CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE - PREVARICATIONS TO A MEETING

The issue was meeting.

Tanner needed to conduct an interview. She had a fair amount of evidence - evidence of some form of corruption, some form of collusion, something happening in the background of the colony. Immigration forms which showed far too much being scrubbed away and sanitised, bouncers spreading throughout the colony and exerting far more power than they ought to, the governor involved to some degree, presumably. But the voids were too much to overlook. Motive. How this was being organised. Why the governor died. Why Tyer died. And the lingering suspicions around the hammer and the eye, the feeling that something was being hidden from her, that... anyway. Tal-Sar seemed to be a useful person to talk to. Local. Known to Yan-Lam. Not a bouncer, and old enough to remember the city before or during the Great War, rather than just being raised on a diet of stories. Yan-Lam was one of the only people here who seemed fundamentally disconnected from the business happening below the surface - she came here with her father on personal invitation, not through the Colonial Office like everyone else. She worked for the governor, but wasn't involved in any of his shadier dealings. Ignorance made her innocent. And Tal-Sar was connected to her - even if Tanner knew next to nothing about the man, his association with one of the few innocents in this place spoke highly for him.

Cages made without nails. Cast-iron plates that one had jewelled eyes. Something was going on.

Just had to poke a little deeper, and hope she didn't get burned in the process.

The issue was meeting. If she left the mansion, she'd be watched. If she let it slip that she wasn't remotely convinced by the 'blame the company heads' angle, that she was drilling deeper and deeper down a very sensitive path, then... well, she'd be dead before sunset. Or Marana would be. Yan-Lam, possibly. The point was, she couldn't let it slip that she was lucid, normal, functional, and not remotely insane or paranoid or deluded. Yes, she barely ate, and was mostly living on as much coffee as her sensitive stomach could handle, and she hadn't gone outside in days, but... anyway. Tal-Sar needed to be interviewed, he needed to be prevented from leaking any information to her enemies, and this all needed to happen without anyone being the wiser.

Damn her height. Made her far too noticeable. In those newspaper serials, people just wore form-concealing cloaks and veils, and boom, hidden, concealed, anonymised. But unless Tanner felt like... uh... well, if she knelt down, wore a very long dress, put her knees inside a pair of shoes and shuffled around, she might look shorter. Maybe. Unfortunately, she didn't think the colony had a very high population of women who shuffled around, wore huge veils, had a skirt trailing at least a few feet behind them, and occasionally swore because she was destroying all of her tendons. And the Colonial Office said this place had quotas. Pah. Where were the quotas for severely deformed women that she could impersonate, hm? Oh, no, they didn't get to come up north, not if the governor had his way. Woeful. Maybe if the colony did have those quotas, things would be better. Hard to imagine the legion of shuffling ladies battering the governor to death, hard to imagine them having a violent conspiracy directed towards unknown goals.

Feh.

...she really needed to go outside. And talk with people who weren't... well... a chambermaid seeking vengeance for the death of her father, and a laudanum-addled alcoholic who was being driven mad by constant dinner parties held by some very, very scared people.

And thus, she called for someone to come and see her. Someone normal. Someone functional. Someone that she, a normal, functional person who was only putting on an act of being paranoid, reclusive, terrified, obsessive, and so on, would relate to. So Tanner Magg rubbed some tooth powder over coffee-stained teeth, opened the windows to try and clear away the smell of successive days of working, eating and sleeping in the same room for several days, brushed her hair until it looked somewhat passable, rubbed more powder on her teeth just in case, put on a fresh dress with a complete set of buttons, and instructed Yan-Lam to go and tell the soldiers downstairs that she wished for a certain fellow to be called to her. A certain moustachioed fellow.

When Yan-Lam returned, she said the soldiers had stared at her for a solid thirty seconds before doing anything. Tanner hummed idly as she buttoned up her dress' front, back, sleeves, skirt pleats, as far as they could possibly go. She had to be decorous today, now didn't she?

"Well, of course. I imagine they're not used to getting ordered around by a chambermaid."

"...I don't... well... honoured judge, I don't think that was why they were being... incredulous."

"Nonsense."

"I think it's because some of them thought you might be dead."

Tanner blinked.

"Well. Good. Entirely intended."

A pause.

"How's my breath? I need to be on top form today."

No, wait, it would be deeply improper to ask to breathe on this small creature to make sure her breath wasn't totally fetid. Hm. Well...

