircase which ran down towards the water. Behind and above him, Datra heard the slap of Dana¡¯s sandals fade, then grow louder as the initiate fumbled back towards her master. He turned and saw the girl with her shoulder to the wall, shuffling down the steps like a bridesmaid, eyes locked on the great foam disks which churned below where mother canals split off towards the clades. ¡°You didn¡¯t run that time,¡± said Datra. ¡°Well done.¡± ¡°We¡¯re going through the canals?¡± ¡°I am. You¡¯re welcome to join me.¡± Dana hesitated on the bottom step, her foot in the air a half-second too long; but she stepped to Datra¡¯s side and walked along the narrow pier which hugged The Maine¡¯s shore for as far as the eye could see, disappearing with the water behind a long, slow bend. Underfoot, gaps in the plank showed burdens of stone and sand heaped up to the water¡¯s surface, choking the once-mighty Seir like a miser¡¯s aorta. Datra bounced his fist against the retaining wall as they moved on from the splitters into waterfront proper. ¡°S¡¯nocte, don. S¡¯nocte, bella,¡± a voice called from around the corner. Datra turned to see a slight, round-eyed man scribbling on a tablet. Datra returned with ¡°s¡¯nocte, prim,¡± and the two exchanged tense, forced smiles¡ªSimon battling a frown; Datra, a smirk. The factor nodded and returned to his roster, brass ring flashing in the late-day light as he pecked at the wax with his stylus. They walked past the blocky headquarters of Customs and Mercantile, similar to Irrigation¡¯s in all but locale, flanked on all sides by numbered storehouses. Boats and barges sat high in the water, and their crews milled on deck; they ate, coiled rope, played cards, did everything a sailor might do except leave the boat. In front of building twenty-three, the few remaining longshoremen brigaded from the bay doors to a galleon too broad to let another like it pass. Up top, youths in roughspun tunics loaded barrels onto wooden guides; down below, a crew of longshoremen stood ready to guide the rolling kegs into the factory behind them. Datra waited for a break in the action, said ¡°come on¡±, and marched under the planks. He looked up towards the deck, and got a facefull of white powder. He coughed and rubbed his brow, scraping damp clumps of flour from the corner of his eyes. ¡°You okay, sir?¡± Dana asked. ¡°Best to keep an eye on them. Accidents have been known to happen.¡± ¡°I think I¡¯ll just go around, sir.¡± Datra wondered about stepping on Dana¡¯s robe and knocking her into the water, but he let the comment pass and crossed over a drawbridge to the North side. They continued downstream, exchanging the odd greeting with passing bureaucrats, or merchants who waved through cabin windows. A few thousand steps on, they reached a break in the wall, an outlet where turbulent plumes of greasy, dark water plunged out into the slow, clear Maine. On the bricks, a dull brass plaque read ¡°KD2¡±. Datra tested his weight on the scaffold and beckoned for Dana to follow. The chatter behind them faded as they worked into the fat of the city, replaced by creaking footsteps and the gentle waters below. At the next junction, Datra turned up an even smaller canal, cutting straight to the other side of J. As they worked inland, the hilly ground sank and leveled out around Datra¡¯s shoulders, or Dana¡¯s eyes; and between the iron pikes of the canaltop fence, glimpses of clade life came into view. Black trees coiled through the grass of an orchard, and a group of girls ran through them, bare save for the off-white subungula twisted across their hips. They screamed and rolled and swung round branches, heedless of the dark-skinned pickers above or the lone male of their number, who seemed to be ¡°it¡±. He chased the closest playmate through a row of planters and behind a trellis of grape, where she conked heads with a rival who¡¯d had the same idea. The girl righted and fled as she¡¯d come, but her pursuer flashed past and tore at the loose end of her garment, flapping in the boy¡¯s wake as he dived through a cluster of bushes: thorned and heavy with bright red berries. Defeated, but not deterred, the girl screamed and bolted for the edge of the brambles. In her haste she ran under a ladder and barged it with her shoulder. The picker up top kicked and flailed for a branch as apples fell and split against knurled roots. The girl ran on, but a single, shrill word¡ªtoo distant to make out¡ªstopped her. She hesitated, gazing after her predator-turned-prey, but the call came again and she trudged to the center of the grove, where three women in trim chitons sat on a blanket. One leaned over to scold while the others nodded and the girl stared at her toes. The mothers returned to their wine and the player returned to the game, slowing to make big, theatrical circles around the ladders in her path. Datra snorted in the chill air. ¡°Past time for that sort of thing.¡± The boy reemerged from the thorns, waving the strip of cloth like the banner of a fallen keep, then darting away when its owner gave chase. ¡°And not a father in sight.¡± Dana did not respond. Datra turned to see her trailing her hand along the guardrail as she stared in the distance, eyes scanning hills and houses. ¡°Not that it¡¯s anyone¡¯s fault,¡± he concluded. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I¡¯m not from the clades,¡± said Dana. ¡°Really? Taskmasters like to send kids my way, but you¡¯re too pale and polite. Bureaus?¡± ¡°I was never the best student.¡± ¡°Glad to hear it. I have no use for scholars. Half this job is knowing when to shut up. Do that and you¡¯ll have a rank before you¡¯ve learned our names.¡± ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± ¡°Not bad for finding a husband, either. If you¡¯re so inclined.¡± They continued upstream, walls waving up and down as the scaffold stayed flat over the water. The meagre hills gave way to blocky stone offices, then the trim, slanted roofs of a middle-class neighborhood¡ªclose but not touching, with room for chickens and cobblestone yards. Datra ducked under a squat footbridge and got a mouthful of fabric as he stood back up¡ªan enterprising clade-dweller had ran a clothesline between the fences. Datra spat out a frill of yarn, slid out his baton, and swung for the nearest string. The line snapped and sank into the water; sad, silky undergarments twirling against the dark current like jellyfish. ¡°And these do come in handy,¡± Datra said, offering the rod to Dana. She ran her thumb over the silver threads which wrapped up the handle then faded into the black lacquered body. Behind her, Datra noticed movement in a top-floor window. He looked up, and a pale face dived behind a curtain. ¡°Come on, we¡¯re nearly there,¡± he said, taking back his baton. ¡°Smoke,¡± said Dana. ¡°Good,¡± said Datra, although the smell made him suspicious¡ªtoo clean and woody, more a matchstick than a pyre. The supports creaked as Datra stiffened their pace, and before long they reached an old wrought-iron ladder. He waved Dana up, then followed, locking the gate as they stepped onto the path which ran beside the border fence. There were a few scattered houses along the canalfront, some with residents staring out dark windows, but the streets were abandoned. Datra fumbled for his bottle of quine and splashed it over his sandals, wriggling his toes to work it into the crevices. Dana copied him, hissing when the bitter liquid touched the skin between her toes. ¡°This works, but try not to rely on it,¡± Datra said as he kicked away the excess. ¡°Can you find him from here?¡± Dana nodded, and Datra signaled to lead the way. The initiate wove through curved alleys and forked roads which swept in towards the interior. A gray haze floated up before them, and the oily burn grew stronger. ¡°Just a bit father,¡± Dana said. ¡°At the end of the square.¡± ¡°I know it now,¡± said Datra. They passed a squat hill with a communal garden carved into the base, tin planters circling an ancient coop. The birds clucked and bobbed as Datra cut across the cobblestone path, squeezing though the gap between the hut and the wall. He bumped the coop and a rotten leg gave out. The hut slid off kilter and a rush of brown water splashed to the ground, a shiny black dart landing in the center. ¡°Shit,¡± Datra yelled as he jumped back. The fly extended its wings, and a metallic shriek rang out as it buzzed in useless circles across the puddle¡¯s surface, sending a wave of muddy spray along the bricks. It broke free of the grime and zig-zagged along the cobbles, getting off the ground in bursts as it dried its wings. A few crazed loops more, and the creature was airborne, gaining speed as it arced towards Dana. The young woman scrambled for her quine, but Datra scrambled for her, seizing Dana by the waist and pulling her flat to his chest. She squirmed to twist away, but Datra hooked her arm and squared her up just as the fly reached them. The beast sunk its barb deep into to the top of her breast, twitching to pump in the venom. Datra craned over the girl¡¯s shoulder and lined up his fist. For a moment, he had a clear, still view of the anselfly¡ªshiny black carapace, crimson stripes, huge phosphorescent wings¡ªbut he ended it with three sharp blows, his knuckles smashing into the soft fat of Dana¡¯s ribs. The bug turned to goop, and Dana crumpled to her knees, whimpering. She sucked in the chill air and pattered along the cobbles until her arms gave out. She gave a final, wormy thrash, then fell still and silent. Datra staggered off to lean on the wall¡ªchest thumping, heart on fire. He pulled at the neck of his robe as he stared at the miserable wreck of a coop, the splintered rot so plain when viewed from below. He thought of the locals who managed the garden, and the bureaucrats who managed them: neither would be getting a fine. Datra shook his head and creaked upright, balling his hands to stop their shake. He stooped towards Dana, sprawled out on the cobbles like a wet pile of laundry, robe twisted about her thighs. He flipped her face-up and untangled her limbs, getting the girl into a half-dignified position before he retied her sash. Datra glanced from side to side, checking for eyes or movement in the few nearby windows. Satisfied, he looked down at Dana¡¯s face, where a rootstalk of muddy tears ran down from each eye, tracing the frozen grimace she¡¯d made in her moment of pain. Datra leaned close and whispered, ¡°first time?¡± Dana¡¯s jaw clacked and strained. ¡°You¡­ you¡­¡± she said, gasps and spittle between each word. ¡°I¡­ have more stings than you have skin,¡± said Datra. He hooked an arm around her waist, cradled her head, and heaved the girl over the crook of his shoulder. He straightened the hem of her robe, took a deep breath, and set off towards the smoke. ¡°What¡¯s faster, anyway? This, or you carrying me?¡± Dana tried to answer, but her words died out in a whimper. Datra laughed. ¡°If nothing else, you¡¯ve got a story for the baths. Feel free to embellish. I promise I won¡¯t correct you.¡± Again, she whimpered; again, Datra laughed. A smell turned his stomach, stronger with every step¡ªsulfur, blood, and a misty sweetness which almost seemed edible; all bound together in a haze of fart. Just around the corner, victims rested in a damp, gray line, hidden by a great white sheet, sopped brown and black where it clung to their stomachs. A few inches from his sandal, a hand stuck out on the cobbles, nails caked in blood. A fly crawled out along the fingers, then scuttled across the bricks towards the pyre, where it marched straight in until its wings turned black and fell off, followed by the legs and head. Datra choked down bile and kept walking. He felt Dana squirm, and a mouthful of warm liquid splashed down the back of his calf. The square came into view, houses on three sides with the fourth touching a canal. Piles of cookware littered the space, mostly copper, although Datra did spy a set of ceramic drinking horns, stacked point-up into a wobbly tower. A team of Irrigators milled about them, flipping over pots to look for the stamp, or interviewing residents through window nets. A few noticed Datra, pausing to nod or wave, but none stopped working, and one young member took up an armful of logs and tossed them onto the pyre, burying a small corpse which had nearly crisped down to a skeleton. In the center, Lieutenant Tremaine sat on the rim of a cement-filled fountain, rubbing his temples with long, spidery hands, the orange light showing every divot of his lean, gaunt face. Upon seeing Datra, the young man jumped up and ambled over like a heron. ¡°Chief, you¡¯re here.¡± ¡°Where else ought I be?¡± Datra let the question hang, then slapped Dana¡¯s hip. ¡°I think this is yours.¡± ¡°Yes, sir. It is¡ªMichael, O¡¯sa!¡± Two rankless broke free of their corporals and rushed towards the fountain. Dana slid into their arms, and the men laid her out by the gear piles, folded greatcoat for a pillow. Datra hey¡¯d for their attention, tapped his chest, and held up a single finger. One man nodded, and the other went for a knapsack, setting out a dull copper kettle, stamped ¡°BOI¡±. He pushed it into the pyre while his senior tugged at Dana¡¯s neckline, exposing the bright-red lump. ¡°We¡¯re about half done,¡± said Tremaine, waving across the square. ¡°This is the third outbreak in J. The others were K and Q, which border either side.¡± ¡°Very true.¡± ¡°So, since we kno¡ªprobably know where they¡¯re coming from, we¡¯re doing deep searches from now on, every place they¡¯ve been sighted.¡± ¡°I follow. I follow.¡± Datra said, his shoulders growing heavy. The worker attending to Dana pulled a rag from his pack and dragged the kettle from the coals. He dipped one end in the water and shook it at arm¡¯s length, steaming. He pinched the damp fabric, let go, then pinched again, just a moment longer. He kept this up until he could almost bear to hold it, then dropped the rag on Dana¡¯s chest and pressed down with his palm. Dana blinked and whined, her voice barely eking out over the fire. ¡°We do need to go back for a few houses,¡± Tremaine said. ¡°Tomorrow I¡¯m going to the edge of the clade. There¡¯s a neighborhood right next to the bridge. If you trace lines between the outbreaks, it¡¯s right in the center.¡± Tremaine stopped to make way for two Irrigators carrying the next body. They worked past Dana and gripped the dead man¡¯s wrists and ankles, counting to three before they swung him onto the coals. Acrid smoke hissed out and the shroud curled black around the man¡¯s shoulders. Datra¡¯s bowels twitched, and water filled his mouth. Tremaine pressed on. ¡°If that doesn¡¯t work, we¡¯ll¡­¡± ¡°Lieutenant,¡± said Datra. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Would you like some advice?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Tremaine leaned in with an enthusiasm which Datra could not appraise as true or false. The young man¡¯s straw hair and sweaty, pock-marked face glistened in the twilight fire, deep shadows running along his eyes and cheekbones. ¡°These people,¡± Datra gestured from the houses to the sizzling corpse. ¡°Don¡¯t want to end up like that, any more than you do¡ªperhaps a bit less. Thank the residents for their time, then wrap up and go home.¡± Tremaine¡¯s eyes bugged further. Anger and disgust welled up in Datra¡¯s breast, but cooled into pale disappointment, fatigue at the sheer waste he was responsible for. He took a final look at Dana, who was straining to wriggle her toes; then Datra walked off towards the canal. He followed the clade¡¯s edge upstream until the light and smoke of the square grew faint, then slipped through a gate and climbed down to the scaffolds, resting against the ladder while the familiar smell of piss and algae washed away the stench. As Datra¡¯s stomach settled, he closed his eyes and thought. Datra saw Headquarters, his office, the city map. He saw the red crosses which marked the outbreaks, and the white outlines of clades. He traced the pale gray arc of JK1 along the clade¡¯s Northern face, where it ran past the tiny square of the ladder. Having gathered his bearings, Datra looked out at the canal and imagined it moving backwards, uphill¡ªsucked from the ocean and back towards The Maine. Satisfied, Datra stepped in with the fictional flow. He reached a fork and checked the other branch. It split off towards Q, past one of the other outbreaks. Datra kept going. He passed a three-way split which put him upstream of K¡¯s Southern edge and an access canal in J. Most of the sites were now behind him, but not all. He crossed a small outlet and paused¡ªthat was it; every outbreak happened downstream of where he stood. Datra crept forward, eyes out for anything unusual. He passed a lone outflow pipe running down the wall, pale lead covered in years of white powder. Datra made a note to have it replaced, but moved on¡ªthere were sure to be dozens more like it. Datra kept moving, but found nothing between there and the next junction: a fat arterial which fed almost half the city. He returned to the pipe and wondered who might be on the other end. Either they were the problem, or it was back to Tremaine¡¯s searches. Datra ducked into an arched alcove, dragging a dusty crate towards the mouth. He fished a candle from his bag and wedged it between two chipworn bricks, then cut the seal from his grappa and took a long sip, savoring the warmth in his tired legs. A moment later, he had the stack of poetry in his lap, a lone drop of alcohol picking up ink as it ran down the paper. Datra read, drank, and waited. Datra heard running water. His ears perked up, but it never rose above a trickle. Out of obligation, he leaned over to look at the pipe and saw a stream of yellow liquid pouring from the mouth. Two poems later, he heard the same sound and didn¡¯t bother. Around the time Chur¡¯s tail rose above the rooftops, a bigger stream hit the canal. Datra started to rise, but the steadiness of the drip discouraged him: someone was bathing. Later, much later, when the constellation had nearly peaked, Datra heard a surge of water¡ªsudden, then silent. Datra crept out to the scaffold, arriving just in time to see the turd surface, followed by a smattering of red-brown orbs which looked like swollen peppercorns. The pods bobbed as they spread out along the water, then settled into a dead drift. Datra clenched his teeth and waited. One of the orbs shot sideways in three short bursts, skittering across the canal like a water strider. It stayed still until the ripples had long faded, then jumped again. A second pod ¡°woke up¡±, then a third, then a forth. Soon, the turd was surrounded by an entourage of jittering balls, including a few latecomers which popped free from the waste as it drifted into the canal¡¯s main current. So far, nothing out of the ordinary, but there was time for that to change, so Datra sneered, packed his satchel, and started the long, slow pursuit. Datra followed the waste downstream, walking the same scaffolds for the third time that day and smelling the dirty ash of Tremaine¡¯s dead pyre. The growing moonlight eased his path and lit up larva twirling in the current like salmon. The canal split and merged a half-dozen more times, and his companion was arching back toward The Maine when Datra heard a sharp crack. Rings of light rippled away from the turd as it twitched and bulged. A hump rose up in the center and split, pierced from inside by the lacquer-black nose of an anselfly. The hatchling walked in small circles and lifted the covers from its wings, which buzzed and threw flecks of gunk into the water below. Datra looked up to the stars. It hadn¡¯t even been an hour; closer to thirty minutes. Mystery solved. He picked up his pace and posted up on a bridge which spanned the next junction. Datra reached for his bottle, unstopped the cork, and held it ready with his thumb on the hole. As the turd drifted below, he poured out a narrow stream which splattered right under the ansel¡¯s face, misting it with foul liquid. The creature hissed and beat its wings. A metallic screech echoed through the brick walls around them. Datra leaned on the rails to watch it twist and die. He swapped bottles, breathed, and took a big sip. A welcome burn warmed his tongue, followed by an acrid, life-draining taste which set his stomach to spasm. Datra choked and spewed quine across his wrist. Far downstream, the fly screeched and beat with newfound vigor, churning up a ball of mist with each buzz of its wings. Datra¡¯s heart sank as the turd veered off down a narrow outlet. Datra clenched his eyes and tried to see the map, but each cough and sputter blurred it, so he gave up and ran. There was no catching up to the ansel, but they were nearing the end of the line: every path ended in one place. He ran down the scaffold and leapt over a narrow gap, the chains and supports slamming taught as his sandals hit the grate. Datra caught himself on the wall, slamming his hand on a bolt as he scrambled into a long, arched tunnel, running East towards The Maine. Datra¡¯s lungs burned before he was halfway through, and his left knee began to throb. He saw the glint of light on the water, and steeled himself, ready to sprint down the pier; but Datra burst free of the tunnel and stopped in his tracks. Where he had hoped for a dingy or two, the anemic river was packed, with squat barges for as far as he could see. Why were there boats this far down? Did the whole empire drop in for a chat? ¡°S¡¯nocte, don,¡± wheezed an old-timer from a nearby deck. Datra waved, and droplets of blood ran down his wrist. Datra stuffed his hand into the folds of his robe and marched downstream, doing his best to avoid eye contact. He weaved through linens, glass, oil, and endless barrels of wheat, trying to strike a balance between speed and dignity. In his mind¡¯s eye, Datra slid a fly-shaped tack across the city map while his own marker moved up to intercept it: the results were not encouraging. Datra ran without running, reaching the final cluster of ships just as he heard the hum, distant but growing. He passed the window of a cabin. Inside, an old man was reading by candlelight. Datra considered yelling ¡°put that out¡±, but thought better and jogged away, then he heard a screech and ran. Datra reached the outlet just as the fly came into view, kicking up mist as it floated around the bend. The hatchling buzzed, held its wings straight out, then buzzed again, waiting longer each time. Datra ran up on the stout iron bridge and readied his quine, smelling the bottle to be sure it wasn¡¯t grappa. Blood ran over his knuckles and he clapped his free hand over the scrape¡ªthe last thing he needed was for the beast to smell fresh blood. The fly passed under the bridge, wings out and ready for its first flight. Datra turned his bottle and let loose a reckless stream of quine¡ªa direct hit. The hatchling shrieked and spasmed across the