The Pearl Crucible - A Dardana Fenek Mystery - SOLENE, THELUMENE, AND ALKIMILA (Part 1)

(Chapter 42 Part 1)

I won’t describe the room in detail because I’m not allowed to—I enjoy being alive—but if you know how Temes is portrayed killing the bull, you can imagine his image down steps in the lower place where we absolutely were not to go. There was a well of water and benches along the sides behind the columns, and the floor was smoothed and set with mosaics, and all the men were gathered in their dozens and dozens dozens, staring at us. Uncanny.

We women were arranged on three points of a half circle. There were Herme Scyros and her … well, “daughter” Orestia. Their hands were tied loosely with cloth-of-gold strips. Then there was Alkimila, and she looked wan, not at all like she had in her palaco, intimidating me with her purple light! Or at Miss Thelumene’s villa. Her wrists were crossed and tightly tied with white ribbon, and she kept swallowing like a dog with a bone in its throat.

Thelumene was next to her, tied with white also, and she kept looking at all the men, studying them and trying to look sultry but succeeding only in looking whorish. She spared a few glances for me as well, and if looks were knives, I would have bled across a fine mosaic of—well, rituals.

Solene Zenithar was next, also bound. She managed to look bored with the affair, though her profile, when she looked at the Scyroses, hardened. She gave me a withering look, and would have said something cutting, I think, except she recalled she could not speak there and bit it back.

The rest of us—the chattel, Deniz called us. Fair enough, we were. All indentureds, knelt on the floor and tied with hemp, our heads pushed low. Me, and then one of Alkimila’s girls, Klio; Thelumene’s new ones; and Barsina, and at the far end Alkimila’s other girl, Pherusa. The others kept their eyes on the mosaic, but I peered around discreetly because I’m Dardana Fenek.

A curious group the eleven of us all made! All unshod, even the Scyros women, although they managed a queenly air, and rather harmless-looking, weak, even, compared to the menace of the men.

I can’t say I liked it.

“Brother Heliokuristo Tria, what is the complaint?”

“Patro,” a cloth-of-gold man said, stepping forward, and he had the voice of the prosecutor, “the crimes are murder, conspiracy, theft of artwork from the State Gallery, labor-theft, and labor-theft through damage of value.”

“Brother Heliokuristo Tria, explain why this cannot be tried through the courts.”

“Of the accused two are women of degree whose execution would call shame on both the aristoi and the epistarchy and not be socially valuable. The third is a mercanter, but as a procuress, it is supposed she has valuable information that might call shame on the aristoi also. She states that if she is condemned, information will be released damaging to the Conciliar government. The syndex will pass judgment instead.”

“What are the accusations?”

“Will Patro have the woman Herme Scyros permitted to speak?”

“She may speak.”

“Herme Scyros, make your denunciation for the syndex.”

Herme turned in the direction of the figure of Temes down the steps and curtseyed low towards it, then to Brigadier Deniz in his robes and mask, and finally to the prosecutor concealed behind his cloth of gold.

“Sir,” she said, “these prisoners conspired to steal artwork I donated to the State Gallery. It was done with the intent to destroy the value of an investment I made in a new line of clones modeled after the art. In the process, Alkimila Fortunato murdered her father—apparently after a couple of clumsy attempts. Some of you may have seen the picture and purchased living copies of her in advance for later delivery. Having spent your drachms, you’ll understand my pique. I wish punitive damages.”

“The denunciatrix will now be silent.”

She repeated her three curtseys and folded her hands in an almost indentured girl style. Orestia’s eyes surveyed the prisoners and glittered with candlelight and malice

“Brother Leono Sesa,” the prosecutor’s voice said, “you have investigated the crimes.”

“Yes, Patro,” Efan’s voice said from behind a fanged lion’s mask. “With assistance.”

“From whom?”

“One of the chattel.”

“Which?”

“One called Io.” A yellow-gloved hand beckoned to me, and I moved to his feet, seeing his eyes within the hairy, snarling mask’s eyes, his mouth and lips behind the teeth. I watched them move, fascinated. He put his hand on my head. “Another called Barsina assisted her.”

“The labor-thief,” the prosecutor said from inside the gold robes. “A three-time runaway, stealing herself and defrauding her contract-owner of labor. She defrauded Solene Zenithar of labor: the Barsina. To whom does her contract belong?”

“She was Thelumene Testaferrata’s, the accused conspiratrix. She eluded her over a year and a day and was captured and claimed by the accused conspiratrix Solene Zenithar.”

“This girl called Io assisted you?”

“She feigned being a citizen and has taken money to solve petty crimes and mysteries in Aulis. Petro Fortunato hired her secretly when he felt murder attempts had been made on him.”

“Why her?”

“He did not trust the militia. Her investigation paced and led mine at all turns, and she recovered the stolen painting, returning it to the State Gallery.”

“Is that so.” The cloth-of-gold man sounded grouchy. “Girl! Make obeisance and kneel.”

I lowered my forehead to the floor to Temes, to Deniz, to the prosecutor, and lastly to Efan, and laid my hands in my lap.

“Will Patro have the bondgirl known as Io permitted to speak?”

“If she is to the point,” Deniz said. He leaned on his gilded, jeweled staff and I felt his dark eyes on me. The citizen prisoners looked at me with cold dislike, and Orestia regarded me with an ominous but seductive longing. Only Herme Scyros did not look like she wanted to kill me. She didn’t look like she’d stop it, either.

“Girl, you are given permission to speak.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You are called Io?”

“My contract says that.”

“You call yourself Io?”

“No, Sir, I go by Dardana. Dardana Fenek.”

There were a few amused chuckles, and I heard the words Nosy-panties. I swallowed my irritation and embarrassment.

“Girl,” the prosecutor said, sidestepping that, “explain how you met Petro Fortunato.”

“He came to my office, Sir. He hired me because he wanted a secret and deniable inquiry. He felt someone tried to kill him, Sir. He distrusted militia since his ground-car was interfered with—he felt the ground-car was controlled with bad scripts fed into its processing core.”

“Had it been, girl?”

I glanced up at Efan’s mouth and eyes far above. He stood close to me, and I could smell his particular spice above the stuffiness of the temeaeum. I made my eyes wide and stupid and looked at the prosecutor concealed in his gold vestments. He gave no sign I looked at him.

I lowered my eyes and shielded Arethne Raskov and Cyprian Roulhac.

“I do not know, Sir. I do not have the knowledge to investigate that kind of crime. However,” I went on, “he reported also symptoms of hemlock poisoning, and my girl Barsina—”

“How do you mean, your girl? You can’t own a contract.”

“No, Sir. I … won her at a game of Folly from Miss Solene. And she served me as if I was a citizen, Sir.”

“This is not legal.”

“No, Sir.”

The prosecutor stared. “This other girl also works as a private inspector?”

“Sir, she serves as my assistant. She is observant, has a good memory, and keeps my notes and accounts. She was … observant for Miss Solene before.”

“Part of your trouble, there, Brother Heliokuristo Tria,” Deniz said dryly. “Getting the contract Barsina away from Zenithar would be accounted service to the State by some.”

I saw Solene’s eyes narrow, but she did not otherwise react.

“Continue, girl,” the prosecutor said.

“My girl Barsina identified hemlock plants cut from the deceased’s gardens, where the gardener had been the day before told to clear out a weedy patch: as if to hide it.”

“I see,” the prosecutor said. “Continue.”

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( … This way to Chapter Forty-one part 3 … ) ( … This way to Chapter Forty-two part 2 … )

… ( … This way to Chapter One part 1 … ) …

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