Drakenfeld (10 page)

‘So there were a lot of people from all walks of life in the building,’ I offered. ‘People who would not normally be permitted.’

‘Everyone had been given the password,’ Veron said. ‘Security had to be relaxed tonight, but usually there’s a new password each day, known only to a select
few.’

‘We had many different types of people here, many of whom could wield a blade to cut a throat. Even a senator could do that. Even one as old as you.’

‘What are you suggesting?’ Chastra spluttered. A part of me enjoyed his enraged expression. ‘I have committed no murder. Such crimes are for the young and ambitious.’

‘You said it was the gods a moment ago,’ I said. ‘Now, I’d like the soldiers present to take details and accounts of people’s movements this evening.’

Chastra’s face reddened as he glared at me. ‘This is outrageous. A god of some sort has clearly seen to it that this woman’s life was not to be. I am a
senator—’

‘And a potential suspect in a murder investigation,’ I reminded him. ‘Of course, your reluctance to conform to protocol will be noted.’

Names and addresses were taken from those who were still here, which I would later match against the guest list I’d asked for. I requested that those soldiers in the
King’s Legion who could write put down any useful information. Those who could not write, I asked to continue searching the building. Eventually, people grew tired and protests came from the
heads of powerful families to be allowed to go home.

I didn’t want people leaving immediately, not when things were fresh in their memory, though I did not mind if anyone came to me later with information. Faces or snippets of conversation
could crystallize in the mind days, even weeks after a crime, and still prove to be useful. Afterwards, my details were circulated to anyone in a position of authority in the room.

People could not be kept on site for much longer, despite my efforts, and the sun soon began to rise on a new day. When the guests commenced their exodus, I returned once again to the outer
doors of the temple of Trymus. Leana was still there, sketching out the inside on a piece of parchment.

‘I am convinced it is sealed,’ she said. ‘No way in. No way out. Apart from that battered door.’

‘You would have thought we’d have a few days to relax before being thrown straight into a murder investigation,’ I remarked, staring at the temple door.

The face of Trymus looked down upon me, his severe expression somehow appropriate for the mood.

‘What does Trymus even stand for?’ Leana asked. ‘I never can understand why there are so many gods. You people have a fixation with them.’

‘Trymus and his wife, Festonia, built Tryum. They are the god and goddess of war, among other things. He made himself king and defended the original settlement against waves of strange
invaders. Apparently during the Detratan Empire one couldn’t move for his temples. He’s seen as a blessing in wartime – and for agriculture. No doubt in times of food shortages,
like now, people make as many offerings as they can so that he’ll heal the crops.’

‘It does not seem to have done much good,’ Leana remarked.

I eventually came to an agreement with some of the senators that we would return to Optryx later, after everyone had rested. If the killer was in the building, the soldiers stated in no
uncertain terms that they would find them – though given the amount of skills he or she might possess, I doubted that. If the killer had indeed escaped, they were likely to be far from Optryx
by now.

As we were about to leave, Veron informed me that he had arranged, with the administrative staff of the residence, for me to be granted a meeting with King Licintius later in the day.

What would my father have thought about all of this? Would he, too, be making the same decisions?

The matter needed to be resolved as quickly as possible – it was a chance to prove myself to the people of Tryum.

Though the remainder of the night was humid, I slept peacefully enough, and dreamt of falcons soaring over my house in a most unnatural manner.

After waking, I was prompted to make an offering to the small shrine to Polla, which my father had kept in immaculate condition. There, in the corner of the open hallway, with a cool breeze
passing across my back, I muttered the purifications in an attempt to clear my mind, channel some of her essence, and to think logically.

How had Polla coped in a crisis? When she had been alive all those centuries ago, before she had become a goddess and assumed a position of power, she had been a remarkable lady, living through
times of deep religious and political strife, when women were treated abysmally by their societies, and never failing in her quest to understand the world better, to fathom her position within the
universe. Praying to such a figure each morning was always inspiring.

Bellona provided a hearty breakfast: despite the events of the previous night I was famished, and devoured the minced pork and flatbreads. Leana had been up for a little while and joined me just
as I was finishing. She had been to the Forum to see what people were saying of the murder, but it seemed no one had even heard the news yet. Or if they had, they were too afraid to talk about
it.

After breakfast, I took a moment to walk around the house trying to familiarize myself with my past once again – it was an uncomfortable process because in some ways I didn’t like to
be reminded of the person I had once been. The small details were fascinating: indentations in chairs that had come from years of sitting; the well-worn wooden surfaces on the sides of tables. The
echoes of my father lived on in these areas of wear and tear.

Also, I noticed that an item had gone missing from a table in my father’s bedroom. There was a square within the dust that indicated something had stood there once, but had been taken
away. Perhaps a few weeks ago, since some dust had settled in its place. Was it significant in any way?

While Leana worked through some martial exercises in her room, in my study I looked at the sketch she had made in the temple on the night, examining the structure and dimensions, where the
shrine was located, where the body of poor Lacanta had lain, and where the doors stood firmly barring entry to the chamber.

So Lacanta had been spotted moments before she had been found dead. That meant, in five or ten minutes, someone had managed to break her away from the celebrations in the main room, steer her
into the temple, and kill her, before going back outside. But the celebrations were at their height and, as Veron pointed out, at that point those temple doors would have been watched by guests
right up until the moment General Maxant entered to don Trymus’ mask. What’s more, the door was locked on the inside and murderers do not just vanish into the air.

