Drakenfeld (40 page)

In my study I began to compile my notes so as to make a clear report of events so far to the king. It was pleasant to hear the noise of others in the house. Though I did not suffer loneliness in
any way, it pleased me to know I could wander out and engage in conversation on matters of the city. Besides, I remembered the mysterious stalkers who had been following us in the Stadium of Lentus
yesterday – no doubt there would be others waiting somewhere, outside the walls of the property, or watching from beyond the gates.

Later, Titiana visited again and we ate olives and bread, and drank a little wine in the garden. Woodsmoke drifted on the evening air.

I began to open up about the Maxant murder and posited a few theories, none of which completely satisfied me, and her hands – without my asking – began to work on my shoulders,
around my neck, soothing away the tension with every word spoken. She suggested a few ideas of her own, jokingly, though for all I knew they might have been close to the truth.

We moved to the bedroom, as we tended to do more often than not; I barely felt in control of the situation, and our passions often got the better of us. We had no direction, no future to plan
for, and neither of us seemed to care in the slightest. In the light of a lantern I lost myself, enjoying her strong, gently perspiring body and forgetting momentarily all the pressures of the
murders. The scent of her skin, her powerful kiss, the gentle curve of her hips, all helped me forget.

It was another hot night in Tryum. Only a stone’s throw from my door, a soothsayer screamed out the misfortunes of some poor soul. There was weeping, somewhere, then the groaning of the
wind as it searched through the narrow, crowded streets. Again I lost Titiana to the city, though this time I was at least awake to watch her leave me.

‘Why must you go?’ I asked.

‘I’m a married woman. You should know better than to keep asking.’

‘Perhaps one morning I might wake to find you here, alongside me?’

Titiana hesitated from gathering up her clothes. ‘Perhaps.’

I lay there watching her getting dressed, observing the nuances of her mannerisms: the way she would always put on her left slipper before her right; her superb balance; the way she would carry
a tiny vial of perfume to put on her wrists.

I led her to the door and she kissed my neck, slowly, before vanishing into the night.

Before sunrise I washed and, still eschewing the fashions of the city for tunics and pale trousers, donned a smart outfit of silver doublet, white shirt, black trousers and a
green cloak. I spoke briefly to a young, tired man from the Civil Cohorts, who reported that there had been a few thefts in the night, and three fights, one of which ended in a death. I asked to
see records of the incidents and he said he had none. Though he was not in my command, I explained that Senator Veron would ask to see all crimes logged, which seemed enough to put fear into the
lad. He hastily began to write in a ledger, muttering, ‘I hope he’s not drunk when he comes here. He’ll have us beaten.’

‘Does he beat you?’ I asked.

The young man nodded. ‘Just the once. They say he hit a slave so badly the poor boy could hardly walk properly afterwards.’

Outside my gate, the city was already waking, the streets were not as crowded as they would become, but we didn’t have the time to explore the sensual delights of the district.

Our path led directly to Optryx.

We waited in a room that overlooked the royal gardens – not the same room as before, and I was not entirely certain it was the same garden as before, either. However it
was a graceful room, decorated in tastes that many of the city would not comprehend. The references in the frescoes were obscure and I was not even sure I knew them all myself.

Leana and I sat for some time, in a companionable silence, which provided a pleasant opportunity to work over the nuances of the murders in my mind, trying to fathom the connections between
them.

One theory was that the king ordered Drullus’ murder, in order to silence the actor from spreading rumours about their relationship. It was just possible that Licintius directed his
trusted general on one final personal mission. Why else would Maxant have gone there?

But at least key figures were starting to emerge – even if they were then being killed. Maxant, Drullus and Lacanta – all connected, ultimately, to the king. He had never been a
consideration before – he’d been in a room full of witnesses to vouch that he hadn’t been there and he, personally, had insisted that the case be solved. Admittedly, something
still didn’t quite sit right, but he was the only person that bound the threads together.

I could understand Drullus being eliminated, but it seemed highly improbable that Licintius would want his old friend and trusted general out of the picture, especially after what he had done
for Tryum and what he could do to boost the king’s own popularity. And, equally, it did not seem logical for Licintius to kill his beloved sister, a woman who was working the political scene
in his favour. He needed them to help his own existence.

But if someone wanted to eliminate the king’s political success . . . that could be a distinct possibility. Two key political assistants killed.

I needed to be patient. Ideas were slowly forming in my mind, and I had come far in just a matter of days. I was also still curious about the vial of my father’s poison, and hoped to
locate an apothecary who knew more. I would do that later today.

The sun began to rise above the rooftops, casting its long, orange light into the garden. Presently, the king entered with his entourage. Leana fell to both knees, and I moved down to one.

‘Please, Drakenfeld, rise. And your personal warrior. Get up. No ceremony this morning.’

We both stood while the king seated himself on the bench, overlooking the garden, and his personal guard took up their position at the edge of the room before facing forwards. Licintius wore a
resplendent purple robe inlaid with gemstones.

‘Maxant, too,’ he declared, and I watched his expression very carefully.

‘It seems so, sir.’

‘You are the one who claims this is not a suicide. That is what my staff inform me.’

‘That’s correct, sir,’ I replied, and explained my reasoning.

For a moment Licintius remained silent, contemplating either my words or his fine garden. I, too, could not help but stare at the fine statues, ornate water features and immaculately kept
plants.

‘You have a fine mind,’ the king said. ‘Is it, I wonder, any closer to working out who killed my sister? I fear for her spirit’s safety.’

