Марк Ньютон - Drakenfeld

Leana paused momentarily before I saw a flicker of excitement in her composure. ‘On the edge of Plutum I found a herbalist from Atrewe. An old woman who left long ago, because of the troubles. She makes a living from selling herbs, trinkets and very authentic clay pots.’

Visibly happy, Leana strolled into her room.

It came as something of a relief that Leana had made a connection. She had come with me from her homeland – not that she ever showed much sign of wanting to return. Our relationship was hard to explain to most people: we expressed our bond in our shared silences, our unspoken gestures. We learned to live side by side through rough periods and rougher places, slowly understanding the way each other operated, building a trust that I doubted could be replicated with anyone. Her presence offered protection and security; sometimes I doubted what I could offer her and hoped that, deep down, it went beyond money and a way to escape bad memories.

And I recalled the contradictions of Tryum: indeed it was a city of many cultures, and many new accents and dialects; yet from what I had gathered, people feared foreigners more than ever. This was strange – even in the deepest days of the Empire, it was said that Detrata and Tryum especially welcomed people from all over the continent. We considered them Detratan even though they had not been born here.

Had things changed in the harsher conditions? Had the lack of food led to a natural distrust of people who were not local? Were the senatorial classes sowing seeds of fear so that it might be a popular act to invade other countries? No doubt we would soon find out.

A little while later, in our finest clothing, we left for the event at Senator Veron’s house. We took no more than seven steps out of the front gate before we found ourselves in trouble.

They were waiting for us in the shadows, three men wearing hooded tunics and cheap sandals. I couldn’t tell much about them from their faces, but they were soon crowding around us, steering us back against the red wall surrounding my property. Leana had her short sword in her hand before I even thought to draw mine.

Leana crouched, grabbed some dust from the ground and flung it into the nearest assailant’s face before striking the man next to him with her blade, drawing blood. She then turned her attention to the first man, who was still wiping his eyes, and jabbed the blade into his thigh. Screaming, he crumpled to the ground clutching his leg. I went for the man Leana had injured, making a few lazy jabs and eventually managed to knock his blade to one side. I punched him in the centre of his face, feeling his nose crunch. He, too, fell to the ground; I smacked him over the back of his head with the pommel of my sword and then he lay still.

The other grounded attacker received the same treatment while Leana dealt with the final standing assailant, who seemed more skilled in the arts of violence. Never wanting to miss any action, a small crowd had gathered to watch, cheering Leana on. Realizing this she delighted in making some utterly unnecessary show moves, delivering rapid punches to her opponent’s face and stomach and kicks to the side of his leg.

While she revelled in what she did best, I called for someone in the crowd to bring some rope. After being handed some I quickly tied the others’ hands behind their backs. Leana finally finished, much to the admiration and cheers of the locals. I tied up the last of them, and lined up the three attackers side by side outside my front gates.

‘You were slow,’ Leana declared, out of breath but with a grin on her face. ‘Bellona’s cooking will only make you worse.’

‘I’m out of practice, that’s all,’ I said.

They were poor, not particularly well-nourished men – clearly the bottom of the chain, as far as I was concerned. Perhaps their employers would seek me out in other, gentler ways. I sent for the Civil Cohorts to come and clean up.

Constable Farrum arrived on the scene quickly, in his silver sash and brown tunic. I noticed crumbs in his beard.

‘Sorry if I disturbed your meal,’ I said, and he started to brush out the crumbs. I told him what had happened, pointed out the crowd of witnesses, and asked him to identify who these men were and what they were doing here.

He seemed nervous and excited as he checked a few trivial details with me, before calling out to some of his own men. A handcart lumbered forwards and the attackers were hauled up on board, still unconscious, before being taken away. There were very few gaols in Tryum – it seemed that the city didn’t consider dedicating resources to prisoners particularly worthwhile when matters could be dealt with privately, but I instructed Farrum I’d pay him for his troubles.

‘Every other day we found a fight in Venyn City,’ Leana commented. ‘I am surprised just how quickly we got into it in Tryum. You told me this was the most civilized city in the Vispasian Royal Union.’

‘It is,’ I replied.

‘It seems much like others,’ Leana said, ‘if you ask me.’

It was dark now and, though keeping time in Tryum was a loose concept, we hurried because we did not want to appear too rude to our host.

‘I am… nervous,’ Leana admitted.

‘You just won a fight with three men and now you’re nervous?’

‘Spirits save me, you are not helping my mood.’

‘You’ll be fine. It’s just a party.’ I laughed. It seemed absurd that Leana could be intimidated by the grand approach to Senator Veron’s mansion and yet easily handle herself when threatened.

‘Easy for you to say. You live and breathe such social circles. Me, I belong with ordinary people.’

‘I enjoy being with people from all walks of life.’

‘So you like to think,’ she replied. ‘You were born into this higher life. Me, I must keep silent when they talk to me, lest I betray my background.’

‘Let their words wash over you. Most of it is a lot of pretentious nonsense. Anyway, you’ve not met them yet – you might decide you like them.’

‘Just why must we go to this stupid thing?’

‘For work and for pleasure,’ I replied. ‘Many of the highest levels of Tryum society will be gathering under one roof. There’s every chance one of them will be able to tell us something about the murder, or at the very least open up some useful routes of enquiry. It’s why we should be glad that Veron has welcomed us into his social circle – that man is giving us quick access to the great and good of Tryum, whether or not he realizes it.’

Two heavily built servants admitted us into Veron’s wonderful rectangular garden, which was rich and sensuous, filled with wide-leaf plants that weren’t domestic varieties. A dozen scents were being emptied into the evening sky, jasmine, marjoram… smells that blended with cooking aromas coming from the house. From inside came laughter and gentle music from a lyre. It seemed ridiculous that a house could be so big in Tryum: built on one level, it was set back from the streets, and designed in the city’s typical style, with regular columns, a symmetrical facade, decorated with thin lines of painted details, but it was too dark to perceive the full array of colours.

Cressets burned outside and above the entrance way, bright yellow beacons against the indigo sky. There were braziers lit amidst the foliage throughout the garden, encouraging exploration and secret conversations in the half-light.

We were welcomed by two more of Veron’s serving staff, each garbed in a rich silk tunic, before the senator himself came forward to greet us.