Chapter 87
"You say that I needed to silence the victim because he intercepted confidential correspondence with the Prince of Antioch.
A political motive, a motive of power, a motive to protect state secrets.
I admit, that is a reasonable motive.
But allow me to remind all of you, honorable ladies and gentlemen, that a motive does not automatically mean action.
If every diplomat in this palace who possesses a political motive against someone must be considered a murderer, then believe me, not a single official would remain in Constantinople.
We all have enemies.
We all have reasons to remove someone.
But only a handful of us actually do it.
And until you can prove that I belong to that handful, until you can present stronger evidence than a few drops of wax and white powder that could come from anywhere, then until that moment I remain Ioannis Taronites, Head Diplomat of the Byzantine Empire, sitting in my own house, patiently waiting for this investigation to find its true conclusion."
The wax tablet on Nirma's lap had already been filled with small carvings, her stylus moving in a steady rhythm like the hands of a clock that never tire of ticking.
She recorded every word that left the mouth of Ioannis Taronites, every pause, every change in tone, every time the man drew a breath before launching the next rebuttal.
Beside her, Arya did the same, occasionally glancing toward Nirma to ensure he had not missed a single detail, that his tablet captured everything that might otherwise escape attention.
They no longer needed to elaborate at length about the dark red wax or the white powder as Ashita and Tegar had just done.
The task of explaining had been taken over.
The responsibility of elaboration had changed hands.
And now what remained was a duty no less important.
To record, to document, to remember every word that might become a key later.
Nirma sensed the silence hanging in the room after Ioannis finished his rebuttal.
She could feel Ashita and Tegar attempting to reorganize their next move, the two time agents searching for a crack behind the wall of arguments that seemed almost perfect.
But Nirma was not in a hurry.
She allowed her tablet to remain open.
She allowed the stylus to remain ready to dance.
She allowed herself to remain silent in the position of an observer who did not take part in the verbal duel unfolding before her.
Within her mind, a long murmur continued to flow like an underground river unseen on the surface, calculating, analyzing, searching for patterns behind every word spoken by the man before her.
Arya carefully wrote the final point, then lifted his head briefly to observe the situation.
Ioannis Taronites sat calmly behind his teakwood desk, his diplomatic smile perfectly restored like a mask that never left his face.
Ashita and Tegar exchanged glances, sending silent messages through subtle movements of their eyes and fingers.
And among them all, Nirma sat with the same composure she had possessed the moment they entered the room, with the same faint smile that never changed, with her left eye occasionally narrowing as though calculating something only she could see.
Arya knew exactly what his captain was doing.
Nirma was waiting.
Waiting for her opponent to make one small mistake.
One word he should not know.
One detail that could only be known by someone truly involved.
Two minutes passed in a strange silence.
During the first minute, Nirma and Arya still occasionally paused their stylus movements, exchanging short whispers that only ears deliberately tuned to listen could catch.
During the next minute, both moved in a different rhythm, writing less frequently, more often exchanging glances filled with eye signals refined through years of working together.
And when the hands of time reached the precise moment, when their wax tablets had been filled with markings that required no further additions, Nirma and Arya simultaneously placed their styluses beside their tablets.
The movement was simple.
Just placing them down.
But in a room filled with spies and hidden agents, that simple gesture sounded like an announcement.
We are finished recording. Now it is your turn to speak.
Four pairs of eyes met.
Nirma looked at Ashita.
Arya looked at Tegar.
And between them flowed an invisible current, carrying questions, challenges, and the silent recognition that they were all playing on the same board.
Ashita returned Nirma's gaze with a faint smile equally mysterious, while Tegar shifted his eyes from Arya toward the window, as though counting how many soldiers still stood guard outside.
Silence hovered for several seconds—long enough to make anyone unfamiliar with such games feel uncomfortable, yet not long enough to be mistaken for weakness.
Ioannis Taronites broke the silence with a voice both gentle and clear, the voice of a diplomat accustomed to seizing the conversation whenever everyone else became occupied with staring at one another.
"From your expressions and movements, I see that someone among you intends to ask about the rebuttal I have just presented.
Perhaps there is a point that remains unclear.
Perhaps there is a detail you wish to explore more deeply.
Please, ladies and gentlemen.
This room is open to any question."
Nirma and Arya shook their heads simultaneously.
One synchronized motion performed without the need to look at one another, without coordination, without command.
Just two people who had worked together long enough to respond to a situation in exactly the same way without communicating beforehand.
The gesture was firm, decisive, and spoke more than a thousand words.
We have no questions.
Not because we understand all your explanations, but because we choose to remain silent for now.
Ashita noticed the gesture, and something flashed within her eyes—something difficult to interpret.
She turned toward Tegar, and within seconds the two time agents began to move their heads.
Three times.
Not a shake, not a nod, but a strange circular motion that to ordinary eyes looked like someone stretching a stiff neck.
But Nirma knew it was not merely a physical movement.
It was a code.
It was a message.
It was their way of speaking without making a sound.
And when the third motion ended, Ashita opened her mouth with a slightly forced smile.
"Honorable Mr. Ioannis, I apologize, but it seems there has been a small misunderstanding."
Ashita's voice flowed smoothly, yet beneath that smoothness was a tone that said I am explaining something that should have been clear from the beginning.
"Allow me to remind you that our presence here, together with Tegar, is at the invitation of Nirma and Arya.
We are merely assisting in this investigation, in the case that they are currently handling.
And we have used that opportunity to explain the connection between the two pieces of evidence and the distinguished name of Mr. Ioannis.
That is all.
That is the assistance we promised.
As for the questions that may arise from the rebuttal you have just presented, I believe it would be more appropriate if you directed them to Nirma and Arya.
They are the principal investigators in this case.
We are merely guests who happen to possess a few additional pieces of information."
Ashita paused briefly, her eyes shifting toward Nirma and Arya who still sat calmly on the left side of the room.
To be continued…