Марк Ньютон - Drakenfeld

‘I have many more questions, but let me summarize to be clear: around midnight, the king’s sister Lacanta was found with her throat cut. The weapon is not here. None of her jewellery has been removed and she has – I will assume for now – not been tampered with. The temple was locked and sealed, and the key left in the door, on the inside. There’s no other way into the temple unless one was a god; no way out, apart from through those doors.’ I pointed towards them. ‘There is no blood outside that we have seen thus far and, finally, it appears that whoever was in here with her lit incense at the altar of Trymus.’

Leana moved in closer. ‘All of this on the night of a big celebration.’

‘Maybe the killer wanted to scare the guests,’ Veron offered.

‘Perhaps, though there are more subtle ways of scaring people.’

‘The killer might worship Trymus.’ Leana indicated the statue and offerings.

‘Another possibility – it’s a rather morbid sacrifice, if it is one. It’s not uncommon for his temples to receive blood donations, though it is usually from oxen, goat or chickens. How long do you think Lacanta has been dead?’

Veron moved to stand next to us. ‘One of the soldiers claimed her body was still warm when we found it, though it is a hot night and this temple rarely gets cold. Obviously it’s colder now and she’s becoming fixed in place by Malax in his Underworld.’

‘The gods don’t hang about. We’re going to have to get statements from as many people as possible,’ I said.

‘I wouldn’t have thought that will be a problem,’ Veron replied.

‘Who had access to the key?’

‘There are a few copies kept in the back offices, copies are kept for every lock in the building. Though it’s a private temple, Trymus grants access to all. This section of Optryx isn’t anywhere near as secure as the other side, where the king resides.’

I made a note to ask the temple’s pontiff about copies. ‘Where’s King Licintius? I take it he’s aware of this?’

Veron gave a sad laugh. ‘Poor Licintius followed the soldiers into the room when they found her. He fled to his private quarters in an immediate rage. I’ve never seen him so angry. General Maxant first sent his soldiers to close all the doors in Optryx and to stop people leaving, and then went up to join the king. I don’t think any of the soldiers have the nerve to approach him just yet – in his mood, he might well turn them into eunuchs.’

‘So this is Calludian’s son,’ came another voice. A small, hunched old man shuffled towards me, pushing past the guards on the door with a scowl on his cleanly shaven face. Thin wisps of hair clung to his sweaty head, and he used a stick to prop himself up as he walked. He gave me a look of utter contempt. ‘I never did like the Sun Chamber. Ideas above your station, if you ask me. No one votes for you.’

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,’ I offered. ‘Please, don’t come too close to the body, you might contaminate the scene.’

‘See what I mean?’ the man scoffed to Veron. ‘Ideas above his station in life.’

Veron looked apologetic. ‘This is Senator Chastra. Senator, this is Lucan Drakenfeld, officer of the Sun Chamber.’

‘I’ve heard all about him and his dark bodyguard,’ Chastra muttered, examining Leana with his bright green eyes and a sneer on his face. His mind was still active, even if his body wasn’t up to much. He turned to face me. ‘A woman, too. That must make you feel quite effeminate.’

‘If you’re keen to prove your masculinity, you could always challenge her to a fight.’

Veron placed his face in his palms at my reply. Leana remained impassive.

‘I wouldn’t want to dirty myself with foreigners,’ Chastra replied. ‘Besides, the only fighting I do is with my words.’

‘He certainly does,’ agreed Veron. ‘You should hear him in the Senate – he still gives a rather devastating speech on occasion.’

‘Senator Chastra,’ I said turning to face him. ‘Presumably you’re not here to dazzle us with your charm. You are a man of words so what have you to offer about this incident?’

‘All I have to say on the matter is that it’s unlikely you’ll find the killer. This one was struck down by the gods. Struck down for living an immoral life. A murder in a place like this brings bad omens to the city.’

‘Is that so?’ I asked.

‘Look around you. Solid walls and a sealed door. Struck down by the gods. I’ll be damned if I can work it out.’

‘That’s why you’re not in the Sun Chamber,’ I replied, noting a rare smile on Leana’s face as she continued to examine the temple.

‘If it isn’t the gods, maybe Senator Divran is right with mutterings of magic. But I’ll wager some divine power was at work.’

‘Did you see Lacanta at all tonight?’ I asked.

‘Of course,’ Chastra spluttered. ‘We all did. Earlier this evening she was mingling with her brother and General Maxant, talking to Veron, me, half a dozen other senators. In fact, some of us saw her – and were conversing with her – no more than a few moments before the temple doors were opened. A matter of minutes.’

‘Ridiculous, if that’s what you claim,’ Veron declared. ‘People were standing just outside the door as part of the celebrations for the better part of a whole hour. Dozens would have seen her killer leaving the room if the murder was so soon after you saw her.’

‘You might think it impossible,’ Chastra said more calmly, ‘but I saw what I saw.’

Not impossible, I reassured myself – just baffling.

Impressed by the clarity of his recollection, I listened to what the old senator had to say, and began to patch together a narrative timeline of the evening.

As was clear, Licintius had been holding a huge celebration for General Maxant and his conquests. The two of them were practically inseparable all evening, the king proud of what was happening to his nation, bringing it more prestige and power within the Vispasian Royal Union. Lacanta had been with them for a short while, before going on to blend in with the crowd, regaling people with her tales, using her charm on many of the male senators in front of their own wives. She was, by all accounts, not only rich and alluring – but beautiful, too, a powerful combination of traits, yet her antics, getting thrills from playing mind games, seemed at odds with the other aspects of her personality.

Veron commented that perhaps it was a way to feel vaguely human in her position, but Chastra scowled at him for such naivety. ‘She was a manipulative bitch, plain and simple. Her brother’s no better.’ He waved down Veron’s protests. ‘No, I’m too old to care for the consequences of what I say, and I have little time for royals, but I am not surprised in the least that she ended up this way.’ He gestured to her corpse with his free hand, his other firmly on his cane for support. ‘The gods will punish the wicked.’

I noticed the derogatory way the old man spoke about women, his patriarchal and archaic attitude if they did not conform to his beliefs of how they should behave.

Chastra’s account of events continued. There had been small theatrical productions all evening, improvised shows in alcoves. Many of the senators had apparently grumbled at having to share this grand event with mere thespians, who then had the audacity to try to talk to guests who were far above them in social ranking.

‘So there were a lot of people from all walks of life in the building,’ I offered. ‘People who would not normally be permitted.’

‘Everyone had been given the password,’ Veron said. ‘Security had to be relaxed tonight, but usually there’s a new password each day, known only to a select few.’