Chapter 29

To her very great shame, Angharad’s first reaction was relief it had not been one of hers.

The second was fury: Aines’ corpse could not have been left out of the hall by accident, the murderer had wanted them all to see it. She strode over to the crowd, only some of them turning at the sound: the rest were too busy shouting. Lord Ishaan was the first to notice her and the man – still chubby-cheeked, for all that the fresh scar across his lip now lent him a harder edge – turned red as an apple.

“Lady Angharad,” he got out. “Would you, I mean-”

Shalini leaned over his shoulder, glance flicking up and down, then let out an approving noise.

“He’s asking you to put pants on,” she translated. “Respectfully.”

Angharad frowned. Her underclothes ended high on her thighs, but she was hardly naked.

“This is why people make sport of Ramayans, Nair,” Tupoc Xical opined, stepping out. “You can’t take a gift even when it’s dropped straight onto your lap.”

Tupoc’s gaze was hardly the most lascivious Angharad had ever been on the receiving end of – she’d had worse leers stretching out in sparring clothes after getting sweaty – but the pale eyes were distinctly appreciative as they took her in. That and the attention the conversation was drawing from those who had been shouting was enough to convince Angharad to give in to Ishaan’s request.

She could think of few things more nauseating than arguing about clothing besides a murder victim’s corpse.

Doubling back to her chambers, she dragged on pants and boots before hastily belting her saber. Grabbing her coat as well, she came out with outstretched arms only to pause right out the door. Yong was there, bangs loose despite the haircut the kindly old lady had given him after he lost his topknot. So was Song, smiling pressing a pistol against his belly. To the older Tianxi’s honor, he did not seem particularly fearful of that. Instead he nodded Angharad’s way, ignoring he was but a twitch of the finger away from a shot in the guts.

“Tredegar,” he said. “A word in private, please.”

Angharad almost sighed, pulling her coat into place by tugging the lapels.

“That’s not happening,” Song said. “I know who you are, Jiang Shashou Yong.”

Some kind of Cathayan title? Yong hardly seemed a noble and the Republics should not have any besides.

“I do not recall seeing the young lady at Diecai, so I assure you she is quite safe,” Yong drily said.

Angharad’s eyes narrowed, irritated at being cut out a conversation that had begun with a request of her.

“That is enough, Song,” she said, pushing down the muzzle of the pistol. “I can decide for myself who I will speak to, in private or not.”

Her friend grimaced.

“Angharad, he is-”

“Whatever those words in Cathayan you appended to his name mean, I imagine,” she cut in. “I do not care. That does not place the decision in your hands.”

Diecai. The name was vaguely known to her. A battle a few decades back, perhaps a Republican victory? Angharad would admit to not having been the most dutiful of students when it came to the history of Tianxia and the Someshwar. There were only so many times you could hear of ten thousand soldiers dying to move a border by two miles before it all rather melded together. Her eyes moved to Yong.

“Meanwhile, Master Yong, we are largely unacquainted and there was recently a murder,” she said. “We will not be going anywhere alone. The three of us, however, can take a moment inside my chambers to have the conversation you requested.”

Song murmured something in Cathayan, the other Tianxi’s eyes snapping to her as he replied acidly in the same, and Angharad’s thinning patience snapped.

“You are both being intolerably rude,” she coldly said. “Mend your manners or leave.”

Song grimaced, nodding an apology, but Yong looked unmoved.

“Shall we go into your room?”

Angharad had half a mind to send him away, but that was anger speaking and not sense. She stepped back and invited them in, though she did not close the door. By the time both were inside, Song’s pistol was nowhere to be seen.

“You wanted to speak to me,” Angharad reminded the man. “Here I am.”

Yong hesitated a moment, then made his decision.

“A friend of mine found out that Aines and Felis were both sent here by the same coterie,” he said. “It paid for their seats on the Bluebell.”

The Pereduri cocked an eyebrow.