water, twisting through soiled foam until something from below swam up and tore off a wing. The fly floundered in place until a second mouth chomped it by the thorax and dragged the creature down to the depths. Datra leaned on the rails and shuddered as he took long, deep breaths. He looked up and saw the old man standing on the edge of his deck, one hand on the shoulder of a cabin boy, the other clutching his candle. The youth looked at Datra with frantic, baffled concern, while his senior stared on with a calm, attentive look which said the man was eager to help, but not so eager he might leave the boat without permission. Datra gave a broken smile and waved, as if he did this every day. The youth¡¯s eyes jerked down, and the old man pointed towards the water. Datra followed, and saw the turd twist and crack as it twirled out into The Maine. A sharp, black point drilled out of the waste, and a second hatchling squirmed out to where the first had stood. It walked in tight circles, then faced the ship, the merchants, the candle. The beast lifted its wing covers and buzzed three times. By the first, Datra had laid his belongings¡ªsatchel, papers, baton¡ªin a neat pile against the wall; by the second, his sandaled foot was planted on the edge of the pier; and by the third, Datra was in the air: arms raised, legs crouched, quine bottle corked and in his fist. The boggy vapors felt chill and refreshing as they rushed past Datra¡¯s head, and he was emboldened by the disbelieving stares of the merchants, underlit by the candle like kids at a fire. Datra thrust down his legs and crushed the hapless insect between the weight of the water and sole of his foot. As his shin plunged into the canal, Datra felt a ball of pressure though the flap of his sandal, followed by a sharp pop which ran up his leg. In a moment of optimism, Datra imagined this was the fly splattering under the force of his kick. Chapter 2 Datra¡¯s naked feet slapped over stone as he barreled down the boardwalk, towards the gate and the delta. Blurry stars loomed under the arch, and a sea-borne breeze filled his nose, fighting through layers of shit and slime. With one hand, Datra wrung the neck of his bottle so hard he feared it might shatter; the other groped after the cork, slipping again and again until it popped free with a plink. Datra slowed and threw back his head and dumped quine across his face, rubbing it into all the pits and crevices¡ªLord, his eyes burned¡ªthen he put the glass to his lips and sipped. The bitter liquid sat heavy in Datra¡¯s mouth, swishing between his teeth. He leaned back to let it settle in his throat, then Datra swung forward and pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Two jets of quine shot from his nose, searing his sinuses like molten lead. Datra took another swig¡ªhardly a spoonful¡ªand swallowed, fighting his own body as a warm tightness spread out from his guts. Datra¡¯s skin tingled, but he tried to ignore it. He belched and sprinted for the gate, following the blur of the moon through tearsoaked eyes. The tension spread through his back and thighs, his breaths grew shallow, and each step took more effort, as though his entire body was beginning to cramp. By the time Datra burst over the threshold¡ªfree of The Maine and free of the city¡ªit hurt to walk. With a final strain, Datra stood tall and forced his eyes wide open, scanning the horizon as fresh air hit his pupils¡ªbetter to have been pecked out by vultures. Tufts of grass rolled off either side towards the horizon, spread between Ze¡¯s outer wall and the blue-black sea. In the center, two stout stone walls ran straight out from the city, plunging deep into the bay. These twin piers, the Animundi, squeezed The Maine from either side, making sure the soiled water was well into the ocean before it had any say in which direction it flowed. At the tip, where shit water hit salt; fins and scales danced in the starlight as the fish kept up their ninety-year banquet. Datra¡¯s skin burned, but he tried to ignore it. Halfway out, a squat building floated on pontoons: the outbuilding, Medical, Datra¡¯s people. Orange light flickered in a window, but Datra¡¯s eyes flitted right, down the coast, where the sandy loam of the delta gave way to rocky shoals which ran steeper and sharper as they curved East towards the hills. Datra spied a familiar cluster of stones and marked his destination. In a flash, he saw the moon and the stars and the path through the grass, then his eyes swole shut and his stomach turned to pig iron. Datra staggered and fell, rolling into the grasses below. He took a few seconds to cry, then fought up to a crouch and crawled towards the sea. The grass felt soft under his knees, even as it stabbed his belly and genitals. His mouth filled with water, and Datra nearly sobbed with gratitude as his chest began to heave. He emptied his stomach, tasting a rancid mix of quine and grappa as threads of bile splattered between his fingers¡ªthe pain remained, but his nausea was gone. Emboldened, Datra gritted his teeth and clawed forwards; but within seconds a similar chaos built up behind his anus. There was nothing to be done, so Datra didn¡¯t fight it; although he did vow that anyone who spoke of this was going straight to the hamlets¡ªperhaps the reservoir, if he was feeling generous. Datra¡¯s skin moved, but he tried to ignore it. He kept up a good pace, all things considered. The sound of waves drew close, and Datra sought them like a scraped child, scampering across the sand as grass gave way to shell and stone. His hands found a sheer edge, and Datra dropped to his chest, groping around in search of seawater. Gobs of foam squelched between his fingers, and Datra dragged himself up on the rim, ready to drop in once he saw it was safe. He took a deep breath, brought a hand to his face, and pried open his eyes. The pool was clean and clear, with room for half the Bureau, let alone Datra. A hole in the edge, man-made but polished by time, linked it to the bay; and every swell of the tide sent a fat ripple across the surface, pushing the bubbles and scum into a great green crescent. In the center, Datra stared into his moonlit reflection, battered and bloody, face wet with tears and snot, ringed by a mane of iridescent worms. They writhed and coiled, probing with one head while the other held fast, with a few walking end-over-end in the manner of a leech. Datra curled his fingers and scraped down across his cheek. Some larva slid past unharmed, and others broke, leaving a trail of greasy stumps behind Datra¡¯s nails. The fast ends carried on as though nothing had changed, and their other halves spun and thrashed too quick to see, hooking into whatever patch of skin they happened to land on. Datra shuddered and let himself fall into the pool. He bobbed face-down, limbs splayed like a starfish. The worms bit down and quivered in the brackish water. Their spasms stung, but Datra floated still as a stone, hoping to pass for driftwood. For several seconds, there was nothing but pricks in the darkness; then Datra felt a flutter about his thigh, another near his ear, then dozens more between. Datra held until his lungs were fit to burst, then leaned up for air. The patter stopped¡ªDatra froze¡ªit started again, a hundred little prods, from the crook of his arm to the tip of his penis. Datra stole another breath, braced himself, and opened his eyes. They touched seawater and smashed back shut. He tried again, and got his lids just a hair higher. Each time, Datra dreamed of trading his predicament for a seat in the flayer¡¯s rack, but he forced them open until the gray blurs turned to shapes and shadow. He examined his hand and saw a field of larva squirming across it, thick as rope where he¡¯d scraped his knuckles. A fat, shiny minnow dashed in and chomped down on the base, twitching from side to side. The worms broke off, and the fish gathered a mouthful, sucking them in bite by bite. Scraps of wormflesh floated down, and a school of fry swam up to meet them, reaching higher and higher as they raced for the choice cuts. One got too brave, and the minnow snapped it up with the larva, clipping its tail before the tiny creature vanished into big brother¡¯s gullet. Parasites all the way down. Datra couldn¡¯t help a smile. The water grew still, so Datra rolled over, and the frenzy started anew. Datra pulled apart his buttcheeks, looked at the stars, and thought of better days: coming here as a child with Birch; then again as a man, taking along Anya, Quinn, and so many others. Building the pool at Headquarters had turned this one into a curiosity, but Datra always liked bringing new officers here as a rite of passage¡ªHow long since he¡¯d last done that? It might have been Tremaine. The fish swam away, and no change of pose enticed them. Datra looked up for the time and let out a long, cool breath. He dragged himself out of the pool and stood on the sand, balls shriveling in the Autumn breeze; then he rubbed his shoulders and looked around to weigh his options. The obvious choice was Medical, but who might open the door? Datra crept up the beach towards the Animundi. He staggered up a crumbling staircase, then walked out along the crest, the city¡¯s filth flowing beside him. Datra slowed and crouched towards the outbuilding, stopping a ways off to peek through the window. He saw a young, pale man in a rocking chair, reading by light of a candle. Black locks curled over his ears and eyes, stopping just short of his shoulders and the wrinkled robes which covered them. The Medical Lieutenant turned a page. As he did, his tongue ran across his lips. Seconds later, he turned another page, and licked his lips again. Each time Datra saw this, the walk home seemed shorter, safer, more practical; but he forced himself to the front of the building. The gangplank which connected Medical to the Animundi had been pulled up, leaving a gap of nine or ten feet between them. Datra looked at the nearest mooring post, where a brass bell dangled on the end of a string. He pinched the handle, ready to ring for assistance, but then he looked at all the windows and thought of how long he might stand there while Barlow fumbled with the gearbox and asked stupid questions. Datra set down the bell, turned away from the warmth and shelter before him, and began the long trek home. He walked back along the Animundi and stopped at the guardbox near the arch. Datra craned over the empty window and found a canvas sack in the corner. He rifled through it: needle, thread, some opium, roll of matches¡ªinteresting, until Datra realized there was nothing to light. He found a cloth undershirt rolled up in the bottom and pulled it over his head. The arms fit alright, but the body bunched up around his chest and dug into his stomach. Datra looked down, then tore the garment back off¡ªit was somehow worse than just being naked. He toweled off and tossed it into the sewage. Datra turned East, stepping onto the wallside path. He set out in decent spirits, with faith that a brisk pace would fight off the chill; but didn¡¯t make a mile before his ankle started to hurt, slow at first, then red-hot and throbbing. He hobbled and leaned and picked up a dry branch, but the pain grew worse, and each step became a labor. For an hour or more, Datra stumbled along, passing brambles and stones and the distant light of hamlets, but eventually he gave in and hopped towards the wall where the rubble of fallen parapets lay scattered. Datra made a seat of the bricks and sat, panting as sweat ran down his chest and his balls shriveled on the cool, dark stone. He looked to the stars and back down the path, wondering if it was too late to turn back. Datra heard the canter of hooves, and he crouched behind the ruins, one eye peeping through the grass. A horse strode along the path carrying a hooded rider; and Datra squinted to make him out. He hoped for a taskmaster, but would accept a Sudra, who could, of course, be sent to fetch his taskmaster. If this stranger wore a praetor¡¯s tabard, Datra would sit quiet and let the rider pass. However, as the horse drew near, Datra recognized the speckled haunch and knew it as one of his own. Luck burned in his chest as Datra rushed out to the road, standing tall with crossed arms, grinning and ready to share a laugh with his rescuer¡ªthis could have happened to anyone, after all. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. However, as the rider trotted towards him, Datra¡¯s smile began to crack. A well-lacquered baton swung from the figure¡¯s hips, which were soft, and wider than the shoulders; tall enough to pass male at fifty moonlit paces, but not pulled up broadside across the path, silhouetted by the chipped mortar of Ze¡¯s outer wall. She spoke, and Datra¡¯s face fell as limp as his penis. ¡°What have you done to yourself?¡± ¡°S¡¯nocte, Sargent,¡± said Datra. He reached for the saddle, but Anya pulled the reins. ¡°What did you do?¡± ¡°Our job.¡± Again, he reached forwards. Again, she backed away. ¡°Why aren¡¯t you at Medical? People are out looking for you. Where¡¯s your quine?¡± ¡°I used it and soaked in the alcove. I¡¯m not clean clean, but there¡¯s an easy way to solve that. So quit playing and take me home.¡± ¡°How¡¯s your stomach?¡± Anya asked as she backed away a third time. ¡°Did you swall¡ª¡± ¡°Anya¡­¡± Datra said in a low, calm voice. ¡°I¡¯m getting on my horse now.¡± She walked the animal towards a wayward slab. ¡°Fine, but tell me if you need to stop,¡± she said, extending her hand. ¡°Try not to shit on my horse.¡± Datra doubted there was anything left to purge, but he merely grunted and swung himself over the saddle. A small, tight fart slipped out as he bounced into place and wrapped an arm around Anya¡¯s waist. Datra felt her tense up¡ªwhether from disgust or laughter, he could not know¡ªand he wriggled back, moving his hands to the leather ringlets between them. She flicked the reins, and they rode on in silence, following the city wall as a patchwork of fields rolled on besides them, farms and orchards broken up by hamlet fires and a rootstalk of starry canals. The only true darkness was in the black hills which rimmed the hinterlands, holding back the wastes beyond. Familiar sights and smells, the gentle rock of their horse¡ªDatra slipped into trance as candlelit huts drifted by, leaving him colder for having seen their warmth. In another¡¯s care and so close to home, Datra softened, feeling as raw and pink as a freshly-molted crab. The throb in his leg climbed the rostrum, followed by his burning eyes and guts. Then came the shame of accepting help from Anya. She cleared her throat; Datra felt the hum in his chest and realized he was resting on her shoulder. He stiffened back and coughed, trying to re-raise his guard¡ªDatra¡¯s body thought he was safe, but he knew his body was wrong. ¡°So, what happened?¡± asked Anya. ¡°An ansel got into The Maine, and some merchants had a candle. It was going to charge, so I killed it. ¡°How did you get in the water?¡± ¡°That¡¯s where the fly was.¡± Any rode in silence for some time, long enough for Datra to hope she accepted his explanation. No such luck. ¡°Datra, they were foreigners. They were fine.¡± ¡°They would have lived, probably, if that¡¯s what you mean. Lived and shown the scars to every whore in the empire.¡± ¡°If it stung you¡­¡± ¡°I would have drowned, and those men would leave with nothing but a story. Birch would be acting Chief until they named my replacement, and life in Ze would carry on, with or without me.¡± ¡°The Patriarch would think we killed you.¡± ¡°Well, uh...¡± Datra started to chuckle, but realized she had a point. ¡°Maybe, but I¡¯m sure the officers would smooth things over.¡± ¡°They would blame me.¡± This time, Datra did laugh. ¡°That part¡¯s just not my fault.¡± A weatherworn stable came into view, built against a stone fence which swept out in a big half circle, either end set against the wall. Anya guided the horse to the nearest stall, and Datra hobbled off while she hitched it and unlaced the saddle. He limped his way along the curve until he reached the iron gate in the center, mounted between two squat columns. A pipe stuck out from the mortar, dangling a chain with a tiny brass hammer on the end. Datra struck the pipe three times, and it rang like a chime. Several moments passed. Anya stepped besides him and rung it again¡ªonce, hard. ¡°Where is he?¡± She asked. ¡°Pissing, probably; unless you convinced him to abandon his post.¡± ¡°No. But he said he might send Tremaine.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡± Up on the wall, a hatch swung open, and a man leaned out on crossed arms, robe hugging the curve of his shoulders. He rubbed his face and yawned, squeezing out an ¡°evening, boss¡± halfway through. He dropped his hand, and short, dark locks framed his face: square and handsome, save for the purplish bags beneath his eyes. ¡°How was your patrol?¡± ¡°Lever first, wiseass,¡± said Datra. Levine smirked and slipped back from the hatch. A moment later, something heavy and metal slammed into place. Datra heard water and hidden gears, then the gate before him began to creak open. ¡°So, what happened?,¡± asked Levine. ¡°Did you really jump? Or is that an indoor conversation?¡± ¡°It¡¯s an eight-in-the-morning conversation. We have business in G.¡± ¡°You mean J?¡± ¡°Did I say J?¡± ¡°No sir, no sir. Shall I call the lieutenants?¡± Datra nodded. ¡°Birch will already be asleep, but find your juniors and send them to bed. One sleepwalker will be enough.¡± ¡°Sure thing. ¡®Though I¡¯m not sure why we bothered with Anya on the case. You should have seen her, Boss. Surprised there¡¯s a door left on its hinges.¡± She ignored this and slipped through the gate. Datra waited for the gap to widen. Levine kept talking. ¡°Maybe catching you naked and alone was too good to pass up?¡± ¡°I think she¡¯s seen it, Lieutenant.¡± ¡°I mostly meant alone.¡± Datra wriggled inside. Levine slammed to reverse, and the gate inched closed. Datra wound through sheds, shacks, and piles of old equipment, following Anya to the wall. ¡°You know,¡± Levine called down. ¡°If you want the whole city to see your secrets, there are easier ways to do it.¡± ¡°Let me guess: a trip to the Old Palace?¡± Levine broke into laughter: a hoarse, tired wheeze. ¡°Front and back,¡± he said. ¡°From the asshole on up.¡± Datra looked up. ¡°Well, if it ever comes to that. I know I¡¯ll be in good company. Now go set things up and try to get some sleep. I want copies of everything we have on the Eastern tip of G.¡± ¡°That peninsula thing?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± The hatch slammed shut, and Datra joined Anya at the base of the wall, near the bins and cleaning stations. She kicked her sandals into a crate labeled ¡°footwear¡±, then slipped off her sash and baton with one deft motion. She reached for her subungula as the robe hung slack from her shoulders. Seeing his head-start disappear, Datra went straight to the nearest bathing stall, gritted his teeth, and yanked the chain. A burst of chill water came down on his head, and Datra savaged his skin with a well-lathered sponge, resenting the cold but so grateful for soap after hours of stewing in filth. The next stall over kicked on, and Datra doubled his pace¡ªAnya wouldn¡¯t need half the washing he did. ¡°I hate when they do that,¡± said Datra. ¡°Do what?¡± ¡°Stop just short of an ass-kicking. Levine¡¯s the prince of that garbage.¡± ¡°Is he not your favorite anymore?¡± ¡°No. He is. But I messed up and let him know it.¡± Datra pulled the chain, and another freezing torrent crashed over his shoulders. ¡°You know,¡± Datra said. ¡°Years ago I slipped a proposal into my annual report. It requested funds and engineers to source these from boilers instead of aqueducts. I pitched it as a safety enhancement and had Barlow add some gibberish about how it would open our pores. It came back the next day, and guess what was written in the margins.¡± ¡°Denied?¡± ¡°Nope. Nice try.¡± Datra started a third wash, but Anya stepped out of her booth, so he slapped the soap from his body and limped to her side, facing an innocuous door in the base of the wall. Datra opened it to reveal a narrow, dark chamber with stone sides and tiled floor, featureless except for a square pit set in the far end, filled to the brim with water. Datra held the door, and Anya walked up to the hole. She bounced on the balls of her feet and dropped in, straight as a board. Datra took her place at the rim, pausing to savor the humid air. He looked down the shaft¡ªnothing but water¡ªand jumped in. He sank into a crouch against the marble bottom, then kicked off the wall, shooting under the barrier like a great fish. He stood and shook his hair and looked around. The pool was empty, save for Anya, who glided right to her favored place near the ¡°kid¡¯s bench¡±, perching on a shallow seat where the water barely reached her navel. Datra waded left, deeper, towards his own spot under a cracked mural. He slumped against the wall, and every joint ached as hot quinewater lapped his shoulders. Several brass vessels floated between them. Anya took one up, filled it with water, then lifted it over her head, revealing a thin chain which trailed down to a bracket in the rim. She dumped it over her head and filled another bowl. Datra looked up and across at her as this kept going, wondering when she would break the silence, or leave¡ªhe would be here a good long while, but for Anya this was a formality. ¡°Nice of Levine to set the lamps,¡± said Datra. ¡°Not sure my fingers could work a match right now.¡± ¡°Datra, why did you call a meeting?¡± ¡°Just need to catch up with the lieutenants. Administration and all that.¡± The words hardly left his lips before Datra began to regret them. Anya seemed to swell in the slanted light, dark face framed by pale orange shadows which rippled across every brick and pillar. She stared down Datra, and he stared back¡ªalthough, under the water, he felt his knees squeeze together. ¡°Datra,¡± she said. ¡°You jumped. You got trapped. I found you. Tell me what¡¯s going on.¡± A hot fist clenched inside Datra¡¯s head. ¡°You think you¡¯re entitled to that?¡± he said, thinking of all the ways he might put the sergeant in her place: docked pay, promotion to taskmaster, a simple punch in the tits. However, the fire died as fast as it rose, leaving him cold and limp, caring for nothing but how to reach his bed with as little heartache as possible. Datra exhaled and fell slack in the steaming quinewater. ¡°Someone has precocious flies,¡± said Datra. ¡°Upstream of the outbreaks.¡± If Anya found this interesting, Datra could not tell. She softened her posture and poured a final bowl of water over her face, then she stood and wrung her hair. ¡°I¡¯ll tell D¡¯rar he¡¯s watching the kids,¡± she said, stepping out of the pool, towards the line of stalls set into the far wall. ¡°How long will this take?