Mark Newton - Retribution

There were a couple of skin blisters, too, but it was unlikely that these were related to the method of his murder. I tried to imagine the bishop’s final moments, being slashed repeatedly — though not all that deeply. It was as if he had not been allowed to die straight away. The murderer wanted to inflict pain upon him before concluding the matter brutally.

Sulma Tan said something quietly in her native tongue, perhaps a prayer — I couldn’t quite discern it — and she shook her head. She turned to one of the officials and asked him to bring in a physician. I noted how she asked for a physician, as if there were more than one — quite unlike the royal palace of Optryx in Detrata, where such individuals were generally rare.

After Leana placed the head alongside the body, we all stared at the reunited pieces for a little while longer. Sulma Tan asked how we came by the remains, so I told her of our evening escapades and just how we came to find the body so soon.

‘I must confess,’ I said, ‘that the bishop seems to have rotted too much for me to glean anything useful from him. This is certainly beyond my level of skill.’

‘Yes, the real expertise is on its way.’ Sulma Tan nodded thoughtfully. ‘It has been a long time since I’ve had training in dissecting the human form, especially since my tools tend to be a reed pen and ledger these days.’

‘In my experience, it isn’t often one finds such attention to detail in a murder,’ I said. ‘Usually a killing is done quickly — a cut throat in the dark, or a blade to the heart. Murderers want to get away, cover up their crime or flee the scene of the crime. Get the job done quickly in a back alley, if possible, and then get out. But here we have so many lacerations across the skin, not to mention the issue of dismemberment, which on its own would take a lot of time to complete. There was consideration here.’

‘A butchering, of sorts,’ she replied.

‘A torture,’ Leana added.

‘Both,’ I replied, and turned to Sulma Tan. ‘Has anything like this ever happened before in the city, some archaic religious ritual perhaps?’

‘Never.’ She looked up and there was a flare of anger, as if I had judged her culture to be primitive. ‘I have never seen anything quite like this. We are a peaceful, cultured city now. Especially in this prefecture. Even before, when we were a more savage culture. . No, this bears no resemblance to the kinds of ritual killings thankfully consigned to history.’ After a pause, she added, ‘The kinds that all cultures are guilty of perpetrating. Even Detrata, am I correct?’

‘I don’t disagree with you on that matter.’ The acts of the Detratan Empire of old were of course well known to me; our families would discuss them as if they were charming fables, conveniently forgetting about the cruelty and bloodshed involved. Within Detrata these events were considered to be acts of glory rather than sin.

‘Do you think the killer will have fled the city by now?’ she asked.

‘Anything is possible,’ I said, ‘but something does not feel right about this. This feels personal . The bishop must have had an enemy — has he always lived in Kuvash?’

‘His whole life, or so I believe, has been spent in the Sorghatan Prefecture.’

‘Did he travel much?’ I asked.

‘Though I am not familiar with his schedule, I never knew him to leave the city for long periods. He was very committed to his temple and his community.’

‘So, if that is the case, presumably whoever committed this atrocity,’ I gestured to the body, ‘whoever had such a grievance with him that they felt they needed to slice and dissect him in such a manner. . I would say that they, too, must originate from Kuvash. Probably the Sorghatan Prefecture. Which means in turn that they might still be around. Or if they have left, then they may return at some point.’

‘They could have hired the skill,’ Leana said. ‘This could have been a torture and assassination carried out for money.’

‘True,’ I concluded. ‘It still seems probable that the person responsible for it dwells in the city.’

Sulma Tan gave a sigh of annoyance. ‘I have far too many things on my mind without having to deal with this. The bishop’s funeral will require organizing and there will be even more legal matters to attend to as a result.’ She paused, cringing at her indelicacies, and gave me a look of embarrassment. ‘You must think me heartless. Please understand that it is not the case. Merely, I have many duties. .’

‘The queen works you hard, I take it?’

‘I work hard for the queen.’ She made it perfectly clear this was a point of pride. ‘There is a difference. Both the secretaries do. The other, my senior, will retire before long, which means even more responsibilities fall to me. I have a census to declare in the near future, as well as the monthly games to coordinate. . You should know that we are a nation of great planning and organization. I have several subordinates who help in establishing how our city — how our nation — is to be run. The queen would not have it any other way, of course. As a secretary, one of my roles is to oversee various strategies and schemes in order to drag our nation from its past into a thriving cultural future, one that we can all be proud of. We have done so at speed. So, it does not take the intelligence of the Sun Chamber to work out that murder like this does our reputation no good, Officer Drakenfeld.’

There was something about her manner, her sheer determination to take on the weight of her nation and carry it forward that impressed me deeply.

‘I’ll do my very best to help you out,’ I replied.

The physician entered the chamber. He was a slender, jovial man in his forties, who introduced himself as Carlon. Though he had long, greying hair, he also possessed a deeply receding hairline. Wearing a brown shirt with his sleeves rolled up, black trousers and a large leather apron, he carried with him the box containing the bishop’s arm.

He bounded over towards me. He clutched my forearm and we shook in the Detratan style, before greeting Leana in the same way.

‘People of culture, you Detratans,’ he said to me. ‘Good to know.’

‘So I keep being told,’ I replied, marvelling at how much my home nation was respected here. Its culture wasn’t something I ever noticed until others pointed it out, as I’d long since understood the follies of bold patriotism in a continent like ours. Every nation was different, yet some possessed a gravitas that went beyond mere lines on a map. ‘Your own people clearly don’t do too badly yourselves — it’s impressive to know that studies of the body are taken so seriously here.’

‘We try, we try. And you’re the Sun Chamber officer, right? We don’t get many of you out here. I hope the corpse doesn’t put you off Koton!’

‘I tend to see them all over Vispasia.’

‘Does death follow you, or do you follow death?’

‘A little of both.’

‘Well, while we’re on that then. .’ He placed the box on the table with the reverence of a priest making an offering at an altar. ‘We’re just missing the other arm otherwise we’d have a full set!’ he took a moment to glance over the body and head, crouching down low to get a better look. For a moment it looked as if he was actually sniffing it, and I wondered if this was some new form of science. ‘This is definitely the bishop?’ he asked.

Sulma Tan nodded.

‘Fine,’ Carlon said. ‘How long since he’s been missing?’

‘Twenty days, give or take,’ she replied.

‘Yes, I’d agree he’s been dead more or less that long, judging by his colour. Hard to tell precisely. Decay tends to vary so.’ Carlon repositioned the arm on the bench where it would have naturally joined, then placed the head above the severed neck. He began to give his analysis aloud, as he moved around the body with some spirit and excitement. Occasionally he would try to moderate his behaviour out of respect, remembering that he was dealing with the dead. First he pointed out the obvious wounds that we all had seen, but then after a good while of careful examination, he made some more astute conclusions: that the tongue had indeed been removed; one leg had been broken; both of the eyes had been stabbed; and that there were also deep puncture wounds along with the cuts, as if from a very thin blade. Carlon said, with great authority, that judging by the coloration of the bishop’s veins and arteries, the man was of mild temperament right up until the moment of his death. He added that such knowledge of moods during the process of death was a theory he had only recently begun to teach, and I confess to not entirely following his line of reasoning.