A House Divided by Nicole Ciacchella (the giving tree read aloud txt) 📕

"An Movis, with me," Burl said, crooking her finger at him.

"The Healers have a report for us?" he asked.

"Yes, then we're scheduled to meet with the Elders and the Stowley family at the enclave."

"Will the Stowley family be up to speaking with us?"

She cast a sidelong glance his way, and he thought he might have detected a hint of approval at his delicacy with regard to the family. "They'll have to be. Word about the advisor's death won't stay secret for long, and the Elders will want to ensure that no misinformation is spread about."

It was a rather ridiculous statement. She knew as well as Kila that it wouldn't matter how carefully the House managed the message. Rumors could and would spread throughout the city. If the situation were remotely like the chief had suggested, the rumors were likely to be of the vicious variety. Kila didn't place much stock in rumors as a general rule, but he would keep an ear to the ground. Something of use might find its way into the grapevine.

"Officer Burl, Officer an Movis," the chief said, inclining her head at them as she fell into step beside them. Burl's mouth turned down at the corners, but she could hardly protest. Given the sensitive nature of the incident and Stowley's high-ranking status, it would have been odd for the chief not to be involved in their inquiry.

"Chief Flim, Officers Burl and an Movis," the Chief Anatomical Examiner greeted them, nodding. He looked weary, and Kila suspected he'd been there the whole night conducting his examination.

"Good morning, Maxim," the chief replied. "What do you have for us?"

"I'm ruling it a death by suicide," the examiner said, not wasting any time. "I found no signs of trauma or struggle, nor any injuries inconsistent with the minor abrasions the victim would have suffered as a result of his fall. Death was caused by sophoria overdose. The internal examination provided evidence consistent with this diagnosis, and the Apothecist confirms that the vial contained sophoria."

Sophoria was a common enough plant extract that was often used to treat severe and persistent headaches. They would have to look into the advisor's health, but Kila was certain they would find that Stowley had suffered from headaches and had been advised by his personal Healer to use sophoria to relieve his symptoms.

That does nothing to support murder suspicions, but, then, poisoning the man with a drug he was known to have used would also be a clever way to cover up the crime.

"Thank you, Maxim," the chief said. He grunted and didn't bother hiding his yawn. "Go home and get some sleep."

Krozemund waved a hand at them as he disappeared into his office, and the chief led them to the stairs.

"We'd best get to the enclave," she said. "We can wrap this up by this afternoon, leave the House in peace."

"The Elders will appreciate that," Burl said.

"Terrible business," the chief commented.

They didn't say anything more as they took a carriage to the enclave. Burl appeared satisfied with the information they'd received. Kila couldn't tell how the chief felt about it, but she hadn't tried anything even as small as catching his eye, so she was either satisfied that this was a suicide or she was keeping her doubts to herself.

A gray drizzle had descended on the city, as if even the skies were mourning Toran Stowley's passing. For all Kila knew, they were. "Borne in by the waters and borne out by the waters," was a famous Seafarer expression, and perhaps the only people whose faith for the Lord of Water was as devout as that of the Seafarers' was the Agromancers'. Both groups lived, died, prospered, or failed at the whim of Cearus, so it was not inconceivable that Cearus himself might be mourning the passing of one of his most faithful.

The cobbles were slick with rain, and it was slow going through the streets. They reached the enclave without incident, and the stone façades that had struck Kila with their gracious beauty the day before were now rendered somber. Rain was no deterrent to House Staerleigh, a good number of whose members spent most of their time in some degree of dampness, so the weather alone wouldn't have kept them indoors. Judging by the drawn curtains, the empty streets, and the strange quiet of the enclave, it would seem that word was already out.

They arrived at the Stowley manor and were admitted by a butler. Several people sat in the drawing room, the widow amongst them, but Captain Stowley was nowhere in sight.

"Chief Flim, Officers," Moiria said. She appeared more composed and alert than she had the previous night, though her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, her face and lips colorless. She wore a green gown so dark it was almost black, without any adornment, making the pallor of her skin stand out in stark relief. Her hair was in a severe knot, pulled so tightly against her head that it tugged at the skin of her temples.

"Might we speak in private?" the chief asked her.

Moiria nodded and excused herself from the others in the sitting room, leading them deeper into the house, into a small library.

"I appreciate your discretion," she said as she closed the doors behind them. "They're all members of my family and Toran's, but I should prefer to break the news to them myself."

The chief nodded. Hearing about a loved one's suicide from a family member or friend was difficult enough, let alone hearing it from an Enforcer.

"We're sorry to trouble you," the chief said. "We need to ask you a few more questions so we can complete our report. The inquiry will be closed later this afternoon, your husband's death having been definitively ruled a suicide."

