Drakenfeld (15 page)

‘A great shame,’ he spoke into his wine, ‘there are a dozen women here who would be all over a handsome fellow such as yourself. At least three have told me so tonight, in
explicit detail. I envy you, being free and single. It’s been years since someone spoke of me in explicit detail.’

‘Perhaps after I find Lacanta’s killer, I may be able to enjoy such matters, but not at the moment.’

The reminder seemed to sober him, and his countenance grew more serious. ‘Indeed. Now go on, mingle, and you will have some more wine, won’t you? I’ve purchased many amphorae
for tonight, and it all needs to be drunk, else people will say I am a bad host. I might be many bad things, but a bad host I am not.’

‘I’ll not drink too much,’ I replied. ‘My father’s funeral is after dawn tomorrow. It probably wouldn’t be all that respectful – to him or the gods
– if I turned up reeking of wine.’

Veron smiled and placed a firm hand on my shoulder. ‘You are your father’s son.’ Then he turned to mix with his guests once again.

‘No,’ I promised myself. ‘I’m more than that.’

A handsome middle-aged lady approached me when I was on my own, and talked about love like she knew what it meant. I’m not sure what she wanted of me – I’m
not even certain that she knew herself – but she soon left me alone again. I talked with one of the other guests – a good-looking young man – one who had been close to
Lacanta.

‘How close?’ I asked, and the look I received was innuendo enough. The same individual then questioned me gently, touching my arm, and asked me if I would like to return to his house
afterwards. I politely declined, without trying to bruise his ego, and he seemed to brush off the rejection well enough.

Such attention might have been flattering, but I saw that many of the guests here were looking for reasons to disappear with another. Parties could on occasion be pointless for a Sun Chamber
official, but when there was a case going on, they could also provide fascinating details as wine liberated people from their inhibitions, and secrets were spilled. At least I could begin to get a
picture of Lacanta’s social scene, which was a boon for someone unfamiliar with contemporary life in the city. She was hated and loved by many; there was no shortage of narratives winding
around her life.

There seemed to be an air of desperation about tonight’s conversations. Many people would often whisper in brief, urgent moments away from the other guests. I suspected that, with so many
senators in the room, political manoeuvring was the topic of the night, yet I had heard nothing of note, only the occasional muttering about foreigners, about borders, about the glories of old
– and of military expansion. More than one individual expressed an interest in purchasing Mauland slaves, too.

Eventually, a little later into the evening, I managed to speak to General Maxant. We stood in the large garden by the fountain, enjoying the balmy Tryum evening. Tonight he
was wearing two metal bracelets on one arm, of the kind awarded for bravery on the battlefield.

‘How goes the investigation?’ he asked.

‘I’m listening to what people have to say for the moment. All I’ve heard so far concerns either ghosts or magic.’

He grunted something that could have been disapproval, but I knew Maxant had spent too much time away from the city to know about such things.

‘You were on the scene of the murder before anyone else,’ I said. ‘You and your men opened that door to the temple.’

‘With some difficulty.’ He stared into the fountain. ‘We are not weak men, Drakenfeld, and it took a lot of us to break open that door.’

‘And even though you were among the first to gain entry, you saw nothing at all? No one who might have been hiding in the shadows. No one who could have sneaked out when the moment was
ripe.’

‘If we had seen a man, Drakenfeld, his head would now be sitting on a spike outside Optryx,’ he replied angrily. ‘We are not the kind of people to dither on such matters. You
might not like our kind of justice, but it’s quick.’

‘I meant, rather, that something might have been at the periphery of your mind. Maybe it could have been the strange movements of those around you. Someone stepping in behind who you did
not think should be there. A figure out of place perhaps.’

‘We’re the best soldiers in Detrata. Highly trained. Alert at all times. Back from a glorious campaign. There were eight soldiers present, eight who entered the room ahead of a surge
of senatorial types and I’m telling you that none of us saw anything in that room other than Lacanta, on the floor, covered in blood.’

Two guests walked by, badly pretending not to have heard the general. I considered if one of the soldiers had done the deed in a rapid move, but it might not have been at all possible. Even if
it was, the general wasn’t going to say anything. Was he involved himself ? I thought back to what Yago Boll had said about the murder weapon being a small blade – not the sort of thing
that a soldier would carry. Even now Maxant’s sword was at his side.

‘A tragic situation,’ I said softly. ‘I think all we can safely say is that Lacanta’s death was not suicide. At least, not with those wounds.’

‘Suicide is a cowardly way out,’ he grunted. ‘The gods don’t look kindly on such matters. Especially Trymus – he abhors such things. Lacanta wasn’t the type
to resort to suicide.’

‘I’ve seen the most unlikely figures kill themselves,’ I said. ‘Our heads are complex instruments.’

Maxant shook his head. ‘She wouldn’t have done that.’

‘Did you know her well?’

‘I knew her – not well – but I knew her. I’ve been good friends with Licintius for much of my life. Admittedly much of what I know of her is through his eyes.’
Maxant paused for a moment, then continued more softly. ‘He held her in great affection. That’s enough for me to know she was a good sort.’

‘She seems not to be as popular as I would have thought,’ I said, ‘for a good sort in such a prominent position. People here offer a somewhat different view.’

Maxant chuckled. ‘Depends on who you speak to.’

‘Well, now I’m speaking to you.’

‘I’d no problem with her, if that’s what you’re getting at. She was probably too scared of a rough old thing like me. Tend to attract certain types, we soldiers.’
He grinned bitterly. ‘Not that attraction means much in a marriage in Tryum.’

‘You were not one of those susceptible to her charms?’

He swigged from his wine cup. ‘She was a fine lady. No doubt about that. But I’m someone who can spot tactics a mile off.’

