by Jackson Lear
I remained by the entrance of the tent, hoping like hell that no one was going to walk along and bother me.
Zara continued. “You gave this gentleman a letter Artavian wrote to his parents?”
Martius quietened with regret. “I didn’t have the strength to give it to them myself.”
“Did you read it?”
“When I got home, yes. It wasn’t sealed or anything. I hoped it would give me something to say to his parents when I met them, but I’m afraid he had a way with words that got to me.”
“What happened to the letter?”
“I don’t know. I gave it to that guy. He never gave it to Artavian’s parents.”
“How do you know that?”
“Lieutenant Kace had just met with them. He said they never got it.”
“Has your impression of this gentleman changed?”
Martius grumbled loud enough for me to hear. “My wife picked out a few things about him she didn’t like. She thought he looked like a thug and wouldn’t have had anything to do with Artavian’s family. Or rather, they wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him. Then Lieutenant Kace told me he was a known criminal in Verseii.”
“Would it change your opinion at all if Artavian’s letter was given to his parents?”
Martius hesitated. “It’s a little late now, isn’t it?”
“It was delivered yesterday. The gentleman gave it to Artavian’s father, Franco.”
“He should’ve given it to him straight away.”
“Did Artavian give another letter to any of the other stewards?”
“No, ma’am. No second letter, no second page. I didn’t lose anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I didn’t think that at all.”
“I already told Lieutenant Kace that there was no second letter.”
“I’m just trying to clarify a few points.”
“I appreciate that, ma’am, but it was exhausting enough going through this the first time with the lieutenant. It was written in Telucian, which he couldn’t read. I tried to recreate as much of it as I could but we were both getting frustrated by how long it took.”
Zara slowed for a moment. “You tried to write a duplicate?”
“I tried. I don’t know how close I got.”
“This duplicate was in Telucian or Isparian?”
“Telucian.”
“Thank you. Do you still believe Artavian was murdered?”
“Of course. And that asshole who came into my home is the one who did it.”
“Lieutenant Kace laid it all out for you, didn’t he?”
“He didn’t have to lay out much, not when there was an eye witness in Verseii who saw this guy go into Artavian’s room with a jug.”
“Would it also change your opinion if the gentleman wasn’t a criminal, but was in fact an agent of the Syuss Magistrate?”
Martius hesitated. “That seems unlikely.”
“He was in Verseii apprehending a man wanted by the magistrate.”
“That’s ...”
“Not what Lieutenant Kace told you?”
Martius thought it over for a moment, then he snapped back and shook his head. “He lied, though. He said he knew Artavian’s family. I wouldn’t have given him the letter otherwise but I was just too distraught to think clearly.”
“Understandable. Moving on. While you were in the north, what prompted the cavalry to ride out without the rest of the cohort?”
“It was the commander’s decision. I don’t know the details behind it, he just wanted us to finish work on the fort before the barbarians raided us.”
“So there was no trouble with the locals?”
“No. None.”
“No one went missing?”
“Oh, yes. Someone was reported to be missing. A farmboy, or the like, from one of the nearby towns.”
“Was he ever found?”
Martius fell silent for an age.
“Steward?”
“Sorry, ma’am. A few months ago we did get word that he had been seen, nearby, but he was, uh ...”
“Spit it out, steward.”
“He … returned … from whoever caught him. But he came back on their side.”
“He came back as a vampire?” asked Zara.
“Yes, ma’am. That’s what we heard.”
“Did he kill anyone?”
“I don’t think so. He wouldn’t have been very strong by that stage. He might not have even drunk from anyone yet, only animals. The farm master and mistress were able to chase him off.”
“Did anyone from the cohort speak to them about this?”
“The commander did. A couple of the members of the cavalry were there. And ...”
“Go on.”
“Artavian, ma’am.”
“He wasn’t at the camp?”
“He and the farm mistress shared a language.”
“When did this happen?”
“Three or four months ago. I don’t have my log with me.”
“What did the farmers say?”
“I don’t know specifically but Sergeant Nolan came to me quietly that day. He’s one of the cavalry. He was there. He asked if I had seen or heard of anyone from the army in the area who wasn’t a member of the cohort.”
I was really tempted to peer inside the tent at that moment, especially to avoid the patrol making their rounds.
“Did you?” asked Zara.
“No. No one.”
“Was Sergeant Nolan asking about anyone in particular?”
“A short man wearing an imperial uniform.”
“And this came as a result of the farmhand being abducted and returning as a vampire?”
“I suppose so.”
“Thank you, Steward. I’ll leave you to it.” Zara emerged. Gave me a signal to follow. Only when we were clear did she say: “We’re going to need Artavian’s letter.”
“You think there was a code or the like written into it?”
“I think that whoever has been guiding Kace through this investigation thinks that there is a code written into it. Hopefully Franco hasn’t turned on you like Martius has.”
“I’m not too concerned. Alysia’s already read it.”
