Mark Newton - Retribution

‘What about lovers?’ I asked, wondering if the priests were celibate like some other religions. ‘Was there any woman or man in the bishop’s life we should know about?’

The glare I received was expected. ‘No. We do not socialize in such a way. There is too much work to be done and lovers can be something of a distraction from our cause. They are frowned upon.’

‘What exactly is your cause?’ Leana asked.

‘The work of Astran and Nastra, of course,’ he replied with a peaceful expression.

I followed up Leana’s line of approach. ‘That work being. .?’

‘Guiding souls to the heavenly realms, ensuring that their lives are led in the appropriate way so that they may attain as fine a position in the next world as possible, and divining from the texts what people’s right course of action should be. We have a focus on helping farmers to nurture the land and occasionally we go out to bless their fields.’

‘No, the day-to-day work,’ I replied. ‘What did the bishop actually do as a priest?’

‘Sermons, administration for the temple, alms for the poor — though much of that was conducted in Tahn’s private time. Generally we ensure that Koton’s spiritual needs are met.’

Vagaries. This was all I was going to get for the time being, so I let the matter pass. Perhaps Damsak would warm to the matter over time and divulge something that was out of character for the bishop, but at the moment these descriptions of habits weren’t helpful.

‘Who came to this temple?’ I asked. ‘Just those from this prefecture?’

‘Oh no. Those who can prove themselves honourable are permitted at certain times to attend religious services. The gates are opened and individuals vetted. Occasionally we might take our teachings to the street in the hope that we can steer one or two less fortunate souls onto a firmer, more divine path.’

‘And he was the only bishop in the city — no rivals tucked away elsewhere?’

Damsak gave a gentle shake of his head. ‘No rivals, no other bishop.’

Looking around, the place was too bare. I could perceive no blood on the floor or walls, nothing to suggest a struggle. I casually tested some of the walls for a loose block, though there were none, and the flagstones were sound underfoot.

‘Has anything been touched since the bishop’s disappearance?’

‘Not at all,’ Damsak replied. ‘This is the first time I have really set foot in Tahn’s quarters since the incident. It still does not feel right for me to do so.’

Judging by his tentative movements, the fact that he loitered in the doorway, and the concerned look upon his face, he was probably telling the truth. The bishop really did live in such a pure way.

‘If you could see to it that this room continues untouched for a few days, we’d be most grateful. It is likely we will want to return.’

‘Of course. I shall see to it that it is not disturbed.’

It is not as though I’m inclined to distrust a priest on instinct, but I thought it prudent for the rest of the day to interview people around the temple — metal traders who were going about their business, bread merchants, weavers — and visit any other place of interest I saw nearby.

The surrounding lanes were well maintained, just as the rest of the prefecture. Walls displayed occasionally decorative frescos, but the colours of the street were simple and bold — red, blue and dark-green paint covered columns and walls alike. It was gaudy compared to the austere surroundings of the temple. Animal motifs had been painted in gold, each one a sublime representation of that creature in a noble pose — a far cry from the severed heads we sighted as we entered the city. It was remarkable how little graffiti there was, too — barely an insult or curse to be seen anywhere. Leana remarked to me how unusual it was to keep two sides of a city apart from each other. Even in Detrata, where the contrast in wealth between rich and poor could be enormous, there was no such barrier.

By going door to door I was able to confirm some of what the priest had told me. The people I spoke to were generally welcoming, offering us tisanes as they went about their business in shop-fronted houses or under awnings. As I had hoped, a few of the traders frequented the temple for various religious festivals and to make donations for quiet contemplation. Everyone here knew of the bishop’s disappearance, but not everyone knew of his death. Those I informed of the news appeared distraught at first, and made signs in the air as they attempted to stifle their emotions.

The much-admired bishop had indeed declared his plans to leave the temple, much to the community’s disappointment. He had been a kind and gentle soul who, unlike other bishops they had known, always took the time to explain some nuance of the gods Astran and Nastra, whether to an old veteran who had recently converted from one of the old gods, or a curious young child. He came across as a very pure being, had never said a bad word, possessed inspirational oratorical skills and ensured that any donated food — once offered to the gods for the first bite — was then distributed among the poor of the external prefecture. The bishop had hoped, so everyone said, to live to a great old age so he could dedicate many more years of service to Astran and Nastra. It was even why he wanted to go on the road — to bring more people into the fold of the enlightened religion, to do more good.

This had not been a wasted afternoon by any means, but as Leana and I walked away from the streets surrounding the temple and we watched the last rays of the sun vanish over the prefecture walls, I felt vaguely dissatisfied with what everyone had told us. The bishop appeared very pure, too pure, and not one of his neighbours could give me any insight into why anyone would want him dead.

Night descended fully over Kuvash and the humidity and close air of the day remained. But the mood of the city — or at least in this prefecture — had changed entirely. It was likely that all cities were essentially the same in that each showed two distinct, jarring personalities for the day and night respectively. Unfamiliar cities tended to exaggerate these differences, as one looked with more focus at the details: the erratic behaviour of the locals and how social dynamics might alter after sunset, the different scents of street cuisine, or the noises of religious ritual. As we walked through these clean, well-behaved streets, with the occasional glimmer of a City Watch glaive here and there, all I could tell about Kuvash was that it was incredibly restrained. Anything slightly remiss remained hidden just out of sight — a contrast to Tryum where everything and anything happened on the streets in front of you.

‘I do not understand why someone who lives such a pure life would be killed in such a way,’ Leana said.

‘If he’s dead, that is,’ I commented. ‘He might well be out there still.’

‘He is dead,’ Leana snapped. ‘Just look at those pieces of his body. If they are an indication of his condition. .’

‘I’m inclined to believe you,’ I replied. ‘Maybe someone took exception to his sermons.’

‘So what are our next steps?’

‘We’ve only seen the pleasant side of the city so far,’ I said. ‘Suppose the pieces of the arm of the bishop really were thrown over the wall. We might be able to find the rest of his remains. Besides, I’d quite like to see the real people — I bet some of them might give us another perspective.’

We walked down-city from the temple towards the wall that separated the two prefectures, and headed to the huge gate. The guards at the station point were perplexed that we would want to leave at this hour; but I stressed that I was on official business.