Марк Ньютон - Drakenfeld

Leana shuffled towards the table as I was eating breakfast. Sunlight streamed across the spread of bread and spiced lamb; the early morning aromas from the garden were heady and vegetative, and the ripple of the fountain was soothing. The sun in this garden was always peculiarly intense. There were no high buildings nearby, and the roof was low, meaning that one could find a deep warmth in every corner at most hours of the day. Quite often the shadows of birds sitting on the roof could be seen around the edge of the fountain and, as a child, I had fun guessing – nearly always incorrectly – the species in question.

This was a much more pleasant set-up than the fish odours and curses of tradesmen that constantly afflicted my ground-floor apartment in Venyn City. In comparison I felt like a king.

‘I didn’t hear you come back last night.’ I smiled as she struggled to sit on the nearby wicker chair in the shade. She was wearing just a white shirt and black breeches, none of her light armour, and she seemed unwilling to face the light.

I popped a piece of bread in my mouth and took a sip of water. ‘Am I to take it from your rather unresponsive presence that you had a good night?’

She could barely meet my eyes. ‘My apologies, Lucan. It is not in my nature to overindulge.’

‘Nonsense, this is a new city for you. I expect you to have fun from time to time. One of us has to.’

‘Your wine here in Tryum… Spirits save me, it is so strong.’

‘The staff were always tight in Venyn City and they watered it down. Here you must suffer the consequences of fine hospitality.’ It was amusing now to be especially cheerful and loud.

‘What is our plan for today?’ Leana gestured towards the bread and I nodded for her to help herself.

‘There are a few affairs I must set straight before we do anything else. My father had rented offices towards Regallum, only a few streets away from the king’s residence, so I need to check if they are still in the family name. But before that, I’m heading out to discover all the secrets of the city.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m going to get my hair cut and have a shave.’

Leana gave me a blank look. I grinned, drank up my water, scooped up my cloak and headed out into the morning sun.

Human memory is a curious thing, about as reliable as a myth.

Often I would lie in my ground-floor apartment in Venyn City, reconstructing these dusty back lanes and plazas in my mind. The roads walked mentally were littered with echoes of emotions or events, but they seemed well beyond reach, a fading dream. Today my route was deliberately taken at a very slow pace, so that I might retrace my past and locate these places in my mind, but what could be gleaned from my observations was that friends had moved on, shops had closed down, and nothing was how it used to be. While I was busy outgrowing my home, it was busy moving on from me – and I was fine with that.

Tryum was firing up for the day and everyone moved about with purpose. Stone walls glowed in intense sunlight and already the heat was becoming uncomfortable. As the sun climbed higher, the streets thinned out and people ventured indoors, into cafes or brothels, standing under awnings or stepping into offices. My white shirt, grey doublet, black trousers and boots were too much for these temperatures.

The salon was located on a dusty street on the edge of Polyum, which faced the slightly poorer district of Tradum. It looked in good health: a freshly painted green sign bearing the name Lillus , with a stall jutting out from the front that sold fabrics of all colours. Someone was busy washing the flagstones outside. The walls were covered in the scratched reports of satisfied customers. I headed inside into the cool shade.

‘Well then,’ said the old man with a thick moustache and a balding head, as he turned from arguing with one of the water boys. His skin was a little lighter than Leana’s. ‘Well, well. Do my eyes deceive? Is this… ?’

‘It is,’ I said, stifling my laugh. I quickly glanced around and nodded to the two customers on the benches, and observed that behind them the faded frescoes of sporting heroes had not changed in the slightest. Light from the open-roofed hall passed through another doorway, and nearby there were several purple paper lanterns. In a back room, pine incense was burning.

‘Lucan Drakenfeld, my boy!’ He turned to his assistant on one of the chairs by the window. ‘We have an honoured guest – a member of the renowned Sun Chamber!’

Lillus shuffled over to me and took my face in his palms. I bent down and saw the accumulated years in his dark face, though the creases came from smiles and not scowls. That was all I needed to know.

‘Lucan, it is so good to see you,’ Lillus breathed. ‘So very good. The boy has become a healthy man.’

‘You’re looking well too, Lillus.’

He waved away my comment. ‘Listen to this! I am an old man with not much left to give. But I try. I keep busy. But you – you have good skin, brown like a polished table. You look every bit like your mother’s people of Locco, though it takes a skilled eye to match you up with them. Your eyes – dark, yes, but they dazzle me so! It is a good thing I have no wife, as I would keep her far away from you.’

‘If you keep talking like that I’ll start to believe your flattery. Anyway, are you telling me you’re still not married?’

‘Ha! Fonce, listen to him.’ He turned to one of his younger staff members, who looked so similar to Lillus he could have been a son. ‘Married indeed – no, I am still unattached and as charming to the ladies as ever. If I am lucky, many of them are charming in return.’

‘You’re a randy old goat,’ I said grinning.

‘Lucan, I am interested in simple pleasures, simple things. The ladies – they tell me much.’

‘Then tell me, Lillus – as I’ve been away for many years – what do your ladies have to say about Tryum?’

‘Always after information,’ he whispered softly, and our conversation took on an entirely different mood. ‘Come, we will head to the room at the back, where it is much cooler and no one can hear us speak.’

After the initial exchange of pleasantries, and catching up with family histories, we came to the subject of my father’s death.

Lillus paused at this point to apply the shaving cream with a thick brush, licking it across my face with seriousness. I sat back in the same old chair I’d used as a child – though back then it had been with a board to raise me up. Despite a few rips in the upholstery, it had stood the test of time, much like Lillus himself. Up on the ceiling I noticed an elaborate latticework of spiders’ webs, behind which drifted the blue smoke of incense. In the windowless room, shadows were chased into the nooks and crannies by the soft lantern light.

‘I confess your presence has been somewhat expected.’ Lillus was more focused. ‘Your father recently asked me to pass on a piece of information when you returned. He would not say what it concerned and it seems to me more riddle than fact. But he said that you must revisit a childhood place, one which stored many memories. He also asked me to help you out should you ever need it – as if he needed to say so. Does this mean something to you?’

‘It does,’ I replied, not entirely convinced that it did.

‘Then my work is done. Your father paid me well, you know, over the years – far more than he should have. It is a shame I did not see him for some time before his passing.’