"Lord Bogo?" Cerdo's voice came, somewhat tentatively, "I'm not boring you, am I?"
Bogo blinked. He had decided to start his conversations with the rest of the queen's council with Cerdo. Long years as part of the City Guard had taught him the value of making mammals wait; for some criminals leaving them alone to stew in their own doubts was far more effective than questioning them immediately. Considering that he reserved the strongest suspicions for the other two members of the council, he had thought that it made sense to speak with Cerdo first. Unfortunately, however, nearly the instant that the pig had entered Bogo's shipboard cabin, he had immediately started droning on. Bogo realized he must have stopped giving so much as the impression that he was paying attention to Cerdo's words as he went through his own thoughts.
Bogo quickly favored Cerdo with a very small smile even as he cursed his own wandering focus. There was no telling what a mammal might give away without meaning it, and he realized he couldn't even vaguely describe what Cerdo had been nattering on about. "Not at all, Lord Cerdo," Bogo, "But time is of the utmost importance right now."
Cerdo coughed awkwardly, his ears dropping slightly. "Of course, of course," he said hastily, "I understand, we have far more important matters to discuss than my own personal concerns for the princess's safety. If anything were to happen to her it would be catastrophic for the—but there I go again. Please, Lord Bogo, ask me anything you want."
The pig folded his arms across his ample belly and settled into his chair, which creaked under his considerable girth. Bogo forced aside his own irritation with himself and said the words he had agonized over, taking care to ensure his face was as neutral as possible. "The two attacks on the princess would not have been possible without help from inside the palace."
He watched Cerdo carefully, but the pig didn't appear to think he was being accused of treason; he simply nodded slowly. "And you suspect that Jaime of the Tecuani Barony did not act alone," Cerdo said, his pudgy face creasing in a frown.
"I do," Bogo said, "Which makes for a very limited pool of suspects."
"Myself, Lord Corazón, and Lady Cencerro," Cerdo said, nodding again, "And you, I suppose, although of course you know your own heart."
Bogo relaxed infinitesimally. He had expected that at least one of the members of the council would suggest that he had been involved, and even leaving aside the fact that it was not an unreasonable suspicion—he really did have the most knowledge that would help an assassination attempt succeed—it made what he planned next seem more plausible. "Indeed I do," Bogo said.
Cerdo had worn a thin smile as he suggested the possibility that Bogo was a conspirator, but from the careful way the pig was studying him Bogo suspected that Cerdo really did think it might be possible. "But the queen does not," Bogo continued, "Her trust in me is not absolute. My trust in you and the other members of the council isn't absolute either."
Bogo spoke the words as bluntly as he could, interlacing his thick fingers atop his desk as he stared into Cerdo's eyes. "But I do have the measure of each of you," he said.
Cerdo blinked, and for the first time Bogo would have sworn he looked somewhat nervous. "What would you ask of me?" he asked, spreading his arms beseechingly.
On Corazón, the same gesture would have been impressive and expansive, giving the lion an air of serious consideration. On Cerdo, it merely made him look confused. "To put it bluntly, I can't watch all of you at once. And the queen needs someone to watch me. Once we're on the road to Phoenix, I'll have a rotating series of guards assigned to the princess. At all times, there will be guards from two of the four groups."
"The City Guard, my personal guardsmammals, Corazón's guards, and Cencerro's," Cerdo said.
Bogo nodded. The major problem he had foreseen with any trap he could lay was the possibility that two or more of the council members might be collaborating together. He had initially considered feeding all of them conflicting information, and then seeing who if anyone acted on something only they knew, but his plan would have been obvious if his suspects compared notes. It was another one of the rules of interrogation he had learned; if you capture multiple suspects for a single crime, don't let them speak to each other. Lie to them, make them worry that their partners would betray them, and they tended to seize the opportunity to preemptively betray. Unfortunately, he didn't think it was possible to completely restrict the council members for interacting with each other; no matter how closely they were watched they might use intermediaries or innocuous-sounding code phrases.
The plan he had settled on, therefore, would rely on the fact that they might conspire together. In arranging the guard schedule as he had, each pair would have the opportunity to communicate and plot whatever they wished. What they didn't know, however, was that he would also arrange for there to be apparent gaps where each council member alone would have access to the princess.
It was a breathtakingly risky plan, one of the sort he would never have authorized were the situation not so desperate. It was far from a perfect plan—no matter how carefully things were set up they could always go awry—but in a way having the culprit realize they were being led into a trap was not an entirely bad outcome. If it did nothing more than stop them from making an attempt before the princess and the queen were back in the palace and whatever was happening in Phoenix had been addressed, he would consider it a victory.
