Threads chapter 461-Roadtrip 3

There were many better investigators and diviners in the Emerald Seas, in the Diao clan, or even the region, but none of them were here, only Ling Qi, and her ability to listen. She could only use her time here to give what small aid she could, and that meant focusing on one aspect of the attack. The whole world whispered, but she was not yet a sovereign, able to listen to every voice in tandem. The best she could offer these men and the Diao’s forces was a glimpse of who had done this and what marks they carried and left in their wake.

She closed off her mortal senses, letting the inside of the carriage fade away. Her immortal senses replaced them entirely, letting her view the shimmering whorls of qi and the sound of spiritual voices. She focused and pushed the deafening noise of the dense forest and the chatter of flagstones away.

The walls had no answers, stolid and unmarked. The stones and mortar knew nothing. No foe had breached them. No cunning saboteur had climbed them. The border they made held, only as porous as it had been made.

The earth was disturbed, the ground sickly with blood and worse, spilled by the dying and by the spreading toxic mycelium of fungal fibers which crawled and spread, slowly burning under the sun. She listened to that creeping fiber, but it had nothing to say to her. It refused her, despite not being conscious to do so.

The craft of the Ith had its own defenses against diviners.

Instead, she listened to the sounds of feet. As of late, many had rushed and stampeded to and fro, seeking the gates, seeking shelter, or even seeking nothing at all, merely panicking. She whispered to the earth and asked it to remember further back, before the sickness had begun to sprout. She heard the sound of rickety wagon wheels, the steady tramp of boots, and the slap of sandals and shoes against the ground. It was small traffic, denoting the carrying of items from the logging and forestry camps back to the town itself.

It was still a tremendous rush of information, a million, million moving parts and intersecting factors, even translated through the inhuman senses of flagstone and dirt. She felt a vein pulse in her forehead, an ache beginning to bloom inside her head, just under her eye.

There.

A set of boots which had only rarely crossed the stones under the gate. A quickened pace and ragged breaths leaving just an hour before the deaths began. He stood out from the handful of other travelers because he was heavier than he should have been. His shadow weighed on the earth. His boots carried a weight that a mortal man should not have.

The mortal-not-mortal left with a small departing caravan of porters and laborers. She could not see his face or frame. Stones were not aware of such features, and whatever winds had touched him had long blown on from this place. But in her mind’s eye, she could construct a silhouette of a man with a rough idea of his height and weight. The most relevant fact was…

She stirred in her meditation as a hard knock rapped against the door of her carriage.

She gestured as she rose to her feet, hearing the soldier outside step back quickly as her carriage door swung open.

Huo Gen, the old veteran, waited respectfully outside.

Ling Qi reviewed the sounds which had come around the carriage shortly before she broke her meditation. “I apologize for missing your first three attempts to rouse me. I was deep in meditation.”

“It is nothing, Miss Ling. I merely wished to inform you that the Oracle Formation has cleared your identity and indicated that you are not under any form of subversion.” A pause. “Neither is your driver.”

“I am pleased to hear that,” Ling Qi replied, stepping down from her carriage. She wondered what that said about her games with Huisheng. “I found my meditation fruitful.”

“Did you?”

“A man who held marks of ith impurity left this town fifty-seven minutes before the sickness began to spread. He was one hundred seventy two centimeters tall and about seventy two kilograms. He left with a small caravan of fifteen people.”

Huo Gen took in a sharp breath. “You are certain of this?” he demanded.

“I will stake my honor and my liege’s honor on it. There is only one other detail my method could discern.”

“What is it?”

“He was mortal.”

“Mortal?” Huo Gen repeated. “Then, this information may be meaningless. Mortal pawns controlled by cultivators do not last. The mechanisms of control break their fragile bodies…”

“These mechanisms are not the same among the ith. The man was not dying, or even controlled by a hard method,” Ling Qi said.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The mortal had been running a little hot, but he didn’t feel sickly.

The soldier frowned deeply. “Regardless, the man will be found, alive or dead, and this barbarian method will be discerned. I, Huo Gen, thank Lady Ling for her time.”

“Please do, and you are more than welcome.” She bowed her head. “Let the culprits be rounded up swiftly, and this crime against our people avenged.”

The man’s expression darkened, and she felt the chaotic mix of helpless rage, anxiety, and hope slip through the facade that had held against her casual senses.

This old man had kin among the sick and the dead.

She held back a grimace. He wouldn’t be happy to know she had glimpsed his thoughts.

“… Yes. These attacks will be responded to in full. Good speed, Baroness Ling. I will hold you up no longer here.”