Mark Newton - Retribution

Then we pulled back the sheets of the bed and lifted up a straw-cushioned layer resting on top of the wooden frame. Leana took her blade and slashed through the material, emptying out the straw on the floor.

I heard a muffled clunk on the stone.

‘Wait.’ Leaning over I began to part the mess of straw.

Right in the centre of the pile was a small square envelope, which looked as if it contained something bulky. Leana reached in to grab it and as we stood up she opened the envelope.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

After scrutinizing it for just a moment, she eventually shrugged and handed it over. ‘See for yourself.’

Inside was an exquisite silver ring set with a vibrant red gemstone. I couldn’t work out what the stone was — it was too light and almost too imperfect to be a ruby, with a strange translucency. A white mineral vein could be discerned faintly within it, like a bolt of lightning in a crimson sky. Whatever this gemstone was, it had been cut square into the size of a small thumbnail and set with remarkable skill in a four-claw setting.

‘For a simple man who doesn’t do trinkets,’ I muttered, ‘I’d say this was something unusual.’

‘Why keep it hidden?’ Leana asked. ‘Surely rings are for wearing.’

‘Clearly this was not meant to be seen by anyone. Whether or not that’s because of some arcane rules within the temple that forbade decoration, or he was enforcing this secrecy himself, remains to be seen.’

‘Remember the bangle on the remains of his wrist?’ Leana said. ‘They allow some ornamentation.’

‘Then perhaps this was a personal gift,’ I replied. ‘A token from a loved one.’

‘He went to some lengths to conceal a gift.’

Leana was right. This had been deliberately kept secure. The bishop did not want it found. There were no discernible markings on the ring, nothing to suggest the name of the jeweller in question. The envelope itself was heavily worn.

‘Any idea what this stone is?’ I asked.

Leana held the ring up to the light of the window, then quickly handed it back to me. ‘It is ugly, but I cannot speak of its quality. But then I make a point of not being familiar with trinkets. These precious stones cannot follow us through when we become spirits.’

‘Quite. Well, we’ll just have to find an expert in the city,’ I said. ‘This is the most interesting development so far — it could be important.’

Damsak knocked on the door and called through to see how we were getting on, and it was only then that I realized just how long we had been there. I invited him in to join us.

‘Have you found anything to help?’ he asked.

‘We may well have.’ Showing him the ring, I kept a close eye on his expression as I revealed where it was found. He came across as particularly disappointed that Bishop Tahn Valin could keep such an item hidden there.

‘Look at my fingers, Officer Drakenfeld,’ he snapped. ‘Do you see a ring?’

I admitted I didn’t.

‘Exactly. We do not wear unofficial ornamentation — especially ornamentation that does not display any of our symbols, or is devoid of the markings of Astran and Nastra. Only simple pieces that are to display our rank. This is a personal trinket and we disapprove of such things.’

‘I’d say that the bishop knew all too well that you don’t wear such things either, which is why he was hiding it under his mattress. To keep it from people like you.’

‘But it makes no sense.’ The priest ran a hand through his thinning hair. ‘This is against his entire character. I never saw the bishop wearing anything like this. He was a man of simple tastes. And, for example, he even became angry when people wore fine, bright silks and jewellery in our temple. He would often make remarks to me afterwards. He himself did not like such things, you see, as it distracted from our glorious gods. All he ever wanted was to serve our gods for as long as he could.’

‘We’ll look into the matter further, rest assured,’ I said, placing the ring back in its envelope and firmly in my pocket, ‘and we’ll return with an answer soon enough. I suppose it’s pointless asking you where we might find a jeweller?’

The look on the priest’s face told me it was.

We stepped outside into the muggy warmth. Two fragrant censers had been lit and were chained up on the columns either side of us, the smoke wafting gently down the street. We went down a street to where the lanes opened out in many directions and I stood there wondering where we should go next.

As if reading my thoughts, Leana said, ‘We could just ask someone where-’

Whoosh . . In a heartbeat I felt a rapid displacement of air followed by a thud in the door behind us. We turned to see an arrow buried deep in the wood, the white fletching still visibly vibrating, but in the same instant Leana shoved me down some steps and under an archway nearby.

The arrow was still visible from where we were, and it was angled down — it was a good thing Leana had reacted so quickly, as our assailant clearly had the advantage of height.

‘They might not be so unlucky with their next arrow,’ she snapped. ‘That went straight between us. We should wait here until they have moved on.’

‘Was that an accurate warning or an inaccurate attempt at killing us?’

‘Who can tell now?’

‘I wonder if it was the same person as the one spying on us from the rooftop yesterday afternoon?’

‘Let us look at that arrow and then we might know something more.’

We waited a few minutes before walking cautiously back up the steps to the temple. The crowds around us meandered on, seemingly oblivious to the arrow and our own furtive movements.

Leana removed a dagger from her boot and began to ease out the arrow from the wood. Meanwhile I examined our surroundings to see where the arrow would have been fired from. There were any number of rooftops, but following the line of the arrow’s assumed path, it led directly towards a large building about sixty feet away, at the end of the lane. A precarious grey-stone construct with timber beams. Washing strung up across the rooftop fluttered in the gentle breeze.

‘Here.’ Leana handed me the arrow. ‘It looks common enough. There is nothing remarkable about it — not even the craftsmanship is that good.’

‘If it’s cheap and mass produced, it might be one that the military use.’

Leana shrugged and pointed to the same building I’d been eyeing up. ‘You think it came from there.’

‘I do,’ I replied.

‘Then why are we still here?’

We were standing in one of the city’s largest brothels.

It was a fact that surprised me somewhat. Throughout Detrata — and particularly in the city of Tryum — prostitutes of both sexes and of all sizes could be found calling out to potential clients as they walked by in the street. Sometimes the transaction was even shamelessly completed on the street itself. Even in far corners of Vispasia there were taverns or bordellos with not-so-subtle insignia outside to notify passers-by of what could be found inside.

But in Kuvash there seemed to be a peculiar absence of such things. It might have been yet another sign that the city was trying to keep up appearances. I assumed they preferred to keep things like the business of paid-for sex indoors, out of sight, though whether for religious reasons or some social policy dictated by the queen remained to be seen.

There were no signs at first on the inside to indicate the building was a brothel. It was only after an awkward conversation with an old lady in charge, who was called Charka, and noticing the stink of sweat mixed with sweet incense, that I realized where we had ended up.