The Fire Seer and Her Quradum (15 page)

Shala’s eyes darted toward the door. “I don’t see what that has to do with the murders.”

“Never mind,” said Taya.

“It might be important,” Mandir protested.

“
Never mind
.”

Mandir bit his tongue. He’d stay silent if Taya insisted, but the relevance of his question was obvious. Men could and did kill out of jealousy over a woman.

“Tell us about last night,” said Taya. “You’re the one who brings Tufan his wine in the evening, is that right?”

“Yes, but I didn’t poison it,” said Shala.

“Do you bring it every night?”

Shala nodded.

“What happened yesterday?”

Her eyes darted to the door again. “I told all this to the guards already.”

“I realize that,” said Taya. “Our investigation is separate.”

Shala gave Taya a confused look—obviously there was some question about who was in charge. But she didn’t protest further. Mandir was relieved, since their authority was about as substantial as river mist.

“He likes his wine warm,” said Shala. “I pour it, and then I heat it over the fire. I was doing that when there was a commotion—Setsi came into the kitchen and said that Tufan’s dogs were loose. He wanted me to help him fetch the dogs back before Tufan noticed. I set the cup aside, away from the fire, and went outside to look around. After a while, I realized that even if I found a dog I wouldn’t know what to do with it, so I went back in.”

“We didn’t know what to do with those dogs either,” said Taya.

“I put the cup back over the fire,” said Shala. “And when it was warm enough, I brought it to Tufan’s room.”

“Clearly, someone could have tampered with the cup while you were looking for the dogs,” said Mandir. “How long would you say you were away from the cup?”

“Ten minutes?” she offered.

“What happened in Tufan’s room?” said Taya. “Did you give the cup to him or to his guards?”

“Neither,” said Shala. “Everyone was gone, and the door was barred, so I left the wine cup on the table outside his door.”

“He was out rounding up the dogs, I imagine,” said Mandir. “So there’s another opportunity for tampering—after you left the cup outside his door.”

“I give you my oath that I didn’t tamper with it,” said Shala.

Mandir was inclined to believe her. Shala had motive, and she had opportunity, but he didn’t think she had the courage or the meanness in her to carry out such a crime. “What happened after you left the wine outside Tufan’s door?”

“I went to bed in my own room,” said Shala.

Taya broke in. “Did you see Yanzu at all last night? Maybe outside with the dogs, or in the kitchen?”

“No.”

“Did you hear the sounds of a fight, perhaps?”

Shala looked nervous. “No.”

“After you went to bed,” said Mandir gently, “did Tufan call for you?”

“No.” She let out a shaky breath. “He seldom calls for me two nights running.”

“Did anyone come to your room?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Shala said, “Runawir.”

That made sense to Mandir—it was what he’d expected. And since Taya didn’t want him pushing on this subject, he would not distress her further by asking for details. “Thank you, that’s all we need. You can go.”

Shala bolted out the door like a rabbit to its hole.

Mandir shut the door behind her. “I don’t think it was her.”

“She seems too scared,” agreed Taya. “Although I might be wrong—it could be an act.”

“It sounds like there were two clear opportunities for someone to poison the wine,” said Mandir. “First when she left it in the kitchen and went outside, and again when she left the cup outside Tufan’s room with nobody there.”

“None of that explains Yanzu’s murder.”

Mandir said, “Perhaps whoever poisoned Tufan’s cup also poisoned Yanzu’s ewer of water at around the same time. I wish there were three of us—then we could have checked Tufan’s cup, Yanzu’s cup, and Yanzu’s ewer.”

Taya’s brows rose. “Maybe we still can, if the ewer hasn’t been poured out.”

“I think we’ve left it too long at this point,” said Mandir. “The murderer could have replaced the water by now.”

“Perhaps we should write up a timeline of who was where and when last night,” said Taya. “While most of us were out with the dogs, somebody must have come back inside—or else they never went out in the first place—and poisoned the cups.”

Mandir dropped his chin into his hands. A timeline would be useful, but it would be a tall order to put one together, given that they had no precise way of reckoning time, especially after sundown. “I’m not sure we can even put our timeline together with Shala’s. Setsi came to us to tell us about the dogs, and he went to Shala for the same reason, but we don’t know which of us he went to first.”

“We can ask Setsi.”

