After sitting for almost an hour, the sickness abated and hunger returned to me like a kick in the stomach. I tucked into a box of Vanity Truffles. The outer layer of chocolate crumbled in my mouth exploding creamy goodness over my tongue. I was on my third one as quickly as my second. Next to the truffles was a chocolate pyramid made up of individual cubes, and I picked up the top one and crunched. It had nothing on the truffles, but was still better than anything else I'd ever eaten. Not contented, I pulled the foil off a circular chocolate which expanded as the casing peeled away until it was a small cake. That tasted pretty good as well. I gorged myself for a few minutes before Clazran entered followed by Rortel. I stood as if I were sitting on a hob.
"I see you've tried a few of the refreshments. What do you think?"
He was later than I thought, and still in the same clothes he'd warn on stage. Possibly, he was waiting to see if I ate anything. Hairs stood up on the back of my neck. It might have been a test, which I nearly failed.
"Can't say I have ever eaten anything so good," I said. "I was a bit sick at first, nerves, from being in front of all of those people, but the hunger came back."
He smiled, gesturing for me to sit down again. "You get used to it." He popped one of the truffles in his mouth. "They just taste normal to me now, but I still remember what they were like when I first tried one." He offered me the tray, and I took another one, demonstrating with every mouthful how much I loved and trusted my President.
"You know why I asked everyone to follow your example and stand up to corruption?"
I shook my head, a mouth full of truffle. Not even the saccharine melting in my mouth could alleviate my fear.
"So I can crush them."
My chewing slowed. "OK."
A second Rapture.
"My special police are on alert to wipe out anyone threatening the stability of The Kaerosh. The clever ones won't fall for it this time, but there are more idiots, and even idiots can be dangerous at high concentration." He took another truffle and threw it into his mouth, letting silence fall over the room as he ate it. "I think it's time for another purge, little man, what do you think?"
"Clever," I said, trying not to let the word catch in my throat.
His eyes narrowed as he nodded at the ceiling, postulating this wave of death. "Yes, it's been too long since I last reminded my people that it is they who should fear me, and not the other way around. That is not to say I will view every allegation of corruption with negativity. There are plenty of my officials who have long since lost all loyalty to the state, and these money grabbing pit weasels are just as dangerous as the fools looking to end my Presidency."
I said nothing. What ability I had to find words and then arrange them in formations that made sense was quickly dissipating.
"Do you think I'm corrupt, little man?"
I held a half-eaten chocolate in my hand, suddenly unaware of what to do with it.
He grinned at me as if an incorrect answer would find his bleached white teeth clamped around my neck. It was a trick question. His eyes were wide as a prowler's stalking its prey analyzing it for weakness.
"I don't think there is a sentient life form in Cos who doesn't think you're corrupt."
His grin widened. "I don't like you, little man."
I nodded as the chocolate began to melt in my hand. He was playing with me, like a cat that has a mouse by the tail. There was no need for him to be so openly threatening. I knew he could crush me with a word, and he knew I knew. All the swagger was for one reason alone. He liked it. It gave him pleasure to watch me squirm, and I squirmed more with every word.
"It's not because you're short," he continued, "though I find that repugnant. It's because of who you are."
I said nothing. There was nothing to say that could make the situation any better, even as I felt my life gliding away from me.
"I don't like people fighting the system, little man. It's my system. Perhaps you did me a favor this time, but who's to say next time you won't be against me?"
I swallowed. "No one with any sense challenges you."
He laughed, but it contained no reconciliation. It was like a madman in the ecstasy of slaughter. "And you have sense do you? That's not what your records say. I find a person's history says more than the flatulence from their lips, and yours says you defy authority at every turn, most of it not even to your own benefit."
I forced a wry smile, though it was like bending steel. "It was this time."
Clazran's lip wrinkled. "For now."
"I did not defy Figuel and Vins with the hope of circumventing their desires," I said, "but with the hope of fulfilling yours."
"Flattery won't get you anywhere, little man. Figuel put you onto this case despite your previous defiance, and you betrayed him."
I wanted to sit in silence, let him chastise me until it was over and slink away, but at terminus that was as good as admitting guilt. I had to lessen his doubts, or eventually he would kill me. "Figuel gave me this case so I would carry his son out of the basement when I solved the crime, and it's not flattery," I said, working the dis machine in overdrive. "It was fear that Peti might be proved innocent that motivated my actions." In reality, it hadn't occurred to me at the time, but it sounded plausible. "I knew if you found out, I would be held responsible, and I feared you more than I feared them."
Clazran considered this for a moment. "You're saying I can trust you?"
"I learned from my five cycles in the basement that either you feed the monsters on the hill or they eat you."
"I hate that expression."
I nodded. "I was being candid."
"Don't use it again."
"Yes, Mr. President."
"I'm not a monster, little man, just a bigger man. Stronger and cleverer than yourself, but a man nonetheless. You might call it corruption, but I'm doing no differently to anyone else. I'm just better at it."
"I don't care if it's corruption or all-encompassing love," I said. "That part of me died cycles ago. I'm your servant if you want me."
