Chapter 88
"I am sure they have many things they wish to ask.
It is only that they may be arranging the proper questions, choosing the right words, or perhaps discussing something we cannot hear."
Ioannis Taronites smiled.
The same smile, the diplomatic smile, the smile that never changed.
Yet this time there was something different behind his eyes, something that suggested he was recalculating his strategy, adjusting himself to the changes on the chessboard.
Slowly, he shifted his gaze away from Ashita and Tegar, past the empty space between them, and finally let it settle directly upon the faces of Nirma and Arya.
The two of them were whispering.
Their voices were so soft, so low, so carefully concealed that it was impossible for anyone in the room to catch even a single word of their conversation.
What could be seen were only the movements of lips, the blinking of eyes, and the occasional small nod that only the two of them could interpret.
One minute passed in whispers impossible to hear, in subtle eye movements and small nods that only two people who had shared the same battlefield for years could understand.
Nirma and Arya spoke in a language that did not require sound, a language born from thousands of hours spent undercover together, from dozens of moments when they had nearly been captured by enemies, from countless secrets known only to the two of them.
And when the whispers ended, when there was nothing left to discuss between them, Nirma lifted her head and looked directly at Ioannis Taronites with the same faint smile she had worn when she first entered the room.
"Honorable Mr. Ioannis."
Her voice was flat, polite, formal, like an official responding to a luncheon invitation from a colleague.
"I would like to inform you that this interrogation session has concluded.
We have obtained everything we needed for today, every explanation, every rebuttal, every perspective you have generously provided.
On behalf of the investigation we are conducting, Arya and I would like to express our deepest gratitude for your willingness to receive us in this house, despite your busy duties as Head Diplomat of the Byzantine Empire.
Truly, it is an honor we will not forget."
Arya, beside her, nodded slowly, reinforcing his captain's words with a gesture that was simple yet meaningful.
The wax tablet on his lap had been closed, the stylus stored within the folds of his robe, and his entire posture suggested readiness to leave the room at once.
There were no lingering questions, no visible doubts upon his face, only the calm of an investigator who had obtained what he sought—even though no one knew exactly what that might be.
Ashita and Tegar exchanged a glance for a moment, then moved almost simultaneously.
Ashita stood first with the elegance that had become her signature, followed by Tegar who rose from his chair with a slower yet certain motion.
"Mr. Ioannis," Ashita began with a voice slightly warmer than usual, "please allow us to extend our deepest gratitude as well.
Not only because you have received us here during an investigation that surely demands much of your attention, but also because you have welcomed us kindly to this beautiful Byzantine city.
As travelers from a land very far away, from the island of Nesia ton Breton which perhaps few people in this city have ever heard of, we feel deeply honored."
Tegar added in his characteristic deep voice.
"We hope that one day we may return to this city under more peaceful circumstances, in a time when we can enjoy the beauty of Byzantium without being overshadowed by murder cases and complicated investigations.
For now, we take our leave, Mr. Ioannis.
May you always remain under the protection of God and the saints."
Ioannis Taronites nodded.
The same nod as before, a diplomatic nod that never offered anything beyond formal acknowledgment.
His hand lifted slightly, a gesture that said I accept your thanks, I understand your intention, please depart in peace.
But just as Nirma began to take her first step toward the door, just as Arya's shadow started to stretch toward the exit, Ioannis Taronites' voice suddenly broke the silence with a different tone.
Not a harsh command to stop, not an order meant to compel, but the tone of a colleague who had just remembered something during casual conversation.
"Ah, Nirma."
One call. One name.
And the entire room suddenly froze.
Nirma stopped where she stood.
Her body did not turn, only her head slightly glanced back—just enough to show that she heard, just enough to show she was paying attention.
Ioannis Taronites' gaze fixed directly upon her, sharp yet smiling, like a cat toying with a mouse before delivering the final strike.
"Before you truly leave, allow me to ask something.
Just one small question, merely to satisfy the curiosity of an old official who rarely receives investigative guests of your caliber."
He paused briefly, letting the tension thicken, then continued in the same casual tone.
"How did your interrogation of me turn out?
Did you obtain what you were looking for?
Or perhaps the opposite—do you leave with empty hands and minds full of new questions?"
Nirma did not answer immediately.
Her eyes caught the question, examining every corner of the sentence, searching for any trap that might be hidden behind it.
And within the silence that lasted only a few seconds, her left eye moved.
One blink.
Fast, almost invisible—just enough to be noticed by Arya standing two steps beside her.
One blink that meant something.
Stay calm. I will handle this. Just follow what I do.
Arya did not move, did not react, remaining as still as a statue waiting for the next command.
Slowly, with a motion both calm and calculated, Nirma opened the wax tablet still in her hand.
Her slender fingers touched the wax surface, tracing the carvings she had made over the last two hours, and with a deep breath she turned the tablet so that its entire content faced Ioannis Taronites.
Page after page of markings appeared, notes upon notes recording every word spoken by Ashita, every rebuttal delivered by Tegar, every counterargument that had come from Ioannis himself.
Nothing was hidden.
Nothing was concealed.
Everything was displayed honestly and openly, as though Nirma were showing a diligent student's notebook to a teacher.
"This, Mr. Ioannis."
Nirma's voice remained flat.
There was no tone of victory, no tone of defeat—only the tone of someone presenting facts.
"This is the result of our interrogation.
Everything you said, everything you refuted, everything you denied is recorded here carefully.
Every word about the dark red wax that could belong to anyone, every explanation about the white powder that may have fallen from the victim's stolen documents, every argument that a motive does not automatically mean action.
Everything is here, Mr. Ioannis.
Nothing is missing, nothing has been forgotten."
Ioannis Taronites fell silent.
His eyes slowly moved along each line carved into the wax tablet, reading word by word, letter by letter, like a translator deciphering an ancient manuscript filled with riddles.
To be continued…