‘I can’t be sure, sir, but I have my theories. I’m much closer than when we last spoke, but I would not yet feel comfortable accusing anyone.’

‘Tell me what you know so far.’

I explained my suspicions about Maxant being the first to enter the room and, potentially, being the only man who could have placed the key in the back of the lock to make it look as if the door
had been locked from the inside.

‘As to why he did this, I could not say. And, I should add, that it is not certain that he did so. I would not like to accuse the dead – I merely speak in terms of the most likely
turn of events.’

The king remained unreadable. ‘You realize you speak ill of my own general?’

‘It is a working theory,’ I confessed.

‘And you know nothing else?’

‘I have spoken to many people already, sir, including several senators. I hope to interview more shortly.’

Licintius nodded as if I had merely confirmed something he already knew. ‘Very good, Drakenfeld.’ He rose and, uncontrollably, I stood to attention.

Licintius paused to regard Leana, who lowered her gaze. ‘You, lady. You rode well in the stadium two days ago, didn’t you?’

Leana inclined her head and replied, ‘I rode for Atrewe. Sir.’

‘You did your country proud. Should you find yourself no longer working for Drakenfeld, you could always make a go of things as a stadium rider.’

With that, he turned his back to us and strode slowly to the door. ‘I want more answers soon, Drakenfeld. I have lost a sister and a general, and someone must suffer for these actions or
I’ll hear the reason why not.’

The soldiers followed him out of the room, and that was that.

It was mid-morning by the time we arrived back at my house. I was left with an overwhelming sense of desperation, as always when I was halfway to solving something. One might
think that such a stage should generate feelings of optimism, but it did not, especially with the pressure of having to please the king. It didn’t help that I half-suspected the king was
involved in some way, and where would that leave me?

A messenger stopped by, covered in dust and sweat, having returned from one of the outposts of the Sun Chamber on the nation’s border.

He left me with a note from my superiors, and I felt an immediate sense of relief. They had received my notification of Maxant’s death and were mustering a small, military cell of fifty
soldiers to establish itself outside the city by tomorrow morning at the earliest.

It would be discreet – this would not be a visible warning to the people of Tryum – but it would be there if I needed assistance. Details were provided for how to contact them and
where they would be stationed.

I still had the apothecaries to hunt down and so searched for the list of addresses. The vial containing my father’s poison was still safe, and I placed both it and the list in my pockets,
before calling Leana.

Another busy day stretched ahead and together we headed through the streets of Tryum.

‘What do you hope to gain?’ Leana asked as we weaved our way through a crowded lane. Merchants were trying to lead their animals through, which caused quite a
ruckus, and our progress was slow. ‘You know it is poison, yes?’

‘I need confirmation whether or not my father had acquired the vial himself.’

‘It seems likely though? Also, a poisoner would not leave a vial lying for someone to find.’

‘No,’ I replied, raising my voice above the noise of traders calling out from the nearby stalls. ‘But I need to find out what his final movements were – for my own peace
of mind. I still need confirmation of his behaviour. It is important to me.’

‘Has the sudden talk of suicide hurt you?’

‘I just need to settle it.’

The apothecaries were scattered about the city from Regallum to Vellyum, but the first few we tried yielded no luck. Few of them dealt with poisons and not one of them had seen anyone who fitted
the description of my father. As we moved from store to store, I began to wonder if my father had not purchased the poison himself but had been killed by someone else. Leana was right in suggesting
that the speculation of Maxant’s own death had brought about a sense of shame over my father’s own death. Though Polla did not place as great a value on such things as, say, Trymus or
Festonia – in Polla’s eyes there is not a huge amount of difference between the living and the dead anyway – the social stigma of suicide lingered heavily in my mind.

We worked our way down-city, towards the slum districts and the poorer shops. Children ran about in rags, old women sat in the shade of awnings kneading dough, and soothsayers were exchanging
glimpses into the future for coin.

‘So many soothsayers in Tryum,’ Leana said.

‘People will resort to anything to make more sense of their own world.’

‘Did you grow up believing nonsense?’

‘No,’ I laughed. ‘In Polla’s writings, she does not agree with such sentiments. Polla requires only that we try to make our own sense of what goes on as best we can, and
to put our faith in the unseen forces. I’ll admit desperate times might make me consider such options, but I soon regain my composure.’

Leana grunted, though I could not say whether it was a positive or disapproving noise.

The last apothecary on our list was found next to a ruined temple. Outside, two old men were naked, their bodies covered in lines of red paint, prostrating themselves before a statue of a woman,
now and then throwing water and flower petals over their heads. Incense wafted around the streets, mixing with the stench of the sewers.

The shop was large in comparison to the other buildings in this neighbourhood. Inside were stained wooden floors, a low ceiling that looked like it would buckle at any moment, and crates of
bottles stacked up precariously against the wall to my right. Herbs covered the walls, papers littered the floor, and there was a sense that the proprietor was about to go on the run. As it
happened, he was not – a lean man with the long beard of a prophet stepped forward from a back room, and greeted us with disdain.

‘I’m an officer of the Sun Chamber. I want to ask you a few questions.’

‘Sun what? Means nothing to me,’ he replied with a laugh. ‘That like the army or summat?’

‘Sun Chamber,’ I corrected.

‘If you say so. Anyway, I’m busy.’ His eyes didn’t seem to focus on mine.

Leana stepped forward, unsheathed her sword and pressed the point into the man’s grubby-looking stomach.