"No, no, just help me move these tables."

"...why?"

"I've been in here for several days, it's possible that I've simply stopped noticing my... condition. But if we place a large number of tables end to end, I can remain at a great distance from him. He'll notice less."

Now, if only Sersa Bayai wore glasses, then she could get Yan-Lam to steal them. Everyone looked better when they were ever-so-slightly fuzzy and you couldn't see their pores. Yan-Lam said nothing as the two of them got to work on her master plan to seem functional - not because she wasn't functional, but because she was currently cultivating an image of dysfunction. That was the reason. So, table, table, table... and a single chair at each end. As far away as was reasonable.

"Miss?"

"Hm?"

"...is... Ms. Marana alright? Last night, I mean, I... woke up briefly, I remember her being..."

She trailed off. Tanner's face was... consciously flat.

"I don't know. I hope so."

The two fell silent. Marana had left... practically as soon as the sun rose, really. Heading back to 'work'. Tanner felt a spasm of guilt in her stomach, a feeling that she... gods, if something happened to Marana, if Marana was killed, or if she was hurt, or... anything. If something happened, Tanner honestly didn't know what she'd do. Already felt guilty for dragging her into this, almost getting her killed to that gas... now she was using her as a canary in a coal mine. If she could've found any other option, any other way of misleading the people watching her, she'd have taken it. In her defence, the moment she'd seen how poorly Marana was doing, she'd tried to backtrack, to find another way. Cowardice. Gave Marana the idea, then backtracked, then let Marana go for it herself. Marana wouldn't even have had the idea if Tanner hadn't planted it. Coward. Her face became utterly flat, her movements became stiffly articulated. Wanted to write to Eygi, tell her about this, just... no. No, putting any of this down on paper was a recipe for disaster. So the feelings remained within her.

She paused.

Sighed quietly, like she was trying to skim a thin, thin layer away from the mess of emotions coiling in her gut. Didn't do much.

Yan-Lam said nothing. Nor did Tanner. Couldn't weigh the girl down with her doubts, her fears, her... everything.

Just had to keep working.

Her skin felt thick, and oddly stretched. Her stomach was flat and tight with tension. Her arms felt powerful, corded with muscle. Her teeth were gritty with powder. When she ran her fingers against one another, no luck-cultivating gloves on, she could feel a slight residue lingering, sticking, forcing a little more friction than was pleasant. Her hair felt wrong. Too tight. Too... congealed. Her eyes kept squinting in the light. She looked at her arms, her hands... saw tiny imperfections she hadn't before, little patches of red, like she was coming down with a rash of some kind. There was a heat in her chest, a heat that didn't warm, it just made everything stick, everything cling, turned her body into something just a little distant from comfort. She remembered the corsets that were so popular in Mahar, remembered how they limited one's air, made one... just a little uneasy, the world seeming slightly more hostile. Felt an invisible corset tightening around her chest now, crushing air out, making the world...

Making the world just a little stranger.

She wanted to peel off her dress and roll in the snow. She wanted to be blasted with cold water. She wanted to cut off all her hair, and scrub her skin over and over and over with the harshest soap she could find. To bleach her skin of colour and texture, to become... she stared out at the city. She wanted to become like one of those statues. Flawless. Immaculate. Devoid of feeling, doubt, and all the discomforts that lingered around her skin. There was a shudder in her spine, a real urge to contort. She was making a mistake. She knew nothing. She was going mad in here. She knew nothing. She was dragging Marana and Yan-Lam down with her.

A long, long breath helped calm her.

And the moment passed. The shudder ceased.

And she carefully, carefully sat herself down at the artificially long table, arranging her papers in front of herself. Her face had never changed - always flat, always absolutely stoic. The snow desert lingered behind her. The windows were still open, and the cold, flaying air slowly removed anything undesirable from the room. By the time Sersa Bayai arrived, her skin was numb, and she felt like the small, terrified part of her had no more power over her, forced back into some dark recess of her mind like a hibernating animal.

Only occasionally could she feel it shiver.

"Good morning, Sersa Bayai. How are you?"