"What makes you think you could be of any use to me?"
I didn't hesitate. "I'll find Kenrey's killer for you."
He ran a single nail down his bare chin hard enough for me to hear the graze. "I kill my enemies, little man. I bleed my servants, and I trust no one." He stared at me with eyes of ice, and I felt my skin tightening under his gaze. "I don't have many friends, but Kenrey was one of them, and more importantly he was a Guardian. The system won't tolerate people killing Guardians and getting away with it.
"I might not like you, but I want Kenrey's murderer found, and you've demonstrated more commitment to that than most." He bit into a chocolate, snapping the thin slab between his teeth. "You did me a favor by exposing Figuel, so I'm going to do you one. I'll spare your life even though I think you're dangerous." The candy broke audibly between his teeth. "I can always smell the difficult ones, little man, like farts in a perfume factory, and I smell trouble in you. Find me Kenrey's killer and prove your loyalty."
"I will," I said, but I knew I had to offer him something to ease his mind about me. "This may be impertinent, but if you fear my–"
He stood suddenly, his tone fierce. "I fear nothing, little man."
I nodded, trying not to let my shock manifest. "I apologize. I meant..." I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. "If you suspect my sincerity, the woman they stuck me in the basement for, Sariah Keeson, she's innocent. You could get her out and then put her back if I betray you, guaranteeing my loyalty."
He laughed, reseating himself. "You've got balls, little man." His smile vanished. "Careful I don't chop them off." He slapped a hand on my leg and squeezed hard enough to numb the limb. "Find me Kenrey's killer and she's free. Frak with me, and she'll wish she'd never been born."
I swallowed, entirely sure I'd made the wrong decision mentioning Sariah, but I had no intention of crossing Clazran. "You have nothing to worry about, Mr. President."
He stood aga
in and extended a hand, gripping mine like a swamp net crushing its catch. "I'm giving you this chance because you did me a favor. Vins and Figuel had more allies than I knew, and their removal at this time has saved me future troubles, but don't think you have my backing. My SP will solve this case for me, and until you prove otherwise, you're nothing to me. If you need help, you go somewhere else."
I nodded.
He smiled before heading to the door. "And don't talk to me at dinner."
As Rortel slammed it, I resisted the urge to give them the finger. Pollo came back in and showed me to my room where a new set of clothes was laid out on the bed, suggesting I was expected to change for dinner. All the pairs of shoes had been removed except for a single pair of boots designed to help small children see over large buildings. I briefly considered not wearing them, but that was stupid. It was just another test of whether or not I would submit or remain defiant, and I knew what Clazran wanted.
While I was waiting for dinner, I used the network screen in my room to go over some of the security footage stored on my tablet. I was back on the case, and in the likely event that someone was watching, it wouldn't do any harm to show Clazran my enthusiasm for his assignment.
I couldn't be bothered to watch all the guards running around again. One night of that was enough, so I watched the footage of what happened before the murder.
The first thing that caught my eye was the laundry man wheeling a bin through the guard station into the corridor attached to Kenrey's bedroom, presumably to take away the sheets ruined by Kathryn's accident. My first thought was that this man was easily big and strong enough to commit both murders, but the time he spent away from the cameras was less than half a minute. There was no way he could have run all the way down the corridor, killed two men, set a delayed explosion, and run back again. A guard also checked the bin and seemed fairly averse to whatever was inside, suggesting he had also picked up the dirty sheets.
I rewound it and watched Kathryn come in, unrecognizable under all the robes and hoods Kenrey made her wear, but there was nothing odd about that scene either. She walked a bit strangely, but then she was blind and likely in heels if the guards were to be believed. The main event was two guards having a fight over something indecipherable. Nothing else happened in the guard station until the explosion.
I still thought the case hinged on timing. It was technically possible someone could have committed the murder after the explosion, but it didn't allow any time for things to go wrong. Perhaps the killer got lucky and managed to kill Kenrey and escape despite a very bad plan, but they had covered their tracks so expertly I doubted it. I was sure that Kenrey was dead before the explosion.
It was clear from the security footage that, assuming the killer couldn't walk through walls, prior to the explosion the guard station or the windows were the only ways in and out, and Kathryn was the only person to come in via the guard station. As she was unable to lift Kenrey onto the chair, that left the windows.
It suddenly occurred to me that one possible motive for lifting Kenrey onto a chair, which seemed like a fairly stupid thing to do for a murderer in a rush, was to exonerate the parties in the room that could not possibly have done so. Perhaps he was just protecting an innocent, but it was also possible that he was protecting his co-conspirator. Notably, if Kenrey was dead before the explosion as I believed he was, then Kathryn had to be lying about what happened.
I flicked through the pictures of the room. The windows were not large enough to allow a full grown man to fit through. I wouldn't fit. My frame was too thick. It would have to be someone slim, which most likely meant someone young. I would need to check at some point whether they actually opened.
I rested my head on the desk for a moment. There was no other way in. The guard station was watched constantly, the church entrance was bolted with so many locks it would take an intruder all night to get past them, and both would catch any intruders on camera. It had to be the windows, which meant that the killer was probably little bigger than myself.
