“I had nothing to do with it,” Tenet whispered to me.

“I know.”

“You’ll tell them though, won’t you? Please, Sister. I swear, when I left she was fine. I never touched her.”

“Quiet,” the Enforcer said sharply. “Witnesses are not to confer until after the inquiry is concluded.”

Tenet’s eyes went wide with fear.

They called the first man inside. I closed my eyes and rested the back of my head against the wall. My body felt heavy and sluggish. To my right, Tenet’s breathing sounded loud. Perhaps as a gesture of apology, the Enforcer offered him a glass of water.

Time passed. Then he was summoned, and it was just me left to testify. The Enforcer sat down beside me.

“Commander Asan says you should keep it short and calm,” she muttered.

I did not open my eyes. “How can I be calm when my supervisor was murdered?”

“Better try. That driver was right to be scared; they’re going to want to pin this on someone.”

“Should you be talking to me?”

“No.”

“Then don’t.”

Tenet’s testimony must have been brief, because a few minutes later the door opened for a third time.

“Acolyte Elfreda Raughn?”

The Conclave looked much the same as when I had delivered Reverend Cyde’s missive, but this time a lone hardback chair stood inside the semicircle of pedestals. The Reverends sat beneath their banners, stone-faced. They wore identical blue mourning gloves, the fingers boned by strands of silver wire. Behind me, the Oblate closed the door.

“Be seated,” said Commander Asan.

My footfalls echoed on the polished tiles. I avoided eye contact and settled on the chair. The painted map of the island spread out across the floor before me.

“Acolyte Elfreda Raughn, you accompanied Herald Lenard to the Food Management Warehouse in the Lokon District last night?” asked Asan.

“Yes, Councilwoman,” I said.

“You arrived at the facility at seventeenth bell?”

“Yes.”

“And subsequently, you parted company with Herald Lenard?”

“Yes. After we had made our delivery to the warehouse, I volunteered to file Zenza’s paperwork back at the Food Management headquarters.”

“Why?”

“She was running late for an appointment.”

“What appointment?”

“Her wife, Faye Lenard. They had plans for Moon Tide.”

Reverend Somme, head of my own Department, gestured for attention. She looked ill; her skin had a sallow, stretched appearance, and I felt a pang of sympathy for her. She had known Zenza longer than I had. Asan nodded and sat back in her chair.

“I can confirm that the paperwork was filed,” said Somme. “I found the reports in my office this morning.”

“But that does not give an indication of when they were filed,” drawled Reverend Verje.

The newly appointed Councilwoman rested her chin on her right hand, gesturing with her left. She had a narrow face and wide blue eyes. Her mouth turned down at the corners, which gave her a subtle, permanent sneer. So this was the woman on whose estate I had trespassed. I had heard stories about Belia Verje, unpleasant whispers, but never met her in person. Seeing her now, I was immediately and instinctively repulsed.