Aelia waited outside the governor’s door. Within, Northstar’s best healers were battling for the governor’s life.

  “It was just after you left,” Lady Ashnya whispered, face holding none of its usual calm, even though her aura held the same forced peace it normally did. “Governor Iraias called for more drinks after the others had been spilled.”

  Even in Aelia’s half-panicked state, she appreciated the tactful use of passive voice there. If diplomacy were an ideal, Lady Ashnya would have been a Paragon.

  “A minute after drinking, the governor excused himself and found me,” Lady Ashnya continued. “Even he has fits of stress at times, you know.”

  Aelia did not know that. Many imperial bureaucrats did. “Constrictions”, she’d heard some call them, the fits that led to your heart racing, throat tightening, hands trembling. Some had tremors, sweating, even chest pain and dizziness. She herself had experienced the same. Such fits were so prevalent that Turius’ Manual for Training Public Officials included two full chapters on the subject. But Governor Iraias was above the stress that afflicted common bureaucrats. His was the most disciplined, methodical mind in all of Septentrion. A fortress as strong as Hellfrost Keep.

  Apparently, that simply meant he hid weaknesses better than most.

  “Usually, I’m able to calm those fits in less than a minute, but this one wouldn’t calm.” Lady Ashnya’s jaw tightened as she stared at the door. “Instead of quickening, his heartbeat slowed. When I realized something was wrong and tried to lead him out, his legs wouldn’t move properly. We didn’t make it out of the hall before he vomited. Then the seizure started.” She shuddered and closed her eyes.

  The rest, Aelia had already heard from others. Healers rushed to pull Governor Iraias away, but the panic had already spread to the rest of the hall. Those close to the choking governor heard him gasp out, “The wine.” Before falling fully into the seizure.

  Now, the citadel was emptied, and all the guests rushed back to their guesthouses. The guards were trying to isolate all the groups, to account for everyone at the event. A futile task to corral more than a hundred people, many of whom were vis and easily capable of simply disappearing if they wished. Made even more futile since some of the guards, including Vestra vis Nightblood were occupied watching over Aven instead of being at the gathering.

  Only a scant few were permitted to be even this close to the governor’s chambers. Lady Ashnya was the only fourth circle not occupied with herding the guests. Aelia and the other executors were allowed - though none save for her had chosen to remain. Magistrate Camus was here as well, sitting in the corner of the room and looking as if he’d vomit if he tried to stand.

  “Have they identified the poison?” Aelia asked.

  “I...don’t know,” Lady Ashnya admitted. She looked as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her. She barely seemed able to take her eyes off the door. And her hands were shaking.

  With dawning horror, Aelia realized that she was the only person present able to make a rational decision. Everyone else was paralyzed by worry. Which she certainly felt as well, but healing the governor was entirely out of her control. So, she had to focus on something she did control.

  A few servants were waiting in the hall, terror writ across their faces. Waiting for word of Governor Iraias’ fate wouldn’t relieve that terror. Aelia walked over to them.

  “The governor is currently being tended by some of Northstar’s most skilled healers. They will do everything in their power,” Aelia told them, forcing the same tone she used to calm panicked witnesses in Hellfrost. “But your help is needed now. Has the governor’s goblet been retrieved?”

  The servants glanced among each other. None seemed to know the answer.

  Aelia sighed and tried to recall names. Most of these servants had been with the governor for years. Certainly since Aelia had worked alongside Iraias. Surely she could recall their names.

  “Mariel.” She turned to the head housekeeper. “Return to the great hall and find the pitcher of wine poured for the governor.” Next, the governor’s chamberlain. “Jamos, after the governor drank, what would have been done with the goblet?”

  “If...if the governor finished his drink, the server would have taken it and returned it to the kitchen for cleaning,” the chamberlain stammered.

  “And who was that server?” Aelia asked.

  “I...I served it,” one of the servants spoke up. This one a beastkin boy Aelia didn’t know. One who looked on the verge of tears. “I swear to all the gods, I didn’t know. I-”

  “Return to the kitchen and retrieve the goblet,” Aelia ordered. “Preserve it for the healers. Do not touch the inside, do not wash it. Do you understand?”

  The boy nodded and fled, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. Mariel left as well, following her own task. With that small measure of control reasserted, Aelia struggled to think of tasks for the remainder.

  Before she could, the door burst open, and one of the healers emerged. Visare ars-Salvis, Aelia recalled. The governor’s personal physician and a second-circle vis, though one who often claimed that mundane medicine was far more effective than relying on healing powers. A philosophy Aelia had always respected.

  “He is stabilized,” Visare announced to the small group waiting. “For now.”

  Magistrate Camus let out a sigh, and Lady Ashnya went boneless for a second, slumping against the wall before catching herself. Aelia felt a matching wave of relief. If the governor had died...Aelia forbade that thought from finishing. It had not come to pass, so she didn’t need to let that fear control her.

