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By Root 922 0

against a brick wall. No one would tell him anything. After that initial lead of something involving the refugees, there was nothing to go on and Jeryd was beginning to feel depressed. And it seemed Tryst couldn’t find out much about Tuya, either, despite tracking her for so long. Tomorrow Jeryd thought that he might go and interview her again himself. But suddenly tonight, Jeryd began to trust his aide a little more. The man made the effort to spend time in his company, and he had been loyal in his work in recent months. Maybe they could put the whole promotion business behind them, and carry on like they used to. Maybe Jeryd was being too harsh on him, too paranoid.

“I suspect something,” Jeryd said, “that’s not related to the murder of the councilors.”

“Go on,” he replied.

He paused as the girl brought the teas, and the pastry menu for Tryst. He took only a moment to point to a couple of the choices, then she walked away.

“You know the Ovinists?” Jeryd asked.

Tryst held his gaze for a moment. “Yes, I do … well, I know of them, anyway. Why?”

“They’re a weird little cult with some strange plans it seems. They’re banned, of course, being an alternative religion.”

“Except on Priests’ Day,” Tryst reminded him.

“Yes, except then. Anyway, I found some documents while searching their offices, and I think that Boll and Ghuda could have both been practicing members.”

“What was it you found?” Tryst looked suddenly interested.

“I found a message to one of the councilors from someone in that organization.” Jeryd leaned forward, keeping his voice down. “It hinted at a massacre. Thousands of refugees would be slaughtered. It’s a plan that seems to have been cooking for some time.”

Tryst was frowning. “That sounds … just too crazy. No one would allow it.”

“Don’t be too sure. Remember we live in unusual times. These murders in the Council. All sorts of strange rumors from abroad, too.”

At that moment, the waitress returned with Tryst’s selection, and he commenced eating.

Jeryd sipped his tea, and went on. “What I’m saying is that anything can happen, and Villjamur’s got a checkered and violent history. A massacre of its own people wouldn’t be at all out of place.”

Tryst remained a bit quiet for Jeryd’s liking. Just then Tryst stopped eating. His eyes suddenly widened as he gazed over Jeryd’s shoulder.

Jeryd turned, and there she was, his wife, Marysa, sitting at a table with another rumel. They were holding hands—he could see it in the dim candlelight and her face was full of joy and interest. Her companion was some smooth bastard with white hair slicked to one side. Jeryd didn’t want to believe it.

He made as if to stand up, but Tryst grabbed his sleeve, shook his head. “Jeryd, I know what you’re thinking, but you don’t know anything yet, and also think of your reputation among the Inquisition—”

“To hell with my reputation,” he growled, but his resolve weakened. Jeryd took several deep breaths, and sat back down to watch the couple more closely.

It was her all right, Marysa, laughing eagerly at his jokes and flashing him glances once reserved for Jeryd. The way he touched her hands, the way she flirted with him in return. He pressed his lips against her fingers as she held them to his mouth. The look of anticipation in his eyes, the promise of something Jeryd assumed was only for himself.

Jeryd glanced at Tryst, who shook his head firmly, though he had been watching them, too. “Drink some tea.”

“You think a fucking cup of tea’s going to make me feel better?” People nearby looked their way.

“No,” he said quietly, “remember, Jeryd, you’re a gentleman and a fine investigator of long standing. You’re not going to blow all that in a fit of jealous rage in a public place.”

Tryst made a quick hand movement across Jeryd’s drink.

After a few minutes where he could feel a strange rage take charge of his body, Jeryd stormed out of the tearoom and left Tryst alone there. Into the Villjamur night, skidding on the ice sheet so that he fell flat on his face. His tears fell onto the ice.

Jeryd made it home, eventually, with