The Deepest Poison Read Free

be faster than boiling to sanitize water.”
    â€œI was about to say that very thing,” I snapped.
    â€œYou taught me well.” She looked away, somewhat chagrined.
    â€œIndeed. Maybe next time I get a midnight missive from you requesting aid, I’ll send you a note of confidence instead.” I returned my focus to Captain Yancy. “What about Officer Wagner?”
    â€œWe’ve accounted for the rest of the sanitation division, but Wagner’s not in the sick wards or his usual haunts. All guards have been alerted to look for him. We’ll get him.”
    â€œ Get him?” asked Miss Leander. “You’re acting like he’s guilty. He could be ill elsewhere—­”
    â€œHis tent was cleared of his personal effects. Looks more like he skedaddled, m’lady. We’ll search awhile more, then we may need to send for Clockwork Daggers to hunt him. The man had better hope we find him first,” said Captain Yancy with a heavy sigh. Both the Caskentian army and the Queen’s agents were quick to judge offenders, though Daggers were said to be far more patient in their execution techniques. “I’ll see to the chloride of lime and will alert you if we find Wagner.” At that, he mounted up, offered a tip of his black-­brimmed hat, and took off at a canter.
    Miss Leander shook her head. “Wagner’s a family man with three children. He’s come to me for advice on doctoring his babe with colic. All he wants is for the war to be done so he can go home. I can’t believe he’d have anything to do with this sabotage, with killing so many.”
    I walked onward. “Those facts are the very reason why a man in Wagner’s position would turn on his countrymen. Never underestimate a desperate man.”
    Ahead of us, three tanks towered twenty feet in height, supported by legs of stout steel as thick as a man. A pump-­and-­pipe system carried water from the river just beyond. Soldiers stood guard around these tanks; the tanks for the healthy side of the camp were just downriver and within view.
    I looked to the commander of our guard. “The tanks must be opened and the rods withdrawn.” Like the copper and wooden medician wands we carried at our sides, these tanks contained rotating spindles that the Lady had blessed within the sanctity of a circle. Water flowed through slowly enough that it was thoroughly sanitized before it reached the spigots.
    It took mere minutes for the soldiers to unbolt the lid and dismantle the steam-­powered motor mechanism of the spindle. The long rod was lifted out.
    â€œIt’s been replaced,” Miss Leander said immediately, her voice hollow. “There’s no enchantment on it.” Around us were mutters and gasps, the soldiers’ fear shifting to anger.
    I mounted the ladder to inspect the rod up close. At a glance, the sheen of water looked a lot like the glisten of magic, but I touched it and found no warmth of inlaid enchantment. I said nothing as I climbed down.
    â€œThey did maintenance two or three days ago,” Miss Leander said, as I rejoined her. “Only on these tanks.”
    â€œ ‘They,’ meaning Officer Wagner and his crew?”
    She shook her head, scowling. “I still don’t believe he had anything to do with this. Maybe it was one of his men.”
    â€œWhich would mean that as commanding officer, he would still bear responsibility. Come along.”
    I sent the men at our disposal to the tanks that ser­viced the healthy side of the camp. Magic was evident in the sparkle on the lifted rod. The soldiers immediately reinstalled it and went on to the next, their spirits buoyed. This was good news. It meant there was an immediate source of pure water though it would quickly be exhausted by the number of needy soldiers.
    â€œIt’s a symbolic attack,” Miss Leander said. “The war started because of water