Марк Ньютон - Drakenfeld

Lillus shook his head. ‘Not even I could find that out.’

I paid him, bid farewell to the other members of staff, and headed through the front door into the intense heat, shading my eyes from the sun.

Lillus’ conversation still echoed in my mind. I headed home immediately, to investigate the childhood places that my father had mysteriously discussed with him. Those words already felt like some premonition, a vague confirmation of my suspicions that all was not as it appeared.

There were only a handful of areas to search around the house. The pantry that was once my old room was the likely place. There, I knew of one large and loose tile behind which I used to hide my childhood delights. It was surprising that my father would have remembered this place at all.

With a spoon I levered up the black tile in the furthest corner of the room, underneath the small window that overlooked the garden. Sitting down on the floor, I moved the tile to one side and reached down into the gap. I drew out a small wooden box and pressed back the lid into the past.

‘What have you there?’ Leana stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame with her arms folded.

‘Your head is clear?’

‘Let us not discuss that. What is it?’

I showed her the box and invited her down next to me. ‘Only me and my father knew this was here.’

‘You said he hardly knew anything about your childhood.’

‘It seems he remembered something at least.’ Inside the box were small items from when I was young, including dice and a wooden dagger. I drew out a small figure made from clay. ‘I last played with this when I was no more than five or six years old. He gave it to me as a present one birthday, but when I was older I just kept it safe. Wait…’There was a piece of paper under the doll, which I flipped out with my finger. Underneath that was a key.

‘What does it say?’ Leana asked.

I unfolded the thick yellow papers and read the script out loud.

Lucan,

You will most likely find this under less than happy circumstances. Here is a key and contract to the rented office near Regallum. The landlord will probably say that the contract is void, but you can see that here it meets the legal conditions of the city. He will claim I owe him far more money than is true, though in truth there is still – regretfully – a debt to be paid. I am also convinced that he has been sending gang members from Plutum or Barrantum to this house in an attempt to threaten me.

Things have not worked out as I would have liked.

But should anything happen, please know that I am sad for how we parted. Do with this key as you will, and make of me what you will.

Your father, Calludian.

The second page of the letter was in fact the rental deeds to his offices.

‘It’s like he speaks to you from another world,’ Leana observed casually.

‘It suggests that he knew he was going to die, doesn’t it?’ I said. ‘It is as if he made preparations for my coming home in the event of his death, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit it. He always was a proud man.’

‘You are becoming convinced he was murdered.’

‘I feel as though he was. Just look at what he’s saying – “a debt to be paid”.’

‘Some kind of money trouble?’

‘Unlikely. I mean, look at this place. This is a house in Polyum. He was renting offices for his work with the Sun Chamber, but…’

‘Had he ever been that way in the past?’

‘No, never. Well, I think – and this is a hazy memory at best – that he and my mother argued over his ways with women. He spent a lot of money on women and drink at one point, but that was a quarter of a century ago, when he was a younger man. But she never spoke ill of him to me when he’d gone, and their conversations were kept away from my ears. He should have no need for money troubles now.’

‘No one needs to be in money trouble,’ Leana said. ‘It can happen to the best of us.’

My father’s offices were already unlocked when we arrived. The shabby door pushed back with ease; beyond it lay musky darkness and an aroma that could only be generated by old legal texts. The place was almost empty, as if someone had begun to move out. There was a door to one side and a bookcase that had seen long service. Dust motes floated notably near the arched window. The view from it was over a bustling street market. Across the way was a small temple, though I couldn’t see which god or goddess it glorified.

Suddenly, people started to come down the stairs. Leana placed a hand to her short sword, though I waved for her to be cautious. Loud voices suggested that, whoever was coming, they weren’t bothered about being heard. One of them knocked the door back with his buttocks, and cursed as he dropped one end of a large trunk.

‘Who are you?’ I called out.

‘What’s it to you?’ The man was in his forties; he was a foot shorter than me, with wide shoulders that looked out of place on his otherwise lean body. Skin sagged down his face, which was burnt by the sun. His shabby brown tunic was a size too big for him. The other man, just behind, was actually much younger, clearly the man’s subordinate.

‘My name is Lucan Drakenfeld,’ I declared. ‘My father rented this office and I’ve come to inspect it.’

‘Aye, Drakenfeld,’ he spat. ‘Never paid his bloody rent.’

‘It was all paid for.’ I produced the contract and waved it in his direction, but he made no move to read it.

‘Master said otherwise. Did well not to chuck him out earlier.’

I approached the trunk that the two had been carrying and opened it. Leather-bound legal texts were piled within. ‘Where exactly were you taking these?’

‘Out.’ The man scratched his crotch and spat on the floor. ‘To the master. He can deal with ’em.’

‘Was this everything?’

‘Nah, we took another trunk yesterday evening.’

‘I want it sent back. Who’s your master?’

The man was starting to look thoroughly annoyed, as if I’d just ruined his day. ‘We work for an intermediate, so we hardly ever see him – chief does all that. Owns a hundred properties and only cares that he gets his money each month.’

I wrote down the location of my house and handed it to him. ‘This is where I live. If your master wants to come for dinner to talk about this, he’s more than welcome.’

‘You rich types, you do everything in dinners, don’t you?’ He waved away the paper. ‘I suppose you’ll want these texts keeping here then.’

‘If you could just move—’

‘Cock off,’ he grunted. ‘I ain’t lugging this back upstairs. Someone can sort it out later.’ Wiping his hands on his tunic, he and his colleague sauntered to the door and exited into the busy street.

I opened the trunk and lifted out one brown tome, a fine collection of legal essays by a long-deceased philosopher, and placed it on the desk. The other books here seemed much the same, though each one a little outdated.

Once again, I wondered how my father, a man rarely short of coin, could have become so poor that he struggled to pay the rent on his offices.

I was in no mood to enjoy the festivities that night. My mind had too much to process. Leana did not head out into the city either, despite my urges for her to find out what was going on during the grand feast organized by King Licintius. But she declined. Though she would never say it outright, I suspect she felt a little guilty for her hangover this morning.

Instead we ate in a companionable silence out in the gardens while we watched the sun fall behind the rooftop, before eventually heading inside to our separate rooms. There, I concentrated hard on the conversations that my parents had within these walls, trying to discern something about the past that might inform the present. My parents didn’t really have arguments – they were both too intelligent, and instead they might have reasoned debates over issues. However, my father could be just as domineering over her as he was over his children. As an adult, I never had the chance to understand him completely – having somewhat avoided that challenge for the most part. Putting a continent between us would do that. Had he been someone who lived recklessly though? It seemed hard to match up, though perhaps deep down I wanted to remember him in death as a good and honest person.