Excerpts Excerpt Read an Excerpt From Robert Jackson Bennett’s The Tainted Cup A Holmes and Watson–style detective duo take the stage in this fantasy with a mystery twist. By Robert Jackson Bennett | Published on February 1‚ 2024 icon-comment 0 Share New Share Twitter Facebook Pinterest RSS Feed We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett‚ a fantasy novel with a mystery twist out from Del Rey on February 6. In Daretana’s greatest mansion‚ a high imperial officer lies dead—killed‚ to all appearances‚ when a tree erupted from his body. Even here at the Empire’s borders‚ where contagions abound and the blood of the leviathans works strange magical changes‚ it’s a death both terrifying and impossible.Assigned to investigate is Ana Dolabra‚ a detective whose reputation for brilliance is matched only by her eccentricities. Rumor has it that she wears a blindfold at all times‚ and that she can solve impossible cases without even stepping outside the walls of her home.At her side is her new assistant‚ Dinios Kol‚ magically altered in ways that make him the perfect aide to Ana’s brilliance. Din is at turns scandalized‚ perplexed‚ and utterly infuriated by his new superior—but as the case unfolds and he watches Ana’s mind leap from one startling deduction to the next‚ he must admit that she is‚ indeed‚ the Empire’s greatest detective.As the two close in on a mastermind and uncover a scheme that threatens the Empire itself‚ Din realizes he’s barely begun to assemble the puzzle that is Ana Dolabra—and wonders how long he’ll be able to keep his own secrets safe from her piercing intellect. The walls of the estate emerged from the morning fog before me‚ long and dark and rounded like the skin of some beached sea creature. I walked along them‚ trying to ignore the flutter of my heart and the trickle of sweat down my neck. A faint blue light glimmered in the mist ahead. With each step it calcified into a mai-lantern hanging above the estate’s servants’ gate; and there‚ leaning against the walls beside the gate‚ was the figure of a uniformed man in a shining steel cap waiting for me. The princeps watched me approach. He cocked an eyebrow at me‚ and it climbed higher up his forehead the closer I came to him. By the time I’d finally stopped before him it’d almost joined the hair atop his head. I cleared my throat in what I hoped was an authoritative manner‚ and said‚ “Signum Dinios Kol‚ assistant to the investigator. I’m here about the body.” The princeps blinked‚ then looked me up and down. Being as I was nearly a head taller than him‚ it took him a moment. “I see‚ sir‚” he said. He gave me a short bow—a quarter of a full bow‚ maybe a third—but then did not move. Buy the Book The Tainted Cup Robert Jackson Bennett Buy Book icon-close The Tainted Cup Robert Jackson Bennett Buy this book from: AmazonBarnes and NobleiBooksIndieBoundTarget “You do have a body‚ yes?” I asked. “Well‚ we do‚ sir‚” he said slowly. He glanced over my shoulder down the fog-strewn lane behind me. “Then what seems to be the issue?” “Well‚ ah…” Again‚ a glance down the lane behind me. “Pardon‚ sir‚ but—where’s the other one?” “I’m sorry?” I asked. “Other one?” “The investigator? When will she be arriving?” I suppressed a flicker of worry. I’d dealt with this question when working other matters for my master‚ but doing so when the situation involved a dead body was another thing entirely. “The investigator isn’t able to attend‚” I said. “I’m here to review the scene‚ interview the staff and any witnesses‚ and report back to her.” “The investigator is choosing to proceed with the investigation… without being present?” he said. “Might I ask why‚ sir?” I took him in. His short mail shirt glinted in the low light‚ each ringlet dabbed with tiny pearls of condensation. Very fancy. Ornate belt at his waist‚ slightly soft belly hanging over the buckle—a consequence of early middle age. Same for the thread of gray in his beard. Black boots highly polished‚ trim woven with seaweed-stained leather. The only standard-issue item on his body was the longsword in his scabbard and his dark red cloak‚ indicating he was an Apothetikal: an imperial officer responsible for managing the Empire’s many organic alterations. The rest of it he must’ve purchased himself‚ probably for a princely sum. All this told me that even though I was a signum and thus technically outranked him‚ this man was not only older and wealthier than me‚ but he’d probably seen more in his career than I could imagine. I couldn’t blame him for wondering why the investigator had sent this twenty-year-old boy in ratty boots to a death scene all on his own. “The investigator usually is not present at investigations‚ Princeps‚” I said. “She sends me to assess the situation and uses my report to make the appropriate conclusions.” “The appropriate conclusions‚” the princeps echoed. “Correct‚” I said. I waited for him to permit me inside. He just stood there. I wondered if I was going to have to order him to let me into the estate. I’d never given a direct order to an officer of another imperial administration before and did not entirely know how to go about doing it. To my relief‚ he finally said‚ “Right‚ sir…” and reached into his pocket. He took out a small bronze disc with a little glass vial set in the center‚ which sloshed with black fluid. “You’ll need to follow close‚ sir. This gate is a bit old. Can be fussy.” He turned to face the servants’ gate: a rounded aperture in the smooth black surface of the estate walls. Hanging on the other side of the aperture was a veil of curling‚ furred vines of a greenish-yellow color. They trembled as the princeps approached—a disquieting‚ juddering tremor—and fell back‚ allowing us to enter. I kept close to the princeps as we walked through the gate‚ leaning down so my head didn’t scrape the top. The vines smelled sweet and sickly as they tickled the back of my neck. Likely altered to seek out flesh‚ and if the princeps hadn’t been carrying his “key”—the vial of reagents in his hand—then the two of us would have been paralyzed‚ or worse. We emerged into the estate’s inner yards. Dozens of mai-lanterns twinkled in the morning gloom ahead of us‚ dangling from the gabled roof of the sprawling house set high on the hill beyond. A verandah wrapped around the home‚ rope nets blooming with bright decorative moss to shield windows from the morning sun. Floors wide and smooth‚ wood polished to a fine shine. A cushioned section sat on the eastern end—a miniature tea pavilion of a sort‚ but instead of a tea table there sat some massive animal’s skull‚ its cranium shaved off to be level. A rather ghoulish adornment for so fine a place—and it was a fine place‚ easily the finest house I’d ever seen. I looked at the princeps. He’d noticed my astonishment and was smirking. I adjusted my Iudex coat at the shoulders. They hadn’t been able to find one my size‚ and I suddenly felt terribly stupid-looking‚ packed into this tight blue fabric. “What’s your name‚ Princeps?” I asked. “Apologies‚ sir. Should have mentioned—Otirios.” “Have we identified the deceased‚ Otirios?” I asked. “I understand there was some issue with that.” “We think so‚ sir. We believe it is Commander Taqtasa Blas‚ of the Engineers.” “You believe it is? Why believe?” This drew a sidelong glance. “You were informed that the nature of his death was an alteration‚ yes‚ sir?” “Yes?” “Well… such things can make it tricky to identify a body‚ sir.” He led me across a small wooden bridge that spanned a trickling stream. “Or even‚” he added‚ “to identify it as one‚ sir. That’s why we Apoths are here.” He gestured at the fog beyond. I searched the mist and spied figures roving through the gardens‚ also wearing coats and cloaks of dark red‚ all carrying what one might mistake to be birdcages; yet each cage contained not a bird‚ but a delicate fern. “Checking for contagion‚” said Otirios. “But so far we’ve found nothing. No telltale plants have