* * *

They talked for less than an hour. Sersa Bayai was the same as usual... perhaps a little more weary, a little more stretched. There'd been no more murders since her voluntary isolation had started. The cold was keeping people indoors, the last few jobs were shutting down as it became harder and harder to remain outdoors for very long. Midwinter was coming. The soldiers were nervous, very nervous. Didn't like being alone, didn't like leaving the garrison at all. They were bracing for something. Bloodletting was in the air - a feeling of violence that had only to be unleashed. They weren't sure what the enemy was, what the enemy wanted, but they knew, without a doubt, that there was an enemy. And when the enemy couldn't be seen, shadows of enmity appeared in the lines of everyone's face. Lingering at the corners of their eyes. The soldiers wanted to find and hang the people responsible for the wave of killings, but they couldn't. Lacked the remit, lacked the skills.

"If I could, I'd get them outside, doing drills, setting camp, dismantling camp, running around... like with toddlers, honoured judge. Too much energy, need to exhaust them a little. But in this weather..."

In this weather, there was no point. And did she really want a bunch of exhausted soldiers, when the bloodletting was about to start? Anyway. They were patrolling as regularly as they could, keeping an eye on all the trouble spots. The two soldiers they'd locked up for letting Dyen go were still in their cells, confused, mournful... you couldn't help but pity them, apparently. So obvious that they knew nothing, had seen nothing, could tell nothing, but... could they really let them go? Acknowledge that they had no idea who was at fault, that the investigation had died a quick, quiet death, that nothing about Dyen's escape could be known until the whole riddle was solved. Thus, in their cells they remained. Two people allowed to moulder because it gave the right appearance, because it was the sort of thing they ought to do. Two more Maranas. They talked in low voices about the mood of the city. People were nervous. Very nervous. You were always being watched when you went about your business. And often, people looked to the mansion on the hill, at the lights which never stopped burning...

Never quite knew what they were thinking when they looked and saw evidence of how Tanner was trying to never sleep. To scarcely eat. To narrow herself down to the finest, thinnest, most mechanical being she could become. Sersa Bayai asked for any kind of information, anything they could use to more adequately police the population. Tanner wanted to say 'round up the bouncers, round up everyone who used to be a bouncer, round them up and throw them into one of those chained towers, leave them there until spring, when another governor can come along and take the decision out of my hands'. But she didn't think it would work. There was more at play than them, much more. So... all she could do was ask the single, pivotal question.

"I need you to do this very, very quietly. Don't talk to anyone else about this, don't tell a soul. It's vital that no-one beyond this room knows."

Bayai gave her an odd look... but he remained silent. Didn't object. She pushed a map across the table.

"I need to talk to a man called Tal-Sar. He lives... just here, at a house with a bear skull mounted above the door. I can't talk to him openly. I just need you, you specifically, to check on him, make sure he's still around, that nothing's happened. If you can, get inside his house, and... check the walls. Check for any cast-iron decorations - even if there's none, check if there's patches on the walls where they could've been hung in the past. Don't let him know I sent you."

"How do you intend on meeting him?"

"...not sure. I'm considering a few options."

"Could frame him for something. Maybe I take him in after he's connected to something, and then..."

Tanner snapped her fingers suddenly, an idea striking her.

"Beldol. She's..."

"We moved her out of the city, as per your orders. Took her to a chained tower, one that we keep occupied. She's fine. Doesn't talk a great deal. Seems eager to go home."

"Right, right. If you can... maybe if you can get Tal-Sar out to a chained tower, then I can talk with him under the cover of talking to Beldol. Keep things ambiguous. Should be easier to move him unnoticed than me."

Note to self: she'd promised, a long time ago, to get that woman a basket of goods, as recompense for startling her in the street. Now she needed a bigger basket. To make up for letter her lover get killed. Bayai coughed, and stroked his moustache thoughtfully.

"Hm. Could work. Well, ought not to count our chickens before they hatch. There's a handful of patrols... yes, I could easily go by his house today, I'll accompany one of the patrols that goes nearby. Bear skull, you said?"

Tanner exchanged a glance with Yan-Lam, who nodded confidently.

"Yes. Definitely."

"Good. Good. Not aware of that. Could notice it, say 'goodness, is that a bear skull?' and insist on knocking on the door to ask the owner how he got that thing, all that business."

"Would that stand out?"

"No, we check on people fairly regularly, especially during the dead of winter. People stay at home, they don't go out... last thing you want is to go weeks without human contact. Not healthy."

