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The Infernus Master was chatting with Evanelia. Again.
Heinrix narrowed his eyes as Monteg rolled up his sleeve to show her one of his numerous tattoos.
It wasn’t just that Monteg was acting entirely too familiar with the Lord Captain, a woman well above his station — though he was doing that, and for once Heinrix almost understood Abelard’s dismay over breaches of protocol. No, it was more than that. It was the Infernus’ extraordinary knack for always happening to be in the same place as Evanelia, no matter the circumstance.
It was one thing when he was on the bridge performing leadership duties. That was to be expected.
When they crossed paths around the railway on the lower decks, it was a coincidence, but not a shocking or noteworthy one. Nothing Heinrix could fault him for. (Even if the Infernus had taken the opportunity to get scandalously close to Evanelia as he showed her the machine’s operation, standing right behind her, his arms at one point caging her in as he reached past to adjust the controls. Even if there had been an infuriating gleam in his eyes when he spoke about the machine as if it were a living creature, in tones that suggested his admiration might not be reserved exclusively for the locomotive.) He was an Infernus. Of course he would attend to engine-related matters from time to time.
When the Infernus happened to be one of the first to respond to an unexpected danger, it was a small miracle. Heinrix could hardly complain when that miracle saved the Lord Captain’s life.
But then the small miracles just kept coming. Every time Evanelia was in danger, every time some new twist emerged in the bloody bath investigation, he was there, without fail, before anyone else got wind of it. And his arrival never seemed to be the result of a well oiled emergency response force reacting swiftly to threats. The Infernus always had an air of perplexed relief that he had stumbled into the right place at the right time, like he was some wide eyed farmhand from a backwater planet. Time after time, he “just happened” to be there.
Heinrix wasn’t naive enough to believe such an impossible series of coincidences. And now it had happened again, only this time there was no calamity. Monteg’s lunch hour had just so happened to coincide with when the Lord Captain and several of the bridge officers decided to eat.
His jaw clenched further as he saw the man offer Evanelia a lho stick. (Does she even smoke?) Heinrix’s temples and forehead were beginning to ache slightly. It’s like he’s trying to insinuate himself in her affairs. To wriggle closer to her so he has access to… something.
“Ay, Master van Calox! Such venom in your eyes! If I could but distill a single drop of such venom, it would make the bite of the most fearsome and deadly serpent of Efreet seem as gentle and pleasant as a caress.” Jae sidled closer, following his gaze. “Now what could the poor Infernus Master have done to deserve such ire?”
His headache grew worse by the minute.
He allowed himself a brief moment of biomancy, the air around him chilling slightly as he soothed the irritated nerves and coaxed the muscle fibers to relax.
“Mistress Heydari,” he said, turning away from the Lord Captain and the Infernus Master to focus solely on the glittering pirate before him. He kept his voice neutral and at a low volume. He desperately did not want to draw attention to the conversation, or his ongoing observation of Monteg. “Is there something you wished to discuss?”
He realized a moment too late that he had given an asinine stock response that was incongruous with the question asked.
“Oh, I see. Is it some great secret? Some grand Inquisitorial investigation of anyone who dares speak to the Lord Captain?”
His lips narrowed to a thin line. “I do not investigate anyone who speaks to the Lord Captain.” He skewered a potato on his fork. “Only those who appear to have supernatural luck when it comes to being the first one present at the scene every time the Lord Captain is involved in something dangerous.”
Jae smiled knowingly. “Ahhh,” she said, sitting. (He did not recall inviting her to do so.) “Well that is no mystery at all. I think it should be quite obvious, this explanation.”
“Enlighten me.”
She leaned in across the table. “What other reason could there be for a dashing, rugged man such as him to find every excuse to swoop in and rescue a beautiful creature such as her? What else could drive him to attend her every move as religiously as a devotee at the foot of the Golden Throne, to be so fiercely aware of her presence at all times?”
She lowered her voice.
“He burns for her,” she said.
Heinrix snorted. “Is that what you think?”
“Is it really such an outlandish suggestion?” Jae asked, sounding almost offended on Evanelia’s behalf. “Surely you’ve noticed the stares. Or the lingering glances when she travels incognito.”
Of course he had. He’d be a poor excuse for an Interrogator if he hadn’t. He was always on the lookout for people watching them. He noticed them. Most of them he quickly filtered out. It would be a waste of time to analyze every bystander who had the natural, obvious reaction to someone who had her status or looked like she did. He only took note of the ones who seemed unduly interested in her.
“I don’t discount the possibility that our Infernus Master harbors an interest in the Lord Captain. What I question is how that interest would give him the knowledge or ability to appear instantaneously the moment anything goes wrong on this ship and she happens to be involved.”
“Have you truly never experienced it? When longing for someone so consumes you that it bleeds into every waking thought? Where there lives a compass in the back of your head that points always to them? Where the mere possibility that you might be graced by their presence sets every nerve alight with hope, amplifying every sound and every sense that might alert you to their presence?”