“Coterie?”

“Gang,” Song clarified. “Sacromonte has more than a dog has fleas. Some grow distressingly large and influential.”

The sign of a decaying state whose nobility improperly discharged their duties. Such a thing would never have been tolerated in Peredur: souls committed to infamy did not stay in the duchy, they fled abroad to become pirates and hirelings. There would be time to consider the failings of Sacromonte later, however.

“Why would criminals pay to send a married couple onto this dangerous island?” Angharad asked.

“For bets,” Yong said. “They are called ‘red games’. The desperate are indebted are sent here and told to accomplish a task in exchange for salvation.”

Oh, the noblewoman did not like the sound of that. The conclusion was obvious as it was ugly.

“Felis was told to kill his wife?” she said, appalled.

The Tianxi wiggled his hand.

“I do not know for sure,” he said. “But he tried to get her to leave our crew several times during the Trial of Lines and Aines told us that should she die before reaching the third trial there would be dire consequences.”

“For whom?” Angharad asked.

“They have children, I hear,” Song quietly said.

The older man nodded.

“The coteries, they do not care about the deaths,” he said. “Death is cheap. What they care about is the surprise, the story. If they told Aines she must live until the third trial or her children would die, then Felis…”

“Might have been told the opposite,” Angharad said. “So they might find out who would turn on the other first.”

Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding. A disgusting abuse of power, fit only to be answered by the blade.

“You believe Felis did it, then,” she said.

“I do not know,” Yong admitted. “But he had means – they slept in the same room – and motive. It looks much like Ju’s murder, which I doubt he had anything to do with, but that might be the point.”

Song was more interested in something else.

“Why go to us with this?” she asked. “You came here with the Ramayan crew.”

The older Tianxi glanced at her with irritation, and for a moment Angharad thought they would start bickering again. Instead he shrugged.

“Ishaan’s a decent sort, for a Someshwari, but he will only go so far with this,” Yong said. “I do not believe you will drop the matter even if it becomes messy.”

It was true that Aines had not been part of Ishaan’s crew and so he had no obligation to her as a lord, but Angharad thought the young lord was being underestimated. She had no reason to believe the Someshwari so lacking in character as to allow a murder to go unpunished, but then Yong was Tianxi. He would have little understanding of nobility and its duties.

“Twice now one of us was murdered in cold blood,” Angharad said. “Heedless of… messiness, as you put it, we must rid ourselves of this curse before it strikes again.”

The Tianxi gave her a nod, satisfied with the implicit promise. He had nothing more to tell them so after barely passable leavetaking he took the door. Angharad would have followed, had Song not laid a restraining hand on her arm.

“There’s something off about the body,” she said.

Aines’, she no doubt meant. Angharad raised an eyebrow.

“How so?”

“The throat was cut, but the spray of blood was minimal,” Song said. “Either the body was cleaned up or-”

“Aines was killed before her throat was cut,” Angharad finished.

She had made enough corpses to know the difference.

“That was not the case with the twin’s death,” she continued after a moment. “There was a great deal of blood on the grass.”

“Ju was definitely killed while alive,” Song agreed. “Which begs the question of why it was different this time, if it was the same killer’s work.”

“So Felis killed his wife without leaving a mark, then cut her throat to have the first murderer blamed for it,” Angharad frowned.

A pause.

“It could be the other way around,” she pointed out. “The killer could have made this death different to send us chasing after the wrong man.”

Though Angharad had never thought of such a thing being associated to murder before, stratagems of that kind were not uncommon at court. Song conceded with a nod.

“We won’t learn anything more in here, anyhow,” the Tianxi said. “Best to return before the others get impatient.”

—

The stepped right into a tinderbox.

