Chapter 35
For several seconds, there was no sound in the chamber except the three of them breathing and the faint creak of the oil lamps that continued to burn.
The icon of Christ Pantokrator on the wall behind seemed to share the silence, to hold its breath, to await what the supreme commander of the Byzantine army would say.
And when Adrianos finally opened his mouth, his voice was not what they had expected.
He laughed, a cynical laugh that echoed through the vast room, a laugh filled with contempt and condescension, a laugh that declared he considered all of this an unamusing joke.
"So," he said between bursts of laughter that had yet to subside, "you found a strand of golden thread at the crime scene.
A golden thread with fine weaving and a bluish-purple dye produced only by the imperial workshop at Mangana.
And because of that, because of a tiny thread that might have been left behind by a palace servant on duty, or perhaps carried by the wind from an open palace window, or perhaps deliberately planted by someone wishing to frame another, you intend to make me, Megas Domestikos Adrianos Komnenos, supreme commander of the Byzantine army, a suspect?"
His laughter grew louder, more cynical, more insulting.
"I once thought that when the Emperor appointed you as investigators, there must have been a reason why he chose two foreigners unknown to anyone in this city.
Perhaps you were geniuses, I thought.
Perhaps you possessed special abilities that the palace investigators, who have failed to solve this case for months, did not have.
But it seems…"
He shook his head, performing an exaggerated display of disappointment flawlessly.
"It seems you are merely incompetent investigators who cannot distinguish between real evidence and mere coincidence.
The Emperor valued you too highly. Truly, I am disappointed."
And yet there, in the midst of Adrianos' cynical laughter and insults, Nirma smiled.
Not the faint smile from before, not the diplomatic smile she had shown the Prefect's soldiers or the merchants in the market.
This was different, strange, a smile so wide that her usually calm and controlled face transformed into something difficult to identify.
Her lips parted, revealing a row of neat white teeth, her cheek lifting nearly to cover her single eye, and across her face spread an expression no one could easily interpret.
Was she smiling from delight?
Was she smiling in mockery of Adrianos' insult?
Was she smiling from madness?
Or was she smiling because she knew something no one else in the room knew?
In the dim chamber, lit only by oil lamps beginning to fade and large candles slowly melting in every corner, Nirma's smile remained wide upon her face, strange and unsettling, a smile that made Adrianos Komnenos feel something he had never felt in decades of leading wars and confronting the most dangerous enemies in the world.
It did not convey joy, nor victory, nor mockery, and perhaps that was precisely why it was so disturbing, so impossible to decipher, so capable of raising the hairs on one's neck even though no cold wind blew through the room.
And when Nirma finally spoke, when words began to flow from her lips still curved in that smile, Adrianos felt that something immense, something terrible, something that would change everything, was unfolding.
"First," Nirma said, her voice soft yet sharp like the tip of a dagger slipped between ribs, "the golden thread we found at the Kapeleion crime scene, Your Excellency, is identical to the sagion uniform you yourself wear.
The short military cloak embroidered with gold along the edges of its sleeves, produced only by the imperial workshop at Mangana, worn exclusively by the highest officials in this palace.
I have examined it carefully, compared its weave, observed the bluish-purple dye still clinging to its golden fibers, and I can state with absolute certainty that this thread came from your robe.
Not from another official's garment, not from a palace servant's attire, not from anyone who might have happened to pass by the Kapeleion that morning.
Only from yours."
Adrianos did not move, did not blink, did not display any reaction upon his stone-like face.
Yet the fingers that had been tapping the sword's hilt stopped entirely, frozen in place, and the muscles along his jaw tightened so forcefully they nearly resembled taut ropes.
Nirma saw all of this, noting every small detail, every micro-change in the supreme commander's body, and her smile grew wider, more unsettling, more difficult to interpret.
She continued, her voice unchanged, soft yet sharp like a river calm upon the surface but fierce and dangerous beneath.
"Second, during the course of the investigation, I questioned one of the Prefect's soldiers who faithfully accompanied us wherever we went.
That soldier, a veteran with a scar on his left temple, provided a very interesting testimony.
He stated that several hours ago, precisely on the day the murder occurred at the Kapeleion, Your Excellency was present in the Mangana area without your outer cloak.
When asked by that soldier, Your Excellency replied only briefly, saying that you were in a hurry."
"In a hurry, Your Excellency. An intriguing word for someone who should have been in the palace that morning, who should have had no business outside, who should not have needed to remove his outer cloak and move hastily through the darkness of dawn."
This time, something shifted in Adrianos' eyes.
Those gray eyes, which had not blinked and had remained calm like a winter lake, suddenly revealed a faint ripple, nearly imperceptible yet clear enough for Nirma, who had read human expressions across countless ages.
She knew she had struck precisely at the most vulnerable point, precisely at the gap she had been seeking.
But she was not finished.
There remained one final argument, one last blow that would leave Adrianos unable to move.
"Third, and most importantly, Your Excellency.
This thread did not simply fall off, was not carried by the wind, was not left behind accidentally.
It came loose because of friction, intense friction that occurs when someone bends over something for a considerable length of time.
And to my knowledge, based on the observations made by the Prefect's soldiers who have accompanied us throughout this investigation, Your Excellency has recently been seen bending down frequently without clear reason.
In the palace corridors, in the Mangana courtyard, even near the barracks, Your Excellency has been observed several times bending forward, performing movements unusual for a supreme commander of the army.
The question is, Your Excellency, what were you searching for?
Or perhaps, what were you trying to hide?"
The chamber fell silent, so silent that Nirma could hear her own heartbeat, could hear Arya's restrained breathing beside her, could hear the faint crackle of melting candles in the corners.
Adrianos Komnenos sat upon his iron folding chair like a statue, unmoving, unblinking, revealing no emotion upon his face.
His gray eyes fixed upon Nirma with the same intensity as when they first entered, yet within them now lay something different, something he could not fully conceal, something perhaps only Nirma and Arya were able to see.
To be continued…