A memory of a swollen, purple face. A mouth stained by chewing tobacco. So cold that the body could've hung there for quite some time before it began to reek, before anyone noticed a damn thing. She looked out at the dark, huddled shapes of the colony, at the clustering roofs... an unpleasant thought. How many of those houses had unknown dead inside them? How many roofs strained under the weight of a hanging body? Maybe most of the colony was dead, and she was one of the few living people left here. City of cold-houses storing once-dead meat. Seriously, though - during the storms, when no-one left their homes, when no-one talked to one another, when silence ruled... how hard would it be for someone like Lyur to go from house to house? There were spare keys for every house, surely he could find them, unlock the doors silently, step in... a whisper of a knife over a neck, and then he'd move on. Dead in moments. How many could he get done in a single night, assuming none fought back? A dozen? Twenty? Fifty? How many nights would it take to clear out the whole colony? How long until people noticed that the inns were a lot quieter these days, and decided to go and knock on the doors of their silent neighbours?

She didn't know enough people in this colony to know when they started going missing.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Did Bayai?

"So... I'll check on him."

Tanner came back to herself.

"Right. Yes. If it's not too inconvenient - and if you think you're being watched, or threatened, please, don't... I don't know, just don't take any unnecessary risks."

"I'll do my best, honoured judge."

He stood up sharply, and paused, looking over at her. At a distance, he looked comically small, and his uniform seemed strangely funny. Like the sort of overly elaborate costume you'd put on a doll.

"You look tired."

"...I'm fine, sir. I'll get by, at least."

"You don't want to push yourself too far, honoured judge. Had soldiers in the past who tried to stay awake, didn't want to relax at any point, afraid of getting caught. Hollows them out, leaves nothing behind. They keep going for a while, don't get me wrong. But then you have something that comes along and pokes them too hard, and all that tension unwinds... and they collapse. Usually it's illness. Sometimes it's just more stress than they're ready for. Have a rest, before you come down with something."

Tanner smiled very faintly.

"Mr. Canima told me the same thing. A while ago. He talked about how sleeplessness can make you invent false memories."

A pause.

"That's why I have an assistant now. Yan-Lam makes sure I'm not hallucinating."

Yan-Lam nodded quietly. Sersa Bayai glanced at the two of them, his eyes pensive... then he clicked his heels, saluted wearily, tucked his cap under his arm like it was a heavy folder filled with papers.

"Well, you know your limits better than I do. I'll report back to you when I've checked the house - expect a delay, though. Doubt you want me to pop into his house then sprint over immediately. Visit a few houses, check around, visit when my shift is over. Acceptable, honoured judge?"

"Very much so. Thank you, again."

"Just doing my job, honoured judge."

Tanner suddenly felt an odd twitch go through her.

"Please, we're working together enough. Tanner will do."

He sometimes called her Tanner. Had done, in the past. But... maybe being isolated up here had placed a little division between the two of them. Just a tiny one, but enough to require a hint of formality. Bayai blinked.

"Very well. Tanner."

He nodded politely. Tanner felt a little shiver. Not sure why. Maybe she just liked hearing him say her name. Made her feel... real, in a way. Named and thus known. Defined. For someone who forgot people's names, or forgot to ask for them and then felt too awkward as time went on at the moment passed... well, having someone else use her name, remember her name...

Anyway.

She smiled faintly. And Bayai left.

Marana to distract. Bayai to sniff around.

Tanner to move in for the kill.

"Is it true, what you said? About... false memories?"

Tanner blinked. Yan-Lam was looking over at her with wide eyes.

"Oh. Yes. Heard about them from Mr. Canima, at least... apparently some Erlize agents have experienced them when overstressed."

"...do you think I'll suffer from them? I mean, if you're at risk, and I work..."

"No, no, I think we're fine. I doubt we'll both have the same false memory. As long as we don't have overlapping delusions, we should be safe."

"Ah. Splendid. Thank you, miss."

"Quite alright."

And with that, they returned to work. Double-checking. Triple-checking. Augmenting the bundle of papers in which slept a chain of logic, a sequence of proofs that established... something. The outer edges of the truth.

Like applying an artificial scent to attract an animal. Papers scented with essence of solution.

And apparently essence of solution smelled rather like coffee fumes and dried meat.

* * *

Hours passed.

