Марк Ньютон - Drakenfeld

‘I’m Senator Veron,’ he said, rising from being draped across a couch. ‘You might have heard of me.’

We gripped each other’s forearms in the formal Detratan greeting. He looked only a few years older than me, forty summers to his name at the most, and rather young for a senator. Veron’s bronzed skin and athletic figure were also not typical of those who spent most of their time in shaded rooms arguing politics, but I’m sure his good looks didn’t do any harm come election time. We stood approximately the same height, and where my eyes were brown his were a startling sky blue. His long face was handsome in the classical way, though his hair was beginning to recede a little. His easy, confident manner disarmed me momentarily; that was, until the quality of his gold-trimmed cloak reminded me once again that he was a politician. His smile seemed well practised.

‘So. The son returns.’ Veron’s voice was remarkably crisp, and I couldn’t trace a hint of dialect. He stared at me with great intensity, trying to read my expression to see what I made of him. ‘A Sun Chamber official who’s both a Drakenfeld and easy on the eye,’ he continued. ‘I’ll have to watch you if you go near the Regallum district – politicians are naturally wary of handsome professionals like yourself. You tend to win over crowds and usurp us; which, to be fair, is exactly what any of us would do in your position.’

‘There’s not much danger of me heading there so long as everyone’s behaving themselves,’ I said. ‘It’s been weeks since I arrested a politician.’

‘That’s the spirit.’ Veron slapped me on the shoulder before producing a leather scroll tube, which he’d been carrying in his bag. ‘This is from the Court of the Sun Chamber. As senator for this district, it was sent to my address for me to place directly into your hands when you arrived. I’m guessing your people don’t trust messengers.’

‘It could have been that they wanted you to be present when I read it. Any idea what it’s about?’

‘Sadly I worship the wrong gods to be able to read a sealed scroll – I’ve asked Trymus often enough, but as far as founder gods go he’s not been particularly helpful.’ Veron indicated that I open it, and he turned to regard a fresco to grant me some privacy to read.

I broke the seal, opened up the tube and pulled out the letter.

Lucan Drakenfeld.

You will by now have reached Tryum, in Detrata. The Court of the Sun Chamber has now consulted on the issue of your father’s sudden and sad death at some length and, for the foreseeable future, and given that there is no Officer in Tryum, we have deemed you suitable for the post.

Your work in Venyn has been commended and, by order of Commissioner Tibus, you are to inherit your father’s seat in Tryum. Both King Licintius’ office and the Senate are being informed presently. Direct notice will be sent to the Civil Cohorts, for what it is worth, but you may investigate incidents as you see fit unless we find something else that merits your attention.

May Polla offer you her blessings.

Sheriff Goul,

Deputy Administrator for Vispasian Royal Union West.

Tibus had ordered the move – high praise indeed, coming from one of four commissioners, a high rank in the Sun Chamber.

‘Good news, I trust?’ Veron said.

‘I appear to have a new job.’

‘My congratulations.’ The senator placed his strong hand on my back once again.

‘Please, where are my manners,’ I said. ‘You must take a drink with me.’

‘I won’t say no if you have any wine,’ he replied.

I hastily called for Bellona to see if there was any around. She shuffled away bowing to rustle up some refreshments while I urged her yet again not to call me master.

‘It’s always wise to keep your servants in their place.’ Senator Veron nodded to me as if he’d supplied me with some profound advice.

‘I’m fairly informal when it comes to such things. I’ve never had a servant before. Besides, angry staff will often be the first to help guide a knife into a cruel master’s back. I saw it happen often enough in Venyn City.’

‘A wild and adventurous place, so they tell me. You must tell me of your time there. I thrive on tales of far-away cities. The Senate can be rather dull at times – especially once Senator Chastra gets into full flow.’

We took our seats on a curved settee overlooking the fountain in the garden, and sipped on watered wine and sweet snacks. The evening was humid; the smell of vegetation was pungent. In the distance were the sounds of the city, the constant low hum of a thousand voices. Lanterns and oil lamps surrounded us, casting a mellow light. I felt myself starting to relax.

‘This food is remarkably good,’ I breathed, gesturing for him to help himself to the snacks.

‘Not for me,’ Veron replied. ‘I’m looking after my health.’ He patted his stomach.

‘Very wise,’ I replied, but consumed two of them anyway. At the back of my mind was Leana’s voice berating me.

‘I knew your father, Calludian, reasonably well,’ Veron said. ‘I’ve not been in the Senate all that long, just a few years, but I see to the needs of citizens from this neighbourhood, so our paths crossed now and then. His death was a great shock to us all. He will be missed. The man knew a thing or two about the world, as well as where the good wines come from.’ Veron paused, with a gentle smile on his face. ‘I was there the day he caught Saludus, the priest murderer, after the king tasked the Sun Chamber to help find him. At the time the city was living in fear as body after body was left hanging in public places. People were talking about the vengeance of gods and all sorts of devilry. It turned out not to be so.’

Again, another reminder of his incredible deeds, making me feel once again inferior and in awe. ‘I remember when I was young all the cases he worked on seemed to affect the city profoundly in one way or another.’

‘That’ll be your memory playing tricks on you. I’m sure it wasn’t always like that – recently he was often buried in administration and all those annoying little concerns of the great unwashed. You’ll start receiving them soon enough. I’m surprised the Sun Chamber puts up with it, reporting to royals as you do.’

‘We get a lot of our funding through kind royal donations, as is tradition, though of course we own a lot of land, and make plenty of money to pay for ourselves.’

‘Powerful indeed. Who keeps an eye on you lot then? What happens when one of your own officers misbehaves?’ He was clearly amused at this notion.

‘All I meant was that we don’t need royals to give us large donations these days.’

‘Clever. Less dependence on the royals.’

‘Yes, but it means royals can tax their people far less, and we’re responsible to the people of Vispasia every bit as much as any king or queen. Though a king could ask for our help, generally we judge for ourselves what may be for the good of Vispasia. It just so happens that royals, too, are interested in the same things we are. Peace and stability.’

‘And profit,’ Veron remarked, smiling to himself. ‘It’s all quite politicized.’

‘Bureaucracy, more than anything,’ I replied, but wanted to change the subject. ‘I don’t suppose you know what my father was working on, before he passed away?’

‘I believe the last case he discussed was in exposing a rather nasty little daughter–father marriage,’ Veron said.

‘That sounds disturbing.’

‘It was. Things got a lot worse when a lynch mob found out about them and burned down their house because they didn’t want the gods cursing their community. Disgusting business.’