At that moment, Pollo knocked on the door and entered without waiting for me to answer. "Dinner is ready."
Outside was a small buggy where another man was waiting to drive Pollo and myself to dinner. Evidently, Pollo was too overburdened with duties to chat, sitting silently in the back tapping his tablet with the ferocity of a person playing speed ball.
I was relieved when we arrived to see that it was not a sit down dinner. People walked around picking bite-sized items from the grills, bowls, and hot plates that ran down the tables. Most striking was the amount of color, not just of the food but of the people. Every individual seemed to be trying to outcompete the others for the most vivacious costume at the dinner – all of them cotton. Some wore nets that fanned above their heads, and sleeves that inflated like buds or opened like flowers.
Watching them from the entrance I felt more alone than ever. I had worn mud covered boots and dry-tops of colors varying from beige to russet since I was a boy. My father's ire bubbled beneath the surface as I remembered the mountains of homeless dying of badens in the streets. I knew nothing of this cotton world and didn't want to.
Walking over to the nearest dishes, I kept a keen eye out for the best place to stand where no one would talk to me. There were a few uncomfortable looking people successfully repelling audiences. It didn't look too hard to imitate, staring at their shoes and turning to the table to take more food if anyone wandered too close.
Clazran was talking to a woman I recognized from the network, one of the few not donning cotton. There were scavengers living on the outskirts of Cronos that looked healthier than Madame Jajaria. In places, her face was a light brown, but often as not it was marred by a wrinkle line as black as the night sky. Her hair was a bleached cream, not quite white, and her eyes were too green for a woman of her complexion.
Clazran's wraith.
Frightening and farcical, mocked by most, but never with open lips. She was the perfect woman to head the occult division of the SP.
Most people accepted that the Rathjarin had powers defying how we currently understood the laws of physics. A person only had to watch some of the footage from the Rathjarin War and the Immortality War to see that. But the Rathjarin were nearly if not entirely extinct, and those that remained were in no position to be using their gift. As a result, the imprint of the old rulers had all but faded from Cos. There were still remnants, and no doubt more of them than I knew, but I found it difficult to believe we needed an entire SP division devoted to their control. Even so, I would not be drawing the wraith's attention upon myself if I could avoid it.
Behind her was another figure who triggered a similar feeling. Weekus van Holf, who for all his body mass, looked less imposing than the old lady. His huge gray mustache attempted to detract from the pudgy childishness of his bald head, but it failed. He looked like a baby balancing a woolly slug on his lip. Yet despite this, van Holf could well be the Clazran of the next generation. He had succeeded Clazran as head of the SP, survived four attempts to oust him from the role, and countless attempts to oust him from Cos. What remained of the anti-van Holf brigade were headless bodies and empty houses.
Whether he was a fool pretending to be intelligent, or a genius behaving like a fool, was now largely irrelevant. He had killed so many people that no one left wished to find out. There was no SP chief in the history of The Kaerosh who was so secure in their position.
I looked away from him before he saw me staring. Face after face belonged to people that I recognized, and most of them were not people a low detective wanted paying him much interest. It seemed safer to turn my attention to the tables.
The food looked amazing. There were grills covered in sea foods, bowls of animal ribs, kebabs where every chunk was different, and things I didn't even recognize. I decided there and then, that no matter how disgusted I was by the gluttony of Clazran's elite, that I was going to take full advantage of the delicacies on offer. As far down the table as I co
uld see, there was not a single repeated dish. I was going to have to be selective to make the best of it. I grabbed one of the kebabs, intent on eating only the most appetizing bits, and turned to come face to face with a man who circumstance took me a click to recollect.
Chapter 10
"Alright short ass," said Lisbold.
I was so surprised to see him that my brain needed to reboot. "I... What are you doing here?"
Wearing a black leather jacket and a tie, Lisbold looked like a fat kid in dress-up. He'd even run a comb through his yellow streaks, creating a fringe that looked to have been cut by a ruler. Absent its usual level of grease, each strand was so thin and pale that the right lighting would have balded him.
Grinning widely, he walked over and put his arm around me. "We're both the President's honored guests for our great service to the nation." He slapped me on the back before taking a few shells containing pink cubes that looked like soggy marshmallows.
It was not my finest hour of deduction, but I was still blanking. "Why?"
He ran his teeth over a skewer of meats, dragging half the contents into his mouth. "Damn that's good," he said, before he'd properly tasted it. "You're here because you told on the Commissioner, and I'm here because I told on his son."
My chest sank. "Rake told you what he did to Welker?"
Lisbold looked affronted. "Wadda ya mean you?"
Inside I was a pit of flame, but outside my eye barely twitched. "Nothing."
"Damn right you don't." He poked me in the chest with the empty skewer. "I'm your new partner now, so you better show me some respect. Any ideas you have, any clues or hints you come across, you run them past me."
I looked down at the little oil stain in the center of my white shirt. "Agreed, and of course you'll do the same for me?"
The Iron Swamp Page 11