‘What kind of tactics?’

‘Plenty of questions tonight.’

‘It’s just about my only annoying habit. So, what tactics?’

Maxant grunted a laugh. ‘The kind she uses in the Senate. To persuade people to back the king’s policies over the years. Licintius will miss not only his sister, but a great ally in
that respect. And he knows it, too. She was vital to furthering his ambitions. Many times he’d have trouble getting something passed through the Senate. Lacanta had the ways to nudge an
unpopular policy through. Knew how to play the games without anyone knowing she was even in the arena in the first place. I admired that.’

‘A lady of politics,’ I whispered, knowing this complicated matters immensely. There were no longer jealous lovers who might have the urge to kill her, but political rivals as well.
The number of motives and suspects grew ever more complex. ‘Do you think it could have been an assassin from a nearby country?’

The general looked surprised at the comment. ‘I am not up to speed with local politics, outside of what letters I’ve read while abroad, so I cannot comment on the tensions between
our nations – I am merely a servant of Detrata. As for an assassin? It was certainly a thorough job. But how did they escape a locked room? As soon as you’ve a suspicion, tell me who
you think did this. Licintius is like a brother to me. I can’t stand seeing him in such pain. I’ll help you where I can, send my soldiers in to surround a building, whatever it takes,
you hear?’

I gave a nod. ‘Where can I find you?’

‘I’m staying at my villa along the coast. It’s less than half a day’s ride, but the sea breeze is good for my spirits.’

‘Not a city man then?’

‘I like my sleep,’ he remarked.

‘The sounds of the city can get to all of us,’ I smiled.

‘It’s not that. It’s the coastal air – very soothing. If you’d seen what I’ve seen in Mauland, then you’d need it too.’

There was a sudden, distant look about the man.

I thanked the general for his offer and left him alone in the garden with his thoughts.

Inside, Leana was still reluctantly the centre of attention and, by the sound of it, facing a barrage of patronizing questions. She was relieved by my presence. We thanked Veron for his
hospitality, made our excuses and finally left the mansion.

Exhausted, we headed through the dark streets in relative silence.

It had not been an entirely wasted night, I decided. At least I had some addresses to go on, and would soon be able to ascertain more about the Skull and Jasmine group.

We turned down a relatively empty street, moved across the stepping stones to the other pavement, something that was never that simple in the dark.

The two of us moved towards the light from a couple of braziers, and I could suddenly smell something potent, like vinegar, when . . .

. . . Leana was standing over me with her sword drawn. I was lying on my right side, my head supported by my cloak. Even in the darkness, I noticed the scratches across the
back of my right hand, caused by the stone of the pavement.

‘How long did it last?’ I asked.

‘Not long. I counted a little over a hundred heartbeats and you began to show signs of settling.’

I wasn’t confused, just a little disorientated. I knew exactly what had happened. ‘Did anyone see me?’

‘No,’ Leana replied, sheathing her sword. She helped me off the ground. I felt unsteady for a moment, my body aching mildly from having been so tense. The sensation soon passed. In a
few breaths I was able to relax a little.

Once again I looked at the scrapes, this time in more detail. ‘I must have been shaking quite a bit this time.’

‘No more than is usual.’

‘The gods were lenient this time,’ I replied and folded up my cloak. A hundred prayers to Polla echoed around my mind. ‘Thank you, Leana. As ever.’

Leana regarded me with perfect neutrality. I didn’t like a fuss being made over my seizures. I didn’t even like anyone knowing, but Leana had so often stood over me protectively
until the sensation passed.

Leana alone could do this and not think it a slight of the gods – how could she if she did not believe deities could possess such powers?

A light sleeper, she would occasionally come into my room if the seizure happened during my sleep. Over the years I could think of no more trusting act than for her to stand over me while I
suffered the vengeance of the gods. It was one of many reasons I could not cope without her.

‘Any visions?’ she asked.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Never have. I don’t think I ever will.’

‘A shame. In my tribe you would be deemed a notable shaman for such things.’

‘It is a pity I’m not in Atrewe then.’ Besides, even if I was experiencing visions, I could never remember a thing from a seizure. ‘I’ll need to make some offerings
to Polla when we get home.’

‘I can sit by your bed later,’ Leana asked, ‘in case it happens again.’

‘I . . . would appreciate that. In this city more than any other, Leana, it is important no one ever finds out. In Venyn it might not have mattered so much, but here people frown heavily
upon such things. There are strict procedures, strict social etiquette. People are conservative. Few would ever trust me again.’

Leana nodded. ‘If you like, I will show you an apothecary tomorrow – I saw one down towards Tradum from your house, on a very thin street. Maybe there is advanced medicine in Tryum
also?’

‘There is, but what can an apothecary offer to protect against the deeds of bitter gods? No, I can only change this through prayer and by trying harder to please them. Come on, it’s
late. We should at least get some rest before our early start. I can only hope that I don’t suffer from a headache during what’s left of the night.’

Swinging incense in a large silver burner, the pontiff led the small entourage down the steps of the Temple of Polla. Every priest and priestess had their face covered in a
pale-blue paint, as was the wrapped body of my father, who was being carried along on a wicker throne.

The sight was painful yet I couldn’t help but feel strangely detached from the scene. It was happening – indeed I was very conscious of it – but it seemed so otherworldly, as
if it was some mythological play, a story concerning the gods themselves.

It was just after dawn and the light was weak. Tryum was beginning to wake, but the funeral process had begun even earlier than this: two priestesses came to my house so that they could dismiss
any bad spirits with their brushes. I hadn’t slept properly, the grinding wheels of carts making their way through the city’s streets made me want to flee to a villa deep in the
countryside. Maxant had the right idea with his coastal retreat.