browned or died yet‚ sir. No sign of contagion on the estate grounds.” He led me to a thin fernpaper door in the estate house. As we approached I thought I heard some long‚ sustained sound within the mansion. I realized it was screaming. “What’s that?” I asked. “Probably the servant girls‚” Otirios said. “They were‚ ah‚ the ones who got there first. Still quite agitated‚ as you can imagine.” “Didn’t they find the body hours ago?” “Yes. But they keep having outbursts. When you see the body‚ you’ll understand why‚ sir.” I listened to the screams‚ wild and hysterical. I fought to keep my face clear of emotion. I told myself to stay controlled and contained. I was an officer for the Iudex‚ the imperial administration responsible for managing the high courts and delivering justice throughout the Empire. I was supposed to be at this fine home‚ even if it was filled with screaming. Otirios opened the door. The sound of the screaming grew far louder. I reflected that piss was supposed to stay in my body‚ but if that screaming went on for much longer‚ that might not stay the case. He led me inside. The first thing that struck me was the cleanliness of the place. Not just the absence of dirt—though there was no dirt‚ not a smudge nor smear in sight—but there was a sterility to everything before me‚ no matter how elegant: the dining couches were too smooth and unblemished‚ and the woven silk mats laid in squares on the floor were too unspoiled‚ perhaps having never known the tramp of a foot. The whole house felt as cozy and comfortable as a surgeon’s knife. Which wasn’t to say it was not opulent. Miniature mai-trees had been altered to grow down from the ceiling‚ acting as chandeliers—something I’d never seen before—their fruits full to bursting with the glowing little mai-worms‚ which cast a flickering blue light about us. I wondered if even the air was expensive in here‚ then saw it was: a massive kirpis mushroom had been built into the corner of every main room—a tall‚ black fungus built to suck in air‚ clean it‚ and exhale it out at a cooler temperature. The shrieking went on and on from somewhere in the mansion. I shivered a little‚ and knew it had nothing to do with the temperature of the air. “We’ve kept all the staff and witnesses here at the house‚ as the investigator directed‚” Otirios said. “I expect you’ll want to interview them‚ sir.” “Thank you‚ Princeps. How many are there?” “Seven total. Four servant girls‚ the cook‚ the groundskeeper‚ and the housekeeper.” “Who owns this estate? I take it not Commander Blas?” “No‚ sir. This house is owned by the Haza clan. Did you not see the insignia?” He gestured to a little marking hanging over the entry door: a single feather standing tall between two trees. That gave me pause. The Hazas were one of the wealthiest families in the Empire and owned a huge amount of land in the inner rings. The staggering luxury of this place began to make a lot of sense‚ but everything else grew only more confusing. “What are the Hazas doing owning a house in Daretana?” I asked‚ genuinely bewildered. He shrugged. “Dunno‚ sir. Maybe they ran out of houses to buy everywhere else.” “Is a member of the Haza clan here currently?” “If they are‚ sir‚ they’re damned good hiders. The housekeeper should know more.” We continued down a long hallway‚ which ended in a black stonewood door. A faint odor filled the air as we grew close to the door: something musty and sweet‚ and yet tinged with a rancid aroma. My stomach trembled. I reminded myself to hold my head high‚ to keep my expression scowling and stoic‚ like a real assistant investigator might. Then I had to remind myself that I was a real assistant investigator‚ damn it all. “Have you worked many death cases before‚ sir?” asked Otirios. “Why?” I asked. “Just curious‚ given the nature of this one.” “I haven’t. Mostly the investigator and I have handled pay fraud among the officers here in Daretana.” “You didn’t handle that murder last year? The sotted guard who attacked the fellow at the checkpoint?” I felt something tighten in my cheek. “The Iudex Investigator position was created here only four months ago.” “Oh‚ I see‚ sir. But you didn’t work any death inquiries with your investigator at your previous station?” The muscle in my cheek tightened further. “When the investigator arrived here‚” I said‚ “I was selected from the other local Sublimes to serve as her assistant. So. No.” There was the slightest of pauses in Otirios’s stride. “So… you have only worked for an Iudex Investigator for four months‚ sir?” “What’s the point of this‚ Princeps?” I asked‚ irritated. I could see the smirk playing at the edges of Otirios’s mouth again. “Well‚ sir‚” he said. “Of all the death cases to be your first‚ I wouldn’t much like it being this one.” He opened the door. The chamber within was a bedroom‚ as grand as the rest of the house‚ with a wide‚ soft mossbed in one corner and a fernpaper wall and door separating off what I guessed was the bathing closet—for though I’d never seen a bathing closet inside a house‚ I knew such things existed. A mai-lantern hung in the corner; in the corner diagonal from it‚ another kirpis shroom. Beside it were two trunks and a leather satchel. Commander Blas’s possessions‚ I guessed. But the most remarkable feature of the room was the clutch of leafy trees growing in the center—for it was growing from within a person. Or rather‚ through a person. The corpse hung suspended in the center of the bedchamber‚ speared by the many slender trees‚ but as Otirios had said it was initially difficult to identify it as a body at all. A bit of torso was visible in the thicket‚ and some of the left leg. What I could see of them suggested a middle-aged man wearing the purple colors of the Imperial Engineering Iyalet. The right arm was totally lost‚ and the right leg had been devoured by the swarm of roots pouring out from the trunks of the little trees and eating into the stonewood floor of the chamber. I stared into the roots. I thought I could identify the pinkish nub of a femur amid all those curling coils. I looked down. An enormous pool of blood had spread across the floor‚ as smooth and reflective as a black glass mirror. A flicker in my stomach‚ like it held an eel trying to leap out. I told myself to focus‚ to breathe. To stay controlled and contained. This was what I did for a living now. “It’s safe to approach‚ sir‚” Otirios said‚ a little too cheerily. “We’ve inspected the whole of the room. Worry not.” I stepped closer to look at the greenery. They weren’t really trees‚ but some kind of long‚ flexible grass—a bit like shootstraw‚ the hollow‚ woody grass they used to make piping and scaffolding. The thicket of shoots appeared to have emerged from between Blas’s shoulder and neck—I spied a hint of vertebrae trapped within them and suppressed another pang of nausea. Most remarkable was Blas’s face. It seemed the shoots had grown multiple branches as they’d emerged from his torso‚ and one had shot sideways through Blas’s skull‚ bending his head at an awful angle; yet the branch had somehow enveloped his skull above the upper jawline‚ swallowing his face and his nose and ears. All that was left of Blas’s skull was his lower jaw‚ hanging open in a silent scream; and there‚ above it in the wood‚ a half ring of teeth and the roof of a mouth‚ submerging into the rippling bark. I stared at his chin. A whisper of steely stubble; a faint scar on the edge from some accident or conflict. I moved on‚ looked at the rest of him. Left arm furred with light brown hair‚ fingers calloused and crackling from years of labor. The leggings on the left leg were stained dark with blood‚ so much so that it had pooled in his boot‚ filling it like a pot of sotwine. I felt a drop on my scalp and looked up. The shoots had punched through the roof of the house‚ and the morning mist was drifting inside in dribs and drabs. “Sticks out about ten span past the top of the house‚ if you’re