The news spread through Cold Garden like the wind. Nobody saw it coming, but suddenly it was everywhere, and everyone was feeling a chill. President Xiatoktok was murdered. President Xiatoktok was cut down in his carriage. Or at home. He was stabbed forty six times on the steps of the Cathedral. He was shot by the GNUF. Or a Chanticleer. The Collective got to him with a firebomb, took out the carriage, his servants, nearly half the block!
Lady Gentian was on death’s door. Horribly burnt. Maimed. She threw herself into the fire to save him. He threw her out of the carriage to save her. It was Xiatokja who planned everything. She couldn’t stand losing her husband’s affection. It was some mad youth, infatuated with Gentian who threw the bomb, not knowing she was inside.
The news was met with a range of reactions. Shrugs or horror from the ignorant. Cheers from those who hated the Xia generally, or the Grand Leech personally. More profound horror from those in the know. Because, as the City very quickly figured out, Xiatoktok was no longer just a banker. He was the lynchpin of the entire economic plan the City was relying upon to stay independent. The Clan, with its usual display of warm affection, descended on the bank like hungry vultures. For once, the Business Council was out of position, but that certainly wouldn’t slow them long.
’Mai and ’Te were running around stamping out fires. Nobody knew nothing, but that wasn’t going to stop them from trying something. Who would be trying what changed minute to minute, but by God they would be trying anything that came to mind. Such opportunities were rare, after all. Although a few cunning souls did draw a certain line between the fate of Fatty ’Lu and the current esteemed President Xiatoktok.
“Move aside. I will see my husband.” Xiatokja and Gentian strode into the Cathedral with a strong detail of First Class Xia Guards, along with a maid and, by all appearances, a gardener. It was hard to look past Xiatokja, however. Gentian looked scared but resolved. Xiatokja looked furious. The deacon had the uncanny feeling that he could either move himself or be moved in a series of buckets.
“The doctor was very clear-”
“I am very clear! The “Doctor” is trash! Move!”
The deacon moved. The party swept into the sick room. The doctor, an old worthy of the city, was unceremoniously pinned against the wall and relieved of his tools.
“Gert, get in there.” Xiatokja barked.
The gardener, still largely undecided as to his name, reached out and jabbed his index and middle finger into Xiatoktok’s throat. The doctor shouted in outrage, only to get a death glare from Xiatokja in reply.
“Systemic poisoning. Ingested. Nasty mix of heavy metals, radiation and some highly aggressive hemotoxins. Very curious. Overkill for most people. I would say it was specifically formulated to kill those of the Great Clans. If one thing didn’t do the job, the other parts would.” Gert said conversationally.
“Prognosis?”
“Without intervention? Dead in a few hours. Now that we are here? Eventual recovery. I’m dealing with the hemotoxin right now. The radiation and heavy metal poisoning is a bigger problem. I don’t suppose you have a line on a good polisher?”
“Three weeks away, assuming the roads are clear. Which they aren't.” Xiatokja was grim.
“Unfortunate.” Gert shook his head. “We are going to have to practically swap out his blood, while flushing his body with iron supplements and a handful of other, more colorful things. Now, we can make and grow all that, but he is going to be very weak and, frankly, pretty out of it for a week or more. Might be six months to a year before he’s really recovered. Also, wait until the radiation has been cleared out of his balls before trying to have kids. He’s got the usual Xia gene stabilization, but best not to tempt fate.”
“But he’s going to live.” Gentian said faintly.
“Well. For a while.” Gert temporized. Xiatokja rolled her eyes.
“What he means is that, absent something else happening, he will survive this bout of poisoning. He will, however, eventually die as all things do. Gods, I love the Bo. It’s their delicate bedside manner.”
“I do still have two fingers in your husband’s throat and am pumping an antidote into him. An antidote I am creating in specialized glands within my body. Just thought I’d mention it in case you had any more complaints.” Gert said calmly.
The room went silent. The doctor hung out pressed against the wall. His plan was to bleed Xiatoktok, then try him on some emetics. He figured it was for the best if people forgot he existed. Gentian slowly spoke.
“Do we know how he got poisoned?”
“No. He boarded his private carriage alone at the Bank. He proceeded under guard to the Cathedral. When the carriage was opened, he was discovered and presumed dead.”
Xiatoktok was deathly pale, his skin waxy and coated in sweat. His always pristine robes were beyond salvage, coated in blood and vomit.
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“He looks so small like this.” Gentian thought. “He looks… dishonored. I don’t like seeing him like this.”
“Mistress?”
“Yes?” Xiatoja never took her eyes off her husband.
“Who is heading up the investigation into what happened?”
“Everyone and their sister.” Xiatokja snorted. “Officially, the Rules Committee, the Clan Guards, and the Bank are each launching their own investigations. The City too, I would assume. I’m a little surprised the Watchmen aren’t here already. Privately, everyone wants to know who got to him, how and why. The political situation has gone insane in the… hour? Less than an hour? Since he was found. But the only one we can trust here is Xiatokte. He will find answers.”
Gentian nodded faintly. She had a hard time putting words around her emotions. She just wanted to kill whoever had done it. She desperately prayed it wasn’t one of the Throng.
