Mark Newton - Retribution

Sulma Tan seemed either uncertain of the etiquette or merely content to allow others to speak.

A blonde-haired soldier entered the chamber through a large door wearing the blue and black of the city’s equestrian troops. She beckoned us all to follow.

Leana and I waited respectfully, and still a little impatiently, at the back of the line as everyone filed out, back through the corridor. It was as if we would never find out what was going on.

We only had to wait a few minutes, until we arrived in another chamber, one that was similar to the medical room where we had examined the corpse of the bishop. Laid out before us on a table lit by paper lanterns was another body, this time in one piece. So far as I could tell, anyway, as a flag of Koton had been stretched across him, the red stag directly above his chest. However, a significant amount of blood had seeped through onto the surrounding bold-blue material, staining it a far darker shade. As I stood at one end of the outstretched corpse, I noticed his boots poking out from under the sheets. Though they were mostly clean, there was a significant accumulation of scuffing, dirt and mud on the heels, which suggested that the body had been dragged at some point.

Sulma Tan stepped to one side of the corpse with her head bowed, unable to hide her distress. She did not cry though. She merely clenched the side of the table and stared down with an unnerving vacancy.

‘Grendor,’ she breathed, and added something else I couldn’t hear. The others crowded around the corpse. Their faces showed nothing but despair — whoever lay there was extremely well respected by them.

‘He was like an uncle to me,’ Sulma Tan said.

‘Who was Grendor?’ The only reference I had heard of him so far was that he was a friend of the queen, and that she was thinking of trusting him to look after her daughter. He was obviously someone of importance.

‘Grendor of the Cape, that was his full title,’ she replied. ‘He was one of the queen’s oldest friends — she will be horrified by this. Moreover he was one of our greatest ever naval officers. He helped build a fleet so big that we were no longer laughed at by other nations — as we once were, being a nation more accustomed to horse travel. He led the very first surveys of our difficult coastline, and charted the thousand islands. Grendor was sixty summers old and retired from the navy long ago. He advised the queen on wider military strategy, though spent some of his time managing a shipping company. He cheered her up with jokes. Everyone loved his wide smiles. I’ll miss his laughter, and the way he’d diffuse our serious talk.’ She smiled. ‘He never could take me seriously — he said such seriousness was an affliction of younger people. When we got to his age, he said, hopefully we’d have learned to let go and laugh more.’

‘He’ll still be laughing up there when he faces Astran and Nastra,’ Duktan added. ‘Aye, still laughing.’

I waited a brief moment for everyone to pay their respects. It didn’t seem right to blunder in with my questions until everyone had had their chance to grieve. Leana and I stood back, waiting as the others peeled away one by one, until only Sulma Tan remained.

‘Where was Grendor’s body found?’ I asked.

‘Near to his house,’ she replied.

‘Could you describe the location for me?’

‘He lived in a large house near the centre of this prefecture,’ she said, ‘overlooking the new forum. It had only been constructed in the past year. It’s a very nice place. His wife, Borta-’

‘Nastra bless her,’ Duktan interrupted.

‘. . found his body at the bottom of the stairwell,’ Sulma Tan continued. ‘It’s a public space, a very visible part of the prefecture. In fact it was Borta who sent an urgent message to us. One can only imagine what she’s going through.’

‘I’ll see to it that she’s looked after,’ Duktan said. ‘And his sons.’

‘I’d like to visit his home as soon as possible, but for now, if no one would be offended, I would like to see exactly what we are dealing with. .’ I gestured to the flag that had been draped across him.

Duktan moved his arms forward, then paused — glancing at those around him. ‘Who will join me?’

I waited for them to reach their decisions, keen that my respect be noticed. Eventually all of them in unison peeled back the banner.

‘Blessings of both Astran and Nastra. .’ Duktan breathed.

The body didn’t look like it was sixty years of age. Instead Grendor of the Cape had the build of a man far younger — in his forties perhaps. Had it been neatly combed, his greying hair would have reached his shoulders, but instead it was tousled and covered in blood. Grendor had received a head wound above his right ear, but that didn’t look severe enough to have killed him — it was more the kind of blow meant to knock him out. His finely made brown tunic had also become stained, though the cause of that was much more difficult to tell. It might have been blood, or muddied water. A quick sniff suggested the former.

Sulma Tan walked over to the side of the room to fetch a blade, then she handed it to Duktan to cut away his clothing. ‘I have done this once already recently,’ Sulma Tan said to him. ‘I do not possess the will to do it to Grendor.’

Slowly, methodically, Duktan cut away Grendor’s clothing, first revealing a bruised and bloodied torso. Then Duktan commenced cutting around the britches, down towards the dead man’s boots. The group gave off the occasional groan as more and more of his ruined and battered body was exposed. When Duktan had finally finished and revealed the hideous wounds in full, Leana and I moved in closer to get a better look.

It was at that moment I realized our stay in Koton would probably be a lengthy one.

A spectacular number of cuts and puncture wounds covered Grendor’s pale skin, much in the same way as had befallen the bishop — though the bishop’s body was too decomposed for a true comparison. Grendor had only recently died. Given the stiffness of the limbs and the colouring of his face, I guessed no more than a day. None of his limbs had been visibly broken and the bruises had not yet grown so bad that they would obscure a lot of the injuries.

When his mouth was opened for examination, it was obvious that the tongue had been cut out.

‘What do you think?’ one of the men asked, looking up at me as if I might divine a prophecy from these wounds.

Sulma Tan nodded for me to go on, so I addressed the others.

‘We examined Bishop Tahn Valin’s body earlier today and found wounds similar to those we can see here on Grendor. The bishop’s tongue had also been removed.’

‘The same person did this then.’ Duktan closed his eyes, grasping the end of the table, leaning over his dead friend, fighting back either tears or rage. Eventually he stepped away to compose himself.

Sulma Tan had a worried look, even though she couldn’t quite bring herself to make eye contact with me, but she must have been thinking the same thing. The notion was probably more profound to her. This was happening in her home city after all.

‘I can’t say for certain that it was the same person who did this,’ I continued, ‘merely that the wounds share certain characteristics . Both men, I think it is fair to say, suffered cruel and unusual deaths. However, there was no dismemberment in this particular case, whereas the bishop had pieces of his body discarded around the city. No, it’s too early to start making the assumption that we are definitely dealing with the same murderer. Not without more information. With that in mind, I would very much like to see the scene of the incident.’

‘Oh come on, officer,’ Duktan snapped. ‘You’re a man of the world. Tell us what you think. Give us a hunch. Something to go on.’