“And I’d like to think he’ll tell us the truth,” said Mandir. “But somebody in this household has something to hide, and that person is going to lie when we ask him questions.” Mandir wished his Gift could give him the ability to distinguish truth from lies. Wouldn’t that be more useful than summoning a flood?

“How about this?” said Taya. “I can scry outside and find out who let the dogs loose.”

Mandir perked up. “There’s an idea.”

Chapter 17

Taya looked over the dog enclosure and its environs. Scrying with fire required a lot of space. She wasn’t worried about the short, dry scrub-grass under her feet, since she sustained her scry-fire in the air. Trees and structures, on the other hand, could be problems.

She staked out a patch of bare ground about ten yards from the dog pen. Fire visions were strictly local and would show images only from the place she stood when summoning her fire. If she could scry in Tufan’s bedroom, or in Yanzu’s, she might be able to see the actual murder. But one couldn’t scry indoors; the scry-fire was too enormous.

Mandir followed. “This is where you’re going to do it?”

“Yes. I want you over there.” She pointed to a spot about twenty yards between them and the main house. “That way, you can intercept anyone who comes near.” She hadn’t asked the palace guards for permission to scry, because she feared they’d say no. Better to just do it and apologize afterward, if necessary.

Mandir went to the spot she’d indicated.

Taya took a deep breath. She feared the Fire Mother, as any sensible person would, and did not call upon her lightly. But this had to be done. She rotated in a circle, calling fire in a great swath along the length of her outstretched arm.

Isatis roared to life all around her, eager and violent. Taya spoke in the mother tongue, the only language the goddess acknowledged,
Come in power, Mother Isatis
.
Come in greatness.

Flames blossomed in the air, leaping high enough to cover the sun. At the temple, Taya had learned to call upon Mother Isatis with quiet words and a quiet heart. When untrained jackals called on the mothers boastfully, without finesse, they flooded entire rivers or burned villages to the ground.

To keep Isatis calm and appeased, Taya flattered her.
You are the bolt of lightning that shatters the sky, the hearth fire that melts the ice from the traveler’s hands, the forest fire that brings down the tallest of trees. Your thirst is unquenchable, your power immeasurable. Your daughter calls on you with downcast eyes. If you favor her, Mother Isatis, grant her a vision.

The flames flashed yellow.

Last night, someone loosed the dogs from this pen, and during the chaos that followed, he killed two people. Show me, Great Mother, who did it.

Images formed in the fire.

∞

Mandir’s stomach tightened as Taya’s scry-fire enveloped her. This was the fourth scrying he’d witnessed, and they weren’t getting any easier to watch, especially since one of Taya’s previous scryings had ended in disaster. Needing something to do with his hands, he took the copper cup from his belt and swirled it in the air, calling water into it. While he was so occupied, Bel-Sumai came running from the house, followed by Runawir, Ilinos, and Setsi.

“What are you doing?” cried Bel-Sumai. “Put that fire out at once!”

“It’s under control,” said Mandir. “Taya is scrying to learn who let the dogs out of their pen.”

Bel-Sumai blinked. “What do you mean, scrying?”

“It’s an ability of the disciples of Isatis,” said Mandir. “Taya can ask the Fire Mother for a vision. If she’s granted one, she’ll see the vision in the fire.”

“Why do you want to know who loosed the dogs?” blurted Ilinos.

“Because that person may have done it as a diversion so that he could kill Tufan and Yanzu,” said Mandir.

“You’ve no right to set fires here,” said Bel-Sumai. “This isn’t your property, nor is it even your murder investigation. We established earlier that these crimes weren’t magical.”

“The scry-fire is in the air,” said Mandir. “It’s not touching anybody’s property. If you don’t like our methods, take it up with the Coalition leadership.”

Bel-Sumai folded his arms. “Are you sure the fire’s under control?”

“Quite sure.”

“Will you tell us what she sees in her vision?” asked Bel-Sumai.

“That I can’t promise,” said Mandir. “The content of fire visions is limited to members of the Coalition.” Unless they chose to share it. Which maybe they would in this case, but he wasn’t sure yet.

“Well, that’s convenient for you,” snapped Bel-Sumai.

