Марк Ньютон - Drakenfeld

‘Wonderful accent, isn’t it, Drakenfeld,’ Veron said, catching my eye. ‘The way the vowels are extended, that each word is pronounced with consideration. I know you taught her Detratan, but what does she speak usually?’

‘Sarcasm, for the most part,’ I replied. ‘No, she speaks our own tongue – at her own insistence, as well as our convenience – but she’s been known to curse me in Atrewen from time to time. I think she’s reached a good level of Detratan. She’s even schooled me in Atrewen, though I’m not sure she’s taught me how to swear. She saves such choice words for herself.’

‘It’s all so fascinating,’ Veron replied. ‘Now, I think it’s time you told these people some proper tales from the road. We long to know of the wider Vispasia. I long to know of anything from beyond the Senate building. What wonders have you seen?’

Though I was not looking forward to discussions with Veron’s guests, I did not exactly dislike being surrounded by people eager for me to speak. I had been schooled well from a young age in rhetoric – as was essential for all of us in the legal profession – and it was not just a boon in the law courts. People loved a good story.

‘I once met the Gold Queen,’ I began, to audible gasps. ‘It was deep in the heart of Dalta, a nation where women have far greater rights and privileges than men.’

‘Nonsense,’ a man said.

‘It’s true. As a man it makes me really understand the position of women in our own nations – having experienced the opposite. The Gold Queen is the heart and soul of the Vispasian Royal Union, with much of the mineral wealth – and she knows it. She’s more arrogant than any king, and more beguiling than any lady I have set eyes upon. She dresses in nothing but gold-coloured cloth, and her body is weighed down by her excessive jewellery so that she rarely leaves her immense bedchamber. She sleeps there, eats there, bathes there, and dictates the entire business of Dalta from a horizontal position.’ I smiled at one of the more prudish-looking ladies nearby. ‘She experiences a lot of her pleasure at the same angle. When she needs to inspect the provinces of her country, to check on local officials and accountants, a good number of slaves carry her there on her golden bed.’

‘Were you on a case when you saw her?’ a woman asked. I took her to be a senator, too, judging by her stately clothing.

‘Did you see her in her bed?’

‘Was she clothed?’

I smiled at this bombardment of questions. ‘I like to think she took a shine to me, but as for the rest, I’m afraid I’m not allowed to say…’

I repeated similar pieces of information – how I saved Prince Bassim from an assassination attempt in Venyn City, of the Ziggurats of Locco, the Skeleton Prince of Gippoli – pausing in all the right places, allowing for natural drama to fill the gaps in what I had to say, leaving them waiting on key moments so that they would remain interested, and trying my best to recall my rhetorical training. This was, after all, partly why Veron wanted me here, so I did not wish to let him down after he had been so kind to me during my return. Even Cettrus the Red seemed impressed, though he did not speak to me.

They were most impressed by my having travelled to Free State, a neutral yet heavily fortified territory; there once a year, within a sprawling village comprised largely of temples, all the kings and queens of the Vispasian Royal Union gathered to discuss the affairs of the world and hold each other accountable for their own nation’s contribution to Vispasia, to pass new laws and to remove old ones. From that nation, everyone’s futures were to be decided. Though they seemed in awe of my travels, they seemed to be rather dismissive, if not fearful, of other nations, particularly those closest to the border, Maristan and Koton. They quoted the king on his dislike of Free State, too, suggesting yet again a desire to return to the days of Empire.

The guests – some of whom were very high-ranking clerks and officials – could not get enough of the tales, so it wasn’t until a little later in the evening that I gladly broke free.

At that point, my throat was dry and I badly needed a drink.

Suitably replenished, I managed to take Senator Veron to one side. ‘My apologies for getting down to business on a night like this, senator, but do you have the names and addresses for those actors who were present at Optryx?’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said. ‘I managed to speak to the Censor earlier today, and he noted them down for you.’ He slipped away into the crowd, then a moment later returned with a cup of wine and a scroll of paper, which he handed to me. ‘The Skull and Jasmine theatre company,’ he said. ‘They’re rough sorts, from a rough part of the city, but name me a thespian who isn’t a dodgy fellow.’

‘Thank you.’ I slipped the scroll in my pocket.

‘What do you think of the ladies?’ He gestured around with his cup. ‘Charming, aren’t they?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Not your sort?’ Veron frowned as if I was some puzzle he needed to decipher. ‘If you want a male companion, we can set you up with one of those. One just tends to ask about women in the first instance – an old habit really.’

‘Neither will be necessary,’ I insisted.

‘Are you certain you and your assistant aren’t wed? I rather admire the darker-skinned women. Much more adventurous. They’ll let you—’

‘Quite certain,’ I said.

Parties turned people into strange creatures. I don’t know whether or not Veron was drunk, but he was starting to remind me why I had been so happy away from Tryum all these years – that, at night, and in these circles, people would reduce each other to sexual commodities. ‘I’m afraid my career permits little time for affairs of the heart,’ I said.

‘A great shame,’ he spoke into his wine, ‘there are a dozen women here who would be all over a handsome fellow such as yourself. At least three have told me so tonight, in explicit detail. I envy you, being free and single. It’s been years since someone spoke of me in explicit detail.’

‘Perhaps after I find Lacanta’s killer, I may be able to enjoy such matters, but not at the moment.’

The reminder seemed to sober him, and his countenance grew more serious. ‘Indeed. Now go on, mingle, and you will have some more wine, won’t you? I’ve purchased many amphorae for tonight, and it all needs to be drunk, else people will say I am a bad host. I might be many bad things, but a bad host I am not.’

‘I’ll not drink too much,’ I replied. ‘My father’s funeral is after dawn tomorrow. It probably wouldn’t be all that respectful – to him or the gods – if I turned up reeking of wine.’

Veron smiled and placed a firm hand on my shoulder. ‘You are your father’s son.’ Then he turned to mix with his guests once again.

‘No,’ I promised myself. ‘I’m more than that.’

A handsome middle-aged lady approached me when I was on my own, and talked about love like she knew what it meant. I’m not sure what she wanted of me – I’m not even certain that she knew herself – but she soon left me alone again. I talked with one of the other guests – a good-looking young man – one who had been close to Lacanta.

‘How close?’ I asked, and the look I received was innuendo enough. The same individual then questioned me gently, touching my arm, and asked me if I would like to return to his house afterwards. I politely declined, without trying to bruise his ego, and he seemed to brush off the rejection well enough.

Such attention might have been flattering, but I saw that many of the guests here were looking for reasons to disappear with another. Parties could on occasion be pointless for a Sun Chamber official, but when there was a case going on, they could also provide fascinating details as wine liberated people from their inhibitions, and secrets were spilled. At least I could begin to get a picture of Lacanta’s social scene, which was a boon for someone unfamiliar with contemporary life in the city. She was hated and loved by many; there was no shortage of narratives winding around her life.