The Pearl Crucible - A Dardana Fenek Mystery - MARDONIOS AGAIN - (part 2)

Chapter 4, part 2

Barsina was quiet in the street, which was fine for a minute or two, and I cleared my head of the influences of the ensign-captain.

“All right,” I decided, “we need to go to the State Gallery and see this Sub-Director—what was his name?”

She checked her notebook. “Azzopardo, Miss.”

"Azzopardo. I’m not convinced that he might not have ambition, even if Fortunato dismissed his chances. And why did he dismiss his chances? He seemed adamant it was impossible that he’d advance."

“I’m sure I don’t know, Miss.”

“You sound peeved, Barsina.”

“Never, Miss.”

“Was it the questioning?”

I stopped and looked at her, moving out of the way of a water vendor’s dray. The horse snorted at me, and I twitched. I don’t like large animals.

“You know how it was at Mama Solene’s, Miss. I cannot see it and not remember what was done.”

“I know, but you aren’t there now.”

“Thank you, Miss. But those sister doulas, Miss … surely innocent … ”

“Barsina, we have to work in the world and earn our bread, and he didn’t hurt the one, scarcely hurt the other. He didn’t want to do it.”

“Then he shouldn’t have, Miss.”

“I have to do things I don’t want to do. You had to do things you didn’t want to do.”

“No one was making him, Miss.”

“If he didn’t put two obvious suspects to the question, he could lose his rank. He was gentle with them, as gentle as he could be.”

She looked at me with her large, dark blue eyes and put her hands on mine. “Is Miss being clear-headed? She defends him.”

“I’m clear-headed. I’m always clear-headed. Are you jealous? Is it proper to disagree with him?” It wasn’t a fair thrust. Proper is Barsina’s life.

Her lips puckered into a moue. “I’m not jealous,” she said. “He is a man and a citizen, and you … it is proper … you … ”

“And I am me,” said I. “I haven’t been with a man in a long time, and I’m not starting today. He doesn’t have me fooled, not even with his pretty face, or his arm.” My fist closed. I could feel the wool sleeve.

“He is militia,” she said. “You should have nothing to do with him.” She pulled a piece of paper from her girdle and gave it to me.

“What’s this?”

Then I saw what it was, and if I had any hair on the back of my neck and on my arms, it would have been prickling.

“Where—?”

“On the board in the commissariat foyer. It wasn’t there the other day.”

I folded the wanted poster twice and twice again and put it in my girdle. “If we make it to the stop, we can catch the bus.”

( … This way to Chapter 4, part 1 … ) ( … This way to Chapter 4, part 3 … )