curious‚ sir‚” said Otirios. “Shot through four span of roofing like it was fish fat. So—a pretty big growth. Never seen anything like it.” “How long did this take?” I asked hoarsely. “Less than five minutes‚ sir. According to the servants’ testimony‚ that is. They thought it was a quake‚ the house shook so.” “Is there anything the Apoths have that can do this?” “No‚ sir. The Apothetikal Iyalet has all kinds of grafts and suffusions to control the growth of plants—succus wheat that ripens within a quarter of a season‚ for example‚ or fruits that grow to three or four times their conventional size. But we’ve never made anything that can grow trees within minutes… or one that can grow from within a person‚ of course.” “Have we got any reason to believe it was intended for him?” “Inconclusive‚ sir‚” said Otirios. “He’s Engineering‚ moves around a good bit. Could be he accidentally ingested something during his travels or contaminated himself. There’s no way to tell yet.” “Did he visit anyone else in town? Or meet any other infected official‚ or imperial personnel?” “Doesn’t seem so‚ sir‚” said Otirios. “It appears he departed from the next canton over and came straight here without meeting anyone.” “Has there ever been a record of any contagion like this?” A contemptuous pucker to his lips. “Well. There are contagions all over the Empire‚ sir. Suffusions and grafts and alterations growing wild… Each one is different. I’d have to check.” “If it is contagion‚ it should spread‚ correct?” “That’s… the nature of contagions‚ sir?” said Otirios. “Then how did it happen to this one man‚ and nothing and no one else?” “Hard to say at this point‚ sir. We’re checking Blas’s movements now. He was on a tour of the outer cantons‚ including the sea walls‚ reviewing all the construction. The‚ ah…” He hesitated. “…The wet season is coming soon‚ after all.” I nodded‚ stone-faced. The coming of the wet season hung over the outer cantons of the Empire so heavily that ignoring it would be like trying to forget the existence of the sun. “No one visited the room before Blas arrived?” I asked. “Or touched anything?” “The servants did‚ of course. We only have their testimony to rely on there.” “And no signs of attempted entry?” “No‚ sir. This place has more wardings than the Emperor’s Sanctum itself. You’ve got to have reagents keys just to get close.” I considered this silently‚ recalling the number of windows and doors in this house. “It’ll be a fine thing if you can explain it‚ sir‚” Otirios said. “What?” I said. “A fine thing for a career.” Another smile‚ this one somewhat cruel. “That’s what you want‚ right‚ sir? Advancement? It’s what any officer would want‚ I’d imagine.” “What I want‚” I said‚ “is to do my duty.” “Well‚ of course‚ sir.” I looked at him for a moment. “Please give me a moment‚ Princeps‚” I said. “I will need to engrave the room.” Otirios left me standing alone before the tree-mangled corpse and shut the door. I reached into my engraver’s satchel on my side and opened it up. Within sat row after row of tiny glass vials sealed with corks‚ each one containing a few drops of fluid: some pale orange‚ others faintly green. I slid one out‚ removed the cork‚ placed it beneath my nose‚ and inhaled. The pungent scent of lye filled my nostrils‚ making my eyes water. I sniffed it once again‚ ensuring that the aroma lay heavy within my head. Then I shut my eyes and took a breath. I felt a tickling or a fluttering in the backs of my eyes‚ like my skull was a bowl of water full of fish flicking about. Then I summoned up a memory. The voice of my master‚ the investigator‚ whispered in my ear: When you arrive at the scene‚ Din‚ observe the room carefully. Check all manners of entry and exit. Look at everything the dead man might have touched. Think of missed places‚ forgotten places. Places the servants might not think to clean. I opened my eyes‚ looked at the room‚ and focused‚ the aroma of lye still loitering in my skull. I studied the walls‚ the floor‚ the way every item and every piece of furniture was arranged‚ the line of every shadow‚ the bend of every blanket—and as I focused my attention‚ all of these sights were engraved in my memory. The great and heavenly Empire of Khanum had long ago perfected the art of shaping life‚ root and branch and flesh and bone. And just as the kirpis shroom in the corner had been altered to cool and clean air‚ I‚ as an Imperial engraver‚ had been altered to remember everything I experienced‚ always and forever. I looked and looked‚ occasionally sniffing at the vial in my hand. Engravers remembered everything‚ but later recalling those memories quickly and easily was another thing. Scent was used as a cue: just like ordinary folk‚ engravers associated memories with an aroma; so later‚ when I reported to my master‚ I would uncork this same vial‚ fill my skull with these same vapors‚ and use their scent as a gateway to recall all I’d experienced. Hence why some called engravers “glass sniffers.” When I was done with the room I stepped forward and squinted at the clutch of shoots‚ walking around them in a circle. Then I noticed one shoot had bloomed: a lonely‚ fragile white bloom‚ but a bloom nonetheless. I stepped closer‚ mindful of the blood on the floor‚ and studied the bloom. It had a sickly aroma‚ that of sotwine vomit‚ perhaps. Inner petals bright purple and dappled with yellow‚ stamen curling and dark. An ugly little flower‚ really. Next I took out all of Blas’s belongings one by one and laid them out before me. A bag of talint coins; a small knife; a set of shirts‚ jerkins‚ leggings‚ and belt; his imperial-issued longsword and scabbard‚ complete with the ornate crossguard for officers; a light mail shirt‚ probably for emergencies‚ as real battle armor would be difficult to casually carry about; and‚ last of all‚ a small pot of oil. I sniffed it. It was aromatic‚ even in this foul-smelling place. Spice‚ oranje-leaf‚ wine mullings‚ maybe incense. My eyes fluttered as I searched my memories for a matching smell—and then I found something similar. Just over a year ago: Leonie‚ a friend of mine‚ had waved a little pot under my nose and said—Therapy oils. For massage‚ and other things. Not cheap! Yet this was a far fancier pot than that had been. I turned it over in my hand. Then I replaced it with his gear—yet as I did‚ I noticed something I’d missed: a small book. My heart fell. I slipped the slender volume out and flipped through the pages. The pages were covered with tiny writing that would have been barely legible to most people—but to my eyes‚ the letters danced and shook on the page‚ and I knew I would have great trouble reading them. I looked over my shoulder at the closed door. I could hear Otirios speaking down the hall. With a grimace‚ I pocketed the book. It was a major breach of conduct to remove evidence from a death scene‚ but I had my own way of reading. I just couldn’t do it here. Later‚ I told myself. And then we’ll put it back. Next I checked the bathing closet. It was a tiny room with a window set above the stonewood bathing basin. The window seemed too small for anyone to climb through‚ but I made a note to examine the grass below later for any imprints. I looked at the burnished bronze mirror on the bathing closet wall‚ tapping it and making sure it was adhered to the wall. I examined the shootstraw pipes‚ then stepped back and gazed at the wall and ceiling‚ wondering how they brought hot water in from the distant boiler to fill the stonewood basin. The marvels of the age‚ I supposed. Then I glanced backward and did a double take. Mold was blooming along the fernpaper walls‚ mostly at the top—little blotches of black here and there. I’d never seen fernpaper walls mold before. I especially wouldn’t have expected to find any on these walls‚ so clean and white and processed. People used fernpaper throughout the Outer Rim of the Empire‚ partially for their resistance to molds and fungus—and also because