Read Drakenfeld Online

Authors: Mark Charan Newton

Drakenfeld (12 page)

BOOK: Drakenfeld
6.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

‘I cannot tell you if this was because of a struggle or something more ritualistic. There do not seem to be any wounds or bruises that suggest she put up a fight.’

‘What kind of blade would have done this?’

‘It wasn’t a big weapon – I’d say a hand-knife, possibly even something one might find in a kitchen, easily concealed.’

‘You’re quite sure about this?’

He looked proud of himself, as if his years of expertise had built up to just such a moment. ‘I would say it is more likely than not. Fruit knife, even. Something sharp enough to create
these cuts one can see here. A sword would have made more of a mess.’

‘Not something an assassin might carry?’

He shrugged. ‘Not really, but it depends on the assassin, of course. You think this might have been a professional job.’

It came as a statement not a question. ‘Something the king said about Maristan. Lacanta rejected the advances of one of their princes.’

Yago Boll shrugged. ‘I try to stay out of such matters. Those things do not interest me.’

I nodded and contemplated the scene. ‘Out of interest, did she suffer from any other illnesses? Did you ever have to treat her for anything?’

He shook his head and moved across next to me again. ‘Lacanta was the picture of good health so I hadn’t seen her in three years. Apart from the king, I tend to deal with senators
mainly these days – a paranoid lot. I generally just prescribe the occasional starling or hare when they need the entrails. Lacanta ate rather too well, if you ask me, but her evening antics
probably kept her from becoming excessively overweight, if you follow.’

I did not approve of his sneering tone, but it reminded me to ask, ‘Had Lacanta been assaulted in a sexual manner before she was killed?’

‘No, that was certainly
not
the case,’ Yago Boll confirmed.

‘Did you see her, casually, at all last night?’

‘No. As I say, I haven’t really seen her for years. And, though I was invited as a guest last night, I would not be permitted within ten feet of her unless she suffered
illness.’

The lack of ostentation in the room was surprising, considering her high position in society. Drawers revealed clothing, jewellery, strange trinkets and so on but nothing particularly expensive
or luxurious. There were a few books on the bookshelf by the window, arts and travel, enough for a thorough classical education but, again, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to fit such a
flamboyant lifestyle, if the rumours were to be believed. From the paintings on the ceiling to the choice of bed linen, everything was of conservative taste, seemingly reflecting a woman who
understood and appreciated her position in life – but didn’t flaunt or rebel against it. There weren’t even any notes from a lover. The room was rather dull.

Something seemed out of place. There was a shape within the dust on one of the side tables; something had been removed. The object looked to have been around two handspans long, and rectangular
– like a book.

I addressed Yago Boll once again. ‘Though you had few dealings with her, may I ask what you heard about her private life?’

‘Oh, Trymus’ balls, where to start,’ he said, looking down at her finely dressed corpse.

‘How about last night? People must speak.’

‘From what I heard, she was the same as ever. Flitting like a butterfly from person to person. She knew how to work the room. She was tempting enough to make any sane person behave out of
character.’

‘Do you think that someone could have been jealous of such behaviour? Was there anyone serious in her life?’

Yago Boll shook his head and scratched his breastbone. His shirt showed signs of perspiration as the day grew hotter.

‘Can you give me any names of men you saw her with on the night?’ I asked.

‘If I did, you’d spend the next few days of your life speaking to them all.’

‘You exaggerate, surely.’

‘I never exaggerate.’ His manner darkened. ‘There could have been perhaps ten, eleven men I saw her flirting with – and that was just at a casual glance, I was not going
out of my way to keep track of her.’ He gestured to the bed dismissively. ‘Who knows how many men – or women for that matter – had the privilege of seeing this
ceiling.’

‘Indeed,’ I replied, somewhat curious. The rumoured outlandish behaviour of Lacanta just didn’t seem to match the simplicity of her bedroom.

Later, Veron handed over a large box full of statements from the party guests. He suggested that I might want to take them home with me to comb through for intriguing
facts.

‘I tell you one thing,’ Veron added shrugging, ‘and that’s if you solve this, you’ll be as famous as your father. You’re well known already. So why not stop
by at mine to dine tonight? Oh, and bring your servant . . . Leana, I think you said? I want to invite a few other guests and they’ll be fascinated to see someone as interesting as she is.
You say she can fight?’

‘She’s not some wrestler or some gladiator.’ I gave an awkward laugh. ‘There are plenty of people just like her across Vispasia. I’m sure there’s even a
community of Atrewens in the city, if you cared to look.’

‘They must have taught you some bizarre things in Venyn. Where did you find her?’

‘I didn’t find her.’

‘Buy her?’

‘She’s not a slave.’ I placed the box to one side while I explained how I’d met her.

