Lorelei sat on a stool near Ash’s workbench as Illustra Azariah and Praefectus Damika entered the shrine and launched into a hushed discussion with the shepherd who’d found them in the storeroom. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Ash, sitting beside her, rubbed her back.
Rylan was leaning against the workbench, arms crossed over his chest, looking as worried as Lorelei felt. “How could it have been so strong?”
Ash shrugged and shook his head. “I’ve no idea.”
Near the door, the shepherd handed the wooden box to Azariah. Though the eyes of Azariah’s ivory mask seemed to be staring elsewhere, he ran his fingertips intently over the inlaid design.
“Did you figure out where it came from?” Rylan asked.
“What’s that?” Ash asked, seeming preoccupied.
“The book you showed us . . .” Rylan said. “From the chroma it gave off.”
“No,” Ash said, “there wasn’t time.”
“It’s from the Deepwood Fens,” Lorelei said.
Rylan opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. “You’re sure? You barely glanced at it—”
“I’m sure. The closest match to the peat’s chroma was the line next to the Deepwood Fens.”
“Trust me,” Ash said, “if she says it was a match, it was. The trouble is, the Fens are massive, and the samples in the book are only a small fraction of the chroma in the Holt. There’s no guarantee that another place wouldn’t have a similar pattern.”
Azariah seemed to be wrapping things up. He said a few words to the shepherd and Damika. When both nodded, he strode toward the workbenches. “Ash Torentada, you will return to the palace immediately. Master Renato and I will speak tomorrow about your punishment.”
Ash’s cheeks turned red. “Yes, Your Holiness.”
“Rylan Holbrooke,” the illustra continued, “know this. If it were up to me, I’d take you to the temple for a chat that you would not enjoy. However, since you’re a guest of Quintarch Lucran, and you’ve done him a great service, it would be impolite of me to do anything more than insist you return to the palace with Ash.”
“As you wish,” Rylan said curtly.
“If I were you,” Azariah said, “I wouldn’t leave the palace grounds again for any reason. The Church’s patience extends only so far.”
Rylan nodded but didn’t reply.
Azariah flicked his hand toward the door. “The two of you may go.”
Ash glanced at Lorelei, shrugged, then left. Rylan stayed, seeming to wait for Lorelei’s okay to leave. Why he would do so, Lorelei had no idea. He hardly knew her. She jutted her chin toward the door. Rylan nodded and followed Ash.
When they were out of earshot, Azariah ran his fingers over the lid of the inlaid box and said, “Where did you get this?”
“I took it from an agent of the Red Knives, a woman named Blythe,” Lorelei said. “She’s one of the dragonriders who ferries drugs—”
“I’m aware of her. Why did she have it? What was its purpose?”
“I’ve no idea. That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. It might be a new drug, like the one Brother Mayhew tested in the mines.”
“The man you allowed to escape from the Crag . . .”
It wasn’t Lorelei who’d let Brother Mayhew escape, but that was hardly a distinction Lorelei could argue with the illustra. “Yes, Your Holiness.”
“Do you know who Blythe was supposed to deliver it to?”
“I assume the Hissing Man.”
“You’re not sure, I take it?”
“No, Your Holiness. But if you allow me to keep—”
Azariah laughed. “You think I’d let you keep this after the ineptitude and incompetence you’ve shown in your investigation thus far?”
“A bit of the peat, then.”
“No, Lorelei Aurelius.” He raised the box and shook it. “My shepherds will learn what they can of it, and I will decide what to do with their findings.”
Lorelei looked at Damika, who stared back at her with arched eyebrows.
“In a way, I should be thanking you,” Azariah went on. “Your commander has finally come to see things the way I do. This meeting in the mines, the apparent plot behind it, is a threat to the Church, and the Church will address it.”
Kellen’s voice whispered inside her head, pushing her to advocate for herself, but every argument she could think of sounded facile and inane. She’d made misstep after misstep, and now she’d been caught inside Azariah’s house on an unauthorized visit.
“I understand this is your first visit to the shrine,” Azariah said.
“That’s right,” she said.
“I hope you enjoyed it, because it is also your last. That will be all, Inquisitor.”
“Yes, Your Holiness.” She bowed and made her way toward Damika.
Damika led Lorelei out of the shrine and across the plaza. Halfway to the gates, she stopped, turned, and looked up the shrine’s facade. “I don’t blame you for intercepting Blythe,” she said. “Were I in your shoes, and my commander put a leash around my neck, I would have strained to see how far it let me go, too. What surprises me is that you would put yourself in a position that gives Azariah power over you.” She motioned to the lantern-lit entrance. “I can’t shield you from him. Not after this. And now he has leverage over our department, too. He’ll use it as a cudgel to get concessions from Lucran. And even if Lucran doesn’t budge, this is but one weight on the scale that may tip the balance of power in Ancris toward the Church.”