when the ground shook out here‚ and walls came tumbling down‚ it was better for them to be made of fernpaper than stone. I studied the mold and sniffed the lye vial again‚ ensuring that this sight was easily recallable. Then I looked at the body again‚ this half person frozen in an agonized scream. A drop of water fell from the hole in the ceiling and landed in the lip of his boot‚ sending a tiny fan of pooled blood dribbling down the leather. The lake of gore on the wooden floor widened by a shred of a smallspan. A twist in my stomach. I stood and looked at the burnished bronze mirror. Then I froze‚ staring at the face looking back at me. A very young man’s face‚ with a thick shock of black hair‚ dark‚ worried eyes‚ and the slightly gray skin of someone who’d undergone significant suffusions and alterations. I studied the face’s delicate chin and long nose. Pretty features—not masculine‚ nor rugged‚ nor handsome‚ but pretty‚ and how awkward they looked on a person so large. Not the face of an Iudex Assistant Investigator. Not someone who was supposed to be here at all. A boy playing dress-up at best‚ aping authorities he could never hope to command. And what would happen to this young man if anyone found out how he’d actually gotten this position? My stomach twisted‚ twirled‚ danced. I dashed to the bathing closet window‚ burst through it‚ and sent a spray of vomit pattering down to the grass below. A voice said‚ “Fucking hell!” Gasping‚ I looked down. Two Apoth officers were staring up at me from the gardens‚ shocked looks on their faces. “Ahh…” one said. “Shit‚” I spat. I stumbled back in and shut the window behind me. Not having a handkerchief‚ I wiped my mouth on the inside of my coat. I sniffed and swallowed three‚ four‚ five times‚ trying to suck the rancid taste and aroma back inside me‚ bottling it up. Then I stepped carefully around the puddle of blood‚ went to the bedroom door‚ and opened it to leave—but then I paused. Otirios’s voice floated down the hall‚ chatting with another Apoth guard. “…stuffy little prick‚ barely out of puberty‚” he was saying. “Think I’ve heard of him‚ from the other Sublimes. Supposed to be the dumbest one of the lot‚ nearly failed out a hundred times. I’m surprised to find him working for the investigat—” I walked forward‚ fast. “Princeps‚” I said. Otirios stumbled to attention as I strode around the corner. “Ah—y-yes‚ sir?” “I’m going to review the house and the grounds before I speak to the witnesses‚” I said. “While I do that‚ please place the witnesses in separate rooms and then watch them‚ to ensure they don’t talk among themselves. I’d also like your other guards to make sure the exits and entrances are covered—just in case there’s an unaccounted reagents key and someone tries to slip in or out.” Otirios blanched‚ clearly displeased at the idea of managing so many people for so long. He opened his mouth to argue‚ then grudgingly shut it. “And Princeps…” I looked at him and smiled. “I do appreciate all your support.” I was still smiling as I walked out. I had never given such an order before‚ but I’d enjoyed that one. For while I couldn’t really rebuke Otirios—he was part of another Iyalet‚ a different imperial administration—I could stick him with a shit job and leave him there for a long while. I walked throughout the mansion‚ occasionally sniffing my vial as I studied each hallway‚ each room‚ the insignia of the Haza clan always hanging over my shoulder at the door—the feather between the trees. The Hazas were able to afford a kirpis shroom for every major room‚ it seemed‚ but the one in the western end by the kitchens was shriveled and dying. Curious. I made a note of it‚ then kept moving‚ checking all the windows and doors—mostly fernpaper‚ I noticed. All milled bright white‚ and each probably worth more than a month’s pay for me. I crossed through the kitchens‚ then spied something below the stove: a tiny blot of blood. I touched it with a finger. Still wet‚ still dark. There might be many reasons for blood to be in a kitchen‚ of course‚ but I engraved it in my memory. Then I went outside. The gardens were very pretty and elaborate: landscaped streams crisscrossing the grounds‚ little bridges arching over them in picturesque places. A sight from a spirit story for children‚ perhaps; yet I didn’t find anything of interest as I wandered the paths‚ nodding occasionally at the Apoths still searching for contagion. I came to the place where I’d vomited out the window and searched the grass for any indentions or marks of a ladder or something similar. Nothing there‚ either. The last thing to look at was the groundskeeper’s hut. It was a quaint place‚ made of thin fernpaper walls‚ the shelves dotted with tiny plants the groundskeeper was apparently nursing along. Lines of merry little blooms‚ some fresh‚ some wilting. There was also a clay oven‚ quite large. I peered inside and noticed the ash in the bottom‚ then touched the brick there and found it was still slightly warm‚ like coals had been smoldering overnight. I made another trip about the grounds to confirm I’d seen all there was to see. Then I glanced around‚ confirmed I was alone‚ and slid the commander’s book from my pocket. I opened it‚ squinted at the shivering‚ dancing words on the page‚ and began to read aloud. “Wall s-segment… 3C‚” I mumbled. “Check d-date the fourth of Egin… two t-tons sand‚ two tons loam…” I read on and on‚ stuttering through the tiny script‚ and listened to my voice as I read. I had great trouble reading and memorizing text‚ but if I read it aloud‚ and listened to my own words‚ I could remember them as I could everything else I heard. I read it all aloud as fast as I could. It was mostly a record of the commander’s movements as he did his inspections‚ with entries like ck. Paytasız bridges in the north of the Tala canton—6th to 8th of Egin—all pass‚ and so on. He’d apparently been very busy just over four weeks ago‚ during the month of Egin. I had no idea if any of it was pertinent or not‚ but as an engraver‚ I was to engrave everything in my memory. I finished engraving the book‚ then began crossing the many bridges to return to the house. I had not interviewed anyone as a death witness before‚ especially not the staff of the house of a gentry family. I wondered how to begin. I caught a flash of my reflection in the water below‚ dappled and rippling‚ and paused. “Let’s not fuck this up‚ yes?” I said to my watery face. I crossed the last little bridge and entered the house. I pressed the servant girls first‚ being as they’d had access to Blas’s rooms. I started with the girl who’d been crying so hysterically—a little thing‚ narrow shoulders‚ tiny wrists. Small enough to make one wonder how she made it down the hall with all those dishes. It’d been she who’d responded to Blas when he’d started calling for help at eight o’clock‚ she told me‚ just before breakfast. “He called for help?” I asked. She nodded. A tear wove down her cheek to balance precariously in the crevice above her nostril. “He said he… his chest hurt. Said it was hard to breathe. He was coming down for breakfast‚ and he stopped and went back to his room. I came to him‚ tried to get him to lie down before… before he…” She bowed her head; the balanced tear spilled down her lip; then she started wailing again. “I’m suh-sorry‚” she sobbed as she tried to regain her composure. “Sh-should have asked… W-Would the suh-sir care for some t-tea?” “Ah… No‚ thank you‚” I said. For some reason‚ this made her sob all the harder. I waited for her to stop. When she didn’t‚ I let her go. I moved on to the next one‚ an older servant named Ephinas. She sat down slowly‚ her movements cautious‚ controlled. Someone used to being watched‚ probably. She corroborated the first servant’s story: Blas arrived late in the evening‚ bathed‚ went to bed; and all had seemed completely normal until he started screaming for help in the morning. She had not gone to him‚ so she