XXIII. The Kinzira Killing
The doors to the dining hall slam open, and you enter dramatically. Your presence is halo'd by a thin corona of green light, almost unseen in the better-lit space. A cool wind brushes through everyone's hair, bringing with it the scent of pine.
You take a deep breath, filling your lungs, then:
"Haitham's dead! Someone killed him!"
Silence grips the sooty-ceilinged dining room; a hush built from jansi shocked into wordlessness by your pronouncement. The room has filled up since you left, and now they're all looking at you. Candlelight illuminates their faces from below, casting their features into stark relief. Zia's little sister, wide-eyed, spoon still in her hand. Fatin, his brow creased like a mountain's canyons. Sadia, still sitting where you left her, her hands over her mouth.
Then the questions start.
"He's dead? How?"
"Who did this?"
"Who could have done this?"
"Hurt or dead? Are you sure?"
But it's Sadia's great-aunt Kareena whose voice drowns out everyone. She might be tiny, but in her spherical bulk she clearly has quite a set of lungs. Chins wobbling, she lurches to her feet. "Well, I never! You are a guest, Meira, and I don't know how things are done in your lands, but this is a
civilised place! And I have to tell you, this kind of joke is in very poor taste."
Joke? This fat, stupid woman thinks you're joking? You catch your outrage before it can show on your face, and cram it down so the
hurt that this inbred provincial is questioning you is what shows instead. "I wouldn't joke about this!" you say, letting your voice crack. "I went to see him and he's dead! Dead in his bed! He's been stabbed a lot! There's bl-blood everywhere!"
Your words only intensify the uproar. And despite having only been in Cahzor for a short while, you are immediately unsurprised when there is an immediate movement towards the door. Of
course the Cahzori want to see the dead body. You've seen them at their bloodsports; even the children yelling and hollering in the desire to see the sands painted crimson. One of their own, horribly murdered? Of course they're going to go.
Kareena is caught up in the movement of bodies, pushing and shoving to try to get there first. You step aside and let the flow of humanity by, red-faced and wide-eyed, shoving and pushing in their morbid eagerness to see what happened.
"Excuse me!" You focus on the woman in front of you; dark-haired, her eyes a deep red that's nearly brown, her low-cut dress crumpled and creased from being worn far longer than intended. She's a mature woman. With a figure like that she's likely had children; that, or she is self-indulgent, though not to the level of the Kinzira. And there's something of Haitham's face about her. She has the same brows; brows that are creased as she glares at you.
"Am I in your way?" you ask.
"No, I'm just… interested." Her fingers twitch; she's resisting the urge to ball her hands into fists. "You said someone killed Haitham. Who?"
"I don't know. I just found his body." You blink away tears that are
spiritually real. "Sorry, I don't know your name."
"Inaam." Her eyes crease up as she scowls at you. "And you're very familiar with what someone who's been murdered looks like?"
What on earth is she smoking? "He'd been all cut up!" you say, raising your voice enough for others to hear. "It's… it's not like he died in his sleep from anything natural! And I've seen people who've been stabbed before, and it looked like that!"
Good. That hopefully didn't give away your self-admitted familiarity with dead bodies. Not in a weird sense. You're not a
necromancer or anything.
"It was the talk of the party last night that he got into a fight over you," the other woman says. "Where were you?"
"I went to bed early," you said.
"Mmm hmm." She seems about to say something but seems to change her mind and vanishes off into the crowd. You make your way back to one of the seats, and slump down.
Gods, you need a drink.
A few hours later, and you're most of the way through a bottle of some local spirits. It burns as it goes down. You wrap your hands around the delicate clay cup, and wish you had some ice.
You had made the servants take you to one of the smoking rooms, and so among the padded chairs, nicotine-yellowed walls and worn-thin carpets, you come to terms with events in your own way. With the help of the aforementioned bottle.
Of course, Haitham isn't the first of your lovers to wind up mysteriously dead, and he's not even the first where you were genuinely innocent of any involvement in their death. But it still comes as a shock. And yes, there's a little guilt. If you'd just slept with him last night, he wouldn't have been in his room. It's not your
fault, but still…
Sadia slips in to the seat opposite to you. "Heya," she says softly.
You look up from your drink. "Hey."
She reaches out and rests her hands on your wrists. "How are you doing?"
"Not too well," you say, with a great sigh.
"You don't do things by half measures, do you?"
"Hmm?"
She looks you in the eyes. "Auntie is very angry at you. You embarrassed her by doing that. She's furious that you didn't tell her so she could have stopped everyone rushing in to look."
"I wasn't thinking," you say. It's a lie. No, you wanted everyone to know. It meant it couldn't be hushed up. "I was just… he was dead. I was distraught."
"Poor you." Sadia sighs. "You might pay for that thoughtlessness, though. There are definitely people who suspect you."
"Yes." You scowl. "There was some awful woman who was implying things."
"Oh? Did you get her name?"
You stare down at your cup, and focus through the haze of alcohol. "Inaam, I think?"
"Inaam… mature, but not quite
old yet?" You nod. "Yes. She was doing more than whispering against you while you've been locked up in here."
"What is her issue with me?" you grumble.
"Well, Inaam's a lazy-minded fool," Sadia says, "but then again, she's ak-Kas. Taking anything other than the easiest path possible would offend their ancestors."
Ah. A relative blaming you. Makes sense. "She's a cousin?"
"An aunt, actually." Sadia covers her smile with her hand, looking at you mischievously. "And of course, a former lover of his. Haitham had a weakness for older women."