"So your idea is for us to watch each other," Cerdo said, "That seems rather wise, all things considered."
That, at least, was classic Cerdo—pompous and a touch obsequious. "I appreciate your support," Bogo said, and it was a testament to long years on the job that it actually sounded sincere rather than sarcastic.
"I'll begin making arrangements once I have the schedule," Cerdo said, and Bogo pushed a piece of paper across his desk as he rose.
Cerdo grabbed it and stood. "I'll begin now," he said, holding the paper up to read it, "Unless there's anything else?"
Bogo looked down at the pig, considering his next action carefully. He had done his best to lay out the bait, and it would shortly be a matter of seeing how well it worked.
"I'm sure you understand the importance of what I've asked," Bogo said simply, "You're smarter than Lord Corazón or Lady Cencerro."
"Lord Cerdo is not particularly bright," Bogo told Lady Cencerro, "His seat on the queen's council was earned by good luck and his father's hard work. I'm sure you understand why it took some time to make certain details clear to him."
The ewe smiled at Bogo's words; when he had admitted her to his office she had voiced her concern about how long it had taken him and Cerdo to discuss matters. Bogo doubted it could have been more than ten or fifteen minutes even with Cerdo's rambling digression at the beginning of the meeting, but some nobles acted absolutely appalled if the city didn't seem to revolve around them and their schedules. Cencerro wasn't quite as bad as some of the other nobles he had met over the course of his career—he had taken great pleasure after arresting the smug and obnoxious second-born son of a powerful lord for the fifth time and then watching as the son realized his father was finally leaving him to twist in the wind—but she was far from being quite as pleasant as she liked to act. "Just because his father was good at making torcs certainly doesn't make Cerdo worthy of a noble title," Cencerro sniffed, "Not like you. No one can say you didn't earn your title."
Bogo idly wondered how Cencerro would respond if he asked her what she had done to earn the title of nobility that had been passed down to her over generations stretching back to the beginning of the reign of King Oveja I. He dismissed the thought with no small amount of effort; imaging her outrage disguised by a veneer of politeness was rather satisfying. "That's very kind of you to say so," Bogo said instead, "Your own efforts to live up to your title are well known."
"Nobility is an obligation, not just a series of privileges," Cencerro said modestly, humbly averting her eyes to the surface of Bogo's desk.
She was so short that her eyes were more or less level with it anyway, and Bogo nodded. "Something the queen and princess understand quite well," he said.
"We are fortunate that the gods have blessed us with such a queen," Cencerro said, "And with such a worthy heir to carry on her work."
The words sounded sincere enough, but while Lady Alba Cencerro might not have done anything to be born into her title she had done everything to get close to the queen. "Family ties are important," Bogo said agreeably, and his thoughts inevitably drifted to his wife and daughter, "You understand that suspicions on Lieutenant Colonel Cencerro may turn into suspicions against you."
Lady Cencerro laughed nervously. "Are you accusing me of treason, Lord Bogo?" she asked, and her eyes flicked around the room as if searching for an exit that wasn't there.
"Treason, or someone attempting to make you look guilty to hide their own involvement," Bogo said mildly.
He was somewhat interested that Cencerro hadn't brought up the counterpoint herself; he seemed to have gotten her rather flustered.
"If my cousin Diego is involved, that must be it! I'm sure that's why the real mastermind sought him out," Cencerro added quickly, nearly fumbling over her words in her haste to get them out, "If he is involved, of course."
Cencerro certainly appeared nervous, but she was a sheep and a rather small one at that. The queen's poise was, in Bogo's experience, fairly rare for her species, and Bogo suspected that "confidence" and "grace" were two words that rarely came to anyone's mind when they thought of Alba Cencerro. That, or she was an even more skilled political actor than her sometimes partner and sometimes rival Corazón, but he had never quite figured out how the ewe and the lion really felt about each other. Bogo suspected that Corazón would find a good word to say for a monster if it was politically expedient, but superficiality was to be expected for a politician of any sort. Cencerro certainly seemed more open, but Bogo had seen hints of her cunning over the years.
"Of course," Bogo said in his most soothing tone of voice, "You're not just the queen's closest adviser. You're also her friend. I know I can trust you, Lady Cencerro."
"I don't trust Lady Cencerro," Bogo told Corazón.
