Марк Ньютон - Drakenfeld

‘Why? You’re an official, they are thugs – it’s the way of things.’

I gave him an accurate impression of the earlier scene. ‘Do you know who they might be?’

‘Possibly. I got a hunch they were related to the buggers below.’ He stamped one foot to indicate the captives.

‘Do they talk much?’ Leana asked.

Farrum shook his head.

In the dusty half-light, Leana moved over to the trapdoor as Farrum unlocked it. After he flipped it open, Leana reached in and grabbed one of the offenders by his bound wrist, and then hauled him up and onto the floor. She kicked him in the ribs, sending him sprawling, then she grabbed him by the hair and yanked him upright.

‘Enough,’ he spluttered. ‘No more. Get this witch off.’

‘Hear that, Leana,’ I laughed, ‘he thinks you’re a witch.’ I leaned over his squinting face. ‘She’s far worse than that, my friend.’

Leana unsheathed her short sword and crouched down on one side of him.

I followed suit and pointed to the blade. ‘See the small markings near the hilt? Venyn metal, this blade. I’m afraid Leana here left her sharpest sword at home. Venyn steel, it isn’t so good. It’s not as sharp as some blades. This won’t do a good job cutting through your flesh – it will mess you up quite a bit. If it doesn’t kill you, you’ll likely get gangrene, and you probably don’t want any of those things to happen. Am I wrong?’

‘N-no,’ he spluttered.

‘Now, if you would be so kind as to tell me what we want to know, we’ll not harm you at all. We’ll even let you go scurrying through the streets back to whatever hole you crawled from.’

He locked eyes with mine.

‘You don’t have to talk,’ I continued, thinking of some of the well-used lines I’d relied upon before. ‘But I should inform you that Leana here has killed two men this morning already and, in her tribe, the number three has great significance. Your dying would have meaning to me, too, as I’m almost certain throwing your corpse into that pit would encourage your accomplices to talk instead. Answers will come, soon enough, and I am a patient man.’

‘What… you wanna know?’ he spluttered.

‘The name of your employer,’ I urged. ‘The person who sent you three to the gates of my house last night.’

He looked from me, to the blade, to Leana, and then back to me again.

‘You’d be doing me a favour,’ I continued. ‘Farrum here has a good house, a good family, and they don’t need to see me clean away so much blood just after breakfast.’

He nodded. ‘Don’t get paid enough for that,’ he said. ‘Top boss, his name is Veldrum Hecater.’

‘Excellent, and what does Veldrum Hecater want?’

‘Money. Money that he’s owed. That’s all.’

‘From whom?’ I asked.

‘Calludian Drakenfeld.’

‘Why?’

‘How should I know?’

‘Where can we find Veldrum Hecater?’

‘He’s got a large house. Along the border of Vellyum and Plutum. Near to the Seventh Temple of Malax.’

I stood up and Farrum nodded to me. ‘All right. You’ve been very helpful.’ I nodded to Leana who threw him back into the pit, and he landed in the darkness with a grunt.

Veldrum Hecater? Who in Polla’s name was Veldrum Hecater?

Constable Farrum locked the door and gave me a look of admiration. ‘What shall I do with them, sir? Do you wish to bring about a private prosecution? It’d be a pleasure to arrange that with the courts in your honour.’

More figures would come after me if these were brought to the courts. The only way to stop them would be to get to the source of the debts. ‘No, not this time. I’m happy for you to let them go, one by one, but don’t cut their restraints. They’re not a threat to us, but they need to leave here thoroughly humbled.’

‘Right you are,’ Farrum replied.

‘I’m interested in this Veldrum Hecater – what can you tell me about him?’

‘I’ve not come across him personally, I’ll admit, but I’ve heard tell his legitimate trade is as a moneylender. Course, that don’t necessarily mean he’s not got an illegitimate trade on the go as well.’

A moneylender? As I knew him, it was improbable that my father would have needed the services of a moneylender. But even in death he had already started to surprise me.

I knew better than to let personal matters interfere with my professional schedule, but even so, on the way back from exploring the addresses of the Skull and Jasmine troupe in Plutum, my destination was Veldrum Hecater’s residence.

The frustration of this case was starting to burn me up inside – there were too few clues, too many potential suspects, though little reliable motive. And from my dealings with royals and well-to-do folk, they tended to want things to be resolved as quickly as possible. Given that no one had anything significant to say about Lacanta’s death that night, it really was time to start eliminating some of the many possibilities and to narrow down my focus.

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.

Since it remained difficult to discern just how the murder was carried out, all I had to go on were the suspicions and suppositions of others.

But perhaps the actors had seen something.

‘You know the way, I take it?’ Leana asked.

‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘Well, nearly.’

‘Not one bit.’ Leana smiled.

‘Roughly. Finding one’s way around Tryum is not always easy, even having grown up in the city.’

When Tryum was a dominant player in the city states of the Detratan Empire, two hundred years ago, it not only expanded through architectural ingenuity, but the military pillaged other nations, bringing back their structures, their essence and, most of all, their treasures.

As a result, parts of the city were a mishmash of stolen cultures, thrown up in quick succession during the years of expansion – and, it has to be said, without much consideration for city planning. Over several decades, Tryum became a mess of streets. The city’s royals, in the more logical districts of Regallum, Polyum and Tradum – and to an extent Vellyum – tended to demolish anything that didn’t please their eye, and permitted architects and businessmen to step in to fill the gap with something altogether more satisfactory. The problems became more apparent when it was realized that different rulers had radically differing tastes – so schemes were cancelled and new designs requested. It also meant that these days tourists never understood the nuances of the streets, and could often be found stumbling down an alleyway in a dangerous neighbourhood, never to be seen again.

With more luck than judgement on my part, we managed to find our way quickly into Plutum, one of the two poorest regions of Tryum.

The buildings here were taller, closer together, and constructed with little care for safety. It was often said that people should walk in the middle of the street in case crumbling masonry or decaying roof tiles fell down on top of them. It had been known to happen.

Streets became narrower, more illogical in their direction and filled with even more people. Those caught up within the traffic were noticeably poorer, their clothes more austere: ripped trousers, no shoes or boots in some cases, grubby tunics, and there was not a single piece of metallic jewellery on display.

Carts rolled by carrying meagre supplies of grain; amphorae were being filled with water at a fountain; prostitutes stood chewing tree gum in open doorways, idly regarding the street beyond. The graffiti above the head of one lady – featuring the addition of a large phallus, I should add – suggested that one could indulge in all sorts of activities within the room behind her.