  “Lady Ashnya.” Visare ars-Salvis inclined his head. “I believe your assistance will be helpful in letting the governor rest.”

  “Of...of course,” Lady Ashnya took a moment to compose herself, and when her eyes re-opened and her breath released, the most poised and confident woman in Northstar was back. She glided into the room, a blanket of peace she could wrap around the stricken governor.

  Visare watched her go, and then he turned to Aelia, “Executor Aelia Etrani. In the event of his incapacitation, Governor Iraias left instructions that the task of presiding over the gathering should be left to you.”

  Aelia’s mind stalled for a half second. In addition to everything else, she now had to manage an inter-provincial gathering? Already fractured by the assassination attempt on Governor Iraias? With the delegates all scattered and likely panicking?

  “That is...” Aelia paused, trying to find words. “I...couldn’t possibly...”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “It is the governor’s express instruction.” Magistrate Camus rose, shakily.

  “I don’t even know half of what the governor had planned for the gathering.” Aelia protested.

  “The notes are...in his office,” Magistrate Camus cleared his throat voice becoming stronger. “He instructed me which portions to relay in the event of his incapacitation.”

  Governor Iraias had foreseen even this possibility. Of course he had.

  Aelia looked for further protests. And realized that if she gave in to fear, then the gathering would collapse. Everything they’d done so far would come to nothing. If she was now the most composed person in the citadel, then that was an unearned authority. But one she had to use.

  “We have...” Aelia paused to estimate. “Approximately nine-and-a-half hours before the first of the meetings tomorrow. We should start quickly.”

  ***

  Esharah had intended to visit the guesthouse dedicated to the Tenebras delegation after the gathering anyway. The circumstances just made the investigation doubly urgent.

  “Terrible, terrible,” the Tenebras ambassador was visibly shuddering as he spoke. “Shocking. I was...gods, I was drinking with the man at that very moment.”

  “Will you permit me to examine your memories of the event?” Esharah asked. “Anything that might serve as clue to the culprit.”

  “Heavens no!” The ambassador looked aghast. “Of course I’ll cooperate in any way I can, but opening my mind up to a vis is out of the question.”

  “This is an investigation of the attempted murder of a governor,” Esharah reminded the fidgeting man.

  “And still an ambassador cannot be forced to open their mind to invasion.” Tenebras’ military representative, Captain Ellis Tovran, stood behind the ambassador with his arms crossed. “We cannot permit that.”

  As much as she hated to admit it, they were correct. Someone of Ambassador Trellian Rosval’s standing could not be subjected to such an intrusion without a formal accusation being made. Which would then send the whole conference into an even greater crisis.

  “You are both correct in the legalities, of course,” Esharah forced herself to reply. “Ambassador, you did not notice anything amiss before the governor showed symptoms?”

  She was less interested in the bumbling, nervous replies than in the emotions spilling off of him, ones she could read without any intrusion into his mind. Fear, of course. That was natural after seeing a governor nearly die in full view. There was a wish there too. A desire to be far, far away from Northstar. None of those emotions were evidence of a crime.

  “You’re no inquisitor,” Captain Tovran interrupted the ambassador’s stammering reply. “You’re not with Northstar at all. Why is someone of the Hellfrost delegation trying to interrogate us?”

  Esharah kept her face impassive, but the accusation stung. “I am acting on the authority of Executor Aelia Etrani, who is currently presiding over the gathering in Governor Iraias’ absence. The authority has been recognized by Magistrate Camus. Madame Truthteller has requested my assistance in this investigation.”

  “Should be investigating your voidtouched them,” the captain spoke the word “voidtouched” with a venom that made Esharah flinch. “The man’s an assassin who already tried to attack one person at the conference. He’s the most obvious suspect.”

  “Aven Arvanius was not attending today’s meetings,” Esharah replied. “We know exactly where he’s been for all this time. His innocence is undeniable.”

  “Innocence.” Another word dripping with disdain. “Man’s a known murderer.”

  “Hardly the only one in Northstar,” Esharah replied. “And not the only one at this gathering.”

  Something about the captain’s animosity gave her pause. This wasn’t just a general distaste towards Aven. The captain’s vitriol held something deeper...

  “Keep your damn powers out of my head,” the captain’s face twisted with rage.

  “Apologies,” Esharah quickly withdrew. Gods, it was so easy to slip back into it. The assumption that anyone’s mind was an open book for her to read at will. The habit of an inquisitor, one she’d promised herself she would break. And now, in front of a witness who already disliked her, she’d revealed that she couldn’t even keep a promise to herself.

  “You think I’m too harsh on the voidtouched?” Legatus Tovran thrust out his chin. “That’s only because you don’t know the caliber of man he murdered.”

