Mark Newton - Retribution

While she tended to her children, Leana and I spent a good hour inspecting the other eight rooms. Each room was large, and each had shelves of exotic ornaments, statues, paintings or trinkets. Grendor was a man of fine tastes. Some of the Detratan amphorae on display were among the finest that the country had ever manufactured.

His study was bright, clean and well organized, and though I was allowed to sift through all the drawers and ledgers, there appeared to be nothing out of place for someone who was an expert in shipping and trade. There were dozens of maps of Koton, and quite a few that focused on the coastal region north of Kuvash, the estuary through which all ships would have passed. There were several beautifully bound books on maritime law and a stunningly illustrated bestiary on the various many-limbed sea creatures rumoured to inhabit the oceans. I tested the room for hidden compartments, loose panels in which he might have kept a secret or two from Borta, but there was nothing to be found.

Leana investigated other rooms independently and when she returned concluded that she had found little of interest. All of this suggested that Borta had nothing to hide. She remained in the dining room with her two young children, and I could hear her singing to them, an act that reminded me of my own mother.

The melody was interrupted after the older one asked, ‘When’s Father coming back from his business meeting? He was supposed to take us out riding today.’

We left quietly.

Outside, Leana and I were able to talk about the interview, but neither of us raised any concerns.

‘Simply a rich and good man, and now a dead man,’ Leana said. ‘Was the bishop rich too? Were these killings to do with money?’

‘That might be worth looking into, but surely there are more efficient and less time-consuming methods to relieve two men of their money. Why go to the trouble of all those cuts? Why remove their tongues ?’

‘The strongest possibility remains that the act was to silence them, that perhaps they both knew something independently, and whatever that knowledge was had been too much of a threat to the murderer. This also bears hallmarks of a revenge killing — and if that is the case, then we need to consider just what type of person would commit such a bloody revenge.’

‘Someone needs to look at the bodies together,’ she concluded. ‘Similarities and differences will help establish what these hallmarks are.’

‘I’ve asked that the physician, Carlon, give them a thorough examination.’

‘Good,’ Leana replied. ‘Those cuts were not easy to make. I would say that the torture required a room away from people in which to work. It is important to know if these men died first or experienced the cuts as torture.’

‘A physician,’ I muttered. ‘Koton, it seems, has quite a few good physicians. People with familiarity of working with bodies.’

‘Even Sulma Tan,’ Leana said.

‘Even her,’ I replied.

But Leana had prompted another train of thought: a killer knocking the men out, dragging them back to a room, before later returning the body. If that was the case, then presumably there would be some place to carry out the torture. If both murders were within the prefecture, then that room would probably be close by. It would have been difficult to drag a corpse outside to the Kuvash Prefecture and back in again to the Sorghatan Prefecture. Therefore it was likely we were looking for someone based inside this part of the city.

Mentally I began to sketch out a profile of our killer. It was a human reaction to assume those who carried out such brutal acts were of the barbaric sort — ex-soldiers, street fighters and the like. These were considered crimes, and thus were probably committed by or at the request of someone with more deviance. A meticulous planner who possessed a suppressed rage, one which was only now coming to the surface. Moreover, if the killer was based inside this prefecture, it meant they must have a decent job, or had inherited enough money to be able to get by in the richer part of the city. I was put in mind of a physician, or a courtier, or a wealthy tradesman.

A different class of butcher altogether.

It was time to make an unannounced visit to the former bishop’s temple.

It took Leana and me, still largely unfamiliar with these streets, a good hour to locate the right way. We must have doubled back on ourselves twice, losing ourselves amidst the unrecognizable buildings and strange lanes, pausing to reflect upon examples of unique architecture or compelling faces among the crowds.

Priest Damsak, enveloped by a thick crimson cloak, was standing at the top of the steps of the temple. He was speaking quietly with two refined ladies, each of whom was carrying a basket of food, presumably offerings for the temple.

Distracted by our presence, he soon walked over to us with a calm demeanour and a soft gaze. ‘Greetings to both of you. How can I be of assistance today?’

It wasn’t easy to tell if his warmth was staged to hide his discomfort, or if he was being genuine. ‘We’re here to inspect the bishop’s room more thoroughly.’

‘Of course, as you wish.’ He guided us through the temple, past those who knelt before the bronze statues of Astran and Nastra, to the rooms at the back of the building. Sunlight flooded in directly through the doors behind, extending our own shadows in front of us.

‘It would be better if you attended to any other duties you have,’ I said as we reached the door to the bishop’s room. ‘We will be some time and I’m sure you have so much to do. We’ll come and find you when we’ve finished.’

‘Please call if I can be of service.’ He maintained the same expression that couldn’t be read, and then closed the door behind him.

‘What do you hope to find this time?’ Leana asked. ‘We know there’s nothing here.’

‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘There must be something that can connect the bishop to Grendor. Now there are two bodies, we need to find that connection. We need to check for every loose floorboard or brick. There’s a pretty good chance that Grendor and Tahn Valin had something in common, so that might well be here. Perhaps there’s a piece of paper with the name of a boat belonging to Grendor. That’s the kind of connection we’re looking for. There must be something .’

The room remained exactly as we had left it from our last visit — there was just a bed, a table and a few basic necessities. Not even the books on the bedside shelf had changed their position.

On hands and knees we pulled back the rug and tested for any loose floor tiles. Leana tapped each individual tile with the hilt of her blade, yet they all possessed the same resonance. For some time we examined the grey stone blocks that made up the walls, testing every one high and low, but again we found nothing.

The room was sound. The bishop had not hidden anything.

‘We should be honest,’ Leana muttered, ‘there is nothing here. The priest was a pure and simple man.’

‘We’re not done yet,’ I replied. ‘Try the books again, there might be some code or a note within them.’

The books were all pure and immaculate tomes of religious scripture and advice, each one beautiful with charming ink drawings and elegant calligraphy. We turned every page of every enormous leather-bound volume to make sure there was no hidden document, nothing concealed, no messages inscribed, but there was nothing. The bishop obviously treated his books with respect, too, for they were in splendid condition.

Leana gently kicked the leg of the bed. ‘Help me move this.’

We dragged the bed out from against the wall, and investigated the stonework around it, but again there was nothing to suggest anything had been hidden.