“The Church, the quintarch . . . They’re on the same side, Praefectus.”
“Come now. The quintarchs view the Church as a means to rule over the world. The Church believes the empire’s only purpose is to deliver glory to Alra. Sometimes the two are aligned and sometimes they are very much not. Look to the Holy Rebellion if you don’t believe me.”
“Are you saying the Chosen are planning another rebellion?”
“The peat was surely meant for the Hissing Man, don’t you agree?”
“I do.”
Damika nodded. “If the Chosen have thrown their lot in with the Red Knives, as seems likely, it’s toward some greater purpose. Brother Mayhew’s story about it being merely an arrangement to make money from the drug trade is ridiculous, but if it isn’t that, what is it? And is the Church helping in any way?”
“If you think the Church might be involved—”
“You’re smart, Lorelei. You have a real knack for separating the wheat from the chaff, which is why I regret that I have to remove you from active duty.”
Lorelei couldn’t believe her ears. “Praefectus, you can’t—”
“Go home. Get some rest. Tomorrow, you report to Maudrey in records.”
“Damika, please—”
“That will be all, Inquisitor.”
“You can’t do this.”
Damika sneered. “Would you care to test that assertion?”
“The peat. The white powder given to the druin. You said it yourself. They’re linked.”
“Which is why the inquisitors assigned to it will continue to investigate it.”
Lorelei opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when Damika held up a hand.
“Are you aware Tyrinia ordered me to take your badge after your screwup in Glaeyand?”
Lorelei shook her head. Princess Resada had mentioned Tyrinia’s musing’s on the subject, but Lorelei had no idea Tyrinia had spoken to Damika about it. The strange thing was, Tyrinia had once showered Lorelei with praise and even invited Lorelei to be tutored alongside her own daughter, for goodness sake, but all that had changed in recent years. For some unfathomable reason, she’d grown cold toward Lorelei.
“She pressed me hard, Lorelei. It’s only going to get worse after this. The only way I can protect you from her is to show that you’ve been brought to heel. So keep your head down. Be patient. Do as I’ve asked.”
Lorelei searched for the right words to convince Damika not to take her off active duty, but she found nothing and merely nodded and left. She was too upset to go home, though, so she went to The Bent Tulip.
She thought it likely Creed would have gone home already, but she found him in the front room, nursing a beer with Nanda and Vashtok. She stood near the entrance, unable to force herself through the crowded room. She was just about to turn around and leave when Creed looked up and smiled at her, but his smile faded immediately, and he tilted his head toward the back room. Lorelei nodded and left through the front entrance, slunk past a pair of lovers rutting in the alley, and entered through the back entrance. Creed joined her at their booth, slid a pale beer toward her, and drew the curtains.
Lorelei took a sip of the bitter ale and licked the froth from her lips.
“Care to tell me what happened?” Creed asked.
“I cocked it all up, again.” She told him about Ash throwing a pebble at her window, the trip to the shrine, the peat’s alchemycal reaction, and finished with Damika’s sending her to records, which felt ten times as bitter as the beer. “I wish I’d just gone back to bed.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No,” he said, staring into her eyes, “you don’t. You’re like a cat, Lorelei. You’re too curious for your own good.”
She shrugged, knowing he was right. “I thought you liked that about me.”
“I do like that about you. It’s just”—he swigged the last of his beer, slid the mug aside, and leaned forward with his elbows on the table—“you need to know when to rein it in. Sometimes getting to the heart of a case is as much about working the overlords as it is about working your informants.”
“That’s not how it should be.”
“You’ll get no argument from me, but face it, those are the currents we swim in.”
She took a deep breath, released it slowly. “We’re making a mistake if we brush it all aside.”
“You know Damika. She won’t let it go on forever.”
“Maybe not, but days will be wasted, weeks, while she tries to let everything cool down.”
Creed shrugged. “She knows how to play the game.”
“And I don’t?”
Creed laughed. “You really want me to answer that?”
“Will you at least tell me if you hear anything about the peat?”
A lively fiddle and drum filtered in from the front room.
“For all her faults, Damika is right. Go home. Get some rest. Come spar with me in the morning, then report to records. Stop fixating on Brother Mayhew, the peat, and the Hissing Man. And when you’re done binding records, we’ll go see Kellen.”
“Kellen? Why?”
“He stopped by the Crag today, looking for you. Ezraela’s coming back to Ancris tomorrow. You and I will go take a look at this bloody chalice, yes?” He spread the curtains, slid from the booth, and stood. “Good night, Lorelei.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. The stubble along his cheek scratched.
He left, and the music, the clank of mugs, the hum of conversation washed over her. Lorelei abandoned her beer, slipped out the back, and trudged home to do exactly as Damika and Creed told her to.