didn’t know more than that—but she did come alive when I asked if Blas had stayed here before. “Yes‚” she said. “My masters let him stay here often. He is close with them.” “How was this stay different from other stays?” I asked. “Or was it different?” Hesitation. “It was‚” she said. “Then how so?” More hesitation. “He left us alone this time‚” she said quietly. “Probably because he never got the chance to try.” I coughed‚ snuffed at my vial‚ and hoped she could not see me blush. “Tell me more about that‚ please‚” I asked. She did so. From the sound of it‚ Blas was quite the absolute bastard‚ pawing at the servants the second he had them alone. She said she wasn’t sure if his advances had been reciprocated by any of the other girls‚ but she didn’t think so‚ though all of them got the same treatment. “What was the nature of his visit here?” I asked her. Her eyes dipped down. “He was a friend of the Haza family‚” she said. “He’s a friend? That’s the only reason why he stayed here?” “Yes.” “Isn’t it strange for someone to stay at someone else’s house while they’re not here?” This elicited a contemptuous glance. Her eye lingered on my cheap boots and ill-fitting coat. “It is not uncommon for gentryfolk.” Even the servants thought themselves worldlier than I‚ it seemed. But then‚ they were probably right. I asked her more‚ but she gave me less with every question‚ withdrawing into herself further and further. I made a note of it and moved on. I asked the next girls about Blas’s advances. While they corroborated the story‚ all of them claimed they’d never had a relationship with Blas beyond these unpleasant moments‚ and none of them had much else to say. “I didn’t hear or see anything before he died‚” said the final girl flatly. She was bolder‚ louder‚ angrier than the others. Less willing to quietly suffer servitude‚ maybe. “Not for the whole night. I know that.” “You’re sure?” I asked. “I am‚” she said. “Because I didn’t sleep much before the guest came.” “Why was that?” “Because I was hot. Very hot.” I thought about it. “Do you sleep near the kitchens?” “Yes. Why?” “Because the kirpis shroom is dying there. Could that be why you were hot?” She seemed surprised. “Another one’s died?” “They’ve died before?” “They’re very sensitive to water. Too much and they shrivel up and die.” “What kind of moisture?” I asked. “Any kind. Rain. Humidity. Leave a window or door open nearby—especially now‚ when the wet season starts—and they’ll get sick right away. They’re temperamental as hell.” I leaned back and focused. A fluttering at the backs of my eyes‚ and I summoned up my memories of searching the house‚ each image of each room flashing perfectly in my mind like a fly suspended in a drop of honey. No doors or windows had been open that I saw. So how might the kirpis have died? “Did you or anyone else in the house happen to close an open door or window before Blas died?” I asked. She stared at me. “After seeing what we saw‚ sir‚” she said‚ “we could barely stand‚ let alone do our work.” I took that as a no‚ they had not shut any doors or windows‚ and continued on. Eventually I ran out of servant girls‚ so I went hard at the cook‚ asking her about the blood in the kitchen. She was most unimpressed. “Why do you think there might be blood in the kitchen?” she demanded. “Did you cut yourself?” I asked. “No. Of course not. I am too old‚ and too good. If you found blood‚ I am sure it’s from the larfish I cooked for Blas’s breakfast—not that he ever got to eat it.” “Larfish?” I asked. I pulled a face. “For breakfast?” “It’s what he likes‚” she said. “It’s hard to get‚ out close to the walls‚ where he works.” She leaned closer. “If you ask me‚ he picked up something out there‚ at the sea walls. Some parasite or another. I mean—think of what the sea walls keep out. Sanctum knows what kind of strange things they bring in with them!” “They don’t get in‚ ma’am‚” I said. “That’s the point of the sea walls.” “But they had a breach years ago‚” she said‚ delighted to discuss such grotesqueries. “One got in and wrecked a city south of here‚ before the Legion brought it down. The trees there bloom now‚ though they never bloomed before. They weren’t trees that could grow blooms before.” “If we could get back to the circumstances of last night‚ ma’am…” “Circumstances!” she scoffed. “The man caught contagion. It’s as simple as that.” I pressed her harder‚ but she gave me nothing more of interest‚ and I let her go. The groundskeeper next. Fellow’s name was Uxos‚ and he was apparently more than just a groundskeeper‚ performing odd jobs about the house‚ fixing up walls or fernpaper doors. A most timid man‚ perhaps too old to still be groundskeeper. He seemed terrified at the idea of trying to fix the damage the trees had done to the house. “I don’t even know what kind of tree it is‚” he said. “I’ve never seen it before in my life.” “It had a bloom‚ you know‚” I said. “A little white one.” I described it to him—the inner petals purple and yellow‚ the sweet and sickly aroma. He just shook his head. “No‚ no‚” he said. “It’s not a flower I know. Not a tree I know. I don’t know.” I asked him about the kirpis shroom‚ and he said the same thing as the servant girl: too much water kills them. But how this one had died‚ he didn’t know. “Someone probably overwatered it‚” he said. “Dumped a drink in it. It’s expensive‚ but it happens. They’re very hard to care for. It’s a complex process‚ cooling the air. They make black fruit in their roots you have to clean out…” Finally I asked him about his oven‚ and the ashes of the fire out there in the hut. “I use the fire to clean my tools‚” Uxos said. “Some plants are very delicate. Can’t get fungus from one to the other. So I put them in the fire to clean them.” “Don’t they have washes for that?” I said. “Soaps and such for your tools?” “They’re expensive. Fire is cheaper.” “The Hazas don’t seem like people who care much about price.” “They care‚” he said‚ “if people get expensive. Then the people go. I try very hard not to be expensive. I don’t want to go.” A worm of worry in his eye. Too old to be groundskeeper by half‚ I guessed‚ and he knew it. I pressed him for more‚ but he had nothing more to give‚ and I let him go. Last was the housekeeper—a Madam Gennadios‚ apparently the boss of the whole place when the Hazas themselves weren’t around. An older woman with a lined‚ heavily painted face. She wore bright green robes of a very expensive make‚ soft and shimmering—Sazi silk‚ from the inner rings of the Empire. She paused when she walked in‚ looked me over with a cold‚ shrewd eye‚ then sat down‚ her posture immaculate—knees together at an angle‚ hands in her lap‚ shoulders high and tight—and stared resolutely into the corner. “Something wrong‚ ma’am?” I asked. “A boy‚” she said. Her words were as dry and taut as a bowstring. “They’ve sent a boy.” “I beg your pardon?” She studied me again out of the corner of her eye. “This is who’s trapped us in our house‚ the house of my masters‚ and won’t let us remove that damned corpse—a great‚ overgrown boy.” A long‚ icy moment slipped by. “Someone’s died in your house‚ ma’am‚” I said. “Potentially of contagion. Something that might have killed you all‚ too. Don’t you want us to investigate?” “Then where’s the investigator?” “The investigator isn’t able to attend‚” I said. “I’m here to review the scene and report back to her.” Her gaze lingered on me. I was reminded of an eel contemplating a fish flitting before its cave. “Ask me your questions‚” she said. “I’ve work to do‚ a damned ceiling to patch up. Go.” I inhaled at my vial and then asked her about the nature of Blas’s stay. She gave what might have been the smallest‚ least sincere shrug I’d ever seen. “He is a friend of the Haza family.” “One of your servant girls said the same thing‚” I said. “Because it’s true.” “The exact same thing.” “Because it’s true.” “And your masters often let their friends stay at their houses?” “My masters have many