Who had one of the keys to the temple?

Tracking Lacanta’s final moments last night was going to be crucial. It was essential to find out who she had spoken to in the evening, who was nearby, who might have been following her,
whether or not there were any strange occurrences. Perhaps the witness statements would prove fruitful. It would require a good day or so ploughing through their observations – that is if the
soldiers could be trusted to record a reliable account.

Also, I needed to get a better idea of who would want Lacanta murdered, though that would not be an easy task. By Lillus’ account at his barber’s shop, a concise summary of rumours,
she was both popular and despised, depending on whether or not one was the recipient of her alluring gestures.

Conscious not to be late for my appointment with King Licintius, I washed, changed and made to head out into the morning sun. But before I did I asked a favour of Leana: to see if the people of
the city were talking. So often a lead had come off the back of local gossip that turned out to be more than just idle chatter. It was also useful for Leana to begin exploring the more marginal
parts of the city, the hidden taverns and the backstreet dice dens, which might develop into useful points of contact in future.

We were going to be around in Tryum for a while.

The soldiers manning the entrance to the open courtyard in front of Optryx were not interested in my badge of office, though I did need to give the day’s password, which
Veron had told me last night. Security was tighter now – was this a reaction to the murder? If indeed it was, it had come far too late.

The building was quiet, not at all what I assumed would be the bustling residence of servants, administrative staff and politicians in full flow. Senator Veron met me and steered me towards a
small side room with a highly polished desk, marble floor, and shelves full of books. Judging by the abacus, it must have been some kind of accounting or stocktaking room.

Inside was a dark-haired man in his early forties wearing military garb, a deep red tunic, leather breastplate, and with a sword sheathed at his side. Dark, short and well-oiled hair, and with a
wide yet lean face, he was muscular, confident and relaxed. Reaching out with his right hand, he stood to greet me. His forearm was incredibly solid, and it had been a while since someone had
gripped my own arm so tightly. Though I was a relatively tall man, he looked down on me. Small scars of battle were dotted about his face.

Senator Veron conducted the introductions: ‘General Maxant, may I present to you Lucan Drakenfeld, Tryum’s new officer of the Sun Chamber.’

Maxant stared intensely with his bold, hazel eyes. His manner was proud. ‘The son of Calludian returns home.’

The words sounded like some kind of accusation. ‘You knew my father?’

‘Not well, but we met many years ago. I remembered him to be a good man. Honourable, reliable. Keen eye for detail. I hope this remains a family trait.’

‘As do I. I’m sorry to meet you under such circumstances.’

He turned to the desk and gestured to two pieces of paper. ‘We matched a register taken last night to the guest list. Everyone is accountable. Everyone has at least another to vouch for
their presence. Everyone who was invited remained here until released.’

‘Very effective work by your soldiers, general,’ I said.

‘Good men, my lot. We’ve been through much.’

I could only imagine the exertions of a long campaign. Maxant’s army had been abroad for years. They had lost ten thousand men over that period, had fought many battles and skirmishes, and
at one point faced starvation. For them to have stuck at it so long would have required a phenomenal sense of loyalty and leadership. Indeed, they had been through so much.

I looked at the guest list. People had been arranged into classes of status, from the men and women of the Senate through to respected citizens of the city. ‘These weren’t the only
people here last night. Where are the lists for the staff, the soldiers?’

Maxant nodded. ‘We will get a list of them and let you know if there is something of note. As for the actors—’

‘What access did they have?’ I asked. ‘What were the productions, how long were they in the building?’

Maxant looked to Senator Veron, who shrugged. ‘I’ll ask around. We’ll get the answers – don’t worry.’

‘I would appreciate that.’

‘King Licintius wishes to see you shortly,’ Maxant announced. ‘We have a few moments yet before we must go.’

Senator Veron moved to the shelves to glance at the books. ‘How’s he been since last night, general?’

‘How do you think?’ Maxant snapped. ‘Licintius is devastated. He loved his sister deeply. Their bond was strong, and who else can he really trust? Everyone thinks they can do a
better job. Him and his sister were left in powerful positions at a young age with only each other for confidences, so I suspect he feels utterly alone now.’

‘Indeed, it’s very sad, very sad,’ Veron said. ‘Still, at least he has his general back now to confide in.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Maxant stood a little taller as if to express his dominance in the room. Veron seemed oblivious to the fact, merely raising one eyebrow at the now-bitter tone of the general.

Veron shrugged. ‘Only that you’re an old friend, and no doubt he’ll be glad you’re back to help him through this.’

Maxant grunted and turned his back on the senator.

‘The Senate will discuss the matter shortly,’ Veron continued. ‘We must see to it that we establish some firm facts before the rumours spread across the city. Of course, if
Drakenfeld here is as sharp as his father, hopefully we’ll have no need to worry about rumours.’

No matter how sharp I might be, it wouldn’t stop people talking.

We exited the room and were absorbed into a larger contingent of officials and soldiers, twelve of us in all. Hushed instructions passed back and forth: ‘You wait for the
king to arrive. You fall to two knees – not one, do not bow – two knees. Do not look him in the eye until he has spoken.’

Our group passed through the marble corridors and under the immense domes once again, which were even more impressive in the light of day. We did not walk by the temple. I wanted to return to
the scene of the crime in the hope of working out the mechanics of the incident without the distraction of others.