Tanner practised being stoic. Inside, she was churning with nervousness. Had she overplayed her hand, had she revealed too much to the wrong people? Would Bayai manage to do this quietly, or would he bungle it... or would someone else bungle it in some fashion? She had no ability to control this 'operation', not now the die had been cast. Marana was out there, presumably drinking and chatting lightly, numbed by laudanum into a state of functionality. Bayai was out there, seeking the house of the bear skull. And she... she was here. Doing work that had little relevance. Waiting was ghastly. It was like... she'd once been educated in an art of memory involving wheels. Wheels within wheels, eaach one divided into segments. Rotate the wheel, align the segments in new orders, and from the combination of ideas, names, etc., there could emerge certain truths with an elegant inevitability. For instance - a three-layered wheel. Rotate them, and find three concepts aligning together. Law + Contrariety + Predestination. Meaning - the application of the law in events where it stands opposed to the determined path of a person. For instance, a man is meant to adopt a certain position within a trading house, but the law intervenes, tainting his career prospects due to a past slight, dutifully recorded by the Golden Door, and ruining an otherwise promising career. It raised a question, at what point did the law adapt itself for individual benefit? Was it better to be changeable and inoffensive, or constant and unyielding? Ideally, a judge ought to be the latter. The ideal law was neither too heavy nor too light, it was a happy medium that applied justice appropriately in every situation. However, if the burden the law imposed was too heavy, it was worth looking at the judgements that caused this burden to occur, to check for any irregularities. The law wasn't immaculate yet, and nor were its servants.

To be a judge was to stifle that little voice which begged for compromise, to be an inoffensive creature loathed by none. Stifle it, smother it, burn it out with a red-hot wire.

...anyway. The art of memory through concentric wheels was lovely. Except when you had nothing to do but wait.

Because when that happened, all she could do was rotate the wheels over and over and over and over, finding new combinations, and new ways to be paranoid. Tal-Sar + Objection + Operation. Meaning, Tal-Sar objecting to the operation, causing a fuss, and thus a disaster. Bayai + Objection + Operation. Meaning, Bayai objecting to the operation, and only making a pretence at doing it, just to keep the mad old judge happy, thus poisoning her well of knowledge and killing the investigation in its crib. And so on. Rotations, rotations, rotations - disaster was a set of concentric wheels that enumerated it in each and every one of its awful forms. And she had nothing to do but spin her wheels over and over and-

Gah.

So she practised being stoic. Keeping her face still. Suppressing erratic activity. She just read and read and read, seeing none of the words, and patiently awaited news. Yan-Lam, to her gratification, was much more agitated, twitching at every noise from the corridor, glaring at the door like it had personally offended her. Nothing to keep Tanner stoic like seeing someone else not being stoic. Was that petty of her?

Probably.

The news came without reference to dramatic timing. It didn't come at the strike of midnight, it didn't come when she thought it would, it just... came. There was no preamble or prevarication. Didn't even hear him entering the building, the only warning she had was a polite greeting shared between the soldiers and their commanding office. And with that, Bayai simply strode in, closed the door, saluted vaguely, and launched unreservedly into his report.

"He's not there."

Tanner blinked.

Steepled her fingers.

And waited. Didn't trust her voice.

"He's not there. The house was locked, no signs of forced entry, no signs of struggle. I couldn't check it myself without seeming suspicious, so I asked another patrol to knock at the door, check that the fellow was alright. Maybe he was out drinking, or some such thing. They found nothing. When I found out, I said that there was no reason being careless about this sort of thing, not with the world the way it is, and I investigated the house personally. Easy enough to get inside. I'm sure I was noticed, but I have a proper story for why I should be breaking and entering. Just checking he wasn't dead, is all."

Tanner kept staring. Fingers laced together tightly to stop her from kneading her skirt. Yan-Lam, though, was wide-eyed and nervous, hanging on Bayai's every word.

"I investigated the interior immediately. No body, no signs of violence. However, no signs of hasty abandonment - the only food was non-perishable, there was nothing present that could rot, and there were clothes missing from the wardrobe. No sign of any cast-iron decorations, but I did find a very large number of discoloured patches on the walls, potentially where something had been hung. Afterwards, I asked the neighbours if they'd seen him - if this was a polite enquiry into someone's health, it would be unusual if I didn't ask around. They said they didn't know, but he kept to himself. Did mention that he might've gone outside of the colony, he tends to do that, prefers the wilderness. Even in the depths of winter. I asked around the garrison, checked the ledger book the gate guards use to record people entering and leaving the colony. Found his name from a week ago. Exit. No return."

Tanner hummed.

"Is it... usual to ignore that sort of thing?"