Zara slowed at that. “Out loud?”
“Yep. I wanted to know what it said. She confessed it wasn’t going to be completely accurate since it was in Telucian. For a language that isn’t native for hundreds of miles or even hundreds of years, it sure has made the rounds.”
Zara stopped, searching all around us as she debated where to go next. “Maybe Miss Kasera can recreate it.”
“Or I could show you the copy I kept for myself.”
Chapter Forty
I was back in my own clothes, blade in its rightful place, and Delen’s uniform safe and secure on the clothes line outside.
Zara looked up from Artavian’s letter with an arched eyebrow. “You wrote this?”
“I copied it.”
She nodded, probably without realizing what she was doing. “It’s surprisingly readable. There are a few issues here and there but overall it’s impressive. You sure you can’t write?”
“I’ve drawn a few times. Maps, faces, the layout of buildings. What issues are you talking about?”
“Nothing serious. There’s a couple of back-to-front letters, swapped letters … easy enough, really.”
“That’s how it looked on the original.”
Now she gave me a condescending look. “Artavian would’ve been one of the better writers in the cohort.”
“Does a back-to-front letter have any significance in the army?”
Zara paused, reading over the words again. “I’m not sure.”
“You didn’t do any code-breaking?”
“Not for the imperial army, no.”
“Then we should go see Alysia.”
“Why? I speak Telucian.”
“Because she read the original. She would remember if there were any spelling mistakes or not.
If she doesn’t remember then it’s my fault. If there were errors then there might be a message hiding in plain … okay, not quite plain sight since it’s written in a foreign language, but if Martius didn’t even notice that there was a message in it then it would be hiding in plain sight.”
We hit the road. As soon as we were on our way towards Alysia, Zara asked, “How long does it take for someone to turn into a vampire?”
“I’m not exactly an expert in that area but Agrat told us that if a vampire drains you and you drink a little of their blood but not enough then you’ll probably die. Drink a little more and it might take weeks to fully transform. Drink a lot and it might take a couple of days.”
“The timing of this has me troubled.”
“Me too, but we’re talking about a lot of events spread over many miles. If your best-friend wore an army uniform kidnapped the farm boy and left him as bait for the vampires then they might provoke the cavalry and the vampires to converge on the same spot. If the vampires got the farm boy and never engaged with the cohort then the farm boy might return home and try to fit back into his previous life, which would no doubt lead to disastrous results. That could also provoke the cohort into engaging with the vampires. If the farm boy was found dead with evidence that someone from the army did it, that could encourage the northerners into fighting the cohort. Anyway, you know the short-ass commander. Is he the type of person who would do all of that and do it well?”
Zara hung her head. “He is exactly that type of person.”
“And since Artavian was leading his own investigation into Lieutenant Gustali, the missing plans to the fort and the schedule of the cavalry, it makes him someone who needs to be silenced permanently, right?”
“The lieutenant doesn’t strike me as a mastermind of cloak and dagger.”
“He was likely just following Caton’s requests, and it’s simple enough; you pick a fight – a small one – and no matter how it ends you respond with overwhelming righteous fury because now you’re justified in going to war against someone. In this case: Lavarta walks into a trap, Lieutenant Gustali is promoted, he leads the cohort into battle, wins because the other lieutenants are actually competent at their jobs, and he comes back as a war hero. The only problem is Lavarta never walked into the trap, Gustali lost his balls when he found out that there were vampires up there, the farm boy managed to survive long enough to identify Krassis, and Artavian’s parents were robbed by our favorite little commander because there was a chance that Artavian wrote to them and told them everything he had just learned.” I stared back at Zara. “Now might be a great time for you to tell me why you’re protecting him.”
“I’m not protecting him.”
“You’re protecting someone else then. How noble of you. What does he have hanging over you that’s worth jeopardizing Alysia’s life?”
She glanced my way, stone cold and probably missing her usual belt. “If you catch Krassis, are you going to kill him?”
“I’m certainly not going to ask him out on a date.”
“I need you to kill him before he can say anything.”
“Even though he can exonerate Lavarta?”
She nodded back at me. “If he ends up in front of a judge he will publicly burn me.”
“Would he be justified to?”
Slowly, she said, “Yes.”
“How do you know him?”
It took another half a mile of mind-games and ‘best friend’ shaming before she told me.
“I worked for him. For a while.”
“When?”
“Ten years ago.”
“How long have you been with the Kaseras?”
“... Twelve years.”
“And Krassis never worked for them?”
Zara slumped forward, almost like someone was pushing her along as she walked in quiet numbness. “Back in Ispar I learned about someone from General Kasera’s staff. I wasn’t his head of security then but I had been a delta for long enough and I was in training to be an infiltrator. The way this idiot was gushing about a woman he had just met tipped me off. One of these, ‘she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen’ kind of situations, ‘and she laughs at all of my dumb jokes. I’m going to marry her.’ This guy … he wasn’t exactly sweeping floors at the villa. He wasn’t the general’s right hand man either, but he was important enough to gain access to whatever the general was doing. Whoever this mystery woman was, she wanted him to keep their relationship a secret because it was more exciting that way. She wanted him to invite her into his bedroom in the general’s villa. So, very quietly, I looked into it.
