Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(13)

If that were true, then why did the citizens of Kingfountain also suffer from it? Their air is far cleaner than ours. To test the spore theory, I have performed two studies. First, I’ve used Leerings to establish a connection between the hospital and the sky manor Fog Willows. These Leerings transport air from the manor’s altitude to the Fells—specifically, the hospital. I do this for the sickrooms, for those suffering and dying from the disease. No improvement in the patients has been noted, other than a general observation that the hospital smells nicer.

The other experiment I conducted was among cesspit workers. Those who dig out the deep latrines beneath the tenements. I imaged that their population would be the most susceptible to the cholera morbus, as they work primarily in the dark underground, which has the most noxious air.

I could not find a single case of the cholera morbus among these lowliest of laborers. Nor did I catch the disease myself from being there.

—Adam Creigh, Killingworth Hospital





SERA





CHAPTER FIVE

RETRIBUTION



Sera had seen Lord Welles in all his guises. Smug, indulgent, grandfatherly. He could also be cunning, urbane, and vengeful. The look on his face as he entered the council room that evening was all wariness. His cunning eyes went from face to face, noting the identities of those assembled. It was not the full privy council, just the four other ministers—Lord Scott, Minister of Thought; Lord Halifax, Minister of Law; Lord Prentice, Minister of Wind; and Mr. Durrant, the prime minister—and Sera herself.

The door shut behind him, but Sera caught a glimpse of the officers of Law who’d fetched him from his manor in Lockhaven before it closed.

Lord Welles’s hair was fully gray now, and he’d lost some of his vigor, but he was no less imposing.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, striding into the room with a persona of power. He’d been prime minister himself multiple times.

“If you’ll take your seat, Richard,” Durrant said, indicating a chair, “we can begin.”

“Why were officers of Law sent to bring me to a council meeting?” Welles said. “And at such an hour.” He put his hands on the table. His eyes darted to Sera. Did he suspect what she now knew?

“Sit down, Richard,” said Allanom Scott, his expression quite severe.

A sheen of sweat had formed on Welles’s brow. Whatever he was feeling, Sera knew it wasn’t pleasant, but he didn’t hesitate to take his seat.

It was late evening. The empire had brought the war to Kingfountain, and so most of the fighting happened while the empire was asleep. She was weary and tired from the previous days and weeks and months of strenuous work, but this meeting—this reckoning—was long overdue.

Mr. Durrant walked over to a nearby table where two Leerings had been positioned, covered by a sheet. After lifting off the sheet, he hefted one of them—each weighed at least twenty pounds—and carried it over to where Lord Welles sat. The former prime minister looked shocked at first, for these particular Leerings were rarely brought out in public, but his expression settled into a grimace that matched that of the stern stone face in front of him. Mr. Durrant then shifted his attention to the other Leering, which bore the guise of the first empress, Maia, and moved it in front of Sera. The magnitude of the occasion seemed to be weighing heavily on Welles. His brows were creased and his look full of determination.

“Put your hands on the Leering in front of you, if you please,” said Durrant, folding his arms and staring imperiously at Lord Welles.

The Minister of War snorted, leaning back in the chair, as if the Leerings were radiating uncomfortable heat. “What is this about, Durrant? Revenge?”

Sera reached out and put her hand on the one in front of her. The stone was cool to the touch. Comforting. It was her connection to all the leaders who had served before her.

“There are some questions that you must answer,” Sera said in a dignified, formal tone. “And they must be answered truthfully.”

He met her gaze, his lip twitching slightly. “What do you expect you will find, Empress?”

She met his steely eyes with her own firmness. She’d sent thousands of soldiers to their deaths during the war. She’d wept on her pillow until she couldn’t breathe. She was no longer the child this man had manipulated and condemned. She’d seen firsthand what could happen when someone in power trusted the wrong person. The King and Queen of Kingfountain had died for their mistake with General Montpensier.

“Put your hand on the Leering,” she ordered him.

How it must have galled Richard Welles to be forced to obey. Nevertheless, he raised his hand and set it on the stone. His eyes locked with hers as she invoked its power, binding the two Leerings together. His forearm trembled as the magic seized it. He would not be able to let go until she released him.

“Proceed, Mr. Durrant,” Sera said.

“State your true name for the council of peers. I command you to speak truthfully, on pain of death. May the Mysteries enforce this measure.”

Sera had every confidence they would, having seen someone else suffer the ultimate price for lying while touching the Leering. For some people, death was preferable to an uncomfortable truth.

“Richard Foulton Welles,” said the former prime minister disdainfully.

“Are you or have you ever been an agent of General Leon Montpensier or an Espion of Kingfountain?”