The lion sat up straighter in the chair, which groaned considerably under him; although he had a far more athletic build than Lord Cerdo the simple difference in species meant that the lion weighed much more than the pig. Bogo would have to arrange for more suitable furniture the next time the queen's barge went out; just about everything about the cabins had been designed with sheep in mind. He resisted the urge to shake his head to dismiss the pointless thought—where had his focus gone?—and paid careful attention to Corazón's response.
The lion smiled broadly. "She's got the heart of a lioness," he said with a rueful chuckle, "Certainly she's a reminder that smaller mammals are no less capable."
Bogo had to admire his acting skill; Corazón actually managed to sound as though he appreciated one of greatest rivals. Either that, or the lion had taken a bizarre romantic interest in the ewe, which wasn't something he particularly wanted to think about. Besides, it all came back around to what seemed like the only point Corazón cared about, which was his supposed passion for giving all the mammals of Zootopia equal opportunities.
"As you say," Bogo said neutrally; he hadn't forgotten that one of Corazón's prime examples for the supposed value of smaller mammals on the City Guard seemed suspiciously entangled in whatever had happened in Phoenix.
Corazón frowned slightly, but Bogo strongly suspected that the appearance of sadness was entirely manufactured. "I know you and I haven't always seen eye to eye," the lion began.
Bogo resisted the urge to snort; that was about the politest way he had ever heard someone admit to being devoted to tampering with his job and responsibilities. "And I know you must have your suspicions. Certainly you wouldn't be the commanding officer of the City Guard if you weren't paranoid enough!"
Corazón favored Bogo with a winning smile, which quickly and smoothly left the lion's face when Bogo gave him no reaction. "So tell me, Lord Bogo, what must I do to earn your trust?"
"Do you know anything about Judy of Totchli Barony?" Bogo asked suddenly.
He hadn't planned on asking the question, but the opportunity had presented itself and he meant to seize it. If Corazón was perturbed by the sudden topic, he gave no sign of it. "Of course!" Corazón said cheerfully, "The first rabbit to join the City Guard. She'll have been an officer for, what is it, a few weeks now? I do hope she's living up to her performance in the academy."
Corazón seemed like a mammal proud of the accomplishments of a grandchild they didn't see very often, and Bogo pressed further. "Did you ever meet her?" he asked.
"I'm afraid not," Corazón said, and that too-perfect frown was back on his face that made it seem like a tragedy, "I did want to attend her graduation and give her my congratulations, but I was too busy to make it."
Bogo frowned himself, and Corazón asked, "Are you supposing she was involved in these attempts on the princess's life?"
"I'm considering all the possibilities," Bogo said, and then he explained the plan for guard duty.
Their arrival at the end of the aqueduct was just as anticlimactic as Bogo had hoped. It had occurred to him, more than once during the trip, that if a would-be assassin destroyed part of the aqueduct, Zootopia would lose its queen, princess, the entire queen's council, and a significant chunk of the City Guard as they plunged to their deaths against the hard ground hundreds of feet below. Keeping all of his top suspects on one ship had been something of a proof against that, since he had figured that none of the members of the queen's council would want the princess dead so badly that they'd give up their life for it. Whether he was right that one of them had chosen not to act on the water portion of their trip or not, they had safely made it to Tzitz Quit, the City Guard outpost that guarded the waterfall the aqueduct terminated in.
On his previous trips to Tzitz Quit, Bogo had always been impressed by the scale of it. It stood atop a massive pillar nearly a quarter-mile in diameter of the same white stone that the Middle Wall was made of, but where that wall was undecorated except at the War Gate, the pillar was elaborately carved and painted. Circling the massive column in a slowly rising spiral were bas-relief images of previous heads of the City Guard, going all the way back to the days of the ancient emperors. Unlike the royal palace, Tzitz Quit had not been razed and rebuilt, and the watchful eyes of long-dead jaguars stared out from the stone. Going higher up the column, the point where King Oveja I had started his dynasty was obvious; not only did the mammals depicted stop being jaguars, but the art style noticeably changed. The pillar was tall enough that even once Bogo died and had his depiction added as was tradition there would be ample room for the mammals who came after him; nearly half the pillar was still unblemished white.