houses‚ and many friends. Sometimes their friends come to stay with us.” “And no one from the Haza clan intended to join him?” “My masters‚” she said‚ “prefer more civilized environs than this canton.” I moved on‚ asking her about the locations of the staff’s reagents keys. “All the reagents keys are locked up at night‚” she said. “Only I and Uxos are in constant possession of any during the evening‚ for emergencies.” I asked about replacing keys‚ how to duplicate them‚ and so on‚ but she was dismissive. The idea was impossible to her. “What about alterations?” I said. “Have your staff had any imperial grafts applied?” “Of course‚” she said. “For immunities‚ and parasites. We are on the rim of the Empire‚ after all.” “Nothing more advanced than that?” She shook her head. I felt a heat under the collar of my coat. I didn’t like how little she moved‚ sitting up so ramrod straight‚ shifting her head only to look at me out of the side of her eye like a damned bird. “Can you at least tell me the nature of the commander’s relationship with the Hazas?” I asked. A withering stare. “They were friends.” “How long have they been friends?” “I do not know the nature of all my masters’ friendships‚ nor is that for me to know.” “Do they have many friends in Daretana?” “Yes. In many of the Iyalets‚ at that.” Her eyes glittered at me. “And some of them are above you.” I smiled politely at her‚ yet the threat seemed very real. I asked her more‚ but she gave me nothing. I let her go. Then it was done: all witnesses questioned‚ all personnel accounted for‚ all times of departures and arrivals established. The only person who’d arrived in the past day had been Commander Taqtasa Blas‚ who’d come to the residence at just past eleven on the night of the twenty-ninth of the month of Skalasi. He immediately bathed and went to bed‚ awoke on the thirtieth‚ and then paused right before breakfast to die in the most horrifying fashion imaginable. Though I thought I’d made a pretty good job of it—except for my chat with the housekeeper‚ perhaps—I could make neither head nor tail of the scene: not whether Blas’s death was murder‚ or even suspicious. Contagion did happen‚ after all. Especially to those who worked at the sea walls. I stopped by the bedroom on my way out. To see the corpse one more time‚ yes‚ but also to replace Blas’s book in his belongings. It felt strange to slip his diary back in his bags‚ his frozen scream hanging over my shoulder. Despite all the mutilation‚ the pain of his expression remained striking‚ like he was still feeling all those shoots threading and coiling through his flesh. I walked out and thanked Otirios‚ and he led me across the grounds back to the servants’ gate. “Is it all right for us to remove the corpse for study‚ sir?” he asked. “I think so‚ but please keep all the witnesses here‚” I said. “I’ll report back to the investigator‚ and she’ll likely want to summon some of the witnesses to question herself.” “It was well done‚ sir‚” he said. “What was?” “Well done. If I might say so. All handled well.” He gave me a grin‚ beaming and big-brotherly. I’d only ever seen such smiles above a fourth pot of sotwine. “Though next time‚ sir—might want to be a bit friendlier. I’ve seen undertakers warmer than you.” I paused and looked at him. Then I turned and kept walking‚ down through the picturesque garden paths and out the vinegate. “But I’ve also got to wonder‚ sir…” Otirios asked as we passed through the vines. “Yes‚ Princeps?” I said. “What advice do you have now?” “Might this have been easier if the investigator herself had come?” I stopped again and looked at him balefully. “No‚” I said. “I can say with absolute honesty‚ Princeps‚ that no‚ this would not have been easier if the investigator had come.” I returned to the path‚ muttering‚ “You’ll have to trust me on that.” From the book The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett. Copyright © 2024 by Robert Jackson Bennett. Reprinted by arrangement with Del Rey‚ an imprint of Random House‚ a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved. The post Read an Excerpt From Robert Jackson Bennett’s The Tainted Cup appeared first on Reactor.

The Legendary Rocket Launcher is one of the strongest weapons in Palworld but would require you to do a lot of hard work to get it. How to get the Legendary Rocket Launcher Schematic in Palworld Screenshot: Pocketpair To craft the Legendary Rocket Launcher in Palworld‚ you will first need to collect the Legendary Rocket Launcher Schematic. This Schematic can only be found by defeating the Level 50 Legendary Pal Boss Jetragon. Jetragon can be found on the northeastern side of the Volcanic area on the southeastern corner of the map. Fast travel to the Beach of Everlasting Summer fast travel point and head towards the north direction to find this Legendary Pal at these coordinates: -787‚ -318. Being a Level 50 Legendary Pal‚ it is very hard to beat and capture Jetragon. However‚ with the correct technique and team‚ you can defeat any Pal boss in Palworld no matter how strong they are. Being a Dragon-type boss‚ Jetragon is weak against Ice-type P...

While you can earn Twilight Fragments in a myriad of ways‚ you can also find them out in the open while exploring the map. We’ll uncover all the Twilight Fragment locations for you in Persona 3 Reload. Twilight Fragments are useful items that allow you to unlock certain chests in Tartarus‚ among other things. Here’s where you can find some hidden Twilight Fragments. Persona 3 Reload: Where to find all Twilight Frament locations Since we’re still making our way through Persona 3 Reload‚ this information is subject to changes and updates. But for now‚ these are all the 17 Twilight Fragment locations that we can find in Persona 3 Reload. As a reminder‚ a few of these locations are locked until a certain point. For example‚ you can’t access Club Escapade until you reach level two Courage. Screenshots: PC Invasion Dorms Behind the garden on the Dorm Rooftop. Beside the lamp by the stairs on the fourth fl...

High Quality Cloth is one of the most useful resources you will need in the mid-stage of the game to craft different armors and technologies in Palworld. How to get High Quality Cloth in Palworld Screenshot: PC Invasion To make High Quality Cloth by yourself‚ you will first need to craft a High Quality Workbench‚ unlocked at Technology Level 11‚ which will require you to spend 3 Technology Points. Once you unlock the technology‚ you can build it using the following materials. x50 Wood x15 Ingot x10 Nail Once you have crafted the High Quality Workbench‚ reach Technology Level 36 to unlock High Quality Cloth. Now‚ to craft this item‚ you will need the following materials. x10 Wool Wool is pretty easy to gather in Palworld. You can either kill or capture these Pals to collect Wool from them: Cremis‚ Kingpaca‚ Ice Kingpaca‚ Melpaca‚ Swee‚ Sweepa‚ and Lamball. Moreover‚ you can assign Melpaca‚ Lamball‚ or Cremis to you...

Finding all the Riddler riddles and time trials is easy in Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League when compared to finding all the Riddler Trophies. Have no fear! This guide will show you the location of every Riddler Trophy in Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League. A few tips before you go hunting: if the Riddler Trophy is out of reach‚ you can shoot it to bring it down. There isn’t a way to get a hint at their locations‚ but once you get close enough to a Riddler Trophy‚ it appears on your map which can help you pinpoint it. Last few tips: if you Boomerang right onto a Riddler Trophy‚ it may disappear. Quit your session and come back in to have it come back. If a purple battlefield is covering the area that would have the Riddler Trophy‚ continue with the story and come back later. Related: All riddle solutions in Suicide Squad Kill the Justice League Racine Riddler Trophy locations Bakerline Riddler Trophy locations Midtown Riddler...