¡± ¡°Who says you¡¯re going anywhere?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t you say it¡¯s in G?¡± she called out, voice echoing over the rush of a faucet. Datra hmm¡¯d and stared at the ceiling. He¡¯d forgotten Anya was clade G¡¯s point-of-contact. ¡°Fine,¡± he said. ¡°But mind your bounds. Go ask Levine how you can help.¡± ¡°Sure thing, Chief.¡± Anya grabbed a towel from the bin and ran it through her hair, then she took her robe off its peg. ¡°If you¡¯re kicking D¡¯rar out of bed, tell him to fetch me some wine. He can take a horn if he brings me the bottle.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± Datra watched her march toward the door, and with each echoing step, a knot in his stomach grew tighter. She reached for the handle, and Datra curled his lip, struggling to speak as he felt the moment slip away. Anya stepped out into the hall, and just as the door was about to latch, Datra called out ¡°Anya¡±. Her head popped back into the room, doe-eyed and attentive. ¡°Thanks,¡± said Datra. ¡°Mhmm,¡± Anya bobbed her head and hummed in the high, sweet voice she usually saved for children, then she pulled back and latched the door behind her. Chapter 3 ¡°Datra,¡± called a shrill, soft voice. ¡°Datra, mom says breakfast¡±¡ªknock, knock, knock knock! Datra twisted on his pillow and squinted at his bedroom door. The shadow of two tiny feet fanned out under the gap, then turned long and thin as his caller rose up on her toes. ¡°Datra¡­¡± ¡°Mom¡¯s not the boss of me, sweetie.¡± Datra said. ¡°I¡¯ll be out in bit. Go eat your breakfast.¡± The doorlatch rattled as Enya knocked again. A heavier set of feet stamped down the hallway and settled behind her, their stark outline swallowing up the girl¡¯s delicate silhouette. ¡°But Datra, mom sai-.¡± A crack rang out. Enya jumped, squealed, and pattered down the hall, her assailant marching behind. The whimpers faded, and Datra settled back into his mattress, feeling each of his forty-seven years as he watched the first sunrays creep across the ceiling. He tried to savor these restful minutes, but Enya¡¯s invitation intrigued him, especially if he¡¯d gotten it by mistake. Eventually, the smell of charred meat tipped the scales, and Datra stretched himself awake. He shimmied back until his shoulders rested on the headboard, then Datra reached between his buttcheeks and found the thin strip of tape he¡¯d placed there the night before. He tore it free and held it up to the window: no larvae, no eggs. Datra flicked the tape into his wastebin, then he swung out his legs and hopped upright. His ankle popped and crumpled beneath him, sending Datra headlong towards his dresser. He caught himself on the varnished rim, cursing. He yanked out the top drawer, and a wave of loose subungula piled up against the front panel. Beneath them, a rectangle of parchment sat flat on the bottom. It¡¯s header read ¡°Paetro Lec¡± in colossal black letters, with ¡°Datra Gaelo T¡¯nay¡± penned out in flowing script just below. A dozen colorful seals peppered the yellow-white body, all keeping their distance from the black square in the center: the stamp of The Archives, filled with a pen and a scroll. Datra whipped out a garment¡ªlinen, not silk¡ªand twisted it about his loins. He moved to leave, then paused and reached to the very back of the drawer, pulling out an immaculate pair of cold-weather socks. Datra shook them by the toes and a jar of wine-red liquid dropped out, looking like a robin¡¯s egg in the crater of underwear. He donned a robe, tucked the jar into his sleeve, and set out for breakfast. Datra wound through the long hallway towards Operations, hardly rounding the first corner before he heard the clatter of silverware. ¡°He didn¡¯t tell me either,¡± echoed a deep voice. ¡°Who cares what Customs thinks?¡± a lighter one followed. The chatter blended together as Datra drew close, and when he reached the doorway, Datra leaned in the frame, pausing to test his ankle and ponder his subordinates. Dozens of people crowded around the massive oak table, with many more waiting in the wings. At one end, Tremaine stabbed his finger into an unrolled building plan. ¡°I think we can fit a third line,¡± he said in his wispy, hen-pecked voice. ¡°But I expect them to pay for a cistern. I don¡¯t trust drip-feed, not with that many people.¡± The builders around him nodded in agreement, and Tremaine leaned back to sip rootwater without endangering his precious charts. Levine walked by with a fresh carafe, and tapped Tremaine on the shoulder. ¡°Not that you need it,¡± said the older man, topping off his junior¡¯s drink. In the far corner, Anya faced the wall with crossed arms, staring at the row of iron hatches set into the bricks. Next to her stood D¡¯rar, holding a brass platter in front of his navel. A dull screech sounded from the nearest door, and Anya wrenched open the latch. She craned in with a pair of tongs, pulling out a coil of sausages, a stack of flatcakes, a sheet of freshly beaten egg. With each addition, D¡¯rar leaned a little farther back to cope with the weight; and when Anya pulled out a sizzling brown chicken, the boy¡¯s knees began to buckle. Datra looked on as Anya slid a second, bigger bird to the front of the oven, and D¡¯rar gave in, swinging the platter up as he dropped to a crouch, then standing with his burden balanced on his head. Anya added the final portions, then relatched the door and knocked three times¡ªa hatch clanged open on the other side of the wall. The young man walked his burden to the table, where Levine concealed a smirk by rubbing his face, and Tremaine¡¯s people snickered. As he drew near, Datra leaned over and snapped up a sausage, causing the whole pile to tilt sideways and spill across the edge, the chain dangling next to D¡¯rar¡¯s ear. Datra took a bite and chuckled. He didn¡¯t want to torment the boy, but next his Sudran head the meat looked so much like a tassel. ¡°Don¡¯t do that!¡± D¡¯rar yelled as he knelt to unload the platter. After the nearest eaters helped him slide it onto the table, he spun round ready for a fight, only to fall placid upon seeing his harasser¡¯s face. He snapped to attention and bowed. ¡°S¡¯morro, don!¡± ¡°S¡¯morro, prim,¡± Datra said. ¡°Well done saving the food, although next time I¡¯d make two trips, or tell the sergeant to mind your limits.¡± ¡°I will, sir.¡± ¡°I will, Datra,¡± the Chief corrected. With his sausageless hand, Datra pinched one of the boy¡¯s sleevecuffs and lifted it into the space between them. ¡°We¡¯ve all been impressed by your progress, boy. Don¡¯t make me cut these off.¡± D¡¯rar looked from Datra to the fine cotton sleeve to the ground. ¡°I will¡­ Datra.¡± The young Sudra stood tense, as if waiting for a scourge to land across his back. The blow never came, so the boy kept talking. ¡°Are you feeling well then, Datra?¡± asked D¡¯rar. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡± ¡°I heard you had an accident last night.¡± ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve been listening to stories,¡± Datra said with a smirk. ¡°You should know better.¡± D¡¯rar blinked and looked towards the table, but Datra put a hand on his temple like blinders on a horse, then tapped him back forward. ¡°I didn¡¯t say rat our your sources. I said you¡¯ve been listening to stories.¡± ¡°D¡¯rar answered the door last night,¡± Levine said over the din. ¡°Ran for me and kept his mouth shut. Did everything right.¡± ¡°And you wasted that discretion on Anya.¡± ¡°Hey. It worked.¡± Datra took his place at the head of the table and reached for one of the ceramic horns lying point-up on the table. Levine offered the carafe and dolled out rootwater while Datra made a plate with his free hand¡ªpickled onion, sweet breads, pies filled with egg and curdled cream; Datra took a sample of each, only passing on the charred slab of ¡°piss pork¡± which Levine had slid to his corner of the table. He sprinkled some hash on his pie and took a bite, feeling the sting of vinegar mellow out as it mixed with the soft, white filling. As usual, the cooks had done well: strong green herbs and a generous portion of salt; however, he couldn¡¯t stop his eyes from darting up and down the table, as though a basket of apples might have materialized in last five seconds. That reminded him. Datra scooted sideways and turned to find Enya. The girl scowled up from beneath Anya¡¯s desk, hands clasped on her sore bottom. Datra waved her over, slapped his knee twice. Enya side-eyed the ovens, then jumped up and ran to Datra, tunic fluttering as she sped across the polished floor. She leaped into Datra¡¯s lap, and he squared up to the table, sliding a saucer of hotcakes right under the girl¡¯s nose. She grabbed one bare-handed, and Datra swatted her wrist, then he reached into the folds of his robe and fished out the jar. He broke the seal, and the pop drew every eye upon him. Datra make a show of ladling berries out onto Enya¡¯s cakes, then he slammed the jar in front of Tremaine. ¡°Pass that around,¡± he said. ¡°What¡¯s the occasion?¡± ¡°Should I need one?¡± The preserves made their way down the table, with most diners taking cautious spoonfuls, and a few passing entirely. Enya made bug eyes at her own plate, but kept her hands down and waited. Datra leaned in with an exaggerated whisper. ¡°I¡¯ll share, but only if you promise not to tell anyone.¡± The girl nodded and pressed a finger to her lips. Datra did the same, then put a fork into Enya¡¯s fist and helped the girl carve a little wedge out of her cakes. She paused to sniff the morsel, and her eyes lit up when she ate it. The jar made it¡¯s way back, and Datra spun it round, looking for the dates on the import stamp. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize how long it¡¯s been,¡± he said, mostly to Levine. ¡°She might not remember the last time she had it.¡± They sat and ate as people came and went, some stopping to sit at the table, others stuffing a roll with chicken and hash before they trudged off toward their stations¡ªor bedrooms, for those who worked nights. As the minutes wore on, the room¡¯s balance shifted from field staff to scribes, thinning out out until Tremaine waved away his builders, leaving only the officers and Enya, whom Anya sent off with D¡¯rar before deadbolting the hallway. Tremaine raised an eyebrow, as if the sergeant had locked herself on the wrong side of the door, but he had the sense to keep quiet. Anya attended to a stack of papers on her desk. Datra cleared his throat. ¡°We¡¯re down two,¡± he said. ¡°He¡¯ll make it,¡± said Levine. ¡°I¡¯m not worried about him.¡± Datra glanced at the clock in the corner, watching the rhythmic drops fill the cylinder, so close to the top he could hardly see the gap. The last driblet fell, and the counterweight snapped sideways, purging the water from the tube. As it drained, the door swung open, and Lieutenant Barlow strode in, swinging his greatcoat over a chair and sitting in one big motion. He slid up to the table just as the clock clicked back into place. ¡°Morning, boss,¡± the young man said, helping himself to a big spoon of preserves. ¡°Ready for the meeting?¡± Anya worked around the table with bundles of paper. She tossed one to Tremaine, left another by the empty corner seat, and slid a third under Barlow. He looked back and grinned. ¡°Morning Anya, did you get promot¡ª.¡± Anya stopped him with a touch of the wrist and the faintest ¡°shh¡±, then she squeezed his shoulder and continued around the table, giving documents to Levine and Datra. Barlow blushed and focused on his cakes. ¡°Where the hell is Birch?¡± muttered Datra. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m supposed to tell you,¡± said Barlow, pouring himself a horn of boiled milk. ¡°The desk lady said Birch is running late and start without her.¡± ¡°And what¡¯s so important?¡± ¡°She¡¯s down in the cove with some kid. Desk lady said he¡¯s fighting a fine.¡± Datra drained his horn, slammed it down, and stomped to the main door, snatching up a wad of black felt from the rack in his office. He looked back and saw blank stares. ¡°You heard the woman, start!¡± he yelled. Datra walked through the foyer, and the city map stopped him dead. Irrigators were expected to trace their patrols in chalk, and someone had added Datra¡¯s adventure from the night before, ending with several loopedy-loops and a vertical plunge into The Maine. Datra cursed and rubbed it away with his arm, then slapped the dust from his sleeve as he marched past the front desk¡ªhe looked at nobody¡ªand continued down the stairs. ¡°Bunch of children,¡± he muttered. The bureau¡¯s basement, the cove, was dim, humid, and nearly empty, a glorified hallway with iron bars on one side and windowless doors on the other. Datra rounded the corner and a few rankless jumped up to act busy, admiring the piles of equipment which filled most of the cells¡ªnone contained humans. He waved towards the interrogation rooms, eyebrow raised, and the workers pointed to the nearest one, right next to the lower exit. As Datra drew near, he heard ¡°why should I?¡± and ¡°it¡¯s not fair¡± through the insulated door. He took a deep breath and sauntered inside. A few feet before him sat Birch, one ankle tucked behind the other, plume of silverbrown hair spilling over the leather headboard. On the other side of the greasy green glass which split the room, within arm¡¯s reach of an Irrigator escort, stood a young man of slight build and immaculate grooming, bone-white robe embroidered with crimson floss. There was an unfortunate roundness to his cheeks, and the lad¡¯s skin was a shade past tan, but the heavy brow and strong nose were classically imperial¡ªDatra suspected the boy¡¯s grandmother had called in a favor; cousins make such convenient fathers. ¡°S¡¯morro, Chief,¡± said Birch. A sweetness in her voice set Datra on edge. ¡°I heard someone requested me,¡± he answered in kind. ¡°I¡¯m done talking to you people,¡± the youth said. ¡°Send for my barrister.¡± ¡°Citations went out this morning,¡± said Birch, ¡±and young master Nicholas requested a hearing. I happen to know his family, so I took the opportunity to catch up while I gave him some information.¡± ¡°Makes sense to me,¡± said Datra. ¡°Satisfied?¡± ¡°I want to speak to someone with authority,¡± said Nicholas. ¡°Funny you should say that¡­¡± ¡°I mean legal authority.¡± ¡°A judge, perhaps?¡± ¡°I would talk to a judge.¡± Datra took the felt cap from his pocket, slapping it smooth before he slipped the black circlet over his head. Datra pushed the hair from his brow and reached for Birch¡¯s tablet. ¡°Sorry Lieutenant, but unless you¡¯re a witness, I¡¯ll ask you to leave.¡± Birch handed over her papers and drifted towards the entrance. ¡°Do give my regards to your mother, Nicholas. I don¡¯t get out like I used to, but I hope to see you soon.¡± ¡°S¡¯morro, Lieutenant,¡± said Nicholas, somber as the door swung shut, fierce after it latched. ¡°I still want my lawyer.¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°What do you mean no? I have rights.¡± ¡°What on Earth gave you that idea?¡± asked Datra. The boy ruffled his feathers. ¡°I¡¯m a citizen. I¡¯m on the Register. I get a lawyer.¡± ¡°In civil court, you would get a lawyer; or with the magistrate after appeal. Bureau fines are inquisitorial.¡± ¡°What does that mean? You¡¯re cutting off my fingers?¡± ¡°It means the judge prosecutes. All a barrister would do is establish his client¡¯s character, which you can do yourself. I¡¯d start with a proper greeting.¡± The young man tensed up, chewing his words. ¡°S¡¯morro, Paetr,¡± he spat out. ¡°My name is Nicholas.¡± ¡°S¡¯morro, prim. I am Chief Datra, acting judge. Please explain your issue. A summary: thirty seconds or so.¡± ¡°I was at my fianc¨¦e¡¯s house, having dinner with her and her aunt. They¡¯re fond of chilled wine, so I brought some ice. The next morning we realized I forgot the bucket, but when I went back your people had already taken it. Then I came home and found this.¡± He brandished a crumpled slip of paper, marked with Datra¡¯s seal and signature (in Levine¡¯s handwriting). ¡°Whose name is the bucket in?¡± ¡°My mother¡¯s. She¡¯s the one who noticed it was missing. The ice didn¡¯t even have time to melt yet.¡± Datra hmm¡¯d and turned through Birch¡¯s notes. One of the fianc¨¦¡¯s cousins was a Bureau auxiliary. After the party, she had emptied the bucket herself and sent a memo¡ªsubject line: ¡°stagnant water¡±. Datra kept flipping and found the boy¡¯s profile; he had been flagged as a future informant. ¡°Young man, your story lines up, but I¡¯m not seeing a problem. The fine is for leaving a stamped vessel unattended.¡± ¡°And I admit I did that. I apologize, but our parents did nothing wrong.¡± ¡°Nick, did you take a registered vessel without permission?¡± Datra let the question hang as he squinted at the documents, then he flipped them shut and chuckled. ¡°Ah, it¡¯s neither here nor there. You aren¡¯t quite sixteen yet, so it¡¯s really a question of parenting.¡± Datra shook his head. ¡°Leaving a bucket with teenagers¡­¡± ¡°My finance is twenty-seven.¡± ¡°However,¡± Datra pressed on. ¡°I can drop the mother-in-law¡¯s charge.¡± ¡°And ours?¡± ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m dropping it. Your mother is at fault.¡± Nicholas stormed forwards, fogging the glass as he fumbled a response. The rankless at his side perked up, ready to pounce if the boy crossed a line. Datra stared into Nicholas¡¯s eyes and raised a stern, open hand between them, then let it fall with the volume. ¡°Nicholas, I¡¯m giving you my time, so try and appreciate my position. If Irrigation had to litigate every fine, I couldn¡¯t run this place with every man in the bureaus. Your mother¡¯s name is on the stamp: she¡¯s liable. If you can¡¯t move past that, this conversation is over.¡± ¡°Okay, but five hundred? My valet doesn¡¯t charge that in a year. I thought fifty was normal.¡± ¡°And if your valet was behind the glass, I might charge fifty; but you aren¡¯t your valet, are you?¡± Nicholas gawked. Datra pressed on. ¡°Nick. Do you remember the last census? About three years ago.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Thought as much. When the memos were circulating and everyone had an opinion on taxes and payroll. In all the bickering, did you ever once hear about Irrigation getting funded?¡± ¡°¡­no.¡± ¡°You can toss your notes in The Maine for all difference they make. What I need¡ªwhat we need¡ªis for me and you to walk away from this knowing we understand each other.¡± Nicholas stared into the corner for a long moment. ¡°I don¡¯t have five hundred,¡± he said. ¡°Again, son. It¡¯s your mother¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°But I should be the one to pay for it. I have a few hundred in my account. Could I make payments on the rest?¡± Datra held back a smirk. He was starting to like Nicholas. ¡°What¡¯s your fianc¨¦¡¯s name?¡± ¡°Lila Novack.¡± ¡°Any relation to Jasper Novack?¡± ¡°Granddaughter.¡± ¡°And when¡¯s the wedding?¡± ¡°March.¡± Datra chuckled. ¡°Slick; but if I allowed that I might as well wait for you to inherit. Either we resolve this now or not at all.¡± ¡°How, then? You keep saying ¡®no¡¯.¡± ¡°Tell you what. Sign over a hundred today, and I¡¯ll rip up the fine: no courts, no record, no need to tell mother. We¡¯ll write off the rest as a private debt and work something out. Answer quick and I¡¯ll drop it to seventy-five. I don¡¯t want to go upstairs, but I want to be here less.¡± Nicholas stared at the door, the guard, then back at Datra. ¡°When you say work something out, what does that mean?¡± ¡°There¡¯s a chance you have some asset the department wants¡ªappropriately valued, of course¡ªbut it usually means payment in kind: land surveys, updating registers, things like that. There¡¯s no shortage of work in the clades.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve heard of this,¡± Nicholas trailed off, then glared and stepped back from the glass. ¡°No. I¡¯m not doing this. I want my barrister.¡± Datra held up his hands. ¡°It was just an idea. If you don¡¯t like it, that¡¯s fine. It¡¯ll be a standard fine through standard channels. Your mother can afford ice and a bucket to carry it in. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll manage.¡± ¡°I said I want my lawyer.¡± ¡°Bye, Nick.¡± Datra reached for the door, hiding a grin. ¡°I want to see the Patriarch!¡± Datra paused with his hand on the latch. He glanced back at the youth, at the rankless, then back to Nick, slowing to choose ever word: ¡°Nicholas, in my experience, the odds are better in¡­¡± ¡°Are you denying my rights?¡± The escort stood up straight and looked to Datra, who felt a dozen arguments flash into his mind, only to fade and wither under the boy¡¯s determined sneer. ¡°You heard the man,¡± Datra said. ¡°Young master Nicholas is exercising his Right of Arbitration. Get him sealed and head for the Old Palace. You know the way?¡± The rankless nodded, and Datra slipped outside. Just before the door slammed shut, he heard a single word: ¡°Seal?¡± Chapter 4 Datra sauntered to his seat, past the field of charts strewn across the table. The officers fell silent, but he waved them on. ¡°By all means, keep going. What has Anya wrought?¡± ¡°Sergeant laid out the basics,¡± said Levine. ¡°Gut flies in G. Not sure who has them. Gotta find out. Clear as rain, save for the bit where she goes in herself.¡± Datra hmm¡¯d and gave her a side-eye, but Anya kept sorting through files. Tremaine coughed and slid over a map of G¡¯s peninsula; buildings in delicate gray, ran through by streaks of blue and black. ¡°Chief, that drain you singled out connects to a few properties, but only one full-time residence.¡± He jabbed a finger at the crusty lead pipe, then traced its path inland through the square, ending in front of a blocky manor; flanked on one side by a long, thin rectangle; the other, a lumpy courtyard. ¡°I recognized the house. The neighborhood¡¯s cistern is inside the fence. We have to knock to get in.¡± ¡°You know the owners, then?¡± Datra asked. ¡°Not so well as you,¡± said Birch. ¡°We rent that space from the Pentacosts.¡± Datra leaned back and rubbed his forehead. ¡°Wonderful,¡± he said. ¡°One of the thinner branches, I hope?¡± Birch looked to Anya, who still had her nose in her papers. After several moments, she felt the eyes of the table upon her. ¡°Jenya,¡± she said. ¡°Praise Chur,¡± Datra sighed. ¡°Jenya, the poet?¡± asked Barlow. ¡°Yeah, although in my day she was Jenya: Menora¡¯s cousin. Lived in her palace when Old Menander was still around.¡± ¡°Are they close?¡± asked Levine. ¡°No,¡± said Datra. An image flashed through his mind. A dark skinned boy sat in his lap, playing with Datra¡¯s baton. One chair over, an infant suckled at a taut, stretch-marked breast; held fast by delicate, bangled hands. ¡°At least I don¡¯t think so.¡± ¡°They aren¡¯t,¡± said Anya. ¡°Did you and Jenya become pals while I wasn¡¯t looking?