∞

It was Ilinos who’d let the dogs out. In her vision, Taya saw him tie a rope around the latch, string the rope around the side of the pen, and pull on the rope to lift it. The gate swung open, and the dogs poured through like a river released from a dam. One dog, a straggler, doubled back to sniff the teenager’s long legs, but it lost interest in him and took off with its fellows into the night.

Thank you, Great Mother.
Taya allowed her fire to go out.

Ilinos had released the dogs. Did that make him a murderer? She’d known from the beginning he was a suspect, and yet she had a hard time seeing him as a killer. He was, after all, only a boy. She would not deny he had a nasty personality. He’d bullied Setsi, and he had as much reason as anybody to want Tufan dead. But Mandir had seen himself in Ilinos. She wanted to believe that Ilinos, like Mandir, was a boy with problems who might improve if he were moved to a better place.

Perhaps that was wishful thinking on her part.

Scrying was hot, exhausting work. She stumbled, sweating, back toward Mandir and realized he had company. Several of his brothers, as well as Bel-Sumai, had gathered to watch the scry-fire.

Ilinos was among the group. Having just seen him in her vision, she couldn’t help but glance his way. She kept her attention brief, not to give away what she’d seen.

Mandir pressed a cup brimming with water into her hand. She took it, grateful for his thoughtfulness. She raised the cup to her lips and drank it down, one big swallow after another.

“Thank you,” she gasped, handing the empty cup back to him.

“Did the Fire Mother grant you a vision?” asked Bel-Sumai.

“I can’t share that information outside of the Coalition,” she said.

Bel-Sumai frowned. “So said your partner. If your visions cannot be shared, what good are they?”

Taya couldn’t blame him for being frustrated; she’d be equally annoyed if he’d learned something about the murders and declined to tell her or anyone else. After she’d discussed her vision with Mandir, they could decide together whether or not to share what they’d learned. In the spirit of cooperation, they
ought
to share—but she was worried about what that might mean for Ilinos.

“I’m exhausted,” she said. “I need to rest.”

The crowd parted. Mandir took her arm and led her back into the house.

∞

Mandir could tell that Taya had received a vision. There was a light in her eyes that told him she’d learned something—and he had the impression she wasn’t happy about what she’d learned.

Though deeply curious, he held his tongue as they walked through the hallway. Once in the guest room, he shut the door and went to the window, checking in all directions to make sure nobody was spying on them. “We’re alone. What did you learn?”

“It was Ilinos who turned out the dogs,” said Taya.

“Ilinos?” Mandir furrowed his brow. Truly, that was a surprise, and not a pleasant one. He’d have thought the murderer would be someone smarter and more sophisticated. Runawir, perhaps, or the backstabbing Shardali.

“It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s the murderer,” said Taya.

True, they needed to revisit their earlier assumption that whoever had turned out the dogs had murdered Tufan and Yanzu. Wouldn’t it make more sense if Ilinos had let the dogs out for another reason? Ilinos had tried to bully Setsi earlier that day and been humiliated and beaten by both Mandir and Tufan. Perhaps, since he couldn’t retaliate against them, he’d retaliated instead against Setsi by letting the dogs out. “It may be that he was just trying to get Setsi in trouble. The murderer could be someone else who’d planned the crimes and was just waiting for an opportunity to carry them out. When Ilinos released the dogs, his opportunity arose.”

“Or the murder could have been impulsive,” said Taya. “Maybe our murderer saw Tufan’s wine glass sitting in the kitchen unattended and decided, right then and there, to poison it.”

Mandir frowned. “If it was impulsive, why kill two people instead of one? And where did our impulsive murderer get the poison?”

“Tufan keeps
nepenthe
in his room,” said Taya. “We knew Tufan went out to fetch the dogs, and both of his guards accompanied him. The murderer needed only to go to Tufan’s room, take the
nepenthe
—”

“Through a barred door,” Mandir pointed out.

“Perhaps through a window, then.”

“Sounds more planned than impulsive to me. Is that scenario even possible? We don’t know if Tufan was away looking for the dogs at the time the cup was sitting unattended in the kitchen.”

“I don’t know. The poisoning could have happened later. This is why we need a timeline.” Taya went to her saddlebag, which Mandir had put away on a shelf, and pulled out a tablet and stylus. Sitting down at the table, she called a bit of water from the air and smoothed it over the tablet to wet the clay. “Ilinos...releases...the dogs,” she pronounced as she wrote the words.