Around Aines’ cooling corpse every soul in the temple had gathered, in varying degrees of dress but with every single soul armed. There were half a dozen pistols out and just as many blades, and though none were being pointed yet they were being waved about with too much enthusiasm for Angharad’s tastes. Lines were being drawn, groups coalescing. Lord Ishaan, Shalini and Acanthe were pressing Tupoc, by whom a sneering Ocotlan stood. The object of the argument was Felis, who had hunched on himself looking like a beaten dog.

“They slept in the same bed,” Ishaan insisted. “You would have me believe he did not wake up even as she was dragged out of the room?”

“Drugs or a contract would see to that easily enough,” Tupoc shrugged. “I am more interested in what Lan was doing, awake so early and walking about.”

The surviving Tianxi twin looked nervous, but she was not alone. Lady Ferranda, Brun and even Yong stood with her. It was Brun, the fair-haired Sacromontan even-tempered as ever, who replied.

“Are you suggesting she also murdered her own sister?” Brun asked.

Tupoc shrugged, but there were few takers for the notion in the crowd. All remembered Lan’s grief that morning.

“Besides,” Brun continued, “Lady Ferranda was the first out the door after Lan shouted and she saw nothing worth calling attention to.”

“One of us would have found the corpse eventually,” Ferranda Villazur agreed. “That it was Lan makes no difference.”

“I cannot agree,” Lord Remund flatly said. “I notice you are fully dressed, Ferranda. Are you telling me you achieved this in mere moments before running out? It is most suspicious.”

Ferranda’s lips thinned. She did not answer.

“I am sure she has an explanation for that,” Lady Isabel said, once again playing peacemaker. “Let us not accuse in haste, Remund.”

Master Cozme stood with the two infanzones, closing off their faction. Unlike the two nobles the mustachioed soldier looked unwilling to step into the argument, but he was armed and watchful. His eyes were seeking something, Angharad realized, or at least someone. A heartbeat later she realized whom.

“Where are Lord Zenzele and Yaretzi?” the noblewoman called out, stepping in with Song at her side.

“Ah, Lady Tredegar finally graces us with her presence,” Tupoc called out. “A belated welcome to you.”

“You talk a lot, for someone with so little to say,” Shalini Goel mildly said.

The same Someshwari then glanced Angharad’s way.

“Both of them rushed in when everyone was there,” Shalini said, “but they must have slipped away after.”

Murmurs spread.

“Suspicious,” Remund said.

“Can it even be called an echo if you only repeat your own voice, Cerdan?” Yong mocked.

There were more laughs than she would have expected to that, and several who smiled. Remund’s cheeks reddened with anger, but Cozme kept him from answering as he clearly wished to.

“Enough,” Angharad stepped in. “We cannot get to the bottom of this until everyone is here. Did anyone see which way they went?”

A lot of muttering, but no answer.

“Then we will have to look for them level by level,” Angharad said. “Moving in pairs for safety.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

She recognized Lord Zenzele’s voice even before the man himself came into view, a steel-faced Yaretzi at his side. They were coming down the stairs that led to the upper level and Angharad’s stomach clenched. Neither looked as if they were bearing good news.

“We went to have a look at the gates upstairs,” Yaretzi explained.

The reigning current of curiosity ensured they were allowed to speak instead of questioned.

“Someone took a hammer to two of the three,” Lord Zenzele told everyone. “Their needles no longer turn and the mechanisms are damaged: I expect only the gate slated for the seventh hour will be fit to open.”

We are being forced to stick together, Angharad thought. Why? Should the murdered not prefer for the crews to split off again as quickly as possible, to hide from retribution?

“I know of only one hammer around here,” Song noted. “Ocotlan?”

The big man snorted.

“Like any of you twigs could swing it,” the Aztlan said. “It was in my rooms when the racket woke me up, so it hasn’t been stolen.”

“Then we ought to look through everyone’s bags for a hammer,” Lord Ishaan suggested.

“Agreed,” Angharad forcefully said.

Some hesitation from the crowd, but willingness as well. No one wanted the murderer to walk free.