¡± Datra asked. ¡°No, but I see her daughters pretty often. They handle family business so their mother can stay home and write.¡± ¡°Jenya was always a shut-in,¡± said Datra. ¡°Glad she found an excuse.¡± ¡°The older one, Veronica, goes to everything. She¡¯s practically on Menora¡¯s council.¡± Birch pursed her lips and flipped through her files. ¡°This Veronica is an impressive young woman.¡± ¡°She is,¡± said Anya. ¡°Top one percent in every subject, won a garland running laps, has not yet taken the Civil Service Exam but holds an outstanding offer from Customs and Mercantile.¡± ¡°That¡¯s adorable,¡± said Datra. ¡°Plays the harp,¡± Birch continued. ¡°Recites pre-Imperial poetry, speaks Pidgin¡­ and she¡¯s over sixteen. Sergeant, why hasn¡¯t this girl submitted for the Draft?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. Menora wants her to work in her palace. Jenya doesn¡¯t like it. I¡¯m not sure what Veronica wants.¡± Birch turned another page. ¡°Jenya¡¯s youngest, Nadya, isn¡¯t much of a scholar. She may get into a less choosy bureau, but I doubt they¡¯d pay for her cleanse¡ªI certainly wouldn¡¯t.¡± She looked up and waited for Anya to speak. ¡°That could be part of it, but they do have a brother in the bureaus, so I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Yes, in Heredity. Charming young man.¡± ¡°Who else lives there?¡± Datra asked. ¡°Just those three,¡± said Anya. ¡°What¡¯s that, then?¡± Datra pointed at the smaller building. ¡°Servant quarters,¡± Anya said. ¡°But it¡¯s empty. Jenya fired them a while ago.¡± ¡°Poetry not paying so well?¡± ¡°She said they were stealing.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll say the same when Levine goes.¡± Datra chuckled and leaned in to squint at the waterlines, eyeing the sharp, awkward turns which linked the two buildings. ¡°How old¡¯s that shack?¡± ¡°Old,¡± said Anya. ¡°The plumbing is new, if that¡¯s what you mean,¡± said Tremaine. ¡°Four or five years.¡± ¡°Such a hack job.¡± ¡°If I remember correctly,¡± Tremaine said, eyes flitting around the table. ¡°The request for new construction listed an unrealistic budget. There were compromises.¡± Datra shook his head at Levine. What good was letting him do paperwork if crap like this slipped through? ¡°Gave us a reason to be there,¡± said Levine. He moved to refill his horn, but the carafe was empty. Anya stood for a fresh one and went around the table, starting with Birch. ¡°Sure did,¡± said Datra. ¡°Can say we¡¯re checking the joint¡¯s integrity or flow or something¡­ actually, let¡¯s just do that for real. We¡¯re there, right?¡± ¡°Should I put together a team?¡± asked Tremaine. ¡°Yes, and give them plenty of busy work. That area¡¯s full of pensioners with nothing better to do than watch canals all day.¡± ¡°That all sounds great,¡± said Levine. ¡°But my question¡ªand if I¡¯m a fool, tell me. I¡¯d rather know¡ªis why we¡¯re being so shy about this. Sergeant explained how the owner writes a column and people will talk and all that, but we¡¯ve had four outbreaks in three weeks. I don¡¯t care who her cousin is; we could smoke the place and the Patriarch would still back us up.¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°And when their neighbors saw the flames?¡± asked Birch. Levine¡¯s eyes flitted to the big map¡ªthe map of the clade¡ªto the Northwest corner, where a narrow bridge stretched out towards an unseen destination, scribbled over with a bright red ¡®Q¡¯ just before it slipped out of frame. Levine leaned back, grinned, and showed Birch his palms. ¡°Seems I was a fool. Thank you, ma¡¯am.¡± He reached over and tapped the alcove where Datra had read his manuscripts. ¡°I have men in that chase processing by hand. That should buy us some time, since we¡¯re going with stealth.¡± ¡°I think stealth is good,¡± Barlow chimed in. ¡°Less stress.¡± ¡°Thanks Barlow,¡± Datra said. ¡°Can you put someone in there to run tests and keep a log? Preferably an officer; it does not have to be you.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll send Lyre.¡± ¡°Perfect, and keep three ready beds for patients of a certain class¡ªthe one which likes to cause problems¡ªjust in case. That goes for everyone. Be ready to jump in if discretion doesn¡¯t work.¡± Datra looked down the row. ¡°Birch, of course, will be in charge while I¡¯m gone.¡± The room squealed as a chair shot back from the table, and everyone turned to see Tremaine hold an overflowing horn in one hand while the other slapped at his crotch, wet and trailing steam. ¡°Sorry!¡± said Anya, dropping the carafe as she fumbled for a towel. As the chaos unfolded, Datra slipped into his office and picked through his paperwork, hand hooked on the doorway as he stretched for the corner heap. He came back with a sharp, unopened memo, purple seal in the center. ¡°Every few years Oren tries to annex the peninsula on the grounds it¡¯s inefficient and stupid and really should be part of Clade J¡ªhe¡¯s right, for what it¡¯s worth¡ªand this seems like a fine time to play peacemaker. Don¡¯t you agree, Sergeant?¡± Anya kept dabbing Tremaine¡¯s groin. ¡°I do appreciate you taking the initiative on this. I¡¯ll send a runner to Menora; and, knowing her, I expect he¡¯ll come back with an invitation. Let¡¯s meet in Palace district around five. Everyone else: you have your orders.¡± Datra ended the meeting with a clap. Levine wrenched open the deadbolts and set off towards Admin. Birch followed, but Datra slipped into the hallway besides her. ¡°Have a minute?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯m going to Customs, why? ¡°I¡¯ll go with you.¡±
Datra stepped into the growing light, rolling his shoulders as he settled on the canalside fence. He stood with one hand on a pike, stretching his ankle as the front doors closed behind him. He looked back and saw Birch chatting up the front desk just before the entrance snapped shut. The brass panels flashed and hit him like a torch¡ªsensitive from too much time in the pool. A hinge squealed below, and Datra stuck his head through the bars, staring down at the crystal waters of a mother canal. A door swung open, and the rankless from before stepped out on the scaffold, followed by Nick, robes bright as a sail as he moved from the shadows. The escort pointed upstream and both set out for Palace District, the youth marching with a stiff swing which, to a random onlooker, might have passed for bravado. Another squeal¡ªBirch was back, clacking over the cobbles with short, smart strides. Datra wandered to her side and took one extra step, pulling Birch¡¯s eyes away from the water, and Nick. ¡°Enjoy your chat?¡± he asked. ¡°I did, Dat,¡± she said. ¡°And how did your talk with Nicholas go?¡± ¡°Seems like a good kid.¡± In the corner of Datra¡¯s vision, the boy walked the long, slow bend to the bureaus, a lonely bright patch in a haze of blue and brown. Datra forced himself to hold Birch¡¯s gaze, lest his eyes betray him¡ªhe felt they still might. ¡°He is,¡± said Birch, refusing to blink. Both took a false step towards the other, then hesitated. ¡°Mind if we cut through A?¡± asked Datra. ¡°I¡¯m behind on patrols. Your choice, of course.¡± Birch¡¯s pupils bored into his. ¡°Of course,¡± she said, falling in beside him. They worked down the slivered parcel which made up Irrigation, from the main building to the garden to the triangular storehouse at the tip of the property: the last slip of space between the wall and canal. The path veered off over the water, and they followed it, passing through a dilapidated guardbox¡ªunmanned, empty, doors lifted off their hinges. ¡°When will you tear this down?¡± asked Birch. ¡°When I know I won¡¯t need it,¡± said Datra. ¡°Such an eyesore.¡± They stepped into Clade A, passing up the main paths for the grid of brittle footways which cut through the center. Before long, they joined with a wider street, flanked on either side with shops and offices. In the nearest doorway, an old man smiled and lifted his cane. ¡°S¡¯morrow, Don,¡± he said, and Datra answered in kind. A few shops down, a middle-aged woman with a tray of pastries called out ¡°Lieutenant Birch!¡± and gave them both samples. Similar exchanges happened every ten or twelve paces, so Datra ducked down an alley, towards a smaller street one row over. He heard a rhythmic thump, stronger with each step. In a nook between houses, Datra saw three girls stomping on a fourth, robes flapping about their knees as sandaled feet came down on the victims chest, thighs, and crotch. Though ungrappled, the girl on the ground failed to fight up, drowning under the weight of the blows. ¡°Fucking clades,¡± Datra mumbled, reaching for his baton; but before he slid it out, Birch made a noise: something between the word ¡°hey¡± and two tomcats meeting in a gutter. The assailants spun ¡®round and bolted. The victim thrashed up, hair and clothes in a bloody tangle, then he (Datra now saw it was a boy in need of a barber) pulled his robes together and gave chase as the ganglet vanished around a corner. ¡°Future bureaucrats, all,¡± said Datra. ¡°Shame they didn¡¯t stop to chat. I might have offered them a job.¡± ¡°And might still,¡± said Birch, ¡°It¡¯s healthy to have some fight at that age. It shows initiative, leadership.¡± ¡°It shows an absence.¡± ¡°How fortunate then, that they have you.¡± ¡°Your jokes have worsened with age,¡± Datra said. ¡°And they weren¡¯t funny to start with.¡± Datra tried to look annoyed as they left the alley. He collided with a mousy adolescent in overfine robes, a bureau kid if he ever saw one. The boy looked up with bugged eyes, stammered ¡°my apologies, patre!¡± and jumped to the side, hands clasped, head bowed. Datra nodded and moved on. Birch could hardly contain her laughter. Once the youth fell out of earshot, she quit trying. ¡°So Dat,¡± said Birch, giggling, ¡°what did you want to talk about?¡± ¡°Ansels.¡± ¡°Was Barlow not available?¡± ¡°I want someone who¡¯s lived with flies, not studied them.¡± ¡°Anya?¡± ¡°I¡¯d like a mother¡¯s perspective.¡± ¡°Is Anya not?¡± Birch asked. ¡°Ah, but they were born in a bureaus¡­ You suspect Jenya¡¯s daughter, the younger one.¡± ¡°Suspect is a strong word, but when I¡¯ve seen gut flies before, it was people who were broke or sick or touched in the head. People who didn¡¯t ask for help.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve seen the same.¡± ¡°Well, maybe this Nadya doesn¡¯t know she has them, or does but thinks it¡¯s normal. She¡¯s at that age, isn¡¯t she?¡± ¡°Well, you never want to assume¡­¡± ¡°Yeah, consistently inconsistent.¡± ¡°But, yes, ansels mature with their human. Babies only have worms, kids have small pods, and adults have big ones.¡± ¡°I know that much, but what does it feel like? How fast is the change?¡± ¡°For me, it was almost overnight. Jitters went from a few times an hour to a few times a minute, stronger as well, and more variety. They moved more at meals, less at night, that sort of thing.¡± ¡°I swear I would rip my own guts out.¡± ¡°For a while, I wanted to, but you get used to it. After my treatment, I almost felt guilty, like I¡¯d lost an old friend.¡± ¡°That¡¯s insane.¡± ¡°You wanted first-hand experience, didn¡¯t you?¡± Datra had no answer, so Birch continued: ¡°To your point, I¡¯ve never had precocious flies¡ªfew have, and fewer survive¡ªbut I think I would have known. Mature jitters were just early jitters, but stronger. If I¡¯d felt something totally new, I would have noticed.¡± ¡°And what would you have done?¡± ¡°Told my mother, obviously.¡± Datra hmm¡¯d as they reached the edge of the clade, a flat stretch overlooking The Maine. Masts and sails poked up behind the pikes, and Datra heard the bustle of commerce below. Birch glided over to a gap in the wall, grasping the laddertop with a forced slowness, almost sarcasm. ¡°Thanks for the company, Dat. I hope you enjoy your time with Anya.¡± She clambered down and dropped out of sight. Datra looked about and decided he may as well finish the patrol. He slipped into another alley and wormed through the fat of the clade, greeting the odd servant or gardener as he moved between houses. He passed a square of grass, too small to be called a yard, and saw the youths from before; the boy flat on his back while one girl sat on his legs, another pinned his hands, and a third rested on his chest¡ªknees on either side of his jaw, palms clamped over his mouth. Datra paused to glance at the windows around him; seeing nobody, he kept walking. Chapter 5 ¡°Done with that, Chief?¡± Datra drained his ale and shook the garnish onto his plate, pickled sprout crashing amidst piles of cheese and nuts, then he slammed down the glass, lipprints cracking the light as yeast and scum trickled into the serial numbers stamped into the base. The waitress took it with both hands, and a single lock slipped free of her bun. She reached up to tuck it, and her sleevecuff fell, flashing Datra with a stretch of pale brown skin on the thicker half of her forearm. She looked down and away, and walked behind the counter, plunging her hands wrist-deep into a basin of soapy water¡ªsleeves safe and dry above the suds. Datra watched her work as he pecked at his snacks. Every four or five nuts, he leaned over for a glimpse of the Old Palace: gray parapets drilling the heavens, nothing but blue fields between. A door squealed open, followed by the sound of a brass lockbox hitting the tiled floor. Anya slid between stools to lean on the bar, two fat duffels slung under one shoulder. She wiped the sweat from her brow and called out ¡°water,¡± shoving a bag into Datra¡¯s lap as the server brought a cup. She emptied it in one broken draught, pausing for breath with lips on the vessel. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± she said, reaching over for a refill. ¡°You should have used D¡¯rar,¡± said Datra. ¡°He¡¯s watching the kids.¡± ¡°They can¡¯t last an hour?¡± Anya ignored him and downed another glass. Datra hmm¡¯d and said ¡°I suppose they¡¯re used to having one of us, at least.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Datra held the sprout in his mouth, shouldered his pack, and dumped the spare nuts in his satchel. He reached for the lockbox, but Anya grabbed it first. Datra tried to protest, but could only grunt through his teeth as Anya barged past the door and the people behind it, Datra trailing in her wake as they plunged into the crowd¡ªa core of smart, trim bureaucrats, with some servants and shopkeeps lingering in the margins; a few of the more established owners watched from balconies, sons lined up beside them. Anya snaked across Palace Square, making a weak effort to avoid those with rank as she clipped person after person with her luggage. A circle of young men stood in her path. ¡°Move,¡± she said, and they did, save for a slim adolescent in overclean robes, eyes fixed on the towering fa?ade¡ªDatra looked up: still nothing. Anya knocked him across the cobbles, and the youth spun up to glare. Anya did the same¡ªgrayblue eyes flashing down. The upstart turned away, then he saw Datra and dove into the mass. They burst out on a street, pausing for breath as the traffic thinned, and a few minutes¡¯ walk put them crossing the first bridge to the clades. Two maille-clad praetors manned the checkpoint, truncheons at the hip, polearms leaned against the guardhouse. One reached for a roster; the other, a graybeard with corporal¡¯s stripes, waved them up. ¡°S¡¯diem, Don,¡± he called out. ¡°S¡¯diem, fere. How goes the watch?¡± ¡°Better than holding a pike in that square.¡± ¡°You¡¯d miss it?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve seen one; you¡¯ve seen them all, Chief. Not that I should tell you. Besides, the view here¡¯s plenty close.¡± The old guard jabbed a key towards the Palace, tracing the battlements with a flick of his wrist, then he turned to fumble with the lock. The younger took up a tablet and asked ¡°Name, destination, length of stay, purpose?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t act a slave, boy,¡± said his senior. ¡°You know damn well who this is, and just put ¡®admin¡¯ or something. Although, Chief, I would appreciate a final stop. Saves me a fight with the scribes.¡± ¡°G. Three or four days. Five at most.¡± The corporal pulled the door as his rankless scribbled. ¡°Things must be grim if you¡¯re heading in.¡± ¡°Mediation is a bloody business, to be sure.¡± ¡°Ha, the bugs ready to talk terms?¡± ¡°Oh, you meant the outbreaks? I¡¯d forgotten.¡± Datra stepped back as Anya scuttled in sideways, lockbox first. He followed. ¡°What good is building a staff just to work over their shoulders? Four in a day might be worth my attention. Four in a fortnight is weather.¡± ¡°I sure hope so, sir.¡± Datra turned back to lean in the doorway, elbow on the frame. ¡°If you need hope, then how about this: a single alarm before I¡¯m back, and I¡¯ll treat you to dinner at Martin¡¯s.¡± ¡°And if there¡¯s none?¡± ¡°Then you¡¯ll pay, naturally.¡± ¡°Too rich for my blood,¡± the praetor said, raising a palm in defeat. ¡°Maybe a few years on, after I get my pens¡ª¡± ¡°There it is!¡± yelled the rankless, and all heads whipped towards the Palace. A mass of white fabric danced between parapets, twirling at the end of an oily black noose. Even at this blurry distance, Datra saw every move as the condemned kicked and bucked and clawed at the rope, the crimson trim of their robes cutting a stark silhouette over clear blue sky. They arched their back, scraping one heel over another, and a sandal flew into the crowd; but there were no jeers, no curses; just the sober spectacle of watching the criminal wind down like a fish on the bank¡ªalthough, once the head lolled, they looked more like a bird in a butcher¡¯s window. Datra blinked away and thought of Birch, wondering if he might stretch this errand a few days more. ¡°Someone you know, Chief?¡± asked the praetor. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°No. I think he¡¯s one of yours.¡± They worked through the city¡¯s interior, hugging hills and cutting through orchards, trying to balance a direct route against time lost crossing between clades: stopping to shoo out memo runners and re-sanitize from scratch. Despite their combined shortcuts, the sun was low by the time the Irrigators emerged from the final guardhouse, footprints glistening in the late red light as they descended the bridge to G, where a young Sudran man faced them with clasped hands, cuff over thumb; toes touching the line of runes which marked the edge of his universe. The servant dressed in vinaire Pentacost motifs: a cascade of purple and red trimmed out in silvergray floss, patterned in vines and soft leaves. He held his face low as the guests approached, and sunk into a bow as they stopped before him; then he rose with big, expressive eyes and a strong nose, olive skin clean and clear. His shoulders fell slack, and he grinned with the breezy air Datra would expect in a bathhouse. ¡°S¡¯nocte bella, don,¡± he said. ¡°S¡¯nocte prim,¡± said Anya. ¡°How goes the watch?¡± Datra rolled his shoulder, waiting for the escort to take his bag. He didn¡¯t, so Datra unslung the duffle and tossed it into the young man¡¯s chest. ¡°Apologies, sir,¡± he said, tucking it under his shoulder. ¡°Forgot myself.¡± He held an open hand to Anya. ¡°Thanks, but I¡¯m going the other way. Please send my regards.¡± ¡°I will, if you send mine¡± he said, softening. ¡°But it¡¯s a shame. Not so long as the Chief, but we¡¯ve missed you, Anya.¡± Datra looked on, trying to hide his confusion. He scoured his memory for a word of where Anya would be staying tonight, but found nothing. ¡°Need anything from me?¡± Datra asked. ¡°No. I¡¯ll come if I need you.¡± ¡°Or, for no reason at all,¡± said the servant. ¡°Even if it¡¯s late, we¡¯d love to show our appreciation. No small feat: dragging Mr. Dat from his lair.¡± Datra burned, then flared as the youth looked into his eyes and laughed. His fingers crept around his baton, shoulders tense with anticipation. ¡°Sergeant¡­¡± he growled, preparing to have the youth put to the wall; but Anya spun on her heels and sauntered downstream, lockbox banging against her thighs. ¡°S¡¯morro, prim. Keep an eye on your mother for me.¡± ¡°I will.¡± Datra¡¯s eyes snapped back just as the youth¡¯s smile reached the corner of his mouth, then Datra saw it: the slant of his teeth, the odd sharpness of jaw; pale brown eyes lined with delicate folds, familiar and distinctively un-Sudran. Datra¡¯s feet turned to sand as time¡¯s weight blew through him, trying to speak, and failing. ¡°No hard feelings, sir,¡± Menander laughed. ¡°I had a bet with my sisters you¡¯d look twice. Not fair, when you¡¯ve changed so little. Shall we go, then? The servants were cooking when I left.¡± Leading the way upstream, he asked ¡°How should I call you, then? Patre, sir, chief?¡± ¡°Chief for now. At home, whatever you want.¡± The House of the Alderman, Menora¡¯s palace, sat near clade center, nearly touching the canal, so they hadn¡¯t went far before the upper levels peeked out between waterfront houses. Without speaking, both men turned from the path, slipping into the alley behind that old warehouse, then ducking through the garden of a derelict manor. They walked in sync past the rain-worn graveyard, the unlocked gate, the fountain with the broken penis. In the final stretch, Datra veered off, only to bump into a wall of smooth brick with clean, white mortar; but he hurried back just as Menander returned to the streets, standing in the shadow of his home: a great horseshoe of milky stone, with blocky levels rising up from the toe, each floor smaller than the one beneath, crowned by the master¡¯s penthouse like a hilltop temple. ¡°S¡¯nocte, Don,¡± called a soft, wooden voice, and Datra looked down to find a stiff old man with swarthy skin and a grand mustache, dressed in a somber shade of the family colors. He moved to bow¡ªtoo slow¡ªDatra rushed up and clasped his hand like a rail in the mist. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare don me, Boris! Lord, the years have been kind.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve spent them in good company. Three generations of Pentacosts has made for a simple life.¡± He glanced at Menander, whiskers twitching into the tiniest smile. ¡°Mostly.¡± The youth rolled his eyes and reshouldered the duffle, leading the way inside. They swept up the steps, through pillars and doors and the short antechamber lined with busts of former Aldermen, from a great uncle of Richter to Menander¡¯s namesake, looking as stern and quiet as the man himself. With each corner and threshold, Datra saw the palace of memory overlaid with the real place of silk and stone: statues into fountains, portraits to landscapes, a stretch of stained glass where there¡¯d once been dark shutters; and the floors were looser than he¡¯d remembered, with more than a few doors turned into open archways¡ªin one disconcerting moment, Datra was uncertain if he was walking through a hallway or a bedroom. ¡°Mother never leaves things for long. Do you like it?