Atop the pillar was a massive stepped pyramid that straddled the aqueduct, arching so far above the surface of the water that even the tallest ships wouldn't come close to scraping. Where the aqueduct actually ended, an enormous stone grate kept ships from going over the waterfall, the spray of water making incredible rainbows. A complicated series of locks and channels could be used to get ships to the aqueduct that ran the opposite direction so that they could reach the city-state's center without having to fight the current, but Bogo barely paid them a glance. His only concern, which he saw to his satisfaction had been addressed, was that there wasn't so much as a civilian dingy in the vicinity of Tzitz Quit. Although the outpost was normally teeming with dock-side trade and ships fighting to berth to unload and sell their wares, it had been completely cleared out for royal use. Bogo was sure there had been quite a bit of muttered complaining about that, considering how much the merchants were likely losing from the missed opportunities, but it was a negligible price to pay for safety.
When the queen's barge docked, the commanding officer of Tzitz Quit was already waiting. Although protocol typically demanded an elaborate reception for royalty when they traveled, Bogo had dispensed with all of that, and he asked the grizzled old sea otter the only question that mattered. "Any word from Lieutenant Colonel Cencerro?"
"He beat you here by an hour or so," the otter said, nodding, "Got him and the, uh, survivors waiting for you."
The captain had a look of curiosity in his eyes, and his slight hesitation over the word "survivors" told Bogo that he likely knew at least something about what Lieutenant Colonel Cencerro claimed had happened. "Bring me to him," Bogo said, "And I want to hear everything you know about what's going on in Phoenix on the way."
Author's Notes:
As is my wont, I skipped the author's notes for the last chapter so as to keep the dramatic impact of the cliffhanger it ended on. Before getting to the notes for this chapter, I do have some comments about chapter 31.
The Ehecatls are named after one of Quetzalcoatl's aliases. Ehecatl was a god of the wind and is generally considered to be an aspect of Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent. Way back in chapter 13, when Nick was describing some of the things that could be found under Phoenix, he did in fact mention "feathered snakes with wings," and chapter 31 finally showed them off. My goal was to make them extremely creepy, and I figured that combining snakes with birds was a good fit that also fit the mythology. Their ability to speak is something that many birds have; although parrots are probably the most well-known there are many species capable of mimicking human voices as well as an enormous variety of other sounds, from cell phone ring tones and car alarms to the click of a camera shutter.
Although in Judy's confused mental state she notes that she never remembers whether a substance is venom or poison, there is a difference. The difference is that venom is an animal secretion that is injected or delivered through a bite or a sting, while a poison is something that is eaten. A decent way of remembering the difference is this: "If you bite it and you die, it's poison. If it bites you and you die, it's venom." As the chapter ends, Judy is therefore affected by venom delivered by the monster's teeth rather than a poison.
Moving onto this chapter, I'll admit that I enjoyed the dramatic irony of Bogo telling each member of the queen's council something and then jump cutting to him saying the opposite to a different member. I've always figured that Bogo simply doesn't like playing politics but he's actually pretty good at it.
The initial plan that Bogo briefly describes, of telling each member of the council something different and seeing who acts on their unique information, is a real tactic known as a canary trap or a barium meal trap. A common example is for sensitive documents to have slightly different versions (such as through slightly wording or in hidden metadata), so that if someone leaks it the leak can be traced back to the original person the document was given to. The downside of this plan, which Bogo notes, is that if multiple people compare their information with each other, they can realize that a trap has been set. Such a thing happened in the real world at Tesla; Elon Musk provided slightly different versions of an email to various people in an attempt to find the employee leaking information. However, when one employee forwarded it on to others, all of those recipients could then compare that version to their own and see the trap.
The value that Bogo sees in suspects not being able to communicate with each other is the basis for the well-known prisoner's dilemma. In the prisoner's dilemma, the key takeaway is that in the absence of the ability to communicate with your co-conspirators, the best choice you can make for yourself is to betray them.
Bogo wondering at how Cencerro would react to being asked to justify her own title of nobility also shows something of a blind spot in his thinking; it doesn't seem to occur to him that the same question could be asked of the princess or the queen, both of whom were born to their position.
Cencerro's comments about nobility consisting of responsibilities as well as privileges is the key of the concept of noblesse oblige, or "nobility obliges," which suggests this concept. Of course, over the course of history many nobles have used it as a self-serving justification for their own privileges.
"Tzitz Quit" is named somewhat ironically; in the Nahuatl language it means "very small." It's really only small in comparison to the palace, since as described it's absolutely massive.
As always, thanks for reading! If you're so inclined as to leave a comment, I'd love to know what you think. Next week, we'll be getting back to Judy, and I hope you'll enjoy what's coming!