"I reprimanded the men involved. In their defence, everyone's on edge, and the storms are so harsh at the moment that they may've assumed he was long-since dead, and no-one wanted to bring it up after a few days had passed. Easier to wait for spring, no-one wants to search the snow at a time like this. Again - I reprimanded the men involved, and strongly."

Yan-Lam took in her breath sharply, hissing between her clenched teeth. Bayai shot her a small look, his expression impassive, and kept going.

"I could investigate further. But I imagine that would stir up a great deal more attention, which I believe you wanted to avoid."

Tanner pursed her lips, thinking...

"Is it unknown for people to leave the colony and stay outside of it?"

"Not unknown at all. More common in summer, though. And the trappers and hunters tend to stay at a great distance in their camps, closer to where the animals are. Most of those camps will be buried at the moment, though, and the journey would be... close to impossible for a single man in these conditions."

Tanner turned to Yan-Lam. Silent. But querying nonetheless. Yan-Lam... it was remarkable, but the moment she thought she was about to get interrogated, her face flattened, her demeanour stiffened, she became a brick wall resisting any sort of intrusion. Purely instinctual. Took her a good few moments to slowly dismantle that wall. And after a minute, she spoke.

"...I don't know precisely where... he'd be staying. If he's staying anywhere. But... what about the chained towers, sir? Father mentioned trying to live in one at some point, mostly as a joke, but..."

Tanner immediately dragged out a map, and the property revenue ledger. Bayai started to point out the towers which were currently fit for occupation, and which were currently occupied. Tanner scanned the book, hunting for any relevant sections... lists sprang up before her, lists of towers and the revenues they generated. Not much. Not much at all - they seemed to be used mostly by the military, though one or two were occupied by... well, she imagined lonely eccentrics. She knew Tal-Sar's identification number from her earlier research, so it was fairly easy to see that his name appeared on none of them - he wasn't paying rent, he hadn't purchased. Doubted a hunter/trapper would have the funds for that sort of investment, honestly. A thought struck her, and Tanner spoke mildly, like she wasn't remotely panicking over this.

"What does it mean, 'fit for occupation'? Who decides that?"

"The governor, generally. A tower is considered fit for occupation if it's been cleared of rubble on all levels, has been inspected and found to be structurally sound, is connected to the colony via proper roads, and has the amenities necessary for inhabitation - functional chimneys, no holes in the roof, intact storage areas..."

Tanner looked up.

"So, a tower with a destroyed roof would be unfit for habitation?"

"Yes, honour- Tanner."

Another shiver of enjoyment. Suppressed by the weight of pragmatic necessity.

"But it would be theoretically possible to live in such a tower, if... say, you stayed in one of the lower levels?"

"...theoretically, but it would be deeply unsafe. They're ruins, Ms. Tanner. The risk of a collapse, or simply being inadequately covered..."

Ah, so he was going with 'Ms.' Still needed to feel a little formal. Understandable.

"Do the towers have basements?"

"Most, yes. Glorified store-rooms."

Tanner consulted the map again. Started asking questions. Assumedly, if Tal-Sar had left the colony to squat in a tower for whatever reason - maybe paranoia over the dismal state of things - he hadn't gone too far. Scratch out all the towers fit for habitation, given that those were... probably occupied, or locked up. Scratch out the ones too far from the colony to comfortably walk in about a day, assume that he wouldn't want to walk at night. Given how short the days were, that left him with... not too many to choose from. Bayai was able to point out the towers which were currently being renovated, and Tanner mentally excluded them as well. Probably just frozen-over building sites, not ideal. Now... that narrowed things down considerably. Not much information on the three that remained after all the subtractions. No mention of them in the ledgers. But they were fairly close together - and Tanner had an idea.

"I need to visit Beldol anyway. So, I head out there, tour between those three towers, go to see Beldol, head back. Deliver some things to her, while I'm out there. As far as everyone's concerned, I was just on an extended interview, maybe getting some peace and quiet in the process."

"Understood. Dangerous out there, though. Cold."

"I'll manage."

"Do you want someone to accompany you?"

Yan-Lam was practically buzzing. Tanner shot her a glance. Yes, she'd bring the small chambermaid who'd already been stuck here for days, helping Tanner burn through all these ledgers for data. Yes, she'd definitely bring someone that the powers-that-be might want dead, if they thought she'd revealed too much, knew too much, anything.

No, this was best done alone. Anyone else would be vulnerable - both in terms of their health, and Tanner's investigation. A vulnerable vulnerability. Hah.