¡± ¡°I¡¯m just glad the walls are here.¡± ¡°For now.¡± Menander laughed. An unseen figure dashed in and flung thin arms around Datra¡¯s neck. He squirmed and fought himself still, wanting to throw an elbow but knowing it would end poorly. He leaned down until his assailant¡¯s feet touched stone, then she gripped his shoulders and stepped back to face him, bluegreen eyes staring up through a shock of auburn hair. Menora toed up to kiss him, a peck on the cheek; then bounced back and fixed her hair¡ªthe alderman vanished; replaced by a young stranger who¡¯d stolen her face. ¡°A little tact, miss Sena,¡± said Boris. ¡°Lucky to be alive, really,¡± said Menander. ¡°Datra, you really came! Does mother know you¡¯re here?¡± ¡°I was going to help our guest settle¡­¡± said Boris, but Sena bounded off mid-sentence, running up a staircase. ¡°She¡¯s grown,¡± Datra said. ¡°Yes, but not changed.¡± Menander followed her. ¡°She could have taken the bag¡­¡± They rounded a corner and walked down one of the palace¡¯s wings, slot windows on one side, offices on the other. Most had been closed or switched over for sleeping, desks folded up to make room for cots; but in one broad, bright room, scribes milled around an isle of paper and wax, reaching over each other to borrow a stylus, or brushing their tablets with washed out ink. Rows of brass cabinets lined the walls, open locks dangling from the handles, with a stout iron safe in the corner. A grid of numbers ran across the rear wall, etched in stone above the windows: interest per rate per term, worked out to the fourth decimal. Boris led him to the courtyard garden, canal walled off by a sheet of morning glories. Datra stood before the family shrine, a stone collage of spears and horses, with a salmon arching the crest. He tossed a coin and said ¡°I¡¯m glad something¡¯s left of the old man.¡± ¡°More than you might think,¡± said Boris. A young boy pattered up with a miniature cart, driblets of snot smearing the pink of his chiton. ¡°Boris,¡± he said, ¡°can you¡­¡± but the old servant stayed him with a raised palm. ¡°We¡¯ve spoken of this,¡± he said, turning towards Datra. ¡°Young master Miro has been working on his manners. If you would indulge me¡­¡± Datra crouched down. ¡°S¡¯nocte, prim. I am Chief Datra.¡± Miro looked between them and set down his toy, taking a few tries to clasp his hands before he found the proper pose. ¡°S¡¯nocte, patre. Welcome to our home.¡± ¡°Well, done,¡± said Boris. ¡°Now, how can we help?¡± The boy showed them the underside of his cart, where stray tuft of hair had gunked up the axel. Boris worked it free and tested the wheels on his palm before handing it back. ¡°Much better. Now, what do we say?¡± Miro threw his arms about Boris¡¯s legs. ¡°Thanks uncle Boris,¡± he said before running off. Datra raised an eyebrow at Boris, who chuckled and coughed, mustache crinkling over an awkward smile. Datra just stared, and blush crept over the old man¡¯s cheeks, plain as day next to his swan white whiskers. Behind him, a bright contralto voice called out: ¡°Datra!¡± Chapter 6 Anya sat in the living room of Jenya Pentacost¡¯s manor; ankles on either side of the heavy lockbox, hands fiddling with her writing board as she waited for Veronica, the eldest daughter, to return. The chamber was tight by aristocratic standards, but sparse for a family of three, filled with plump, frayed chairs which had little hope of being used; and walls so covered in decorations¡ªJenya¡¯s early manuscripts, the children etched in profile, trophies of uncertain origin¡ªthat Anya doubted she could set an open hand on the plaster without knocking something loose. A cracked hearth jutted out from the rear wall, beige stones covered in statuettes of horses and fish and other small gods. Beneath, pokers rusted in a quiet fireplace. Anya heard the tell-tale sound of water moving through pipes and looked to the clock in the corner; then she peeled back her papers to reveal a slip covered in timed notes. She scribbled ¡°flush at 1923¡± and counted up from the last entry, tapping her stylus once for each minute¡ªdamn, six could go either way, and she couldn¡¯t be sure it was Veronica in the water closet. Would that wretched Jenya never leave her study!¡ªFootsteps echoed from the stairwell, and Anya slipped the timesheet back behind her other documents. Veronica stepped into the living room, returning to her seat opposite Anya, a low table between them. She pulled her auburn hair aside as she settled between the cushions and tucked one ankle behind the other, calves soft and pale under purplish red robes tailored in style of Republican ladies¡ªa cut which might look frumpy on a girl of seventeen, were Veronica not poised and pretty enough to fill it. ¡°Where were we?¡± ¡°I asked about your family. You mentioned the house feeling empty these days.¡± ¡°Yes, it¡¯s been over a year since Clive left, and much longer without Bernard. At first I was surprised at how little I missed them, but I suppose it¡¯s catching up to me.¡± ¡°It¡¯s setting in?¡± ¡°It might also be how I spend my time: tutoring, my own exams, helping Nadya; mother wants to move her into secondary studies as fast as possible; says twelve is plenty old and it¡¯s a crime to delay while I¡¯m still home and not working¡­¡± She glanced back at the stairwell, then leaned in with a low voice. ¡°But I am working.¡± ¡°You are,¡± Anya chuckled. ¡°It was simpler when the boys were here.¡± ¡°Did they help you teach?¡± ¡°Clive did. Bernard was too proud to teach fundamentals, but everything else worked a little smoother when he was around; and Clive could at least make us laugh.¡± Veronica¡¯s eyes lit up, and she scooted to the edge of her seat. ¡°One time we were around the hearth. Mother and Clive were sewing, Bernard and I were doing quizzes, Nadya and¡­¡± She trailed off, eyes roving the chairs and davenports. ¡°Anyway, we got Bernard talking about which bureaus he was applying to or if he might work for Menora. Clive joked he might put on a wig and try for the Draft. We all laughed except Mother, then Bernard asked how he¡¯d keep up the ruse once the robes came off. Silence, then we all looked at mother and she just¡­¡± Veronica snipped the air with her fingers, then she burst out laughing, arms wrapped over her stomach. Anya tried to match the girl¡¯s enthusiasm, and struggled. It was funny, but not enough to make her cry and run out of breath and nearly fall from her seat. Veronica settled, and Anya cleared her throat. ¡°I did want to ask¡­¡± ¡°Wait, I forgot!¡± Veronica rushed for the kitchen, fussing with the silver strings which dangled from her elbows. Anya reached for the list of timed notes, but put them down when she heard a dull screech followed by the smell of something sweet and slightly burnt. Veronica came back with rolled sleeves, holding a platter of thin, round pastries, light yellow and dusted with spice. ¡°It¡¯s okay so long as you get them hot, right?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± said Anya, although she snuck a sip from her quinebottle as Veronica set down the tray and knocked the pastries free of the metal, weaving a lattice of buttery smears as they skittered along the silver. Anya broke one in half and watched steam curl up from the crumb, then she popped it into her mouth. ¡°They¡¯re very nice. Thank you.¡± Veronica lingered next to Anya, giving the sergeant an embarrassed, pleading look as she held out her arms. Anya put her hands under Veronica¡¯s elbows, pinching the strings and undoing both knots at once with three quick tugs. Her sleeves fell back to full length, and Veronica brushed them flat as she sat back down. ¡°So sorry about that, but it seemed less rude than talking with girded arms. I like this style of robe, but I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s worth it anymore. Yours look much more practical.¡± Anya glanced down at her Irrigator uniform: sandy brown with gray-blue trim, no decoration nor frills save for the rank on her collar. ¡°They work,¡± she said, smiling. ¡°Did you want one?¡± Veronica laughed and took a pastry. ¡°I hope this is enough ¡®til morning. I¡¯d have made a proper meal, but I didn¡¯t have time to work out what was safe and get ingredients and sterilize¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s perfect.¡± ¡°Bernard used to love these,¡± she said, taking a bite. ¡°Nadya does too, which is part of why I made them.¡± Anya tensed up. ¡°She¡¯s here?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s check.¡± Veronica crouched forward and whispered into the space under the sofa. ¡°Nadya, the sergeant is taking the last one. Better come out now!¡± She waited a beat, then leaned back and smiled. ¡°I checked the couches, and the cupboards, and the nook under the stairs, and the bushes under the windows. None of that matters because she doesn¡¯t know you¡¯re here and I sent her to study group, but I did check.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± said Anya. ¡°It¡¯s too bad I had to use the baton last time, but she had to learn this is serious.¡± ¡°Oh, of course,¡± said Veronica. ¡°She¡¯ll be in trouble sooner or later. I¡¯d much prefer it happen now with someone she can trust.¡± ¡°She understands?¡± ¡°I think so. Just the other day she was asking when you¡¯d come by again. I told her not for a few weeks, which I thought was true. Maybe you should show up unannounced more often. I¡¯m not the best liar.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Anya chuckled. ¡°But your question?¡± ¡°My question?,¡± Anya asked, then she remembered. ¡°Oh, just all these stories about you and Bernard. You never seem to mention your father¡­¡± ¡°You think he¡¯s a bastard?¡± Veronica cut her off. Anya blinked, and the girl pressed on. ¡°He wasn¡¯t, but his father was, we think. The rumors get messy, and mother is slow to correct them; but my uncle said it¡¯s true, and so did Aunt Menora.¡± She sighed and stared at the ceiling. ¡°If anything, shouldn¡¯t I be asking you that?¡± Anya sipped from her wineskin and shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re the one with a brother in Heredity.¡± Veronica smiled. ¡°I think Bernard can work that out on his own¡­ I still can¡¯t believe he chose Heredity.¡± ¡°Really? It¡¯s a good bureau.¡± ¡°Yes, but it has so much to do with people, and he never cared for the human subjects, although he still studied them for exams. One time, I asked if he needed help with Poetry and Philosophy. He asked me to say a number between one and seven-hundred seventy-four, so I said two-hundred six, then Bernard said ¡®sperm swim upstream¡¯ and walked away.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± ¡°Neither did I. Later I was studying on my own and realized it was the two hundred and sixth line of the Eponyme.¡± Anya heaved the lockbox onto the table and turned its dials until the lid snapped open. ¡°We¡¯d better get through this before Nadya comes back.¡± Anya pulled out a ream of yellowed paper covered in dark, dense writing. Veronica looked up at the clock and started. ¡°Lord, it¡¯s six fifty-five,¡± she said. ¡°Men are such small, self-same objects¡­¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Nothing. Sorry, I left them upstairs. Give me a moment, then I promise to quit jabbering.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine, Veronica.¡± Again, the young woman rushed from the room. Again, Anya slid over her notes, adding ¡°Ver out 1855¡± to the end of the list. A few minutes later, she heard another flush and recorded that as well. Datra glanced down the wiremesh table, where twin rows of family and factors sat elbow-to-elbow in the open courtyard, trading platters of bread and fruit with the same warm precision Datra had seen in the offices, hands underlit by dozens of brass lamps with glass windcolumns, clad in a half-dozen shades of the same wine-dyed motif. At the end, Menora leaned over to help little Miro with a spill, taking his cheap clay horn as Boris moved in with a rag. A voice said ¡°hot tray, sir,¡± and Datra leaned back. The server placed a lidded plate before him and pulled the cover. Steam billowed out, revealing a sizzling bird flanked by tubers and a pudding coated in flecks of dark pepper; in the center rested two forks and a knife, beads of moisture trickling along the silvered edge. Datra quined his hands under the table and tested the cutlery with his palm¡ªstill too hot. ¡°So, let¡¯s say I want to get¡­¡± Sena waved a hand down her trunk. ¡°Clean. What would I do?¡± ¡°Depends,¡± said Datra. ¡°Where are you going?¡± Menora¡¯s oldest put a finger on her chin and glanced up at the stars. After an obnoxious pause, she said ¡°huh, I never thought of that¡± and took a long, slow drink. Menander chuckled, and a red winedrop trailed down his sister¡¯s chin. He wiped it away with a napkin, neither asking for thanks nor getting any. Since Datra¡¯s arrival, Sena had been his shadow, floating at his elbow as Datra plowed through greetings with old courtiers and new members of Menora¡¯s staff. When Boris announced dinner, Datra had slipped free and fallen in with Menander, asking the boy if he¡¯d be so gracious as to sit at his side¡ªonly proper for the man of the house. Menander accepted the honor, but no sooner had Menora blessed the meal than her daughter marched over and sat in Menander¡¯s lap, sideways with one arm hooked over his shoulders. A servant had fetched her meal without prompting while Menora looked on with a sweet, serene smile. Datra bobbled his knife until it was cool enough to grasp. ¡°Barlow won¡¯t touch a speculum before the paperwork is done. You would need outgoing forms from your alderman and guardian¡ªin your case, one person¡ªand a charter from whoever is taking you.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have a guardian.¡± ¡°Right¡­¡± said Datra, doing math in his wine-spun head as he sliced away at the bird. He flipped a blackened chunk into his mouth¡ªthe steam had softened the char, but it was tender and well-salted, better than his usual fare. ¡°Either way,¡± he continued, ¡°you send a master form to Heredity with copies of the other two. A third one to me can only speed things up.¡± ¡°Is it hard to get approved?¡± ¡°No. Bureau heads don¡¯t take people the Palace won¡¯t like, and nobody cares about moves between clades: one cobblestone patch is as good as any other.¡± Datra caught himself and paused, remembering the city map and the bridge with the bright red warning. ¡°With one exception, but so far it¡¯s never come up. More often than not, they just confirm the new resident has a bed and won¡¯t spill out onto the streets.¡± ¡°Wow,¡± Sena leaned in. ¡°That is so interesting.¡± ¡°What does quine taste like?¡± asked Menander. ¡°Death,¡± said Datra. ¡°I¡¯ve some in my bag if you¡¯d like a taste.¡± ¡°Maybe later. I¡¯m curious, but not enough to risk spoiling this meal.¡± The lad weaved through his sister to skewer a capon, and she shifted to ease his path. Her rump stuck out under the armrest, and Datra jerked in his knee to avoid it. He sideeyed her hips like a predator, trying to place her organs and not liking the result. Datra imagined a small ring atop Menander¡¯s thigh, harmless at first, but red and burning by the time he went to bed. Surely he¡¯d scratch in his sleep, then it was only a matter of time until that same hand rubbed his face¡ªan annoyance for siblings of the same mother; Datra would not be so lucky. ¡°Uh, chief?¡± said Menander. Datra snapped up, and the boy kept talking. ¡°I agree that¡¯s fascinating, but what about the actual treatment?¡± ¡°Barlow comes by to talk risks and options, and give a quote. Once you pay, he can usually take you that day.¡± ¡°Yes, but what¡¯s it like?¡± ¡°How would I know?¡± The siblings exchanged uncertain looks then glanced down the table, as though their mother might shout an explanation across the courtyard. She didn¡¯t. ¡°I never had a full infestation,¡± Datra continued, ¡°only worms, and not for long. Getting rid of them wasn¡¯t fun, but I doubt it compares to the real thing, and I¡¯ve never stayed around to watch.¡± ¡°This man Barlow,¡± said Menander, ¡°does he have long hair and big eyes? Talks oddly?¡¯ ¡°Very.¡± ¡°I think we¡¯ve met him: the day Bernard left for the bureaus.¡± ¡°You think? Poor form, boy. Men of his rank are rare.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°I tried for a greeting, but he didn¡¯t seem to notice, and his attendant spoke for him, a tiny¡­¡± Menander groped for a better word, ¡°a short woman, a Sudress.¡± ¡°Lyre. She usually handles the pillow talk. You can imagine why.¡± ¡°I can, sir. Still, he must be quite skilled, to hold that position so young.¡± ¡°A once-in-a-generation talent. I sent him to Medical the day he earned a baton. He matched his trainer in two years and took over in five.¡± ¡°That¡¯s incredible,¡± Sena chimed in. ¡°Seeing his hidden potential. It shows your skill as a leader.¡± ¡°Coincidence, actually; but I¡¯m glad it worked out.¡± Sena laughed. ¡°Can patients choose who treats them?¡± ¡°No promises, but you can request Lyre. Many people do.¡± Having stripped his bird clean, Datra forked a fat tuber and dipped it in the suet. ¡°I want Barlow.¡± Datra froze with parted lips, wondering if he¡¯d misheard her as the vegetable warmed his nose. ¡°Really?¡± he asked. ¡°I promise you Lyre is quite competent.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not letting a Sudra touch me down there.¡± Datra bit down on the tuber and slid it free of the prongs. While he chewed, Datra twirled his fork towards Sena¡¯s seat. ¡°Obviously,¡± he said through a mouthful of food. For the first time that night, Sena¡¯s girlishness slipped, her face gone to shadow with a smile which didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. ¡°Menander is my brother,¡± she murmured, holding Datra¡¯s gaze until he blinked; then she tapped Menander¡¯s knee, and he scooted back to let her up. ¡°Thanks for the advice, Dat!¡± Sena chirped, walking back to her seat near Menora. Datra raised an eyebrow at Menander, but the boy shrugged and adjusted his chair. The meal finished without incident, and by the time Datra threw down his cutlery, most of the factors had left. Menora walked towards him. So did Sena, but the alderman placed a hand on her shoulder and said ¡°audit.¡± The girl skulked off towards the offices. ¡°Tired, Datra?¡± asked Menora. ¡°Getting there.¡± Menander rose to escort him, but Menora said ¡°I¡¯ve got him; go check on Boris,¡± and moved to Datra¡¯s side, guiding him back to the stone stairs in the heart of the palace. Once they¡¯d cleared the second floor, she asked ¡°what was Sena so eager to speak about?¡± ¡°Work, mostly.¡± ¡°Did she ask you to get her out of the clade?¡± ¡°No, just a few questions. She is at that age. It would be stranger if she didn¡¯t think of leaving.¡± ¡°To do what?¡± asked Menora. ¡°Laze around a smaller palace? Find a new batch of cousins to flirt with? It would be one thing if she was chasing a rank, but that girl has no place in the bureaus.¡± A few steps more and she spun to face him, eyes bright and inspired. ¡°She could work for you!¡± ¡°Or put in for the Draft!¡± said Datra. They held each other¡¯s gaze for a long moment, then Menora broke down in laughter, and Datra followed. She leaned on the wall with one hand on her stomach, then reached out to embrace him, pulling back at the last moment, as though she¡¯d reached for someone else¡¯s purse. She regained her dignity, tucking her shock of red-brown hair back behind the ear, a few silver threads running in the mix like wires; then Menora surprised him by going up the final stairwell. ¡°Your room was turned into a nursery. I hope you don¡¯t mind the top floor.¡± ¡°My room?¡± ¡°It was here when you were.¡± Menora said. She passed the ornate door which had once housed Old Menander, a great slab of copper and glass, framed in solid oak; then walked a few steps further to a shorter, stouter entrance, with plain boards and no window. ¡°The old mistress quarters,¡± she said, yanking the handle. ¡°It¡¯s not much, but you¡¯ll have plenty of room. I made it up for two.¡± ¡°Trust me, I¡¯ll use it,¡± Datra chuckled. She stepped back to give Datra space. He stepped out of his sandals and into the bedroom, never letting his feet touch the hallway. Beneath his cracked, yellow soles, Datra felt the moist tingle of a freshly swabbed floor. He took in the chamber with a slow, theatrical turn, nodding at the stocked desk, jars of preserved food, and other little comforts he¡¯d been supplied with; then he faced Menora at the threshold. ¡°The doors inside don¡¯t lock,¡± said Menora, ¡°But they lead to me and the balcony¡ªso no danger there. This one¡­ ¡° she rapped her knuckles on the planks, ¡°has a deadbolt. I¡¯d suggest you slide it.¡± ¡°Trouble with the servants?¡± Datra asked. ¡°No,¡± Menora pressed on. ¡°The pool is full and heated, but still needs quine. How much do I add? One-part-twenty?¡± ¡°Lord no, that¡¯s what I use back home. Two percent would be fine, but don¡¯t trouble yourself. Hardly worth it when I¡¯m only here a few days.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t question gifts, Datra. It¡¯s rude. Now I¡¯m going to add it whether you use the pool or not.¡± ¡°Thanks, I guess.¡± ¡°Anything else before I go? I¡¯ll be up in a few hours if you want company. I¡¯d have finished work early if I¡¯d known you were coming.¡± ¡°I doubt I¡¯ll last that long,¡± Datra said, feeling the tension bleed up from his ankle. ¡°Perhaps tomorrow.¡± ¡°Perhaps.¡± Again, Menora moved as though to embrace Datra, only to catch herself and back away. ¡°Oh, come here,¡± he sighed, pulling an arm partway into its sleeve. He leaned over and squeezed Menora ¡®round the shoulders, their skin separated by the fine threads of his robe; then Datra stepped back and shielded himself with the door as he uncinched his sash and slipped out of his clothes, balling them inside out and tossing the bundle into the hallway. ¡°Burn that,¡± Datra said through the gap. ¡°I will.¡± Datra closed the door and rubbed his arm with quine, then he took up his duffel and emptied it onto the bed: spyglass, shackles, extra bottles. Finally, a brass lockbox, far slimmer than the one Anya had lugged, fell into the pile. He carried it to the corner desk, setting up with candles and a bottle of grappa. Datra unlocked the case and pulled out a neat stack of papers, his copy of files Anya had pulled for this outing, mostly the dossiers for Jenya, her daughters, and their various relations. On a whim, he flipped to Menora¡¯s file, longer than most at a full nine pages, and carved up with boxes of black ink¡ªeven where text was legible, many details had been ¡°[REDACTED]¡±, banished to the master copy in Datra¡¯s credenza. He breezed through the header, then slowed at the section on kinship, resting his finger on ¡°known children¡±.