You know exactly where that blow is aimed. You're not old, no matter what a woman who's young enough to be your great-granddaughter might cattily say. Because you have the moral high ground, you ignore her words. "Well, what do you want?"
"Why do I want anything?"
You give her an unimpressed look. "Everyone wants something from me," you say, saluting her with your cup.
She pulls out a tarnished, antique writing-pen and a notebook. "Well, I have some questions about what you saw."
"Can't you just leave me to grieve?" you ask, reaching for the spirits and pouring yourself another glass.
"No, I can't. I have sworn an oath to the Demio, and she'll want to know what happened here. So. When was the last time you saw Haitham?"
"Alive or dead?" you ask. She indicate the former. "I was heading back to my room last night. He tried to invite himself in. I turned him down because I was feeling headachey and tired, and just wanted an early night."
Sadia jots this down. You can see she's writing in a shorthand you don't know. "And about what time would this have been?"
You frown. "I'm not sure of the hour. But it was just after dinner had finished. My feet were hurting too much to dance and... " you smile wryly, "I hadn't slept much the previous night. What with the storm and… well, him."
"Mmm." She looks you in the eye. "Had you argued? Did he say anything out of the ordinary?"
"We hadn't argued, no. I kissed him goodnight. Teased him a bit." You take a sip of your drink, and shudder as it goes down. "And… I don't think he said anything unusual.
She asks you more questions. You answer them mostly truthfully. Your lies are ones of omission - you don't mention Sei, or some of the more cutting insights you had. She doesn't need to know. After all, you're the only person in this stupid mansion you know didn't kill him. She's a suspect too, because she's not you.
Though if you had to wager, you'd put it on Hilmi as having done it, or maybe Zia. Hilmi had every reason for wanting Haitham dead, and you know that kind of man. Sulky, brooding, nursing rancour in his gut until it boils over. And Zia… you remember what he said. Some of his phrasing was suspicious.
Not that you say this to Sadia, of course. You're keeping your own council.
Sadia closes her notes. "If you want the truth, I don't think you did it. You don't have a motive, and even if you were a murderous gold-digger, I'd expect you to kill him after the marriage, not before you're even engaged."
You snort. "I'm awed by your confidence in my morals."
"Morals are a meaningless transitory thing," she says, rolling her eyes. "Knowing someone's motives - that's something else. Unfortunately, other people are stupid. They'll look at you as being someone out of town and the last person to see him alive, and… well. If his family want blood, the Demio will make sure they get their blood. She's not going to risk angering them unless she has something to care about it."
You can feel your stomach yawn. The chair seems unsteady under you. You saw the Demio's bloodsports and what she does to people who displease her. You're a dragonchild, but there are still… things that can be done to someone like you. And such a sorceress might welcome the chance.
You'll need to get out of the city - maybe even before the storm clears. Better to risk a weak wyldstorm than end up in the hands of someone with
those interests.
"What about justice?" you ask.
"What about it? The Demio's word is law in her lands, and ak-Kinzira were too busy stuffing their faces to keep their privileges out of her bony hands. Now," Sadia says, running her thumb over the nails on her left hand, "of course, if we find a culprit, everything changes. Especially if it's someone she can confiscate land from, or set the jansi to fighting. They don't need to have done it, of course."
"No?" Well, this isn't like home. Everyone knew that the magistrates were… amenable to influence. You certainly used that many times. But to even imply it in polite company would have seen you challenged. There was the pretence of justice, even if it fell short in practice.
This is Cahzor. There is no such thing here.
"She'll want this issue to go away," Sadia says confidently. "She doesn't want people killing each other in her city if they could drag other jansi into it, and blood-duels will do that."
"What's in it for you?" you say softly.
She smiles. "I get a nice reward from the Demio for solving a murder before word gets out and starts making political trouble for her. And," Sadia flutters her eyelashes at you, "of course, the warm fuzzy feeling in the bottom of my heart for having saved an innocent woman."
You give her an unimpressed look.
"What?" She flicks back a stray lock of hair. "You're a friend."
You continue to stare.
"... well, and also it will be very satisfying to show up that awful, self-righteous woman," she adds without any shame. "If she wants to put influence into accusing you, I have something to gain if she's shown to be as much of a fool as I know her to be. And if I resolve this issue for the Demio, I've got a good chance of getting the Zorpondam holdings of whoever did it when she confiscates them."
You huff. Cahzori honesty; such a black and wretched thing. "How much longer do you think this storm will last?" you ask. "How much time will we have?"
"At least a day - but it's weakening. It was quieter this morning than it was last night." She wobbles her hand. "Maybe one, two days before it's down to a level where people will be able to venture out. That's my guess, at least."
You empty your drink, and rise. "Well," you say, slamming your cup down. "Let's get this done, then."
The storm is weakening.
You have at least a day to find the culprit.
Which Suspicion Will You Spend This Evening On?
[ ] Zia said some very suspicious things - and he's interested in you, making Haitham a rival. And he's in love with the past, so he'd take the relic Haitham won. Poke your nose into his doings and see if he has the jadesteel knife.
[ ] Yasmine was looking at him with hateful eyes, and you know she's romantically interested in you. Focus on her and her brother Fatin to establish if she has an alibi - or if either of them as dragon children have any talent to getting away with this.
[ ] Hilmi has all the motive to kill the man who humiliated him, and the knife was missing. Do what you have to do to investigate him and search his baggage to see if he's reclaimed his property.
[ ] Mingle with the other aristocrats to find out who else might have had a motive and get a greater overview of what happened last night. This might give your suspects more time to cover their tracks, though.
[ ] Write-in - other investigations or courses of action
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