“Perhaps,” I suggested, “the supervisors of those sites should actually look at their stock of explosives and be sure it matches what the record says.” I considered adding that Security ought to pay special attention to places where friends of the daughter of the house worked, or where she had recently visited.

The magistrate raised an eyebrow. “I’ve given that order. Gave it, in fact, before I came downstairs to meet with you this morning.”

I lowered my head in acknowledgment. “In that case, I have one more request. Only the one, after which I will leave matters to you, Magistrate, as is proper.” Receiving the magistrate’s gesture of assent, I continued. “I would like to ask Citizen Raughd’s personal attendant one question.”

Raughd’s attendant came into the room a few tense minutes later. “Citizen,” I said to her. “Your arms are filled with blessing and no untruth will pass your lips.” Said it in Radchaai, though it was a translation, undoubtedly rough, of the words I’d heard in the kitchen that day, through Eight, what the overseer had said as she’d placed bits of honey cake in Raughd’s attendant’s mouth. “Where did Citizen Raughd get the explosive?”

The attendant stared at me, frozen. Terrified, I thought. No one ever paid attention to servants except other servants, especially in this house. “Your very great pardon, Fleet Captain,” she said after an interminable silence. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Come, Citizen,” I said. “Citizen Raughd hardly takes a breath that you’re unaware of. Oh, sometimes you weren’t with her in the Undergarden, sometimes she sends you on errands while she does other things, but you know, the way a good personal attendant knows. And this wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing, like painting Not tea but blood on the wall that time.” She’d tried to clean Raughd’s gloves before anyone could realize there was paint on them. “This was different. This was complicated, it was planned in advance, and she won’t have done all that by herself, that’s what a good personal attendant is for, after all. And it’s come out anyway. Citizen Queter has told the magistrate everything.”

Tears welled in her eyes. Her mouth trembled, and then turned down. “I’m not a good personal attendant,” she said. A tear escaped, rolled down her cheek. I waited in silence while she debated with herself—whether over what to say, or whether or not to say it, I didn’t know, but I could see her conflict in her expression. No one else spoke. “If I were, none of this would have happened,” she said, finally.

“She’s always been unstable,” said Raughd. “Ever since we were children I’ve tried to shelter her. To protect her.”