#G058776 Sena Pentacost. F, c. 88; Nathanial Pentacost (high) #G059223 Menander Pentacost. M, c. 90 #G059939 Mion Pentacost. M, c. 92; Ibram Korre (high), Nathanial Pentacost (low) #G072203 Danica Pentacost. F, c. 93; Igor Sparr (moderate), Ibram Korre (low)
He moved on to the sequential notes which made up the majority of her file, skimming through the years and letting his eyes linger where they may:
Acknowledged by father (Menander Pentacost). Heir-apparent. Parentage near-certain. Other father candidates excluded by Bureau of Heredity¡ªSgt. Birch, 4.5.63 Menora scores high on preliminary exams (competitive for selective bureaus) but has no intention of joining Civil Service. Expresses curiosity for Daughter¡¯s Draft, but has made no effort to establish herself as a candidate¡ªAux. Coleman, 6.6.77 Slim chance Cpl. Datra is father of oldest child (Sena Pentacost)¡ªChf. Birch, 9.8.90 Zero chance Cpl. Datra is father of Sena Pentacost¡ªCpl. Datra, 9.21.90 Bureau of Heredity has eliminated all male Sudras in Menora¡¯s palace as potential fathers of Menander Pentacost. BOH has also said further testing will require payment¡ªIrr. Larson, 2.23.91 At the dinner following last week¡¯s meeting, Clive Pentacost made a joke about Menander Pentacost becoming Alderman. Bernard Pentacost chided him, but Menora interrupted by asking what Clive had done wrong. [Hearsay]: She refused to explain further when senior staff confronted her in private¡ªAux. Coleman, 10.1.102
Datra set Menora aside and moved on to the residents of Jenya¡¯s manor. Jenya herself bored him: a decades-long transformation from someone who writes memos all day into someone who writes memos all day, plus a bit of poetry; the only interesting bit being her section on children and paternity, which looked like a party game. In Veronica, he found the precocious pillar who¡¯d been described at breakfast¡ªathletic, charitable, inhumanly studious. Every note increased Datra¡¯s desire to meet the young woman, but made it less urgent; not the sort of person who¡¯d shit flies for two weeks without alerting the authorities. Finally, he spread Nadya across the table¡ªa scant three pages counting the cover¡ªand unstoppered the bottle of grappa. ¡°Last time you mentioned Elijah Korre,¡± said Anya. ¡°Is he still interested in the bureaus?¡± ¡°I think so, although he seems less confident than before,¡± said Veronica. ¡°I tutored him the other day and he brought up the military out of nowhere, but sometimes boys do that then never mention it again, so who knows?¡± We have a military? Nadya supposed that an empire would need one of some kind, but she¡¯d never met a soldier nor given it thought¡ªsomething to look into once Anya was gone. For now, she sipped her rootwater and listened. ¡°And his argument with his mother?¡± Anya asked. ¡°It¡¯s mostly settled. I encouraged him to be honest, and he took that to heart. He stressed how gentle he would be in calling off the betrothal, but I suggested his mother should be the one to tell the other family, since she is the one who offered his hand.¡± ¡°Well done. I would have said the same¡­¡± Nadya fought back a yawn and wriggled in her seat, wincing as the leather strap bit into the bruises on her lower body, not quite healed since the last time Anya caught her eavesdropping. Nadya had thought of the fireplace the next day, when mother told her to clean it as part of her punishment. She¡¯d looked up and seen a dark black streak against pale blue sky, then lit a match and found an old iron damper, bent and rusty, but strong enough to hold Nadya¡¯s weight. She¡¯d fashioned a seat from an old belt looped at its fattest notch, finding it high enough to conceal her and reasonably comfy, especially when she stuck her legs out and braced her feet on the bricks. Earlier that day, when Danica had mentioned Chief Datra was coming to the clade, Nadya rushed home on a hunch and heard Veronica upstairs, tied up in an argument. She¡¯d snuck to the chimney with snacks and a big horn of rootwater, setting up in her sling and waiting. An hour or so later, she¡¯d heard the sergeant¡¯s voice and known the gamble had paid off. The conversation wound down, then Nadya heard a heavy thud followed by two sharp clicks. ¡°Okay then,¡± said Anya. ¡°Ready for notes?¡± ¡°Yes, one moment,¡± Veronica said, followed by the woody echo of feet hitting the stairwell. Nadya pursed her lips. This was taking long enough without all these breaks to use the water closet¡ªit also reminded Nadya of her own need to go, and she cursed herself for bringing the rootwater. She heard Anya scribble something, which the sergeant had done every time Veronica went upstairs. Nadya tried to imagine why, but drew a blank. It was just weird. Veronica came back down, and a heavy thud echoed throughout the space. ¡°These are all your old copies?¡± Anya asked. ¡°Yes, and the key.¡± ¡°That¡¯s junk now. But you might as well get rid of it.¡± Nadya¡¯s heart thumped at the mention of a key. She tried to still it, holding her breath; then she closed her eyes and let her mouth hang open like a simpleton¡ªClive had once told her this strengthens the ears. ¡°Two-hundred five. Two-hundred six,¡± Anya kept counting. ¡°Two-hundred seventeen left over from last time. That matches what I have here. And these¡ª¡± Another thud, louder than the first. ¡°¡ªare your new clade-notes. And, the new keyphrase¡­¡± Anya slowed and lowered her voice. Nadya¡¯s nails dug into her palms, hands shaking in anticipation. ¡°Sudra¡¯s boil chickpeas in rootwater,¡± said Anya. ¡°Sudra¡¯s boil chickpeas in rootwater,¡± Veronica whispered. Sudra¡¯s boil chickpeas in rootwater! Nadya sighed and savored her victory with a long, slow slip, thinking of the fun which awaited her upstairs and wishing that the other two would hurry up so she could get to work; although, when Anya said ¡°let¡¯s toss the dead copies,¡± Nadya¡¯s ears did perk up. She¡¯d never gotten this far; and while the fate of those old, key-less papers wasn¡¯t important, she was curious as to how the Irrigators got rid of them¡ªshredding, thrown in the canals, maybe even eating?¡ªbut then she heard the sound of a twist-match and smelled sulfur. A stone hit the bottom of Nadya¡¯s stomach, settling somewhere near her bladder. She looked down through her shins and saw a stack of yellowed paper hit the ancient stones below, a single thread of flame creeping along the edge. ¡°Anything I can do to make you more comfortable?¡± Veronica asked. ¡°The couch is fine? I would offer you water but we¡¯d have to boil it, right?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡¯ll be in bed soon. Lots to do tomorrow.¡± ¡°Other auxiliaries to meet with?¡± Veronica laughed. ¡°I know you can¡¯t tell me. It¡¯s fine, so long as I¡¯m your favorite.¡± ¡°A boss shouldn¡¯t have favorites.¡± The flames grew hotter, and spicy plumes of smoke bit at the corners of Nadya¡¯s eyes. She looked up and saw a gray haze blotting out the square of light above. Her throat tickled, and Nadya tried hard not to cough. ¡°Oh, isn¡¯t Chief Datra here too? Are you part of¡­ sorry, sorry. It¡¯s none of my affair.¡± ¡°It¡¯s none of mine either, but it¡¯s not a secret. He¡¯s there to talk land swaps or something. Everyone will know in a few days.¡± ¡°Wait, land swaps? With whom?¡± ¡°Not sure. They never actually happen anyway.¡± Nadya tried to listen¡ªshe could see two other clades from her bedroom window, so the borders getting moved seemed important¡ªbut the papers had lit up in earnest, and she was starting to feel the heat. Nadya took a few sharp breaths, then bit down to keep her throat from seizing. She squinted down and tried to see how much paper was left, how much longer she had to endure; but a second stack landed on the first and kicked up a swarm of dirty sparks. ¡°Will you be seeing Menora at all, then?¡± asked Veronica. ¡°Maybe, if I can fit it in. I have paperwork and errands, and someone needs to monitor the work they¡¯re doing here tomorrow. Actually, can we go look at the other building while there¡¯s still some daylight¡­wait, let¡¯s put this away in case your sister slips past us.¡± ¡°Oh, good thinking. Can you imagine?¡± said Veronica, yet again bounding up the stairwell. Nadya saw stars and gritted her teeth, lungs fit to burst as a torrent of smoke billowed across her face. She heard a new wave of taps and clinks as Anya fussed over whatever she had on the table, and Nadya admitted defeat, accepting that she had to slide out of her perch and into the flames¡ªand worse, Anya. The last beating had made it hard to sit for three days, and this would be so much worse. Nadya also doubted the sergeant would ever talk to her again; and wondered at how she¡¯d spoiled the friendship in a few short months, thinking back to their first meeting last Winter, when the woman had set Nadya in her lap and let the girl try on her mask. Her mask! Nadya tugged out her neckline and stuffed the loose fabric into the dregs of her rootwater, feeling the warm liquid seep up past her fingers; then she doubled the folds and clamped them to her lips with an open fist, sipping hot air through the center, just mellow enough to get down without choking. Her vision cleared, her mind grew sharp, and her sweaty hands quit trembling. She stewed over the embers until her sister and Anya went outside, then she let go of the belt and tumbled out of the hearth, setting her horn upside down in the kitchen before she hurried upstairs. ¡°I¡¯m back from study group,¡± she yelled out to nobody in particular, slipping into the water closet and tearing off her robe. It was worse than expected: coated from shoulder to skirt in streaks of black grime. She turned it inside out and shoved it to the bottom of the hamper. Outside in the hall, a door squealed open. ¡°Nadya!¡± her mother called out. ¡°One moment!¡± she called back, diving into the bathing stall and yanking over the curtain. Jenya called again, and Nadya ignored it, clawing away her subungula as the footsteps drew nearer¡ªif she started before mother came in, maybe she¡¯d¡­ The door wrenched open. ¡°Nadya, what do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± ¡°Washing before bed.¡± ¡°Out, now.¡± Jenya snapped her fingers. ¡°You just washed yesterday.¡± Nadya lingered in the stall. ¡°Yeah, but nobody¡¯s here and I¡¯m real sweaty and you let Veronica¡­¡± ¡°I said out! Your brothers are gone, but they took their jobs with them. Veronica tutors and is also a young lady an¡ªwhat the hell did you do?!¡± ¡°I was at study group?¡± ¡°And?¡± ¡°And then we played for a bit and I came home.¡± ¡°And what did you play, exactly?¡± Nadya looked at the mirror over the basin, hair and face blackened with a vellum of soot which ran down her neck and ended in a sharp point on her chest, framed by light skin which her robes had covered. ¡°We were playing¡­ sudra.¡± A crack rang out as Jenya reached out and popped her daughter across the mouth. ¡°I expect better from you, Nadya. Your sister is having Sergeant Anya over today. Did you know that? Do you know how much that means to her? What a friend like that can¡­¡± Jenya slowed, sighed, and leaned back with one hand on her face, the other holding her elbow. ¡°What am I going to do with you? Just try to help your sister, okay? Someone needs to be a good host, and Lord knows it won¡¯t be me.¡± Jenya lowered her hand, revealing a black handprint she¡¯d just pressed onto her cheek. Nadya bit her tongue and fought back laughter as her mother leaned forward and gave her a kiss. Jenya turned to leave, but paused in the open doorway and pointed to the sink. ¡°You can wash, but use the basin. You only need an inch. Goodnight, Nadya.¡± ¡°¡¯Night, mother.¡± The door swung shut. Nada reached over the basin and yanked on the chain, calling down water from the overhead pipe; then she reached into the drain and set the baffles, blocking it just enough to build up a few inches of water. Nadya leaned in to wet her hair, then she took up a lufa and dragged it across her face, cleaning one side white while the other stayed dirty, a sharp line down the bridge of her nose. She put a finger to her soot-side eye and pulled the skin towards her ear, pursing her lips in the caricature of a Sudran face which has been so popular a few years before. Nadya wondered if she should have done this when Mother stormed in¡ªif you could make her laugh, there was always a chance; Clive could have managed it. Nadya rinsed off the filth, set the drain to full-open, and dried her hair with a clean rag. She turned to leave, but paused with her hand on the door, remember they had company. Nadya dug a ratty pink tunic out of the cupboard, squeezed it over her shoulders, and walked out towards her room. She heard voices at the bottom of the stairwell and called out ¡°is that Sergeant Anya?!¡± Chapter 7 Datra stared at the ceiling, stewing in his overwarm bed as the waterclock filled and constellations arched past the open window. D¡¯neb and Altair had long left him, and little Bega was half past the frame. On the other side, Sappheiros¡¯s harp blinked dim and red, the musician creeping just behind. Datra wondered if he could last until morning, but he could see that was a long ways off. On one hand, Datra felt better than he had in months, maybe years. The usual tension in his neck and shoulders had melted away, his chest swelled with each breath, and even the pain in his ankle stung less than it should. On the other, when Datra turned his head, he saw another on the pillow besides him, scant moonbeams falling on her tangled shoc-k of hair. He tried to stir, but a demon sat on his chest, growing heavier each time he glanced at his companion. This might have went on all night¡ªhe wished it could¡ª-but Datra¡¯s bladder joined the battle, it¡¯s victory quick and decisive. If he was to confront this at all, it best happen now, so Datra squirmed back and rolled his shoulders up on the headboard, getting a full view of his bedmate, whoever she was. One possibility was tossed quickly. The woman was too short, too narrow of hip, and too calm a sleeper¡ªlaid on her side as well. The other options, the real ones, were harder to tell apart. Datra leaned in and squinted, making out reddish hair and the razor jaw which every Pentacost had from the old man on down. Datra looked for a mole, a wrinkle, any sign of age, but there just wasn¡¯t enough light. Datra sighed and pulled a match from the nightstand, then he braced himself and twisted it alight. The room flickered, orange and soft and warm. Light spilled over the woman showing pale round shoulders and deep auburn hair without a speck of gray. She stirred and yawned and rolled towards Datra, smiling up with a familiar face. For a moment, Datra was a rankless again, a guest, half expecting Old Menander to slam his fist on the door and accuse him of swapping his grappa with water. Then the young woman laid a hand on the crest of Datra¡¯s stomach, and the scene came crashing down. ¡°Hey,¡± said Sena. ¡°You need to leave.¡± She looked back for a long moment, face shifting from flirty to confused to a tense, awkward grin. ¡°Why should I?¡± ¡°Your mother is on the other side of that door.¡± ¡°Oh, do we need a chaperone? Should I invite her in to watch our second round?¡± Sena sat upright and held an open hand to the side of her mouth, as though she were about to yell across a field. Datra grabbed her shoulder. ¡°Please,¡± he said. ¡°Please keep this between us. Just for a few days. Please.¡± Sena pulled back and sneered, but Datra tightened his grip. ¡°Just until my business is done, then you can have all the time you want. I¡¯ll stay ¡®til you¡¯re sick of me, but I came with responsibilities and can¡¯t risk disrespecting your mother.¡± ¡°What disrespect? It¡¯s my time, my life, my body.¡± ¡°Yes, but her house; and there¡¯s a way to do things. I should have stated my intentions, brought gifts and courted¡­¡± ¡°Courted?! Menora said you were from the Archives. Did she mean as an exhibit?¡± ¡°Well, you seemed happy to get some dust in your pages.¡± The words had hardly left his mouth before Datra regretted them. Sena hissed and ripped aside the blankets, kicking her legs out of bed. Datra lunged and flung his arms around her, face pressed to her hip. ¡°Sorry. Lord, I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯m just nervous, you see? It¡¯s been years, and you are so young and strong and beautiful. I struck you to strike myself, since I know how ridiculous I look besides you. Please show mercy on an old man, and I promise I¡¯ll make it up to you.¡± Sena slid a hand down her waist and pried him away, then she walked across the room and yanked open the door. For a moment, her bare silhouette stood in the frame, backlit by low candles in the hallway. She turned back to glare, smiling to the edge of her mouth. ¡°Oh, you will,¡± she said, then she slammed the door behind her. Datra jumped at the noise, holding his breath as he listened for stirring in the Master¡¯s chamber, then he searched his room, confused. Where was Sena¡¯s clothing? Had she walked here like that? He strained to remember but couldn¡¯t, frantic and not quite sober. Datra rolled to his feet and looked at the tangled bedding, eyes lingering on the dent where Sena¡¯s ass had been a minute before¡ªtotal contamination; one wrong move and Datra would be in Medical, spreading his cheeks for Barlow as Anya had free run of the clade. He needed Menora¡¯s help, but what to tell her? Datra groaned and rubbed his face, then caught himself and jerked his hands from his mouth, holding them out like hot irons while he searched for his quinebottle; then he remembered how close his face had been to her glutes. He stared at the mess and thought of excuses: he¡¯d shat the bed, been robbed, taken liberties with a maid. None seemed to work, and Datra was ready to call for Menora¡ªcome what may¡ªwhen he remembered the pool and her promise to mix in some quine. If he soaked in it often and tossed out his sheets, Datra might ward off infestation just long enough to finish this nonsense and get back home. He crept onto the balcony, a slim span of brick which hugged the penthouse, just wide enough to offer some privacy from the people below, provided one stayed back from the guardrails. At the far end, he saw the pool, a squat little dish of blue and white tiles, set into the floor with headrests just above his ankles. Thick tendrils of steam curled up from the milky surface, and empty quinebottles lay strewn in the corner by the door to Menora¡¯s chambers, her windows still and black. Datra sighed with relief and reached back through his bedroom window, taking the spyglass and half-bottle of grappa. He needed a good, long soak, and since reading was out of the question, he had to entertain himself somehow. Datra looked ¡®round to ensure he was in darkness, a shadow among the spires, then he leaned on the iron bars and felt the breeze as he tested the spyglass, pulling one brass tube from the other and holding the bead to his eye. The market was fading, but not quite asleep, with storefronts sitting dark beneath flats which teemed with lamps and candelabra; save for the restaurants, which had it reversed. These blocks of light and dark curled along the square like a torturer¡¯s smile, backed by a flickering orange sea which swept out along the hills which ran down clade center, ten thousand flames marking the little people of Menora¡¯s domain. Datra saw two greybeards sitting on a rooftop patio, hunched over a game of ch¡¯tura. A young woman came up with wine and horns, and as she poured out drinks one of the players slid a pawn one square over. The cheater embraced the girl in thanks and she undid the move behind his back. Datra saw a young man in a garret, pacing in his subungula by the light of a desktop candle. The youth stomped and spun and talked to unseen persons, then leaned on his balcony to watch the street below. He stood still a moment, then pushed off and clapped and rushed back to the desk, scribbling something on a slip of paper. Datra saw a young couple dining in a kitchen, both clad in the drab robes of a professional¡ªlocal bureaucrats, probably. The woman called out, and a serving girl came in with a wool greatcoat. She helped the man slip it on, then stooped to lace his sandals. She stood at the door with clasped hands, sleeves to the forearm, as her master saw off the guest with a chaste peck on the cheek; then the woman waved the girl over and pulled her onto her lap, groping into her robes as she pressed their lips together. For a moment, Datra wondered if he had stumbled onto an assault, but a few kisses more and it looked mutual enough.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Disgusting,¡± he muttered. ¡°Having fun, Dat?¡± Datra jumped and nearly dropped the spyglass, then he spun and saw Menora sitting in her window, hair unbound, clad in a light tunic. ¡°No, no. Just doing the rounds.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure. Trouble sleeping?¡± ¡°I slept once. I¡¯ll take a second soon enough.¡± ¡°Same. I was going to soak a while. Care to join me?¡± ¡°I¡¯d love to.¡± Datra took a step towards the basin, but Menora stopped him with a click of her tongue. ¡°Datra,¡± she said. ¡°Aren¡¯t you forgetting something?¡± He froze, heart pounding, then Datra let out a breath. ¡°Of course, sorry,¡± he said. ¡°Be right back.¡± Menora dropped down and unlaced her tunic while Datra slipped back to his room and into the water closet. He washed as fast as he could manage and scurried back to the pool. Menora was already in the water, ash red hair fastened into a bun. ¡°Thanks for the reminder,¡± Datra said, testing the water with his toe. ¡°No trouble,¡± she said. ¡°What you do with my daughter is her business, but I won¡¯t have you track the results into my pool.¡± Datra froze with one foot in the water, but she slapped his calf and said ¡°don¡¯t act shy now that it¡¯s over. Get in, Datra.¡± He dropped in and settled across from Menora, struggling to keep his feet from touching hers in the cramped basin. After a long silence, he said ¡°sorry.¡± ¡°For what?¡± ¡°Well, uh¡­¡± ¡°Sena can make her own decisions. Don¡¯t you agree?¡± ¡°Yes, but¡­¡± ¡°But what? I see two adults spending their time how they please. Or am I mistaken, and you see it some other way?¡± Datra paused to choose his words. ¡°Yes, but I¡¯m here as an official¡­¡± ¡°Official, are you? I forget myself!¡± Menora bowed her head in mock piety, hands clasped under the water. ¡°S¡¯nocte, Patre. I am Menora Magda Pentacost, Alderman of Clade G. Will you dry my tears?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do as I can,¡± Datra sighed. ¡°So, Chief Datra, what business did you bring on the state¡¯s behalf? I apologize for my inferior etiquette, and being so improperly dressed.¡± Datra grimaced, matching her tone. ¡°Alderman Owen wants to negotiate a land purchase, or swap, between clades G and Q. Since your border is so messy, inefficient, and hard to maintain, the Bureau of Irrigation is officially supporting a deal and offering to mediate.¡± ¡°Absolutely not.¡± Datra reached for his grappa. ¡°Well, I tried,¡± he said with a shrug. ¡°Datra why are you here?¡± ¡°I just told you.¡± ¡°So now you lie to my face? You didn¡¯t come here to humor Owen. What are you up to?¡± ¡°My job! Or maybe I just wanted to see you, did you consider that?¡± ¡°No. I see you twice a year, if that, and you¡¯re a stranger to me. You don¡¯t even show up in the Royal Baths anymore, you send that shrimp.¡± ¡°Those meetings were always a waste of time. Anything the Aldermen have a say in ends up on Tremaine¡¯s desk anyway. Let him attend.¡± ¡°You should at least send Birch or that big guy. Me and Beatrice have a lot of fun with that boy, but making him stand next to the Patriarch is just cruel.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t really care. I¡¯m the head builder on paper, but does anyone think I¡¯m running around with a plumb bob?¡± ¡°Poor Tremaine only has the string.¡± Something flickered in the corner of Datra¡¯s vision. He turned and saw a light in his room. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± he asked. ¡°My staff is cleaning your room, again. You needed that, right?¡± ¡°I did. Thanks,¡± Datra said, though seeing himself cut off from his water closet reminded him of something. He stood and walked with wet feet to the edge of the balcony. ¡°What¡¯s beneath this?