Марк Ньютон - Drakenfeld

Towards the end stood two copper-coated statues of Trymus in different dynamic poses, and we passed between them and into a small corridor with rooms branching off either side. The aesthetics remained the same: continuing the bright and bold displays of wealth, the marble, the gold leaf, and the over-the-top artistic statements.

Then before us stood a structure set within a large hall. It was marked by a much larger set of doors, above which stood a stone carving of the god Trymus – wild eyes and big beard. A solid wall extended for some way on either side, and there were no paintings on this – merely the pure unadorned limestone. Soldiers and a few high-ranking officials were loitering here – the crowds had been kept well away.

‘This is a private temple of Trymus,’ Veron informed me. ‘Maxant’s ceremony was to be held here, they were due to enter the temple at midnight, but the temple had been locked. The door had to be broken down by Maxant’s soldiers so that they could get in. And when they did…’

I frowned. ‘Did they not have a key?’

‘They didn’t expect it to be locked. They tried to fetch someone to get another one, but they were running out of time. It was General Maxant’s privilege to open the door at midnight – as part of his triumph, so that he could receive the blessings of Trymus and wear Trymus’ mask for the evening – and his men urged him to get in there before the midnight deadline passed and the stars moved out of alignment. The ceremony loses its essence and Trymus may not have been able to receive contact. Besides, the sooner he did, the sooner we could all get drunk. A few of Maxant’s soldiers then tried to knock the door down. It took four of them a good while to prise it open. And when they did…’

Veron nodded to the brutish-looking guard who cautiously pushed the door open for us. The senator led the way; Leana and I followed him inside.

In the centre of the temple, laid on the floor, was a woman’s body covered in blood.

‘This is Lacanta,’ Veron whispered. ‘The king’s only sister, second in line to the throne – and now dead, Trymus help us all.’

It was dark in the temple, so I asked for torches to be brought closer, and eventually two soldiers obliged.

Lacanta lay on her side, on one arm, with her other extended out to one side at a right angle to her body. Her face had been beaten, and was bloody and bruised, but bad as those wounds were, they were not what had killed her: there was an unmistakable deep wound around her neck that showed where her throat had been cut.

‘This is horrific,’ I said, louder than intended.

She had been wearing a brilliant blue dress, with small gem-stones around the hem, and this was stained with her blood, as were the long waves of her dark-blonde hair. She was a voluptuous woman, someone who indulged in the pleasures of life from the look of her, and her jawline was very well defined. Jewels and gold rings remained on her wrists and ankles, so this did not look like a robbery, though one could never be certain.

‘And none of her things have been taken?’

‘Not that we’re aware of.’

‘Has a weapon been found?’

Veron shook his head.

‘Are you sure no one has taken one away for safe keeping?’

‘The room is exactly as we found it.’

‘Who’s we?’

‘At first Maxant’s soldiers and himself. A few senators piled in pretty soon after, but not as many people as you’d think. Twenty at most. No one has touched a thing, and most of those twenty were ushered out by the soldiers who then dealt with the panic throughout the rest of the building. Hysteria tends to build quite quickly.’

I looked at the body and noted how her clothing seemed to have been pulled out of place. ‘Does anyone think she has been sexually tampered with, in any way?’ I asked somewhat hesitantly.

‘I’ll get permission to make such enquiries,’ Veron said.

I nodded. ‘I’d appreciate it if the king’s physician – if he has one – could look over her, once she’s been cleaned up. I’d like his or her opinion for it might tell us more about what happened here, and the type of murderer we are dealing with, if she had taken poison, or whether or not she’s been planted here like this, after being killed elsewhere.’

‘Planted?’

‘It’s distinctly possible.’

Though it seemed unlikely. There was blood here, of course, but if she had been planted, there must have been blood somewhere else outside the temple. I put this to Veron and he sent one of the soldiers to clear the area even further, so we might assess the scene better.

I moved around to her outstretched arm so that I might get a better look at her skin. It had not yet begun to turn purple, though her hands possessed a touch of blue. I took the liberty of trying to move her arm, to check that stiffness had indeed not yet set in, which put the time of death well within three or four hours, though it was impossible to tell when exactly. These things differed between people and climate.

‘What else can you tell me about the scene, when she was first discovered?’ I asked. ‘Just the facts.’

‘The temple had been locked,’ Veron continued. ‘When we came in, it was said there was a key in the lock on the inside There’s no other way in or out of this place, except through those doors.’

‘No one saw anything?’

‘No. Waiting on the other side were hundreds of guests, who’d been standing there for about an hour before the room was opened in the climax of the ceremony. Not one of them saw anyone come in or out.’

‘I may need a few moments.’ I made a quick inspection around the room and asked for Leana to do the same, inside and out. As we did, a few officials and senators came to observe what we were doing. I felt their gaze upon me, and wished they would go away so we could concentrate.

The temple was at least fifty paces wide, austere for a place of worship perhaps, and in stark contrast to the rest of the building we had just experienced. The flagstones were all made from white and blue marble, and seemed secure enough – I could perceive no trapdoors, no holes. The walls were composed of thick limestone. Some were covered by rich, beautiful red drapes, and I peeled them back in case there was another door – but there was nothing. I took the hilt of my blade and bashed it against the fat blocks like a hammer, but along all sides both high and low the sounds were as I expected. I moved over to the damaged door to see that the heavy iron key was indeed still on the inside.

Outside, however, there was no sign of blood on the floor or walls.

There were no windows here, no open roof. The only light came from candles and paper lanterns – of which there were many. Several votive offerings of food and cups of water lay on an altar and incense was burning. To one side lay the mask of Trymus, a garish, white and purple chequered object with gold trim.

‘Maxant was to wear that for his triumph,’ Veron commented when I paused by it. He added dryly: ‘Soldiers aren’t known for their sense of fashion.’

‘Who lit the incense?’ I asked, examining the smoke. Gentle blue wisps carried the deep woody aroma around the temple. Several small, unlit pyramids stood to one side. ‘It’s been burning for some time now.’

No one seemed to know the answer to my question. I inhaled the smoke, noting that it was the same kind of sandalwood that could be found in any temple in Vispasia.

‘It must have been like that when everyone entered,’ I continued. ‘This incident occurred around an hour or so ago, it seems, and may I confirm that no one had come in for some time beforehand?’

Veron consulted with one of the soldiers from the King’s Legion, who stood resplendent in his purple robes and polished armour. ‘Not even so much as a pontiff,’ he confirmed. ‘As I say, none of the guests saw anything.’