“A bloodied knife was planted in my valet’s affairs, last time,” Lord Remund cautioned them. “Let us not assume a hammer means culpability, it could have been place there.”

“Sounds like something a man with a hammer in his bag might say,” Tupoc grinned.

That saw an end to all argument from a freshly red-cheeked Remund. It was longer and more arduous to arrange who would look through the bags than look through them. In the end three of them – Angharad, Ishaan, Tupoc – were deputized to act. The two captains of the crew the bag’s owner were not part of did the looking, with some effort made as to discretion. As much as they could while doing this in the hallway with everyone looking, anyhow. A quick but methodical search that could not have lasted more than ten minutes revealed no hammer.

“It could be hidden in the killer’s room,” Brun suggested. “We can search those as well.”

“I would have been simpler to just throw it in one of the pools downstairs when they were done,” Acanthe Phos opined. “And I don’t think anyone wants to go looking through that strange water.”

There were grimaces at that, but no one contradicted her. All had been careful not to come into direct contact with the iridescent waters in the pools and waterfalls below.

“Then we must look for the murderer with wits and witnesses,” Angharad said. “Question all those who might have seen something.”

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“This is not Malan, Lady Angharad, and we are not your peasants,” Shalini Goel bluntly said. “No one here is bound to abide by your judgement.”

“Afraid of questions, Someshwari?” Lord Remund sneered. “Lady Angharad has proved honorable, unlike you lot.”

She his her surprise at the unstinting defense, though part of her did wonder if it was merely a springboard to strike at his opponents from.

“Her honor is not in question,” Lord Ishaan mildly replied. “It seems wiser, however, for more than one person to investigate this affair.”

“Lord Ishaan is entirely correct,” she said. “I did not mean to imply otherwise.”

Angharad had expected relatively straightforward acclamations, as for the bags, but to her surprise it was not the case. Few supported Tupoc – only Ocotlan and Felis – while Ishaan similarly struggled to earn support from his crew. Brun and Lady Ferranda instead pushed for Yong, surprisingly supported by Lan. The sudden sundering of authority made no sense to her, until the argument led her to watching Zenzele as he argued for himself as an investigator.

The gate, it was all because of the gate.

There was only one to take, so like it or not everyone would be going the same way and sharing the same path. The previous captaincies were meaningless because everyone would tread the same ground anyway, so now everyone pressed for those they liked or trusted the most instead of their once-captain. Is that what the murderer wanted? Forcing everyone to go through a single gate, one that was to open within hours, had resulted in the effective end of the delving crews.

Worse, we all know there is only so long left until the seventh hour, she thought. When the gate did open at that time, they would have to take it whether the murderer was found or not. They would, otherwise, be stuck in this temple with the killer for another night or day. It was devil’s cleverness at work, but cleverness nonetheless and it gave them trouble.

Angharad was acclaimed into a investigator’s role by six voices within moments of it becoming, then Yong by maintaining his four and then to her surprise Tupoc won over Lord Ishaan when Yaretzi spoke for him over the other man. To have neither Yaretzi nor Zenzele’s voice as part of her count when she did have Acanthe Phos’ was something that left her rather unsettled. Song leaned in close.

“They both voted late, after you were guaranteed to have be one of the victors,” Song reassured her. “The point was to pick more than one candidate, not express distrust in you.”

Angharad did not know what she liked less about this: that the pair had not truly sent support where they thought it most deserving or that Song thought this to be some kind of… democratic process. Worse was that she was not entirely sure the silver-eyed Tianxia was wrong. Setting aside her discomfort, she held council with Yong and Tupoc. The three agreed that everyone should return to their rooms until the questioning was finished and that though there was a right to question violence was strictly forbidden – despite Tupoc’s protests.

“You would have us dig a pit without shovel,” the Aztlan complained.

“I will not entrust you with authority I believe you will abuse,” Angharad frostily.