¡± he asked. ¡°My roses, why?¡± Datra stood flush to the rail and held his member between the bars. He relaxed and urinated. The stream split three or four ways, and he shifted to block Menora¡¯s view. ¡°Lovely,¡± she said. ¡°It was either this or go in the pool.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll mount that thing over the fireplace.¡± ¡°You¡¯d never have known.¡± ¡°It¡¯s like having a new son already.¡± Datra shook off and went back to the pool. ¡°Come on, I¡¯m sure Sena was just¡­¡± Datra slowed, seeing something in Menora¡¯s eyes which looked too much like murder, ¡°you think we¡¯d make a proper couple?¡± ¡°Life is made of small choices, and Sena¡¯s had a hard time finding her equal.¡± ¡°Ha, is that me?¡± ¡°I could make a case. You have rank, and I assume a bit of money.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a reason Irrigation went to a provincial. It hardly competes with running a clade, or is the idea that I¡¯d retire by the time Sena inherits?¡± ¡°Maybe she¡¯d be happier with you?¡± ¡°This house is so full of jokes! Besides, you can¡¯t spare your eldest, not with young Danica fresh out of her chiton.¡± ¡°Danica¡¯s already showing up Sena in the offices, and she has plenty of room to grow.¡± Datra held a finger to his lips. ¡°Better hide her away, then. I only caught Danica in passing, but she cut a striking figure: trim chest, big eyes, long dark hair. I can think of a certain someone who¡¯s quite partial to girls of that sort, can¡¯t you? If you¡¯re telling me she¡¯s smart as well, we may only be a few exams away from Jenya naming your successor.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t you forgetting someone?¡± ¡°Do you have another kid I don¡¯t know about?¡± Datra asked, waiting for a response. Menora just stared, so he waited longer, still nothing. Datra took a big swig of grappa. ¡°You can¡¯t be fucking serious.¡± ¡°What¡¯s so strange about it? Meander¡¯s capable, popular, and¡ªunless Geoff has some hidden deviancy¡ªunlikely to get drafted.¡± ¡°That¡¯s one thing our good City Father would never lie about. Regardless, Sudras aren¡¯t eligible.¡± ¡°Is there a law saying so?¡± ¡°Give me time and I¡¯ll find one; and if not, laws can be written.¡± Datra took another long, warm sip. ¡°I hope you¡¯re not expecting me to help with this.¡± ¡°I expect nothing, if you can manage it.¡± ¡°You think the other Aldermen will accept him?¡± ¡°They¡¯d vary, as all people do. I think Beatrice would support us. Owen would act sweet in public then curse me behind my back. Jasper would do the opposite. I¡¯m less sure of the others, but none of that matters because it¡¯s my clade and their authority can¡¯t cross running water.¡± ¡°Is Menander even on the Social Register? If pressed, can you name his father?¡± ¡°Watch yourself, Datra.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know; why should you?¡¯ Datra shrank back, worried he¡¯d gone too far. He stared off at the stars for a while, and so did Menora, her eyes landing somewhere around the Autumn Quadrangle¡ªDatra wondered if she knew that. After a moment, he cleared his throat. ¡°You have no obligation to tell me, but whatever happened to that one guy who used to be here all the time. Nathan something?¡± ¡°Nathaniel¡­¡± ¡°Him!¡± ¡°Pentacost. His name was Nathaniel Pentacost.¡± ¡°Where did he go?¡± ¡°I feel like you already know.¡± ¡°Oh, to hell with rumors and auxiliaries and scraps of paper. I want your side of the story. I never asked before, but you¡¯ve just went through my indiscretions and told me this business with Menander¡ªwhich will become my problem eventually. So, if it¡¯s not asking too much, I¡¯d like to know.¡± Menora looked back and took a long, deep breath, visible in the midnight air. ¡°There¡¯s not much to tell. We¡¯d been together since childhood, and each step had went so smoothly from the last neither of us questioned it when our parents suggested a betrothal. I don¡¯t even remember him proposing, I just found myself in the magistrate¡¯s office with Nathaniel, signing a marriage contract. He handed me the pen, grinning like a fool, and make a joke about how it was a shame to waste ink writing the same name twice. I laughed with him. It seemed such a funny coincidence¡­¡± ¡°Was it?¡± ¡°No. I started thinking about all the little things our parents has done to push us together over the years and wondered who we might have married if not each other. I couldn¡¯t come up with a single person. All the men I knew were married or old or commoners or¡­ well, I couldn¡¯t think of a single one, and it was nearly as bad for Nathaniel. It looked like a choice between pairing up or leaving the clade. Later, I laid out our pedigrees and went back past year zero, to before Richter and the plague. The lines were so alive, with dozens of families spilling into each other; the old, colored houses, but also Bastards, ennobled merchants, envoys from the provinces¡ªyou needed a history of the Empire to understand what you were looking at. Then, all of sudden, it¡¯s nothing but Petrovs and Korres and a few odd families getting swallowed up by Pentacost.¡± ¡°Sounds typically noble to me.¡± ¡°Yes, but something was different. I asked around and got copies of the other Aldermen¡¯s pedigrees. It was the same all around, but getting worse. I went back and counted our great-grandparents. Jasper had seven; Owen and Beatrice, six. I had five, same as Nathaniel.¡± ¡°Not the same five, I hope?¡± ¡°The pedigrees were all shrinking down to nothing, and mine was the thinnest. It looked like a bodkin pointed right at my crotch. I decided it couldn¡¯t last, and if someone had to break with tradition, I would rather it be me than my children.¡± ¡°So you broke off the engagement?¡± ¡°No. I stalled and pandered and tried to come up with a solution, but I got pregnant with Sena, and Nathaniel panicked over making sure she was legitimate. I told him I wanted to marry, but had some conditions. He said no and left the clade.¡± Datra hmm¡¯d and bobbed his head. Something flickered in the corner of his eye, and he looked over to see the lights out in his bedroom. Menora stood and reached for a towel. In the dim moonlight, he noticed the thin stretchmarks along her stomach and breasts. ¡°It seems your room is clean again, Dat. Please lock the door this time.¡± ¡°I will.¡± ¡°There will be breakfast around sun-up. If you¡¯re awake and around, feel free to join us. S¡¯nocte.¡± ¡°S¡¯nocte.¡± Chapter 8 Nadya yawned and stretched and looked down at her work, a page of dark black letters laid out in a grid. Along the top she¡¯d written Anya¡¯s key words: ¡°Sudras boil chickpeas in rootwater¡±, then she¡¯d put the whole alphabet down the left side and filled the cells one by one¡ª¡®A¡¯ plus ¡®A¡¯ made ¡®B¡¯, ¡®C¡¯ and ¡®G¡¯ made ¡®K¡¯, ¡®M¡¯ and ¡®N¡¯ made ¡®V¡¯, and so on. Nine-hundred sixty squares took a long time, and Nadya had started over more than once. She wondered if there was a trick to do this faster, and wished she could ask Veronica for help. Either way, Nadya had the key to her sister¡¯s notes, now she just needed something to use it on. She pulled up the corner of her mattress and slipped the paper into the gap, then she crawled to the windowsill. The irrigators were still out on the cobbles near the old servant¡¯s quarters; three men of several ages standing around a gray-haired woman, all dressed in the same plain robes as Anya, sandy brown with blue trim. They¡¯d come at first light with hammer and chisel, cracking up mortar to loosen the stones below, then probing the ground with metal rods and vessels of strange liquid. Anya had stepped out to greet them, milled about for a while, then trailed of and vanished. Nadya opened her dresser to set out clean robes. She hesitated between a drab, ratty trainer which she¡¯d kept mother from tossing¡ªonly Veronica¡¯s needlework had saved it¡ªand one of the new lady¡¯s robes she¡¯d gotten as an early birthday gift, blood purple with proper trim and tie-ups. Anya was home, meaning Nadya would have to entertain, but she¡¯d also need to cook: easier in the first outfit but more polite in the second; and of course, mother might order her back upstairs whichever outfit she chose. Nadya took up a brush and sat by the window as she thought it through. Someone new had arrived, a man, thick in the chest with wiry arms and a soft gut, a shock of dark gray hair framing his rough, tired face. He stood in the center with clasped hands, rocking back on his heels and laughing. The others laughed back with a unity which struck Nadya as insincere, then trickled away, gesturing towards some unseen task as they slipped around the corner. The newcomer leaned against the bunkhouse, patting his elbows as he fidgeted and looked around the square. He seemed to be checking windows, and when he turned towards Nadya, she dropped flat on her mattress; but then she looked twice and found him staring at the sky, idle. By the time Nadya fixed her hair, the man was stretching up to leave. As he turned, a wooden rod swung into view: long and black and polished, with silver wire curling up the shaft. Memories of Anya flooded Nadya¡¯s mind, of watching the woman twirl her baton and talk of the traditions it came with. In a moment, she knew the tubby old man and saw a chance she¡¯d not get again. Nadya jumped into the threadbare trainer fast as a swaddled doll, then she was downstairs and out the kitchen door, chasing Datra¡¯s shadow as it vanished past the far edge of the square. She crept to where he¡¯d been and peeked the corner: nothing, just the long bare path which hugged the canal. The border fence¡ªchest-high brick with pikes on top¡ªwound off into the distance, making a slow, wavering arc toward clade center. This made it hard to see through the metal bars, so Nadya crouched against the bottom and scurried upstream, poking her head out every few dozen paces. Eventually, she glimpsed a set of soft, square shoulders bobbing along the path. Nadya slowed and kept her distance, but the path straightened out and forced her into the open, standing between the canal and a strip of waterfront houses, thin and tall, crammed up to the big hill behind them. Nadya walked tall and looked over Datra¡¯s head, focusing on the spires of Menora¡¯s palace¡ªthis was just another trip to get Danica for study group. Nothing more. However, Datra kept stopping to stretch his ankle or stare at the hill or wave to an old man on a stoop; and the gap between them shrank. Worse, they were coming up on a bridge, the shadow of two praetor halberds sticking up near the guardhouse door, stark black against the sunrise. Datra slowed further, and Nadya veered off into the narrow space between two homes, stalking Datra from the ribbon of fenceless yard behind them, carved into the base of the slope. Nadya stumbled over planters and patios as she snaked from corner to corner, crouching to check each alley before rushing the gap. A few houses on, she found him. He looked bigger up close, and meaner, with muscle in his back and shoulders, more like an over-the-hill laborer than the sagging grandfathers who gardened in Nadya¡¯s neighborhood. She watched with one eye until he moved out of view, then Nadya dashed to the next corner and watched him again. He turned towards the alley, and she pulled back to hide, holding her breath as his footsteps grew closer. ¡°Worthless children,¡± Datra muttered, and Nadya braced for impact, but the blow didn¡¯t come. Instead, she heard a metallic crunch followed by the tinny sound of brass hitting stone, then the footsteps resumed in the other direction. Nadya stuck her head out and saw a shiny brown disk leaned up on the nearest door, a crushed vessel of some kind, serial number faced out in the soft morning light. Nadya sighed and steadied herself, emboldened¡ªafter all the warnings about Irrigation and water laws and the horrors which awaited those who broke them, she was almost disappointed. Nadya got back to her stalking, pushing her luck a little more each time: running faster, watching longer, sticking her head farther out. There were a few close calls, but Datra never quit moving, and neither did she. Then, as they neared the end of the row, she looked out and saw Datra facing the alley with crossed arms, staring right at her. Caught, Nadya stumbled out from the corner, pretending she¡¯d tripped. ¡°S¡¯morro, Don!¡± she called out. ¡°S¡¯morro,¡± said Datra, unmoving. Nadya walked to the next house, taking the time to look up at the windows, as though she were just getting home and checking to see who was asleep; then she got up on the rear stoop, just out of Datra¡¯s sight¡ªshe listened; his feet did not move. Heart in her throat, Nadya opened the door, putting weight on the handle to make a nice, loud squeal. Inside, she saw a narrow hall with a galley kitchen, where a young man stood at the range in nothing but his subungula, holding manuscripts in one hand and a pot in the other, one of those cheap spike-bottomed ones which tipped over unless you held them. The boy was a few years older, with sandy hair and slim shoulders. ¡°Hey,¡± he said, glancing over, then looking twice with bugged eyes. For a long moment, they stared at each other, Nadya held in place by the need to trick Datra; him, by the scalding water which would spill if he let go. Something about his face made her uncomfortable, so Nadya¡¯s eyes flitted down to his chest and legs¡ªher cheeks grew warm. The youth cleared his throat and said ¡°can I help¡­¡±, but Nadya slammed the door. She took three breaths and peeked the corner. Datra had fallen for it. He was gone. Nadya ran back the way she¡¯d come, jumping over rakes and chickens as she followed the retaining wall back towards home. With each step, the face of the boy with the pot kept coming back, a growing tension tinged with dread. She reached a crossroads and turned inland, towards the wrought iron arch marking the hilltop trail, then she realized: he must be one of Veronica¡¯s clients, sure to mention the intrusion next time he was tutored. Nadya shook it from her mind and sprinted up the weed-eaten stairs, a line of crumbling cyclopean blocks which seemed older than the city itself. She burst out on top with sweat beading her brow, panting as she staggered through knolls of wild grass. She looked round and saw her home and the peninsula, Menora¡¯s palace, the rest of her clade and all the others, a patchwork of brown and gray carved up by twisted streaks of blue, with The Maine cleaving the city in half as it wound from one gate to the other. To the North, just over the wall, she made out a sliver of sea. Nadya filled her lungs and walked to the crest, where a great stone idol stuck up from the Earth, a square slab with a salmon carved into the face. Nadya put a hand on the rain-worn carvings and looked out at the streets below, trying to make out where Datra was and would be. At this point, she needed to keep her distance, but if she got a sense of where he was going, she could get ahead and find a good watching place, maybe even ask cousin Menander to let her out on his balcony¡­ A heavy hand swung out and slammed Nadya¡¯s scalp, dragging her to the other side of the idol. ¡°Stand straight. Tiptoes, tiptoes.¡± The hand pulled upwards, and Nadya obeyed, craning up towards the pain. ¡°This way, this way,¡± Datra said, walking her in a circle. ¡°Back to the stone.¡± He set her flat on the slab and gave a small kick to her instep. ¡°Feet apart, heels a foot from the wall. Slide them out.¡± After some wrangling, Nadya was where Datra wanted: hips on the rock, legs straight in a slight ¡®V¡¯. She wondered why he did this, then she wriggled against the stone and realized: her feet were too far out to support her; if she tried to run, she¡¯d fall. Datra bent in with red eyes and sour breath. ¡°You will not move without permission, understand?¡± he asked. Nadya nodded, and Datra said ¡°use your words.¡± ¡°Y-yes, patre.¡± Datra unclenched his fist and a handful of red-brown locks fell across Nadya¡¯s face. ¡°May I fix my hair?¡± she asked. ¡°You may.¡± Datra slid back and crossed his arms as Nadya settled herself. ¡°First things first,¡± he said. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Nadya.¡± ¡°Nadya what?¡± ¡°Nadya Pentacost.¡± A spark of recognition passed over his face, then Datra leaned back and wiped the sweat from his brow¡ªNadya noticed a few copper strands stuck between his knuckles. ¡°That sounds familiar¡­¡± Nadya burned with shame. She¡¯d never considered that her choices might get back to her relatives. ¡°Alderman Menora is my mother¡¯s cousin,¡± she said. ¡°Does she know you¡¯re following me?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Good. Next question: why are you following me?¡± ¡°I just saw you and though it would be fun.¡± Datra leaned in. Nadya saw the delicate veins in his sallow, bagged eyes. ¡°You know that¡¯s not good enough,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s the truth.¡± ¡°One more try, miss.¡± Nadya tensed up, thinking. After a long pause she said ¡°my sister is friends with an Irrigator.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Datra¡¯s face brightened. ¡°Friends with an Irrigator?¡± he asked, voice high, as though walking back a false step. ¡°Yes, Sergeant Anya. They¡¯re doing work at my house, so she¡¯s staying with us while she supervises.¡± Datra stroked his chin. ¡°Okay, now we¡¯re getting somewhere. But miss¡­¡± ¡°Nadya.¡± ¡°Nadya, how did that lead to you following me?¡± ¡°Well they¡­¡± Nadya fumbled as she stared up at Datra, now looking more concerned than angry. ¡°They don¡¯t like it when I¡¯m around, and my sister tries to get rid of me.¡± The words stuck in her mouth, then burst out on their own. ¡°They¡¯re nice on their own, but when they¡¯re together it¡¯s like I¡¯m an outsider.¡± Datra wagged his fingers, coaxing her onwards. ¡°And I wanted to meet you first, without them.¡± Datra laughed, belly shaking as his face grew redder. ¡°Ha, is that all? I can¡¯t condone your behavior, but it makes sense to me. Use your sister¡¯s minnow to go sharking?¡± Nadya smiled. Put that way, it sounded so petty. ¡°I was just curious, too.¡± ¡°You were curious?¡± ¡°I was. I¡¯ve been really bored.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been bored?¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± Nadya talked about her sister never being home, and mother never leaving; about how much she missed Clive, and how even the servants had vanished¡ªmore chores as well. Then she told him about Danica and study group and how much she hated lessons, of how pointless it all was when she could just go work for Menora. It went on and on, and a little voice in the back of Nadya¡¯s head wondered why she was telling him so much, but each time she slowed down Datra hmm¡¯d and asked another question, then the words just kept coming. By the end, Nadya had forgotten why she started talking in the first place. ¡°Well, I believe you,¡± Datra said. ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem like you meant any harm. Just a touch of youthful rebellion; normal and healthy, in the right dose. Happy to put it behind us, so long as you take responsibility and promise not to do it again.¡± ¡°I promise, patre. Sorry,¡± she said, giggling with relief. ¡°That leaves just one thing.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Datra slid out his baton and held it between them, silver threads flashing as he twirled the tip in a little circle and pointed to the idol. ¡°Turn around, miss; hands on the wall.¡±
¡°What do you mean, nothing?!¡± Anya hissed, stooping forward with crossed arms. Lyre glowered upwards, the tip of her long, sharp nose hovering near Anya¡¯s chin. ¡°Exactly as I said, Sergeant. The people in this house are shitting out the most normal parasites I¡¯ve ever seen. Usual number of larvae, pupal pods stable with jitters every fifteen seconds. Zero emerged or semi-emerged adults; none, nothing, oude.¡± ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± Lyre furrowed her brow and crossed her arms. The Sudress¡¯s breasts bunched up between her elbows, and Anya tried not to look down her collar. Anya failed. ¡°I¡¯ve been pushing shit through sieves all night, sergeant; and other than one massive turd which smelled like quine, all had immature ansels matching G¡¯s profile. We even floated some pods in water to measure hatch time: eighty-eight minutes on the dot, dead average for this strain. If you want to hear Barlow say the same thing, call him down; or you could quite wasting time and take my word for it.¡± Anya broke away and paced around the bunkhouse. The interior was stark, with few decorations, little furniture, and no interior walls. One end was lined with frayed bunkbeds, the other by a wooden bench with a hole in the middle, crowded up to a curtainless bathing stall. The center had a sink and simple cooktop, the only luxury being an antique water clock mounted near the door. ¡°So what now, are we done?¡± asked Anya. ¡°You tell me. I¡¯m not leaving until boss says so, but you¡¯re the one here and running things. Personally, I¡¯d focus on getting all the samples, but maybe you know something I don¡¯t.¡± ¡°You just said it¡¯s all normal.¡± ¡°The sewage is, but I can¡¯t speak for the people, not until you get me confirmed samples. I looked at your notes. You marked a flush for ¡°Nadya¡± at two-thirteen, but you didn¡¯t have eyes on her; you didn¡¯t have eyes on anyone.¡± ¡°Jenya was lying down. I know that. I heard the springs in her bed. Veronica was upstairs too, but I heard her footsteps just before the flush. I sat by the stairs all night, Lyre. I know what I heard.¡± ¡°Sergeant, I don¡¯t doubt your methods, but I dare you to put that in your report. Boss¡¯d pit you for that garbage, assuming Birch didn¡¯t catch you first. ¡°Come on, Lyre. Who shits three times in one day?¡± ¡°I agree that this is probably a bust, and I¡¯ll make that official the moment you get me a sure-thing sample from each daughter¡ªseeing is believing.¡± ¡°I should have a better chance tonight. Jenya takes her dinners seriously.¡± Lyre reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a vial of clear liquid. She dropped it into Anya¡¯s hand. ¡°In case you need a little help.¡± ¡°Poison?¡± Lyre sighed. ¡°Laxative, sergeant,¡± she said, stepping out of the bunkhouse. Anya shuddered and let herself drop onto the bench, besides the open hole. She¡¯d stayed awake until Jenya quit pacing a few hours before sunup, flopping onto the couch just in time to hear Nadya slip downstairs, trying to be stealthy as she brewed a carafe of rootwater. Anya had pulled a pillow over her ears and rolled over, but then came Veronica, getting a head start on the promised breakfast. Not long after, the rankless started hammering just outside the window, and Anya had given up, going upstairs to wash and seeing something in the mirror as red-eyed and puffy as Datra. Now, she slouched against the bunkhouse wall, eyes drooping as she thought of Lyre and the girls and all the work left to do, then something moved at the edge of her vision. She looked and saw a thread-thin worm crawl out from the hole, walking end-over-end along the dark, stained rim. The glass-white creature squirmed up on the planks, then leeched towards Anya¡¯s hand. Too tired to care, she let it latch onto her knuckle, then Anya lifted it near her face, twisting her fist as she watched the larvae squirm over her skin. She put her other hand on her stomach, rubbing the pinch of fat above her sash, then pushing in against her abs, feeling the stillness of her guts¡ªno sliding, no jitters, none of the liveliness she¡¯d felt all her life before getting cleansed and moving to the bureaus; such a strange thing to miss. The Anselworm¡¯s free end clamped down over a vein on the back of Anya¡¯s hand, and the pain snapped her back. She leaned over to the stove and took a match, twisting it alight as she crooked her arm for a better angle. Anya held the fire to her knuckle, ignoring the heat as the larvae began to sizzle. The worm¡¯s hot head let go just before it burst into a ball of flame which crept along the fatty body, leaving a curly thread of ash as it worked towards the other end. The creature let go just before the last bit of flesh was consumed, falling to the ground as a smear of light gray soot. Anya smiled, rested her head on the bricks behind her, and closed her eyes.