Moiria's composure rippled, her face crumbling. "How am I to feel about such news? Is it possible to be relieved that a loved one died by their own hand rather than by that of another?"

"I wish I could answer that for you, Advisor Stowley," the chief said gently.

"Advisor, did your husband have any illnesses or other chronic conditions?" Burl asked.

"He began suffering from headaches a few years back. His Healer said they were brought on by stress and overwork, and that there was nothing physically wrong with him. She suggested he use sophoria to ease the effects whenever he found the headaches debilitating. Our Apothecist made the powder for him. I know that's what he took to— I recognized the vial."

"We're very sorry," Burl said.

Taking a shuddering breath, Moiria nodded. "I hope he finds in Cearus's embrace the peace he sought. Will my husband's remains be returned to us soon, so that we might bury him?"

"I've made arrangements for him to be returned in a few hours' time," the chief said.

"Thank you."

"Please give our condolences to Captain Stowley as well," Burl said.

"Thank you, I shall," Moiria said, with a tremulous smile. "I'm afraid he's indisposed at the moment."

"We shan't trouble you further," the chief said.

"I'll show you out."

Back in the carriage, the chief said, "Burl, I won't assign you and an Movis any new cases for the next few days, in case House Staerleigh should have need of you."

"Yes, Chief," Burl said, nodding.

The chief left them at the station doors, and Kila trailed Burl back to their desks. "Anything in particular you need me to do?" he asked her.

"No. I'll handle the report. You should take the time to continue to familiarize yourself with House Staerleigh and our current cases."

Summarily dismissed. Burl's wanting to handle the report didn't surprise him. No doubt she would see to it that the wording was done so delicately as not to offend House Staerleigh in any way. Still, he would have to make a point to get his hands on it, to go over everything in minute detail, try to determine if anything stood out.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Kila remained at his desk after Burl left, scheming to devise a way he might get hold of the report without Burl's hearing about it. Try as he might, he came up with nothing and reluctantly left an hour later.

Turned out he needn't have bothered. He was about to head down his street when someone hissed at him from an alleyway. Glancing about to ensure no one was watching, he slipped into its shadows.

"Chief Flim," he said, surprised. He'd expected to see Miss Wyland.

"The report on Stowley's suicide," the chief said, handing him a leather pouch speckled with rain.

"Any reason I should be suspicious?"

"Not as far as I can tell," she said, frowning. "Keep your eyes open, though, Kila. Things will be shifting in Staerleigh, and until we see where the pieces fall, we won't have much to go on. Stay as close to Burl as you can."

"Will do. Anything else I ought to be aware of?"

She shook her head and turned up the collar of her greatcoat, concealing the lower part of her face. "Watch yourself." She disappeared down the alley, Kila staring after her.

Good advice. If only I knew who I needed to watch out for.

Chapter 13

"No," Lach said in a voice so hoarse it was almost unintelligible. "No more." He turned his head away, refusing the draught Cianne was supposed to be administering. He had refused to take his previous doses from anyone other than her, but he'd taken them dutifully enough earlier in the day.

"Lach, your mother said—"

"Since when have you cared what my mother says?" he asked, the words coming out in short gasps. She was shocked. The tension between his mother and Cianne was something about which they had never spoken. Cianne knew Lach had noticed it, but she also knew he had chosen to ignore it as a means of telling her that he couldn't care less about his mother's disapproval.

"Fair enough," she said, setting the draught aside. He was exhausted and overwrought, and she didn't know if he'd made the comment as a joke or if he was angry with her for some reason. His emotions had been volatile the entire day, though she suspected the sedative was exacerbating the problem. It made him fall asleep for hours on end, but he was fitful and combative whenever it began to wear off.

"So thirsty," he said, panting.

Cianne poured him a glass of water and he drained it, holding the glass out to her. She refilled it and he drained that one as well.

"The sedative?" she asked.

"Think so. Don't want to be drugged anymore," he said, anger darkening his face. "She think she can drug this away for me?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure anyone knows what they're doing at the moment." Tears sprang to Cianne's eyes and she brushed them away.

"He's gone," Lach said, his voice breaking. He started to sob, but quietly this time.

"I'm sorry, Lach. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," Cianne said, putting her arms around him. Face pressed against her neck, he cried for a while. She rested her cheek against his hair, wetting it with her own tears.

"He didn't do this, Cianne," Lach said at last, when his tears were spent. He pulled away from her, sagging back against his pillows.

"Lach—" she began in a gentle tone.

"No! Don't you dare talk to me the way she does!"

The force of his anger took her aback, and she kept a wary eye fixed on him as she sat back in her chair, which a servant had placed next to the side of his bed, hours ago. It felt more like days. She