Whether working full time for themselves or part time as contractors‚ picking up occasional gig work or having a side hustle‚ an estimated 64 million Americans performed some sort of independent work in 2023. These aren’t just accountants or Uber drivers. They’re IT consultants‚ makeup artists‚ musicians‚ interpreters‚ fitness instructors‚ copy editors‚ and truck drivers. But now‚ their ability to be their own boss is in jeopardy. A Department of Labor rule scheduled to take effect March 11 would significantly restrict the right to work as an independent contractor instead of being treated as an employee. Proponents of the rule argue that workers who aren’t formal employees won’t be protected by labor laws regulating things such as minimum wages‚ work hours‚ and unemployment insurance. They assume the regulation simply will shift contractors to employee status without significant changes in their work or lifestyles. But California shows it doesn’t work that way. The Golden State passed a similar law‚ AB 5‚ significantly restricting independent contracting. It took effect in January 2020 and has proved so unpopular and damaging that the state now has exempted more than 100 professions from the law and voters overturned its application to ridesharing and delivery services via a statewide referendum. Yet even the watered-down restrictions are wreaking havoc among workers in California. The group Freelancers Against AB 5 compiled a list of more than 600 professions that have been negatively affected by independent contracting restrictions. Americans for Tax Reform documents more than 600 personal testimonials of workers who’ve been harmed. Karen Anderson‚ the founder of Freelancers Against AB 5‚ testified to federal lawmakers about children’s theaters and nonprofit youth sports clubs closing their doors; sign language interpreters unable to provide services to the deaf mandated by the Americans With Disabilities Act; and professionals having to move out of state to maintain their livelihoods. One Californian hurt by AB 5 is Monica Wyman‚ a stay-at-home mom who started her own floral business in 2009. She hired friends—fellow moms who wanted flexible work—as contractors for events such as weddings. After AB 5‚ Wyman was unable to hire contract help‚ including people to fill in for her when she was battling cancer.  “I don’t even have words to explain how bad this has been for our family‚” Wyman said. “I’m at this crossroads where I’m thinking I’m going to have to dissolve my business and close my doors.” Evidence of AB 5’s harmful effects isn’t just anecdotal. New research by a group of economists at the Mercatus Center shows California’s independent contracting restrictions are significantly damaging California’s workforce. Their analysis found that AB 5 reduced self-employment by 10.5% in California. Despite the law’s intent to push more people into traditional employment‚ AB 5 led to a 4.4% drop in overall employment. Job losses were most severe—a 27.9% drop in self-employment—among professions in which self-employment is more common. The Biden administration’s independent contractor rule is likely to have similar effects‚ devastating self-employment and cutting overall employment as well. The nation can’t afford that.  Employment is already 2.6 million lower than it would be if the employment-to-population ratio were the same as it was prior to the COVID-19 pandemic. Even weaker employment would diminish economic growth and compound America’s precarious fiscal situation. Why does this rule eliminate so many jobs? Because being an employee—including a prescribed schedule and reporting to a boss—isn’t possible for everyone. The study “Freelancing in America” reports that more than half of independent workers surveyed say they can’t work for a traditional employer because of their caregiving duties or their personal health conditions. Moreover‚ even independent workers who can work as employees are likely to be worse off because they overwhelmingly choose independent work over traditional employment. Independent workers say it provides better work-life balance‚ the same or higher income‚ and flexibility that leads to less stress and better health. In fact‚ nearly half of independent workers say that no amount of money would cause them to go back to traditional employment. Congress should protect independent workers and provide much needed clarity on the issue by passing a law‚ such as the 21st Century Worker Act‚ which establishes a bright-line test‚ consistent across all federal laws‚ to determine who is an “employee” and who is an “independent contractor.” Instead of trying to “protect” workers by pushing them into employment terms they don’t want or can’t perform‚ policymakers should protect workers’ rights to pursue the type of work and compensation that is best for them. Originally published by the Wisconsin State Journal as distributed by Tribune News Service Have an opinion about this article? To sound off‚ please email letters@DailySignal.com‚ and we’ll consider publishing your edited remarks in our regular “We Hear You” feature. Remember to include the URL or headline of the article plus your name and town and/or state. The post 64 Million Americans Risk Losing Work Under Biden Admin appeared first on The Daily Signal.

A second Trump administration would benefit the environment. There’s no better proof of that than Friday’s decision by the Biden administration to stop future exports of liquefied natural gas‚ pending a future study by the Department of Energy. As justification for the cutoff‚ Energy Secretary Jennifer Granholm described the importance of “protecting Americans against climate change and winning the clean energy future.” Halting American exports of natural gas would result in greater worldwide use of coal‚ thereby increasing global CO2 emissions. Europe has already been turning to coal to deal with energy shortages in the aftermath of Russia’s cutoff of natural gas. Those concerned about carbon emissions should be fighting to reduce global emissions‚ which means avoiding the use of coal‚ where possible. Equally important‚ Biden’s ban on new gas exports would benefit America’s enemies. Because prices are set on the basis of future production‚ Biden’s action is bound to raise the prices of Russian and Qatari gas‚ bringing huge windfalls to hostile regimes. The export ban also benefits China‚ which is no friend of the environment. Over the past 16 years‚ U.S. emissions of CO2 have declined by a billion metric tons as natural gas has been increasingly substituted for coal use in the generation of electricity. Over the same period‚ CO2 emissions in China have risen by 5 billion metric tons. The stoppage also hurts our allies. First and foremost is Europe‚ which has been importing more and more American natural gas since 2022‚ when Russia cut off its supplies of natural gas. According to the Energy Information Agency‚ America exported an average of 11.6 billion cubic feet of natural gas per day in the first half of 2023‚ more than any other country. Europe was our biggest customer last year. Pausing exports will leave our allies there stuck between a rock and a hard place. The same is true in Asia‚ which was the top destination for America’s natural gas exports in 2021. India‚ South Korea‚ Japan‚ and other U.S. allies all want to reduce emissions and make greater of use of natural gas. Cutting them off now will force them back to coal‚ which produces more emissions than natural gas‚ and is a commodity China can more readily provide. In short‚ Biden is doing everything he can to reduce U.S. production of natural gas. Reversing this policy‚ as Trump proposes‚ would reduce emissions overseas and at home. On his first day in office‚ through executive order‚ Biden restricted offshore drilling‚ expanded the boundaries of national monuments‚ and halted construction of the Keystone XL pipeline. He views fossil fuels as transitional‚ and as he indicated in his 2023 State of the Union address‚ he believes that fossil fuels would not be needed for much longer. Even if Biden were right—and he’s not—it wouldn’t meaningfully help the environment. Indeed‚ if America stopped all use of fossil fuels immediately‚ global temperatures would only decline by two-tenths of one degree Celsius by the year 2100‚ according to government models. This is because China‚ India‚ Russia‚ Africa‚ and Latin America are ramping up their use of coal in order to reach Western standards of living. China is home to large supplies of coal‚ but little natural gas‚ and the country uses its domestic coal supplies for generating electricity to power its global manufacturing capacity. A second Trump administration would likely encourage production of natural gas and faster permitting of pipelines and LNG terminals to be able to move it from the interior of the country to ports‚ and into export terminals to be shipped to Europe and Asia. America’s natural gas production‚ currently more than 96 billion cubic feet per day‚ is greater than pre-pandemic levels‚ but production primarily takes place on private lands. It could have been even higher if Biden had not restricted leases on federal land and if pipeline approval happened faster. Trump’s energy plan includes permitting reform‚ allowing different sources of energy to compete on a level playing field‚ opening more lands to natural gas development‚ reversing Biden’s climate agenda‚ expediting nuclear technology‚ and protecting the energy grid. Unlike Biden‚ Trump would not instruct the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission‚ the Securities and Exchange Commission and the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency to slow down pipeline and liquid natural gas export terminal construction in the name of a transition to renewables. The more natural gas the U.S. exports‚ the lower global emissions would be. With Trump in office‚ faster infrastructure permitting would allow natural gas to travel where it is needed. Biden’s halt of natural gas exports harms the environment and benefits America’s enemies. A second Trump term would reverse this disastrous policy. Originally published at Newsweek.com Have an opinion about this article? To sound off‚ please email letters@DailySignal.com and we’ll consider publishing your edited remarks in our regular “We Hear You” feature. Remember to include the url or headline of the article plus your name and town and/or state. The post Why a Second Trump Term Would Be Good for the Environment  appeared first on The Daily Signal.