Xiakinni was hurrying along the street, trying to get back home. She had her head down and well hidden in a scarf. A carriage rattled past her. She did her best not to glance over. Which is why she didn’t see whatever hit her, jammed a soft bit in her mouth, and wrapped her in a damp blanket. She didn’t see anything at all when the hood was pulled over her head.
She didn’t know how long they kept her in the dark. At some point, the blanket was removed and her clothes cut away. She was searched very carefully. Restrained to the wall. Left hooded and gagged. Then suddenly the hood was removed. Brilliant, blinding lights, so blinding she had to squeeze her eyes shut against the pain. Her jaw was pried open and the soft bit removed. Something else was jammed in to keep her from closing her jaw again. Something poked around, it felt metallic. There was some pricking. She tried to yell. She got a punch to the gut for her trouble, and the prodding continued. The… whatever it was, was removed and the bit replaced. Then the hood. Then nothing.
She was thirsty. Not hungry, not with everything. But thirsty. And she was afraid she was going to pee herself. Her arms ached too.
The hood was pulled off again. The room was gently lit. A small table with a few books, a notebook and a pen. Sitting behind the table was Xiatokte. She recognized him, of course. One of the President’s closest confidants. He was always nice. Respectful but appreciative.
“In a minute, you will be permitted to speak. I strongly suggest you listen carefully to everything I have to say before deciding what your first words will be.” His voice was quite calm, conversational.
“We don’t know everything, of course. We just know enough to ensure you are burned to death in an iron cage before the entire Clan. Frankly, the odds of you surviving this ordeal are beyond slim. However, your situation is not hopeless. It is not impossible for you to survive this, one way or another. It is also not impossible for your situation to implicate an awful lot of other people. Always more room on the fire.”
She started to shake. Mindlessly pulling at the shackles holding her to the wall, jerking her head from side to side to deny what he was saying. Everyone had to watch. When someone killed a member of the main line, the entire Clan lined up to watch. Everyone.
“You might have heard rumors that the elders have ways of distorting your perception of time. That is true. The head of the Rules Committee can actually take a given moment, and make it last… Well, not forever. A few days, perhaps.” Xiatokte sounded conversational. Just passing on some useful tips to a junior.
“Lastly, I want you to know that whatever you tell me next will be verified. Be completely clear on this- whatever you tell me next will be conclusively shown to be true or false. If it is proven true, you will be taken off the wall, put in clean, warm clothes, given food and water and you will spend the rest of your time here in a warm, clean cell. I don’t think I have to tell you what happens if you lie or evade. Now.”
Xiatokte leaned forwards, never breaking eye contact.
“Tell me everything.”
Xiatokte, Xiatokmai, Xiatokja and Gentian met.
“Alright, the Bank is damn near on fire, and it’s going to continue to be on fire.” ’Mai growled. “I can keep it together for a little bit, but only a little bit. How do we want to play this?”
“We have an opportunity here. Right now, everyone thinks he’s dead. A lot of rats poking their noses out of holes. The longer we keep him “dead,” the more rats we can spot.” ’Te said.
“The more food they eat and flour they shit in, more like.” ’Ja was vibrating with rage. “Lets not pretend that we can drag out this farce. We have maybe a few hours before a serious move is made on the bank, and by extension, us.”
“For what it’s worth, the City is starting to make some… worrying moves too.” Gentian looked sad. “A lot of already anti-Xia voices are talking about just… seizing things. Companies. Ledgers. Bringing it all under the City for supervision.”
“To be later sold to deserving members of the Throng, or simply handed out as political gifts. Oh yes, that’s an old story.” ’Mai shook her head.
“So we need to get old ’Tok back into play and very soon.” ’Te said, sounding regretful. “The next question is, who do we want to blame for this?”
“I thought you said Xiakinni put the finger on the Throng?” ’Mia’ eyes slid over to Gentian, and she quickly amended “That is, extremist elements in the City?”
“She did, but I don’t believe it.” ’Te shook his head.
“You think she is lying? I thought you were going to send Gert to verify her story?” ’Ja asked.
“I don’t and I will. I think she thinks that. She knows that we have just too many ways to take her apart. She’s being as smart as she can and is telling us everything she knows. I also think that if I was running a traitor making a hugely politically impactful hit, they would never be able to implicate me.” ’Te shook his head.
“She was expected to be captured.” Gentian asked with faint horror.
“Her escape plan was “Don’t do anything out of the ordinary, wait to be sent home, and in a couple of days, an agent will smuggle you out of the city.” ’Te almost spat. “They wanted her caught, and they wanted her to talk.”
“So we need to decide who we blame for this.” ’Mai concluded.
“No need to think too hard. Only so many people can make a poison tailored to kill a main line Xia.” ’Ja spoke like she was picking out a dissecting knife. “We can rule out the other Great Clans. No motive. We can rule out an attack from within the Clan for the same reason, and add a dash of lack of capability. The radiological portion of the poison was pretty sophisticated in terms of chemistry. Which likewise rules out the Throng, and frankly, the local tribes too. Which leads us to the GNUF, who couldn’t get fucked in a brothel without the Collective.”
“And the Collective, outside of their core polishing technology, is one of the most technically advanced powers on the Continent. Potential Nacon dry minds notwithstanding.” ’Te concluded. “This does sound like a pretty classic move by them. No downside at all for them, regardless of success or failure, no effective means for us to retaliate. At least right now.” His voice turned dark.
“At least for now.” Gentian’s voice was mild as milk.