Марк Ньютон - Drakenfeld

We did not touch in any formal greeting, but surprisingly he placed a firm hand on my shoulder and gave me a sad smile. ‘Your presence is indeed welcome here.’

‘I’m honoured, but regret our meeting is under such circumstances. You have my deepest sympathies, sir.’

‘Sympathies… Yes, you do understand, don’t you? A lot of people have been saying that word to me without really meaning it, but you lost your father recently, did you not? We share in our grief.’ He looked back to the others and called over to them: ‘Please, talk amongst yourselves while I see to business with the Sun Chamber.’

Licintius steered me to one side, far away from the ears of the curious. ‘You will find whoever did this to her, won’t you?’ he whispered urgently. ‘You will see that they are brought to justice?’

‘I’ll do my very best, sir,’ I answered. ‘However, it is a puzzling mystery.’

‘Witchcraft,’ the king breathed. ‘I have heard of dark matters in the Senate in recent months. They have tried to harness the powers that belong only to gods.’

‘It is one option.’

‘I have another,’ the king added. ‘That she was assassinated.’

‘Was anyone a threat?’

‘Who was not? Foreign princes were lining themselves up, and she turned them all down.’

‘Her marriage was not your decision, then?’

‘No. I’m no northern barbarian. She could choose her own path.’

‘Are there any such foreign princes you think might have been responsible?’

‘A royal wouldn’t have done it himself. He’d have an assassin do his bidding, of course, but I’d place money on the attack having derived from Maristan.’

An old rival of Detrata, and one that had suffered greatly under imperial rule, Maristan stood just to the south of Detrata.

‘What will it take for you to find the killer?’ the king asked. ‘What help do you need from me?’

Taking a deep breath, I rapidly weighed my options. ‘If it isn’t much trouble, I would like to see Lacanta once again, though perhaps after your physician has seen to her.’

‘Of course, Drakenfeld. I’ll have my physician meet you after this and you can go with him.’

‘Thank you. I’d also appreciate two other things, if I may be so bold as to ask.’

With a tilt of his head he indicated for me to continue.

‘One is access to the Temple of Trymus once again, just to take another look at the scene. The second is to have access to senators, and over the next few days I’d like to speak to those who attended the party last night.’

‘You think one of them is responsible?’ The king looked concerned by the implication. ‘I know they like to stab each other’s back – figuratively, of course. Not here. Not in Tryum – this is no tribal backwater. We are a civilized people.’

‘I’d like to keep my options open.’

‘I’ll see to it that you are granted free access and I will address the Senate personally on this issue.’

I gave a short bow of thanks, but wanted to ask him more. ‘I may also have a few extra questions for you to help locate Lacanta’s murderer. No one knew her as well as you did.’

Licintius gestured with upturned palms. ‘If you have something to ask, please go ahead.’

I glanced back to the whispering crowd behind us. Maxant towered silently at the back next to Veron, who seemed to be smiling at one of the women nearby.

‘Did anything last night strike you as particularly out of character for anyone? An argument perhaps.’

Rooted to the spot, the king descended into deep concentration. He looked almost angry, and his momentary silence made that all the more potent.

‘Nothing odd, as such,’ Licintius said. ‘No. There were a few people upset at the actors I brought in, but that is to be expected when the classes mix. It does them good, though, whether they like it or not.’ I noted the promise of a smile, but nothing more. ‘There was a row. One or two of the grander families did not appreciate me bringing foreigners into Optryx. They don’t like those from abroad – they don’t trust our neighbours.’

‘What happened after that?’

‘Nothing. It all quietened down thankfully.’ The look of sadness on his face grew. ‘I do wish people would be more open-minded in this city.’

‘But other than that – there is nothing that comes to mind? Nothing in the days leading up to the event? Please, anything you suggest could be vitally important.’

He reflected on the matter for some time before saying, ‘Two nights ago, while out riding in the country, one of my men pointed out two meteors to me – one following another, and each with a large tail. Do you think it could mean anything? My astrologers suggested it meant the gods were displeased. Do you think such things would be connected to her death? Why else would it have occurred in the temple, if it was not the business of gods?’

‘I am afraid such matters are out of my area of expertise,’ I sighed.

Licintius glanced down at the floor and his silence was profound. ‘I will send a messenger to find you when I have more time for you to ask your questions, Drakenfeld, and we will talk in private. Now, sadly, I have too little time to grieve. Others demand my attention.’

With a look of profound weariness Licintius marched back to the group. In a quiet, firm voice, he enquired who was next.

I waited on my own, sitting on the floor beneath the altar of Trymus, just in front of the spot where Lacanta had been found dead. No hard evidence remained now, of course, but I could clearly recall the position in which she had been found. What must she have been thinking in her final moments?

Some people preferred to see out their time surrounded by statues of deities, but they had usually lived a long and successful life; they had the luxury of choosing how their time would end. But not Lacanta.

Would she have screamed? Would anyone have heard?

The room was solid, and there had been a celebration in process, potentially loud enough to drown out any noise that might have left her lips. If one was intending to murder to make a statement but not be discovered, this was an ideal location.

Standing up, I looked at the bearded stone face of Trymus, and wished that, as the only witness to the crime, he could speak to me right now. But communicating with the gods was the job of priests; I’d have to rely on my own investigations.

The double doors were crafted from a very fine wood, possibly oak, and the grain was heavily polished. There were gold-leaf shapes pressed decoratively in a thin, rectangular line around the edge, and in the centre the ornamentation was of trees or flowers. The key was still in the lock, on the inside. There were no signs it had been tampered with. The other door bore the brunt of the damage from Maxant’s men – a testament to the strength of the lock – and had splintered where the bolt had been.

‘It seems only Trymus saw what happened last night.’ A short man, garbed in a green shirt, brown trousers and black boots, approached. He was balding, the remaining strands of hair left to him slicked across his head, and stood with the slight hunch of a man who had spent many years as a scribe or at a workbench. A short ornate dagger hung by his waist, though he didn’t seem nimble enough to use it. He gripped my forearm lightly and we shook. ‘You’re a tall one, I’ll give you that. We’ll just have to see if altitude reflects intelligence.’

My face must have shown my confusion.