The sack was whipped from his head. There was just enough light for him to make out the figures in the room, despite the lack of his spectacles. The stout man from before was holding the sack. His arms, sleeves curled up, were covered with hair. Septima stood facing Cain, her arms crossed, her left hand deftly playing with his spectacles. The giant whom Cain had stabbed in the foot was leaning against a wall and giving him a look that simmered with resentment. He had changed out of his bloody clothes. Neither his arm nor foot showed any sign of being cut or stabbed. Cain couldn’t help but stare at the giant in amazement.
Noting his gaze, Septima said, “Devadas is anamrit,” as if he was supposed to know what an “amrit” was. Apparently, that word explained his lack of injury. “From Varata.”
Cain shrugged. “What is he doing outside an Office of Truthcell?” The Office had a monopoly on sorcery and didn’t tolerate anything outside Imperial generator magic. The first thing the Empire did after conquering a land was unleash their inquisitors to round up local magic users and priests. There were stories around the market square, about old-magic sorcerers from all over the world and their horrible fates. In those stories, the magic users had many different names and powers, but to the Empire they were all sorcerers. This man Devadas would qualify as one, regardless of the term his people had reserved for him.
Septima answered. “Oh, hewasin a cell, until we got him out on a permanent loan. Sometimes, Intelligence needs more than Truth dogma to protect the Empire.”
Until the Office needs him more,Cain thought. All sorcerers, wherever they came from or whatever they were capable of, were obligated to serve the Empire as Power generators in their deaths.
The stout man added, with an unmistakable note of pride, “He’s the last of his monastic order.”
Devadas let out a low groan. Septima sent the briefest frown in the stout man’s direction, and he promptly shut up. Holding Cain’s spectacles still in her fingertips, Septima clapped her hands twice. “Now, enough questions from you.”
Cain had his run-ins with the patrollers. He had been on the receiving end of interrogation more than a few times. Septima seemed to be the head of this team and chief interrogator. The stout man was probably in charge of beating Cain if he happened to give them the wrong answer; it didn’t look like he used any special tools to do it other than his fists. The giant Devadas had the demeanor and build of a proper warrior. He seemed embarrassed to have been ambushed in the alley like that.
Cain looked Septima in the face. His vision unaided, he could barely make out the shape of her eyes. “So, what is it you want from me?”
She didn’t answer, and instead asked a question of her own, playing with his spectacles again.
“The dead girl, Fienna. What were you to her?”
“A friend.”
“A lover?”
“Not really.”
Septima slightly raised an eyebrow, perhaps in surprise.
“Why were you going to the docks?”
The clicks of his spectacle legs in her fingers were starting to annoy him.
“Thousands go to the docks every day, why shouldn’t I?”
Septima placed the cold tip of her right index finger on his forehead.
“We ask the questions, not you. What business do you have at Gladdis’s house?”
“Didn’t you already hear everything at Lukan’s?”
The finger went away. Septima nodded, finally answering a question.
“Gladdis is being secretly investigated.”
“Why?”
“Treason. We suspect her of conspiring with undesirables in a province. If you go to her and make things loud and unpleasant, we’ll have a more difficult time of it. Which is why we stopped you.”
This answer only raised more questions for Cain. That they happened to be in the same tavern the other night could not havebeen a coincidence. But why would they have sought him out in the first place?
“Is Lukan being investigated?”
Septima placed her index finger on his forehead once more.
“You came to the Capital about twelve years ago, correct? When you were twelve? Thirteen? That’s around the time there was an insurrection in Arland. And you ran away because your parents were involved in that?”
Cain didn’t answer. Septima moved his spectacles over her knuckles, all the while managing to click their legs.