“You should know that these things happen a lot with generals and their families, so much so that it’s expected. Everyone in the chain of command sends someone to spy on someone else. Some want to prevent a revolution, some want to make sure that if there is a revolution they are on the right side of it, some want to make sure that if they are ever blackmailed then they can burn someone else in the process. There are hundreds of reasons to do it.”
She sighed, annoyed with herself for even telling me. “I realized it too late, but Krassis followed me while I was following this woman and he set a trap for me which – like an idiot – I fell for. The woman kept disappearing into one of the temples of Silvair but she never emerged. One day I found the underground passageway she was using. It led to a chamber complex full of beds, offices, and what would – I suppose – be a harem. It was empty. I rummaged around. Krassis caught me. He had guards with him as well. Crown Guards. He arrested me, threw me into a dungeon, drugged me, beat me, talked to me, fed me, starved me, talked to me some more, and within just a few days he … turned me.”
I glanced over. “And you agreed?”
She snapped back. “Have you never been ...” and promptly realized that, yes, I had been drugged, beaten, and tortured. She trundled on, barely able to even shrug. “I was nineteen and scared out of my mind. How old were you?”
“Thirty five.”
“So I’m sure you can understand why most spies and infiltrators are orphans, have no brothers or sisters, are friendless and job-focused, because when someone else learns where your weakness is and goes after it, they’ve got you.”
“So you spied on General Kasera?”
She nodded.
“And Krassis has proof of this?”
“I would if I was in his position.”
“Are you still spying for him?”
“No. That ended years ago.”
“What changed?”
“Gustali became the governor of Syuss. Krassis went with him.”
“And he never bothered to keep in contact with you, even though you two ended up in the same province?”
“I stayed quiet.” She stopped us. Grabbed my wrist. Held on. “I’ve told you all this in good faith. I might have lied through my teeth. I might have told you someone else’s story. This might be a test asked of me by Miss Kasera, Commander Lavarta, or General Kasera to see where your loyalties lie.”
“Then you won’t have a problem telling me whose harem you were snooping around in when you were caught by Krassis and a few of his Crown Guards.”
With a reluctant breath, she said, “The Emperor’s.”
I actually snorted. “Bullshit.”
She gave me a nod. “Aracella.”
“Impossibe. You’re saying that short-ass asshole was one of Emperor Aracella’s personal assassins?”
“One of many, yes. And when Senator Gustali became Governor Gustali, Krassis was planted with the family to report back to the emperor. Only, now Aracella is dead, and Krassis is stuck with the Gustalis and has had to shift his allegiance to them.”
“Is that why he stayed quiet this whole time? Because you had something on him?”
“Maybe. It doesn’t really matter now, does it?”
“Probably not.”
“And you can imagine that there have been a few sleepless nights whenever I’ve had to come to Torne to safeguard
Miss Kasera.”
I gave her a decent nod. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“You don’t exactly fill me with the greatest confidence.”
Chapter Forty-One
Alysia was at Lucien’s desk, buried within a book. “Did you find it?” She glanced up, surprised at the arrival of Zara and myself. “Sorry, I thought you were Lucien.”
Delen stood next to the door. Still uncertain about my intentions with his general’s daughter.
“Sorry for the intrusion,” said Zara. “I was wondering if you remember reading a letter Artavian had written to his father.”
Alysia squinted from Zara to myself. “The one Raike had?”
“Yes. Do you remember any misspellings? Odd words?”
“Some. Why?”
I handed over my copy. “Was it like this? Word for word and letter for letter?”
Alysia read through it. “Yeah, that’s it. This … wait, this isn’t the one I read.”
“No. I made a copy.”
“Of a copy?”
“No. You read the original. I have to ask, was the first one you read written by someone fluent in writing?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I think there’s a secret message hidden in it.”
Alysia glanced back to the letter. “Huh.” And stared at it for some time. “Some of the letters were back to front in the first one I read. And if there’s a code then … well, ‘the end in the north has followed my path home,’ probably means something, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t write more,’ probably means that he did write and he knows that the letters never made it through, ‘I’m sorry if things were ever strained between us,’ could be signal if things were never strained at all, and ‘I should go’ might be a hint for someone to leave.”
Zara nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
“But I don’t see anything here about Gustali or vampires.” Alysia picked up a quill, twirled it around her fingers, and began jotting down a few words. “Well, that’s not right.”
“What?”
“Maybe the back to front letters spelled something, but there’s no ‘G’ or ‘V’.” She stared into the letter, losing herself to Artavian’s final words. “Leave it with me.”