¡°But you said you believed me,¡± Nadya said. ¡°I do. Now face the wall.¡± A spreading coldness in her gut, Nadya turned toward the stone idol. She leaned forwards and lifted the skirt of her robe, but Datra took his baton to her knuckles then prodded her between the shoulders. She caught herself on the stone as the fabric fell back to her ankles. ¡°None of that,¡± Datra said. ¡°Do I look like your mother? Is this a wooden spoon? You made adult choices and you¡¯re getting an adult beating, the dignity along with the pain. Spread your feet a step. Keep your palms where they are.¡± Nadya did as he said, staring down at the dirt and grass in the idol¡¯s cracked foundation. She watched two tears run down her nose and land between her toes, making little starbursts of mud. Datra cleared his throat. ¡°First, you are charged with petty insubordination, a simple infraction which can be prosecuted on-site. Given your motives, I feel this charge is appropriate, but if you disagree, we can go to the bureaus and sort through the many, many crimes which stalking a bureaucrat might fall under. Do you accept the charge? Note: this is not an admission of guilt.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Wonderful. Second, do you accept current conditions as an improvised courtroom? Sadly, I seem to have misplaced my tablet, so there will only be a verbal record of these events. Do you waive your right to a formal record, and to your own personal copy?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Also, I do not have my hat. Are you comfortable being tried by a hatless man?¡¯ ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Time for your plea: innocent or not?¡ªBefore you answer, I have one final courtesy. If you plea ¡®innocent¡¯, I will pause the proceedings and allow you to summon one member of your family to assist in your defense.¡± ¡°What if I don¡¯t plea ¡®innocent¡¯?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t stall, miss.¡± Nadya cried and breathed and stared at the wet patch below her, thinking of home and her sister and Anya; then of Danica and Menander and all the others who¡¯d learn about the beating, or see it, or see something worse. ¡°Guilty,¡± she said through a film of snot. ¡°I agree, but how do you plea?¡± Nadya almost repeated herself, but remembered the grueling hours spent picking at The Principles of Republican Government. ¡°Not innocent,¡± she said. Datra squared up besides her, feet planted, holding the baton like a sword. ¡°I, Datra Gaelo T¡¯nay, sentence Nadya¡­ can I get your full name?¡± ¡°Nadya Natasha Pentacost.¡± ¡°To ten lashes in the name of our Lord City Father, performed without delay by consent of the convicted. Any questions, comments, concerns?¡± Nadya forced herself to take long, slow breaths. ¡°Is ten a lot?¡± she asked, looking back. Datra was moving the baton back and forth between her butt and his ear, going through the motions without actually striking. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he chuckled, ¡°you won¡¯t really get ten.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t?¡± ¡°Not a chance, most men pass out after three.¡± Nadya¡¯s poise broke, arms and legs buckling as rivers of mucus ran down her chin. ¡°I was joking, I was joking!¡± Datra said, as though juggling something hot and slippery. Nadya¡¯s blubbering slowed, but didn¡¯t stop¡ªstaying on her feet took all she had. She looked down and saw Datra¡¯s shadow wind up to strike. Nadya closed her eyes, teeth clenched, waiting. She felt a light slap on the buttocks, just hard enough to sting. ¡°One,¡± Datra said, then he struck her again, a little harder. ¡°Two.¡± The third was harder still, and Nadya tensed up, ready for a trick, but ¡°four¡± was the lightest yet¡ªless than the slap from mother. ¡°Five, sixseveneight okay get up.¡± Nadya pushed off the idol and turned to face Datra. He grinned down with soft shoulders, cool and relaxed, as he¡¯d been a few minutes before. He pulled out a red handkerchief and dabbed her face, then dropped it into Nadya¡¯s hands. ¡°You¡¯ll blow your own nose, I¡¯m afraid.¡± She did and went to give it back, but Datra pulled away. ¡°Keep it,¡± he said, reaching into his satchel. Nadya caressed the slip of fabric, admiring the dense, silver embroidery which ran around the soiled center. ¡°I could wash it for you?¡± she asked. ¡°It¡¯s your aunt¡¯s, don¡¯t bother.¡± ¡°Thank you, patre.¡± Nadya tucked it into her sash and looked back to Datra, who was rubbing his hands together, as though washing. ¡°What happens now?¡± she asked. ¡°You tell me. I didn¡¯t follow you.¡± ¡°I just wanted to see what you were doing.¡± ¡°Sorry to disappoint, but not much at all. Really, I¡¯m just trying to avoid your relatives.¡± ¡°Why¡± ¡°Your cousin slipped into my bed last night, and I¡¯m not much of a morning person.¡± Nadya felt a strange lightness in her chest, like when she snuck a sip while fetching a bottle, or looked through the drawer where Veronica hid her notes¡ªshe fought to keep a straight face. ¡°Which one?¡± she asked. Datra pursed his lips and snorted, walking to the grassy ridge on the edge of the hilltop. He shielded his eyes with an open hand, craning towards Menora¡¯s palace. ¡°Look for yourself, on the balcony,¡± he said, pulling a brass tube from his sash and putting one end to his eye. ¡°But who is that strange man¡­¡± Nadya rushed to his side, scrambling atop a loose boulder to get above the grass. She cupped her brow and squinted at the distant battlements, scanning for movement or signs of this unknown person; but a splitting pain slashed down her left buttcheek, then another on the right, too close for her to flinch or cover. Nadya dropped to a squat and held her hips, hissing through clenched teeth. ¡°You didn¡¯t warn me!¡± ¡°Learn to count,¡± Datra said. Lifting her chin with the baton. ¡°I did you a kindness. The hard part is knowing the blow is coming. Don¡¯t you agree?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°You say that, but no tears this time.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sad. I¡¯m angry.¡± ¡°Well, you can be mad on your feet, get up.¡± Datra pressed her chin up further. Nadya braced herself and stood, trying to hold in a curse as her hips creaked upright. ¡°Can you really see Menora¡¯s balcony with that? Enough to make out the faces?¡± ¡°And count their teeth, if I set it right. I¡¯d let you try it, if you hadn¡¯t just groped your bug factory.¡± Nadya scowled and took her hands from the bruises. ¡°Is that bakery still open?¡± Datra asked. ¡°Downhill on that side?¡± ¡°The owner quit, but his son runs it now. Why?¡± ¡°Come on.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°I missed breakfast, remember?¡± ¡°Yeah, but why am I coming?¡± ¡°You wanted this, didn¡¯t you?¡± He asked, and when Nadya only stared back, Datra shrugged and said ¡°truth is, I¡¯m bored too.¡± Chapter 9 Nadya stared from the bench as Datra leaned into the baker¡¯s oven and plucked a hot pastry off the rack, juggling the steaming bun until it was cool enough to cradle while the attendant watched with clasped hands. Datra reached into his satchel, found nothing, then searched through his pockets and sash. Finally, he said ¡°just bill BOI, care of Levine, and pretend I bought twenty.¡± He walked towards Nadya, yelling over his shoulder: ¡°and I¡¯m serious, do it or I¡¯ll come back.¡± Datra crashed down beside her and bit into his pastry, one of those spiced dumplings with cheese and shredded chicken, the kind Nadya didn¡¯t care for. She sneered and nibbled at her own honied roll, topped with dried berries and nuts. ¡°I gave you the pick of his wares and that¡¯s all you took,¡± Datra said through half a bite. ¡°I like them.¡± ¡°Fresh squeezed juice, baskets of ripe fruit¡­¡± ¡°I don¡¯t eat much fruit. I only like grapes, the red ones.¡± ¡°You clade kids are so spoiled.¡± ¡°Because of fruit?¡± ¡°Yes, among a dozen other things. Girls nearly as bad as the boys.¡± ¡°Does that make Sudras spoiled?¡± she asked, licking her fingers. ¡°They have more fruit than anyone.¡± ¡°I assume you mean fieldhands, outside the wall?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°They also marry at fifteen and die at forty-five,¡± Datra said, staring off as he chewed. ¡°Although, when you put it that way¡­¡± He shrugged, unstopped his wineskin, and took a big gulp. ¡°Are you Sudran?¡± She asked. ¡°In part, maybe?¡± Datra choked and beat on his chest, then he coughed and scowled at Nadya. ¡°Spending too much time with your aunt, are you? Do I look Sudran? Why ask such a stupid question?¡± She thought Datra was tanner than most, with stocky limbs and muddy brown eyes, but she kept that to herself. ¡°Your name,¡± she said. ¡°It was ¡®Teeny¡¯ or something.¡± ¡°T¡¯nay.¡± ¡°Well it had the stop, so I thought¡­ It¡¯s a strange name.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a strange place.¡± Nadya blinked. Datra sipped. ¡°It¡¯s a city on the Northern sea,¡± he said. ¡°in the Sapphic provinces. The old families there don¡¯t do your business with three names, but the immigration form had an extra space, so we did our best.¡± ¡°Datra of T¡¯nay?¡± ¡°Something like that.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t realize. You speak perfect Imperial.¡± ¡°Everyone speaks Imperial. That¡¯s why it¡¯s called that.¡± ¡°Well, sorry for asking if you were Sudran.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been called worse.¡± Nadya took a big bite, savoring the taste, trying to look grateful, giving Datra time to forget her false step. Finally, she swallowed and asked ¡°Do you know the Patriarch?¡± ¡°Mhmmm.¡± They sat and talked. Datra answered Nadya¡¯s questions about his life in the bureaus, what the provinces were like, and how he knew aunt Menora (he caught ansels as a young officer and couldn¡¯t leave the clade, so Old Menander took him in for a time); then he asked Nadya about her family and studies and eating habits, nodding along as she rambled at length about the hopes and fears she¡¯d mentioned on the hill. As the sun peaked above them, Nadya grew bolder. ¡°How hard is it to get a bureau job, really?¡± she asked. ¡°There is no generic bureau job.¡± ¡°Okay, but do scores really matter?¡± ¡°The minimums are pretty strict, but only Heredity picks from the very top. Once you¡¯re in range, better scores help but other factors have more weight, like family background and not being a stalker. I put up a formal minimum to scare off half-wits, but once an applicant is on my desk, I toss their scores in the garbage.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t want the best people?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not getting them either way, and the good ones I have didn¡¯t come from exams.¡± ¡°Hmm, so having family in a bureau can help?¡± ¡°Again miss, which bureau? Heredity? Not unless said relative happens to be the Patriarch, although most of that crowd is related anyway, so it doesn¡¯t really matter. Customs and Mercantile is large and messy enough that its internal divisions are bureaus unto themselves, and the dozens of smaller offices all have their own cultures: some are family businesses in all but name, some have ranked Sudras.¡± ¡°What about Irrigation?¡± ¡°It¡¯s honestly never come up,¡± Datra said, squinting. ¡°Why? Is there a Pentacost in my staff I don¡¯t know about?¡± ¡°No,¡± Nadya said, chewing as she stared at the clouds, unsure if she was lying or not. ¡°Well, miss, I think you should¡ªhey, get off of there!¡± Nadya ducked and turned and saw two boys climbing the canalside fence, one on the cobbles, the other suspended over the water, feet balanced on the brick foundation while his hands clung to iron barbs. The bigger of the two, the insider, bolted down the path and slipped into an alley. The other hooked his heel between two points and moved to swing himself back to safety, but Datra yelled ¡°slow down, fool, you¡¯ll gut yourself!¡± and stormed over, taking the boy¡¯s hand and helping him time the jump¡ªone, two, three, go! Datra held the youth¡¯s wrist as he fell into a crouch, then pulled him close as he bounced back up, twisting his arm so he couldn¡¯t run away. Datra questioned the lad, learning that this had been a dare and they¡¯d meant no harm. Datra explained the technicalities of clade borders, stressing that they end at the water; and, while his companion had merely violated state property, the boy in Datra¡¯s clutches could be charged with clade-hopping. The lad grew pale and stammered out more apologies, but Datra ignored him and turned to Nadya. ¡°What do you think?¡± he asked. ¡°Do you believe him? Give me a peer¡¯s opinion, citizen.¡± The boy flashed his red wet eyes towards Nadya, and she fumbled a response. ¡°I think he¡¯s telling the truth.¡± Datra nodded. ¡°He does look the clade-hopping type, but if you¡¯re vouching for him¡­¡± He kept excoriating the boy, turning back for Nadya¡¯s perspective every two or three answers. Datra got his name, clade number, address, and other menial details; but when the identity of the runaway came out, Datra held up a hand. ¡°No need for that,¡± he said. ¡°I have better things to do than chase children around the clade. Although¡­ how about this: you agree to go set your friend straight, explaining the error of his ways and all that, and I pretend I never saw you, deal?¡± ¡°Deal!¡± ¡°Wait,¡± he turned to Nadya. ¡°So long as you support that, of course.¡± The boy looked as though he might kiss her feet, and part of her wanted to make him. Nadya felt bad for him, of course, but she also knew Datra¡¯s captive was in no real danger, and saw no harm in savoring the moment. She pursed her lips and traced her eyes up and down his scrawny frame, from his dirty feet to his snot-soaked cheeks. Finally, she said. ¡°I do support that,¡± and Datra let go. ¡°Lucky day, son,¡± he boomed. ¡°Thanks for the cooperation. After you settle things, head over to that bakery up the square. Grab a few rolls and tell him to take it out of Levine¡¯s twenty.¡± Datra stood still while the lad ran away, then stretched and laughed, Nadya with him. ¡°Thanks for your help, miss,¡± he said. ¡°And thanks for the company, although it seems G could use a good patrol, and I¡¯d rather not walk it with a clade brat on my arm. That will buy me a few more hours, then I suppose it¡¯s time to face reality.¡± Nadya looked up at Datra¡¯s face¡ªworn, but soft and smiling. She remembered the whispered warnings about Irrigation and its leaders, the times she¡¯d overheard Anya talking about other officers and the barbarians she worked for, the endless lectures from Mother and Veronica about the Water Laws and what happens to children who break them. None of it fit with the chubby old man who stood before her, as if she was doing a geometry set and discovered a four-sided triangle. As Datra turned to leave, something pulled at Nadya¡¯s insides, yanking out words she hadn¡¯t planned on saying. ¡°You could have dinner at my house!¡± Datra looked back with a crooked smile. ¡°That¡¯s sweet of you, girl,¡± he said, ¡°but it¡¯s not so simple.¡± ¡°My sister knows how to cook for clean bureaucrats, with hot silverware and everything. Anya will already be there, so it¡¯s no trouble.¡± ¡°I hear you, but I¡¯d hate to be impose¡­¡± He glanced at the gray spires of Menora¡¯s palace. ¡°You know my family don¡¯t you? Mother would be heartbroken to hear you turned us down.¡± ¡°Maybe, but you don¡¯t need to tell her¡­¡± ¡°Especially once she learns you spurned her for Menora.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s just unnecessary.¡± Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°My sister¡¯s really cute, too!¡± ¡°Fine, fine. You¡¯ve convinced me,¡± Datra lifted his arms in defense, then leaned in and tapped her on the sternum. ¡°But you need to clear it with all involved, okay?¡± ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°I¡¯m still going to walk G¡¯s border. When I loop back to your end, I¡¯ll check on your house again. If you have permission, come get me. If not, I¡¯ll just say my goodbyes and move on.¡± ¡°See you then!¡± she yelled over her shoulder. Nadya ran back towards the peninsula, working out a plan as she moved; but as she passed the bridge, she saw the house where she¡¯d tried to trick Datra, where she¡¯d peeped on that boy. A stone fell in her stomach¡ªwhat if he came calling? Or told his parents?---It could spoil everything. She slowed to a walk just as she reached the square, shuffling past the fountain with clasped hands and acknowledging the Irrigators who milled about with plumb bobs and chisels. ¡°Bon tarre, prim,¡± to the plain-robed youth. ¡°S¡¯morrow, bella,¡± he said with a bow. ¡°S¡¯moorro, damme,¡± to the graying corporal, who smiled and patted her head. ¡°S¡¯m¡­¡± Nadya stumbled. A new person had emerged from behind the bunkhouse, a dark woman of about thirty, almost Nadya¡¯s height with the biggest chest she¡¯d ever seen. The trunk of her robe was littered with extra pockets, and a stout baton swung from her sash. Nadya reached for the appropriate words and came up short, then realized she¡¯d taken too long. Her mouth twitched as she looked down, unsure whether it was better to push out a stillborn greeting or snub the woman and go inside; but the sudress smiled, bowed, and said one word in a throaty accent Nadya didn¡¯t recognize. ¡°S¡¯vandei,¡± a stern, old-fashioned greeting Nadya had only read in books, one which showed great deference and demanded no response unless the other party was feeling generous or wanted to show favor. Nadya choked back a strange mix of guilt and relief, said ¡°s¡¯vandei,¡± back, then scurried into the house. She smelled garlic and saw Veronica at the kitchen counter, sleeves tied back as she diced a pile of Winter vegetables. Nadya let the door snap shut and her sister¡¯s head spun round, long hair flipping over her shoulders as Veronica looked from Nadya to the clock, then back again. ¡°Where have you been?¡± She asked. ¡°I thought you were helping?¡± Nadya¡¯s face, red from running, turned redder. ¡°I am. I am,¡± she said, rushing to the sink, where she found two freshly plucked chickens, streaked with viscera. ¡°You got a second one?¡± she asked. ¡°I kept wondering if one would be enough, but two seemed too many, especially when Anya can¡¯t eat leftovers; but then I remembered Mr. Binov offering a bird every time I tutor Zach¡ªand if the second chicken is free¡­¡± ¡°You brought it home alive?¡± ¡°Mhmm. I should have asked him to wring it, but I waited too long. We¡¯re lucky the sergeant was here or that thing would still be biting my ankles.¡± Nadya stuck her head around the corner. Anya¡¯s couch in the living room was empty. ¡°Where is she?¡± Nadya asked. ¡°Not sure, why?¡± ¡°Just curious.¡± Nadya set the baffles in the sink¡¯s drain and pulled the chain, slipping the final link into a hook on the wall. A trickle of cold water fell from the overhead pipe, and she lifted one of the chickens into the flow, rubbing clotted blood from the pale, rough skin. ¡°Are you roasting both?¡± ¡°Just one. We¡¯ll dice the other and save the skin for dumplings.¡± Nadya hmm¡¯d and set after the birds, scraping away pinfeathers and dropping the organs into a growbed beneath the window. She wondered if ¡°Zach¡± might be the boy she walked in on earlier, but that problem had to wait. As she stropped a knife, Nadya said ¡°oh, right. I was supposed to tell you, one of Anya¡¯s people might be coming to dinner.¡± A tuber slipped from Veronica¡¯s hand, and her knife chinked against the counter. ¡°What? Who?¡± she asked. ¡°One of the men who were out there earlier. I¡¯d never seen him before.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like her to surprise me like that.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure it was her idea. I was hoping she¡¯d be here so we could ask.¡± Nadya waited for her sister to say something, but Veronica kept chopping, so she pressed on. ¡°He wanted me to check with Mother and you just to make sure. He was very polite.¡± After a long moment, Veronica said ¡°I¡¯ll have to thank Mr. Binov again for the capon. He might have saved our afternoon. Go talk with Mother. If she approves, then fine. If not, we¡¯ll have some extra meat.¡± Nadya wiped the slime from her hands and rushed upstairs to Mother¡¯s study. She knocked on the door¡ªa few soft taps, hoping she was still asleep¡ªbut Mother said ¡°come in¡± and Nadya did. Mother sat over her slanted, tile-top desk, pecking away at one of the memos which lay heaped up besides her. The disks of glass which made up her window cast circles of light along the polished surface, her pen flashing as it passed through rings of shadow. ¡°What is it?¡± she asked without looking. ¡°Is it okay if another Irrigator joins Anya for dinner?¡± Mother leaned back and tossed a completed memo onto a nearby chair. ¡°Why am I only hearing of this now?¡± she asked. ¡°We didn¡¯t know. He has an invitation to Cousin Menora¡¯s, but I don¡¯t think he wants to go.¡± Jenya set down her pen and turned to face her daughter. Nadya bit her tongue: the black handprint was still smeared across Mother¡¯s cheek. ¡°Who is this, again?¡± ¡°One of the men working on the bunkhouse. I don¡¯t really understand the bureaus, but he has a baton.¡± Mother looked away to sign a memo. ¡°Your sister can handle another guest?¡± ¡°Yes, she made extra.¡± ¡°Fine, but go help her prepare¡ªyou shouldn¡¯t need to be told that, you know?¡± ¡°Yes, mother,¡± Nadya said, leaving. She went downstairs and made a good-faith lap around the house, but Anya was nowhere to be found¡ªthe water closet was empty; a single rankless knelt in the garden, fiddling with the cistern; and the bunkhouse windows were pitch black. She even asked the few Irrigators who were still standing around the hole, and all said the Sergeant disappeared hours ago, although they were happy to pass on a message once she returned. Holding back a smile, Nadya thanked them and returned to the kitchen, taking up a knife and unpeeled carrot. ¡°Still no Anya,¡± she said. ¡°I hope she gets back soon.¡± ¡°Do you?¡± asked Veronica, using the clean end of a ladle to swat Nadya¡¯s rear¡ªa playful tap, but it landed where Datra had caned her. Nadya hissed and jumped and covered her rear, then she saw the confused concern on her sister¡¯s face and did her best to play it off as a joke. Veronica tossed the ladle into the sink, and both girls got back to cooking, although Nadya felt her sister was paying as much attention to her as the food. ¡°Well, we¡¯re here,¡± Veronica said. ¡°Might as well fit in a session. How are your subjects doing? Still struggling with geometry?¡± ¡°I¡¯m doing better. Danica helped me.¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad. Where do you need help? Geography? Civics? Pre-Imperial poetry?¡± Nadya stared out the window and did her best to look innocent. ¡°What about¡­ boys.¡± ¡°What about them?¡± Veronica asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know, everything?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t teach you everything. We could talk physiology, sex patterns in heredity, marriage law and bride prices. Do any of those work?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t mean any of that,¡± she said, dumping her cutting board into a pot. ¡°Not school stuff, just boys in general. How they talk, their dreams, their¡­ bodies.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°I¡¯m just curious,¡± she said, shrugging as she reached for another carrot. ¡°I can see that,¡± said Veronica, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Huh?¡± Nadya followed her sister''s gaze down to her own hands and saw the way she was holding the carrot. She blushed and tossed it across the counter. Veronica cleared her throat and rolled her eyes towards the stairwell. ¡°Nadya,¡± she said. ¡°I tried to give you some initiative, and you are wasting my time. Since you need direction, why don¡¯t we work on your foreign languages?¡± ¡°Fine.¡± Nadya sighed. ¡°Aerte,¡± said Veronica, the Sapphic word for achievement or deep approval. Then, in the stiff, sing-song cadence she used with students, she continued in the foreign tongue. ¡°So, what are you curious about?¡± Nadya grinned as she hacked at a tuber. ¡°Plith,¡± she responded, meaning ¡°a lot¡±. ¡°Plieth,¡± her sister corrected, staying in Sapphic. ¡°But that¡¯s too vague. What do I even say? Were you serious with the ¡®bodies¡¯ thing or being facetious?¡± ¡°A little, but that is part of it.¡± ¡°You understand the basics, right?¡¯ ¡°Yeah, but not where they lead. Clive was only around during the day, and Bernard was so shy.¡± ¡°Bernard is modest, not shy,¡± said Veronica. ¡°And if you¡¯re that interested, go spend more time with Aunt Menora. If you stay through the evening she¡¯ll invite you to the balcony. Sooner or later I¡¯m sure Menander will pop in.¡± Nadya made a face. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Do you like him or something?¡± ¡°Of course not.¡± ¡°Then I don¡¯t see what the problem is.¡± ¡°You go bathe with him, then.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not the curious one.¡± ¡°Easy for you to say,¡± Nadya grumbled. ¡°You¡¯ve¡­¡± Veronica slammed her knife through an onion, cleaving it in two with the blade stuck quivering in the wood. She glared at Nadya, who shrunk back and left the sentence unfinished. After a few moments, Nadya said ¡°sorry, that¡¯s just the type of advice I¡¯d expect from Mother.¡± Veronica took a deep breath and pried the knife free. ¡°It¡¯s okay sweetie, just please think before you speak. Talking in Sapphic only goes so far.¡± She got back to dicing onions, and Nadya felt water in her eyes. ¡°Any other questions about boys, or should we actually study now?¡± Nadya hesitated. She¡¯d said enough to cover her tracks if the boy she¡¯d intruded on came calling, but still¡­ ¡°What is it like to spend time with them?¡± She asked. ¡°Like when you tutor? How is it different?¡± ¡°Hard question,¡± said Veronica. ¡°It¡¯s not like they¡¯re all that different. Everyone¡¯s trying to learn and get on with their lives, although there are some differences. Boys spend more time trying to impress me, for one.¡± She paused. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯d say the boys are less secure.¡± ¡°That feels wrong.¡± ¡°How so?¡± ¡°Menander is pretty secure. So were Clive and Bernard.¡± ¡°Then why aren¡¯t they here?¡± Nadya tripped over her tongue, reaching for an argument, but unsure whether she understood the question. After a few false starts, her sister pressed on. ¡°I didn¡¯t say they lacked confidence. I said they were insecure. Nadya, how often does Mother go to clade meetings?¡± ¡°Like once a year, maybe?¡± ¡°Does she seem bothered, or worried about her position in the family?¡± Nadya remembered the desk piled high with memos and manuscripts. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Can you imagine either of the boys doing that?¡± Nadya chafed at the question, but let it go. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°Bernard wanted rank, and Clive wanted to lay about doing nothing. Both worked hard and got their prize¡ªfar, far away from here. That¡¯s what I mean: insecure.¡± ¡°What about you, Veronica? Does that mean you can stay?¡± Her sister sighed. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡± ¡°You still haven¡¯t told me what you want to do, and now you¡¯re old enough for the exams or whatever, so¡­¡± ¡°We¡¯ve spoken of this.¡± Again, Veronica looked towards the stairs, lowering her voice further. ¡°If I leave, it won¡¯t be until everyone has their place¡ªall three of us. Okay?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure I ever will be ready,¡± said Nadya, smelling the onions. ¡°If you were going to Menora¡¯s we¡¯d be there already. I could work too and help with the money, but you won¡¯t let me.¡± ¡°A few years of clerking isn¡¯t worth your education, Nadya. You need options.¡± ¡°Why? Nobody else wants them.¡± ¡°Nadya¡­¡± ¡°All the girls in study group know what they¡¯re doing. Danica already has a job, and the rest are looking for husbands.¡± ¡°Has anyone found one?¡± Veronica hmm¡¯d. ¡°No, but they all have someone in mind. Some are boys I know, and some aren¡¯t boys at all.¡± ¡°It sounds like you kids need better supervision. Maybe I should talk to the mothers¡­¡± ¡°They¡¯re the ones doing it!¡± Nadya said, the smell of onion growing stronger. ¡°Jessica¡¯s mom is sucking up to Kat¡¯s uncle. Lala¡¯s mom is pregnant and wrote an option as part of Lala¡¯s dowry. Even Danica¡¯s doing it, and she¡¯s going to be Alderman, but Mother hasn¡¯t even tried to help you yet. She just writes her stupid poems all day!¡± ¡°If only,¡± Veronica muttered. ¡°I¡¯ve already told her I don¡¯t want any matchmaking, and she just thinks you¡¯re too young to worry about marriage¡ªShe¡¯s right, by the way.¡± Veronica placed a hand on Nadya¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I had no idea you cared about this so much, but you really nee¡­¡± The stench was becoming unbearable. ¡°I don¡¯t, but everyone else does, so what am I supposed to do? Mother thinks I can rely on the family name when that didn¡¯t even work for Menora. I want to stay with you but what if it¡¯s too late for me? You didn¡¯t find a boy either, you¡­¡± An iron hand clamped down on Nadya¡¯s shoulder, finger and thumb jabbed into the base of her neck. She smelled the oily sweetness of Veronica¡¯s hair as her sister stooped down and kissed Nadya¡¯s ear. ¡°Nadya,¡± she breathed. ¡°I really tried, but this conversation is over.¡± Veronica spoke in Imperial, and with a sinking gut Nadya realized she¡¯d switched languages without realizing¡ªwhen had she done that? Had anyone heard? ¡°In a few days,¡± Veronica pressed on. ¡°We will be alone again. Until then, you are going to act normal and help me handle the guests, understand?¡± ¡°Yes, Veronica.¡± Her sister loosened her grip and nuzzled Nadya¡¯s cheek. ¡°It¡¯s okay, and I promise we¡¯ll talk the moment Anya leaves. We just can¡¯t afford this right now.¡± Veronica let go and drifted back to the counter, using the back of a knife to scrape the onions into a simmering pot. ¡°Wait, does the other guest like onions? Oh well, I suppose it¡¯s too late to ask.¡± Nadya started and looked from the clock to the dying light outside. She planted her palms on the counter and bounced up with straight arms, looking out the window. ¡°He¡¯s here!¡± she yelled, wiping her face as she rushed for the door. Veronica drifted over to look for herself, but Nadya was halfway out by the time she got there. Behind her, Nadya heard the dull thud of Veronica¡¯s knife dropping to the floor.