If she died out there, it was one giantess frozen in the snow.

Wouldn't forgive herself if she had to see Yan-Lam curl up like a dying insect, shivering herself to a dreamless sleep from which there was no waking.

And if the light of her lodge-candle couldn't reach this far... well, the black web of witchcraft was extending over the great icy desert, amplifying risks, turning injuries to fatalities, poor journeys to disastrous descents into snow-crazed death. The girl heard the silence - and understood what it meant. Her shoulders slumped, and her face tilted downwards, hiding itself a little.

"I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"You're needed here, and I wouldn't trust anyone else."

"What about your friend, Ms. Marana? She-"

"She's busy. Trust me, I'll do better alone. Should head out tomorrow morning, at first light. That should be sufficient time to make any preparations. And... if your men ask you about me, if anyone asks you about me, don't bring up any of this. Say that I'm... well, locked up in here, and wanted to know about the mood of the colony, nothing more."

Sersa Bayai shifted from foot to foot, slipping into this sort of... deceitful chicanery with more ease than she'd thought him capable of. Man of many talents, it seemed. Maybe he stored the extra talents in his moustache.

"Very well. Would you mind if I massaged the truth slightly, to make you seem... more paranoid? Erratic, even?"

Tanner blinked.

"...if you could do it without being overly... ah..."

"I won't say you were swinging from the lamps like a spider monkey, Ms. Tanner. But I might say that you were... hm, you kept the window open while I was here, using the wind to muffle our conversation. And you were sleeping in here, only eating food sealed some time ago, to avoid poisonings..."

Crumbs, that was a good idea, she'd been woefully unparanoid when it came to her food. That made a much better excuse for her current eating habits than 'she ate at odd hours and the thought of inconveniencing the cook made her want to bite out her own eyes in sheer humiliation'.

The window was another good excuse. Much better than 'to clear the smell'.

...and did he think she didn't sleep in here?

Her cleaning efforts had worked!

Hah!

"That would be acceptable. Thank you."

"Quite alright, Ms. Tanner. If there's nothing else..."

"No, nothing. Will there be any difficulties in getting to these towers, out of interest? Issues with roads, or..."

"You should be fine. The roads will be snowed under, but as long as you don't travel at night, and stay out of any snowstorms, you should be... capable of wading through, I think."

A flush along her collarbone, concealed by the high neck of her dress.

"I understand. Thank you, sir."

And that was all. A click of the heels. A twitch of the hand into a salute. A nod at the two of them. And he was gone, shiny boots clicking out a stern, military rhythm as he marched downstairs, green greatcoat flapping behind him like a judge's cape. Leaving her alone. The window was still open, and Tanner went to stare out of it, her eyes squinting against the lingering glare of the snow, still bloated with stolen sunlight. The great walls of Rekida loomed back at her, their statues seeming to glare directly into her eyes. And beyond... the chained towers, with their gates shaped to look like human bodies. Once more, she found herself wondering where the people lived in all of this. Rekida was vast, beautiful... but she still found it hard to imagine anyone living in it. She'd spent her childhood in a little riverside house which creaked alarmingly whenever the storms came. Did everyone in Rekida live in... towers and sprawling villas, in the great estates around the well-paved streets? Was this a shack-less city? Or had the shacks rotted away years and years ago, taken by successive springs...

The towers seemed to exemplify that question. Solitary things, on top of rolling hills, with beautiful ornamented gates leading to them... but only them. No scattered dwellings around them, no little houses or inns or whatnot.

"I would be happy to go with you, miss. If you liked."

Tanner was silent for a moment.

Kept staring out at the shadowy outlines of the towers in the distance, almost invisible in the pale haze. Mulled over an answer. How to politely tell her that this was potentially going to kill her, like any step of this investigation might, and Tanner didn't want to drag her down. Once, maybe, Tanner could've deluded herself a little, thought pleasant things about the world, minimised risks in her mind... not now. When she looked out into the pale, she just saw killers with truncheons, mutants with dead eyes, horses screaming as they tried to move broken limbs, knives that made you realise there was no functional difference between a butcher with an animal and a butcher with a human. No illusions of children being removed from usual cycles of violence. And... didn't want to worry her too much. And... honestly, wandering around in the snow-blasted wasteland, alone as can be... there'd be something wonderful about being able to talk to herself like a mad old cow. Couldn't write anything to Eygi without it being a potential security breach, couldn't talk to Yan-Lam or Marana or Bayai because then she'd be creating bad impressions, poisoning their minds, eroding her respectability, turning her from Judge Tanner into... Tanner. Weak, spineless, feeble, brutish, uninspired, loathsome, vulnerable Tanner.