“I just think you’re the worst kind of prick,” Yong confessed. “But sure, what she said.”

Tupoc laughed. She decided to believe that Yong was being facetious, for both their sakes. Angharad’s first act was to ask the other two if they had any questions for Song and, when told this was not the case, claiming her as a right hand for the rest of the investigation and fetching her from her room. Tupoc followed suit with Ocotlan, but Yong preferred going at it alone. Having no intention to stay together for the interrogations, they split up and go to work after together laying Aines to rest on the stone bed in one of the empty rooms.

Within moments Angharad stood alone with her Tianxi friend, breathing in deeply.

“Lan was the first to see the corpse,” Song said. “She seems the logical place to start.”

The noblewoman saw no reason to disagree. They were the first to go to the twin, who was waiting calmly in her room.

“Lady Angharad, Song Ren,” Lan said, nodding a greeting. “I’d wondered if it would be you two or Tupoc first.”

The Pereduri nodded a greeting back but kept the courtesies brief.

“You found the body,” Angharad said. “Tell me about it.”

“It was dead,” Lan drily replied.

The Pereduri twitched at the flippancy.

“Was it cold?” Song asked.

The other woman shrugged.

“I did not touch it,” she said, “so I cannot say.”

“What were you doing out in the first place?” Song asked.

“I was going to take a piss,” Lan frankly said. “Almost did anyway, stumbling onto Aines like that.”

Angharad’s eyes narrowed. The crudity of the answer was distasteful, but it was too distasteful. It felt like the girl she had dueled last year at Mawa Peak who had kept striking at her face – Angharad’s form had been better, they both knew, so her opponent had tried to make her lose her temper to bring them back on even ground.

“You are,” Angharad coldly said, “lying.”

Song idly produced her pistol, which Lan’s eyes followed warily. Though Angharad almost told her to put it away, the implication of violence was not strictly against the promise made – only the actual exercise.

“That’s a bluff,” the twin snorted. “No way you agreed on giving each other that authority.”

“We voted on it,” Angharad stiffly said.

She felt the blue-lipped woman’s eyes on her as she spoke, Lan eventually letting out a small curse in Antigua. She bit her lip, then raised her hands.

“Fine,” she said. “You got me. I wasn’t coming out of my room at all, because I never went into it.”

Angharad blinked, taken aback.

“Why?”

Song breathed in.

“You spent the entire night spying on everyone’s movements,” the Tianxi said. “To see who went where.”

Lan grinned, unrepentant.

“It’s always useful to know who’s fucking and scheming with who,” the blue-lipped woman said. “And it’s not like I was doing anything forbidden, is it? I just waited in a dark corner with a good view and waited, that’s not even snooping the way most people would see it.”

Wait, if she had been keeping an eye on everyone’s coming and goings then… Angharad coughed into her fist, embarrassed.

“Yeah, my lady, your cheeks should be red,” Lan cackled. “That girl’s good as engaged, the way Remund Cerdan tells it.”

“Angharad?”

The noblewoman found Song’s silver eyes on her, face unreadable.

“It was not,” she tried, then swallowed. “We didn’t. I declined, given the circumstances.”

“But she attempted to sleep with you,” Song slowly said.

“We are straying off the subject,” Angharad stiffly replied.

The Tianxi must have taken it as a confirmation, for her face tightened. For a moment Angharad though she saw anger in the cast of the other woman’s face, but surely that was only the light. She had never been given the slightest hint that Song might be interested in her or that they thought of each other in such a light, so what call was there for jealous anger? Salvation came from an unexpected source.

“Poor Isabel,” Lan mused. “She must have been wanting a pick-me up after her other visit.”

That got both their attentions.

“Other visit?” Angharad asked.

“Remund Cerdan came to her room,” the blue-lipped woman said. “Stayed in there about a quarter hour, left looking angry and went straight to back to his own.”

Song hummed, looking interested.