Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [167]
“You look as if you need help,” Jeryd suggested.
“I … I have some information,” she said eventually, and sat down. “It’s serious. I feel I need to … confess. But I don’t know how you’ll react and I’m scared that he’ll come to get me.” The gaze she fixed on him then was deeply penetrating. “I’m so frightened. I’ve no one else to turn to. You must be the only person in this city who I can trust—you seem like such a genuine man.”
Jeryd laid his dark-skinned hand on hers, and she felt peculiarly tender. “You can trust me.” He walked to the door, locked it, then started a fire to get the room warm again. He pulled his chair around the desk so he was next to her, wanting her to know he was on her side. “Tell me what’s wrong. You said someone was after you?”
She sobbed fearfully. “I escaped him, at least for now.”
“Who?” Jeryd tried to meet her eyes, but she kept looking away from him, to the floor, to the desk, to the walls.
“Your ‘aide,’ Tryst.”
Jeryd leaned back with a shocked frown. “Go on.”
She began to tell him everything that had transpired over recent weeks: how Tryst approached her, the drugs he used to subdue her, the beatings once the drugs wore off, her uncanny ability to bring to life creatures through her art, how Tryst had abused that secret by demanding a clone of Jeryd’s wife so as to play a cruel trick on the investigator. And in the stunned silence you could hear the crack of wood splitting on the fire as it burned. “He hated you to an extent. I think he just wanted to teach you a lesson for something. It was obvious you didn’t know what he was up to, and since you seemed to be his enemy, I thought you could help.”
His enemy? Jeryd thought morosely.
And then, reluctantly, she confessed to the murders of the two councilors, thus revealing the key piece of information that Jeryd had suspected, but had no proof of—the diabolical plan devised by members of the Council itself to eliminate thousands of the refugees.
About a million thoughts raced through Jeryd’s mind. His world had suddenly become so much more confusing, so much more dangerous. He realized that Marysa hadn’t actually cheated on him. It was this “clone” that he had witnessed. Despite the surge of relief, in that moment the guilt of his subsequent actions became unbearable.
“Investigator?” Tuya prompted.
He faced her. “Forgive me, Miss Daluud. You’ve given me such a huge quantity of information that not only affects myself but this entire city, this Empire. But you say Tryst may be coming after you.”
“Yes … he humiliated me and beat me.” Then she collapsed into sobbing, burying her head in her palms. It didn’t seem natural for a woman previously radiating such confidence, such strength.
Jeryd clasped her hands in his own. “Tell me everything again—absolutely everything you remember.”
The specific details regarding the actual slaughter of the refugees were limited, and Tuya could give only one other name at the center of the conspiracy. Chancellor Urtica, it seemed, was setting the pace on this matter, although the actual means of achieving this remained uncertain. Jeryd realized he would have to alert others within the Inquisition—but only a select few he could trust. If this went to the top of the city’s ruling hierarchy, who else might be involved? Could he risk informing his superiors? Or should he handle this on his own? Either way, what would be the consequences? Regarding Tuya herself, should he arrest her or let her free? Tryst would soon find her again, and Jeryd now saw his subordinate in a chilling new light. He realized that he would have to hide her away somewhere safe, for now. For her own good. But she has committed murder. Yet it seemed she had killed the councilors to prevent the slaughter of thousands of innocents. Sometimes this city was so sinister, so complicated, he wished he could leave it completely.
He made up his mind. “Don’t worry about anything. For the moment, you’ll be safe. I’ll take care of that but I’ll need your help.”
Jeryd had decided to allow Tuya to stay at his house in the Kaiho