She needed to go alone.

"...I'll fetch your things."

Idiot. Should've thought of a response. Now she seemed like a callous piece of human refuse, and... well, say something, dammit.

"Thank you, Yan-Lam. Actually, before you do that, could you... ask someone to go down to an inn? Pick up some pies, two bottles of liquor, and... oh, in the kitchens, maybe some cold cuts? Not for me. For someone else. Send someone else if you need to leave, I don't..."

Want you going outside on your own. Unspoken, but not unheard. Yan-Lam paused.

"...may I ask something, honoured judge?"

Tanner turned, staring down at the chambermaid, who squirmed slightly under her gaze. Could feel Sister Halima on her back, and tried to emulate her - the same hand positions, the same smile, the same air of interested concern without condescension. Didn't know how good she was at it, but... she could feel spectral fingers inside her back, and that presumably meant something.

"Of course. What's on your mind?"

"Are you allowed to kill people?"

Tanner blinked.

"...well..."

"I mean, if we were to find the man who... or the people who were responsible for this, and you put together a judgement, what would... you do? Honoured judge?"

She added the last part hastily, still trying to be respectful.

"...technically, I'm... the right to kill people is held by the Golden Parliament. They took that away from the judges centuries ago - the king did, really, back when Fidelizh had one. But..."

"But?"

"But... theoretically, I... well, the legal framework around colonies means that... I suppose Mr. Canima could order someone's death, and I could contribute to this with a judgement of sufficient severity. Usually we hold back from pronouncing the death sentence in our judgements, given that we can't enforce it, but in a situation like this... I don't know."

She was very uncertain. Not sure if she liked this line of questioning.

"But you could write a judgement calling for the death sentence, miss?"

"I could, yes."

"Good."

She paused, thinking.

"...they should let you kill people. I mean, you judge people. You do nothing but judge people. That's your job, you don't think about... getting elected again, or being popular, or being pragmatic. You just... do the law. They should let you kill people."

A pause.

"...did judges make people eat sweets before they killed them? I know you make people eat ceremonial sweets after a case, heard about it. Did they make people do that before hanging them? Or... however they did it?"

Tanner turned away again, resisting the urge to knead her dress.

"I don't know."

"Oh. Alright."

...if this case was finalised... gods. If it emerged that someone was behind all of the deaths, had ordered them, then both the originator and executor of that will would be... well, there'd be no question, death sentence. No doubt. Even in Fidelizh she'd be recommending the death sentence, but the Golden Parliament would have to consider it. Main reason why they didn't include it in their judgements - time. Any death sentence had to be approved by the Golden Parliament, which meant surrendering the case to a bunch of stuffed-shirt inefficient incompetents who'd probably overturn it just to be petty. But here... here, she'd...

She'd have to order someone's death. And watch it happen. There was no way she could let this slide, could just... surrender to tact and allow horrific crimes to go unpunished. No way she could do that and remain a judge. Not in good conscience.

Yan-Lam didn't ask anything else.

She didn't need to.

At her side was a truncheon. For her own defence.

Imagined, unrealistically, being compelled to crack open the skull of some lunatic, some malicious killer, because of a judgement she'd written. Realistically, she'd be having them hung. Or shot by firing squad.

But if the time came...

Would she be tough enough to do the deed herself?

Could she order a sentence she'd be too squeamish to carry out? Morally speaking, was that... acceptable? Could she live with herself if she wasn't capable?

"...I don't thin we'd make them eat a ceremonial sweet. The sweet is a negation of ill will. You eat it, mull it, enjoy the flavour and texture... you break bread, symbolically speaking, with the judge who might've judged against you, and the person who stood against you, brought the case to our attention. Justice has been done, and now all that remains is to diffuse the ill will the court case generated. Agree that all grudges are ended, and let's all go our own ways in peace."

A pause.

"I don't think that would apply to someone we were hanging. It doesn't matter if they continue to have a grudge against us."

Another pause.

"Besides, my sweets... they probably all taste foul by now. The gas, and whatnot. Might be inedible."

Yan-Lam spoke quietly.

"I suppose that means there's no way of diffusing ill will, then. Not the usual way."

"I suppose not."

And nothing more was said.