  So there was the connection.

  “You knew his father?” Esharah surmised.

  “12th legion,” Tovran slapped his armored chest, right by the sigil of his legion. “I joined under Legatus Gaius Arvanius’ command. I saw his work. He was a hero. A paragon of Courage and Loyalty. And Septentrion pardoned his murderer. A voidtouched bastard who’s defiled House Arvanius’ name.” The legate’s face was tight with anger. “If you ever wished Tenebras would believe your words, you shouldn’t have been foolish enough to stand alongside a traitor and a patricide.”

  It was as firm a rejection as Esharah could imagine. Tenebras wouldn’t cooperate at all. Not their legate or their ambassador at least.

  Esharah forced the subject away from Aven. “I would like to speak to everyone else from the Tenebras delegation present at the party. Particularly Helena Arvanius-Follis and Hanion vis Dreamweaver.”

  “Neither were at the party, as it happens,” the ambassador supplied. “L-Lady Helena has been unwell and remained at the guesthouse today. Hanion vis Dreamweaver has been caring for her. Your own servants can affirm that both have been at the guesthouse all day.”

  Which meant little when a Dreamweaver could simply deceive the servants. Or simply project his powers into others’ minds while his body remained at the guesthouse. The excuse was plausible. Too plausible. And it had the convenient effect of absolving both from any scrutiny at the scene of the crime.

  “Thank you for your time, ambassador,” Esharah turned away, mind already spinning.

  Instinct told her that the Tenebras delegation held the answers. But she couldn’t push further, not when too much pressure on any one pillar of the conference could collapse the entire thing. She had to withdraw for now.

  There were other suspicions to investigate.

  * * *

  Esharah found Governor Roshan of Frelund outside the guesthouse, conversing with Egor vis Golqan.

  “Treating us like godsdamned criminals,” Governor Roshan growled, pacing about like a caged tiger.”

  “It’s for your protection, Governor,” Egor vis Golqan boomed, massive arms folded in front of him.

  Governor Roshan barked a laugh, “Our protection, eh? If you could protect us, why’s your governor the one choking on his own vomit?”

  Egor’s chest swelled, and Esharah rushed in before a proper shouting match could start.

  “Governor Roshan,” Esharah approached, painting a smile on her face. “Executor Etrani has tasked me with investigating the party. If you saw anything-“

  “I wasn’t anywhere near Skal Iraias,” Governor Roshan interrupted. “Didn’t see a damned thing until the shouting started. You can take your investigations elsewhere.”

  Similarly uncooperative. Fine. Esharah could handle a direct style.

  “I’m investigating a person of interest among your delegation,” Esharah said. “He gave his name as Aurelio.”

  Governor Roshan started at the name. His eyes narrowed, thick grey brows furrowing like a canyon in his craggy face.

  “Aurelio,” the governor repeated.

  Esharah felt the flicker of surprise before the governor hid it away.

  “A tall man,” Esharah described. “Sign of flaming golden hair-“

  “I know damn well who you’re talking about,” Governor Roshan interrupted again. “You saw him here?”

  “Is that surprising?” Esharah asked, observing carefully. His emotions were controlled. Not as controlled as Governor Iraias’. She could sense flickers if she focused.

  Governor Roshan grunted. “You’ll find no information of use here. Whoever poisoned the governor wasn’t part of Frelund’s delegation.”

  “And is the man called Aurelio included among your delegation?” Esharah asked.

  “I can guarantee he had nothing to do with Skal Iraias’ poisoning,” Governor Roshan said. “His presence here isn’t something you should worry out. There’s matters above an inquisitor.”

  Governor Roshan turned and strode off without another word, slamming the guesthouse door shut behind him.

  Egor vis Golqan watched the exchange with faint consternation.

  “Who is the man you’re looking for?” he asked.

  “A stranger who introduced himself at the party,” Esharah replied. “Who claimed to have come from Frelund, despite Governor Roshan’s objections.”

  “Bah,” Egor vis Golqan shook his head. “Lies abound at these conferences. I’d rather be out smashing mountains. At least an avalanche is honest about wanting to crush people.”

  Esharah couldn’t agree more. There were too many moving pieces to solve the entire puzzle. She needed something to start.

  She’d spoken with Aven already. Heard his theory that Helena was a shield. If that was the case, then whoever Hanion chose as his dagger would be separate from the two of them entirely. Someone who could move freely and had access to the wine. Which meant someone not associated with Tenebras at all, but instead part of Governor Iraias’ own staff. A servant. A cook. A guard. Too many possibilities.

  She had to take a step back. Find the moment the wine had been poisoned. That at least gave a trail to follow.

  Esharah left the Frelund guesthouse to find the server who’d handled the wine.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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