Heinrix’s scowl deepened. “No,” he said flatly.
He deliberately looked elsewhere in the room. If Mistress Heydari had noticed his investigation, he was being too obvious. He needed to vary his line of sight.
Cassia was nearby and provided a suitable subject of study.
Unfortunately, no sooner had he looked at her than she looked up from her book to meet his gaze. She tilted her head in puzzlement… then said something to her manservant, stood, and approached Heinrix’s table.
“Alas,” Jae sighed, oblivious to his predicament. “Well then, you should know that in such cases it is common for hopeful lovers to create their own kismet and go out of their way to cross paths. They will find an excuse to take a different route on their walk, make arrangements to work a different shift, happen to have something their paramour needs…”
Yes, but that would all require the would-be lover to know their subject’s movements. I have informants and surveillance equipment at key junctions of the ship, and even I don’t know her exact location all the time. But there was no need to disclose any more than he already had about his investigative procedures. So he simply nodded and pretended to listen as Jae prattled on. She was truly in her element: spinning sordid tall tales, waxing poetic, and embellishing every anecdote beyond all recognition.
Cassia did not interrupt when she reached the table. She sat down without a word, resting her chin on her hand. Jae quickly included her in the circle, clearly delighted to have an audience member with some appetite for romantic stories (though Heinrix guessed that Jae’s other amorous tales would make Cassia blush redder than her eyes). By the Throne’s blessing, Jae had enough good sense to speak at a controlled volume and not draw anyone else’s attention or be overheard – at least until she had transitioned away from the original topic of conversation to idle chatter.
Eventually Jae grew bored and spotted Idira entering the room, and went off to chat with her.
Cassia spoke a moment after Jae had left. “I do not agree with Mistress Heydari’s assessment of the matter,” she said, with a surprising degree of assuredness.
“Oh?”
She shook her head. “The communal areas of the ship are a swarm of different colors, so it can be difficult to discern an individual’s colors unless they are particularly strong or distinctive. But I have never noticed the Infernus Master’s colors stand out in a crowd, nor grow more vivid in the Lord Captain’s presence.”
He sipped his drink thoughtfully, a choice he quickly regretted when Cassia went on.
“Or at least, not the way yours have.”
He coughed, quickly tapping into the Immaterium to soothe the irritation in his throat before he drew unnecessary attention to himself. He turned to Cassia quizzically once he settled.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Cassia? To which colors are you referring?”
“Yours,” she repeated. “When you’re with the Lord Captain. The cold blue frost thaws in a warming glow of lavender and dusky pink hues that erupt into a riot of orange and amber. I glimpse a brilliant flash of gold that crests the horizon before settling into a rosy blanket that softens everything it touches.”
She peered at him, visibly confused, as she took in his look of abject horror – or perhaps she had noticed some change in his colors.
“I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I’ve said something wrong, haven’t I?”
“No, you… It’s not your fault, Lady Cassia, it couldn’t be helped.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Have you told anyone else about these… colors you’ve observed?”
She averted her eyes. “No, I usually keep my observations to myself. I’ve been told people find it unnerving when I use my abilities on them.” She looked at him again, almost furtively this time. “Although… unnerved does not seem the right word for you, Master van Calox. There is a strangeness to your colors… You are embarrassed.” Her eyes lit up as the realization dawned on her. “You are embarrassed. Why is that? Is it a secret?”
“Lady Cassia, when someone is embarrassed – if they are embarrassed – it is usually about a matter they would prefer not to discuss,” he explained pointedly. “Something shameful or personal.” Something they have been actively trying to avoid thinking about.
“I see,” she said, sounding deflated. She sighed and smiled sadly. “That is a pity. But I will refrain from remarking on your colors in the future unless you ask.”
“I would greatly appreciate that.”
Belatedly, his mind caught up with what she had said. A pity? Why? What about it is a pity?
Before he had even followed the train of thought to its logical conclusion, Cassia cut in.
“I am under strict orders not to speak of the Lord Captain’s colors to others,” she said, “or answer any questions that may involve them.”
“Yes, of course. How did you know I–”
“Yellow-green buds of curiosity sprouted around you.”
Now he was unnerved. “I see why the Lord Captain would be wary of sharing your insights about her frame of mind with others. You would make an invaluable agent of the Inquisition.”
“You are too kind, Master van Calox.”
They sat there in awkward silence for a few moments. He didn’t know what to say. What was one supposed to say in such a situation? When she had just revealed… whatever feelings she had uncovered. (He dared not put a name to them.)
He rose from his seat and bowed slightly. “I must return to my duties. Thank you for your conversation. It was enlightening.”
Cassia inclined her head in the seated equivalent of a curtsy. “Likewise.”
He found that his heart was pounding as he left. Cassia was an honorable lady. He trusted her to keep her word and keep his colors quiet.
But he still felt a sting of embarrassment as he left the room. He could have sworn that he heard Lady Cassia sigh dreamily before she returned to her reading.