The Biden administration confirmed that the Islamic Resistance in Iraq‚ an umbrella organization consisting of multiple Iran-backed militant groups‚ is the group that conducted an attack in Jordan that killed 3 U.S. soldiers and injured at least 40 troops. The White House has signaled plans for a multitiered response to the deadly drone attack on Jordan’s Tower 22‚ according to The Associated Press. On Monday‚ the Pentagon said the attack bore the “fingerprints” of Kataib Hezbollah‚ one of two major groups behind the attacks and a member of the Islamic Resistance‚ but that U.S. Central Command was still assessing the incident. National Security Council spokesperson John Kirby on Wednesday confirmed that the Islamic Resistance planned‚ facilitated‚ and supplied the equipment for Sunday’s deadly attack‚ according to the AP. President Joe Biden “believes that it is important to respond in an appropriate way‚” he said. While the president continues to weigh options‚ “the first thing you see won’t be the last thing‚” Kirby added. The Islamic Resistance in a statement claimed initial responsibility for the attack‚ according to The New York Times. Since the uptick in attempted strikes on bases hosting U.S. personnel in Iraq and Syria began on Oct. 17‚ this was the first strike that resulted in fatalities among U.S. troops. On Tuesday‚ as rumblings of a sweeping U.S. response grew‚ Kataib Hezbollah said it would suspend military and security activities aimed at U.S. troops‚ Reuters reported. The administration quickly dismissed the claim. “Actions speak louder than words‚” Pentagon press secretary Maj. Gen. Pat Ryder said Tuesday. “They’re not the only group that has been attacking us‚” Kirby said Wednesday. The administration has said it holds Iran accountable for the attacks on U.S. troops‚ although Iran has denied any association with the attack. However‚ Tehran funds the groups and provides it with weapons and training. Officials insist the U.S. does not want a war with Iran but will take the necessary steps to protect U.S. forces. Tehran on Wednesday threatened to “decisively respond” to any attack that might take place on Iranian soil‚ the AP reported. The loss of Sgt. William J. Rivers‚ Spc. Breonna A. Moffett and Spc. Kennedy L. Sanders has left an indelible mark on the Army Reserve. These Citizen Soldiers died in service to their country on January 28‚ 2024‚ in Jordan.Their sacrifice will not be forgotten. pic.twitter.com/86fzn79ZTS— Chief of the Army Reserve &; Commanding General (@ChiefUSAR) January 29‚ 2024 Kataib Hezbollah is one of two primary Iran-backed militant organizations responsible for more than 160 attacks on bases housing U.S. troops since Oct. 17‚ the Pentagon has said. In October‚ the powerful militant group had threatened to attack U.S. military bases with missiles‚ special forces‚ and drones if the U.S. intervened militarily in support of Israel‚ Reuters reported. “These evil people must leave the country‚ otherwise they will taste the fire of hell in this world before the afterlife‚” the group said in an October statement‚ according to Reuters. Originally published by the Daily Caller News Foundation Have an opinion about this article? To sound off‚ please email letters@DailySignal.com and we’ll consider publishing your edited remarks in our regular “We Hear You” feature. Remember to include the URL or headline of the article plus your name and town and/or state. The post US Identifies Group Behind Deadly Attacks on Troops appeared first on The Daily Signal.

Argentina actually elected a libertarian president. Javier Milei campaigned with a chain saw‚ promising to cut the size of government. Argentina’s leftists had so clogged the country’s economic arteries with regulations that what once was one of the world’s richest countries is now one of the poorest. Inflation is more than 200%. People save their whole lives—and then find their savings worth nearly nothing. They got so fed up‚ they did something never done before in modern history: They elected a full-throated libertarian. Milei understands that government can’t create wealth. He surprised diplomats at the World Economic Forum this month by saying‚ “The state is the problem!” He spoke up for capitalism: “Do not be intimidated by the political caste or by parasites who live off the state. … If you make money‚ it’s because you offer a better product at a better price‚ thereby contributing to general well-being. Do not surrender to the advance of the state. The state is not the solution.” Go‚ Milei! I wish current American politicians talked that way. In the West‚ young people turn socialist. In Argentina‚ they live under socialist policies. They voted for Milei. Sixty-nine percent of voters under 25 voted for him. That helped him win by a whopping 3 million votes. He won promising to reverse “decades of decadence.” He told the Economic Forum‚ “If measures are adopted that hinder the free functioning of markets‚ competition‚ price systems‚ trade‚ and ownership of private property‚ the only possible fate is poverty.” Right. Poor countries demonstrate that again and again. The media say Milei will never pass his reforms‚ and leftists may yet stop him. But already‚ “he was able to repeal rent controls‚ price controls‚” says economist Daniel Di Martino in my new video. He points out that Milei already “eliminated all restrictions on exports and imports‚ all with one sign of a pen.” “He can just do that without Congress?” I ask. “The president of Argentina has a lot more power than the president of the United States.” Milei also loosened rules limiting where airlines can fly. “Now (some) airfares are cheaper than bus fares!” says Di Martino. He scrapped laws that say‚ “Buy in Argentina.” I point out that America has “Buy America” rules. “It only makes poor people poorer because it increases costs!” Di Martino replies. “Why shouldn’t Argentinians be able to buy Brazilian pencils or Chilean grapes?” “To support Argentina‚” I push back. “Guess what?” says Di Martino‚ “Not every country is able to produce everything at the lowest cost. Imagine if you had to produce bananas in America.” Argentina’s leftist governments tried to control pretty much everything. “The regulations were such that everything not explicitly legal was illegal‚” laughs Di Martino. “Now … everything not illegal is legal.” One government agency Milei demoted was a “Department for Women‚ Gender‚ and Diversity.” Di Martino says that reminds him of Venezuela’s Vice Ministry for Supreme Social Happiness. “These agencies exist just so government officials can hire their cronies.” Cutting government jobs and subsidies for interest groups is risky for vote-seeking politicians. There are often riots in countries when politicians cut subsidies. Sometimes politicians get voted out. Or jailed. “What’s incredible about Milei‚” notes Di Martino‚ “is that he was able to win on the promise of cutting subsidies.” That is remarkable. Why would Argentinians vote for cuts? “Argentinians are fed up with the status quo‚” replies Di Martino. Milei is an economist. He named his dogs after Milton Friedman‚ Murray Rothbard‚ and Robert Lucas‚ all libertarian economists. I point out that most Americans don’t know who those men were. “The fact that he’s naming his dogs after these famous economists‚” replies Di Martino‚ “shows that he’s really a nerd. It’s a good thing to have an economics nerd president of a country.” “What can Americans learn from Argentina?” “Keep America prosperous. So we never are in the spot of Argentina in the first place. That requires free markets.” Yes. Actually‚ free markets plus rule of law. When people have those things‚ prosperity happens. It’s good that once again‚ a country may try it. COPYRIGHT 2024 BY JFS PRODUCTIONS INC. The Daily Signal publishes a variety of perspectives. Nothing written here is to be construed as representing the views of The Heritage Foundation. Have an opinion about this article? To sound off‚ please email letters@DailySignal.com‚ and we’ll consider publishing your edited remarks in our regular “We Hear You” feature. Remember to include the URL or headline of the article plus your name and town and/or state. The post A Libertarian President! appeared first on The Daily Signal.

Charles Blow: Rejection of DEI Is 'a New Era of Oppression'