I had been on business in Atrewe, beyond the southern seas and the borders of Vispasia. My investigation took me to one of the Vispasian Royal Union trading posts. There, tribes were fighting to
secure a mineral deposit – there were bloody massacres, and it was like the gods of hell had taken vengeance. The loss of life – and of such remarkable ancient relics – was
painful to witness.

Leana had been one of the few members of her tribe left alive after one such massacre, somehow managing to survive the violence in which twenty thousand people were slaughtered. What I
didn’t tell Veron was that, as I stepped among the ruins of a broken temple away from my entourage to gather my thoughts, Leana tried to kill me. Her sword missed my neck by a matter of
inches as I knocked her weapon aside.

I shouted something at her, I can’t remember what, but when she snapped at me in broken Detratan I was taken aback. She accused me of scavenging among the dead for trinkets, and I said
what dead? That was when she led me to the bodies of her people, a sight I’ll never forget – Leana won’t either.

She asked me for work, said there was nothing left for her. That she wanted to get away, to put a sea between herself and these horrors. As it happened, I had recently lost my previous assistant
because he wanted to stay at home to care for his family. Even if the gods had arranged it, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Both of us benefited from the deal.

‘Well, it’s a splendid tale,’ Veron sighed. There was something about the man’s mannerisms that suggested he longed to be far away from here. ‘You must both come
tonight then. It’s absolutely settled. My guests will love such a story. We will have good wines, artisanal breads, unusual meats, and music while you provide entertainments.’

Smiling awkwardly, I picked up the box of statements again, wondering if everyone in Tryum was this superficial.

Before I left, though, I asked one final question of the senator. ‘I don’t suppose you know where Senator Divran lives, do you?’

‘I’d stay away from that mad old witch if I were you. What do you want her for?’

‘Answers as always. Does she live far from here?’

‘Not at all. Only a few streets away as it happens.’

The Witch

Senator Divran’s house was a surprisingly small building located on one of the most expensive streets in the city. There were no shops, no reason for normal citizens to
stray down these roads. Soldiers made reassuringly regular patrols. A few domestic cats trotted about with the authority of lions. It seemed every bit as secure and well kept as one might expect of
a district where the senatorial class resided.

Divran’s house was slender, but judging by the surrounding architecture it went some way back. The wooden shutters were closed and for a moment it appeared as if no one was in, but when I
knocked on the door a young maid in a soft blue gown answered.

‘Is Senator Divran at home?’

‘She is,’ the maid said, hesitating for a moment. She seemed someone whose face was normally disposed to happiness, yet something was very uncertain in her mannerisms. She glanced
with wild eyes to the large box I was carrying, and must have wondered if I was selling something.

‘Well, can I talk to her?’ I asked, explaining my position.

‘Yes. Please, if you wouldn’t mind waiting for a moment in the study.’ She led me through rooms that had little in the way of natural light, and fetched me a cup of water
before leaving me among Divran’s books and papers.

Placing my box to one side, I glanced across some of the tomes, noting some very esoteric titles coming from all over Vispasia. There were papers bound by string on subjects such as natural
sciences and ancient religions. Vast lists and strange diagrams that looked more like maps. Some of them displayed stains, what could have been flecks of dried blood – certainly not ink. On
some, calculations had been written, based on very old numerical systems, pre-dating the Empire by several hundred years. What could they have been?

Cupboards, shelves and small drawers, each made with exquisite craftsmanship, stood against one wall. Curious, I nudged open one of the small doors to see the skeletons of small rodents arranged
on a shelf. In another was the partially decayed carcass of what appeared to be a crow. What reason could there be for a senator to possess these bones? Was every single drawer and cupboard filled
with decaying creatures?

Aware that Divran would soon arrive, I moved across to the sole bright spot in the room. A small window looked out over a courtyard plastered in decorative frescos, scenes from nature that
seemed an artistic extension of the garden. For a moment I lost my mind in its wonder.

‘Good afternoon, officer Drakenfeld,’ a voice said.

An attractive woman in her late forties or early fifties stood before me, with auburn hair, a broad face and brown eyes, wearing a vibrant high-necked blue dress. She was slender, in an athletic
way, and she looked at me as if my mere presence delighted her in a primal sense, like an animal that had wandered into a trap.

‘Senator. Thank you for seeing me.’

‘Well, it was only a matter of time before you came, wasn’t it?’ she sighed. ‘Let’s get it over with.’

‘Was it?’

‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘The witch, Senator Divran, must have something to do with that mysterious murder. Isn’t that what they say?’

‘Who do you mean by “they”?’

‘Oh, come now, Drakenfeld, I’ve been in the Senate for long enough to realize what goes on.’

‘And are you a witch, then?’ I gave a smile.

‘I would be arrested if that was the case, surely?’

‘The law’s not always clear on such matters, even if you were – though that is depending on what you might have done.’

‘You seem vaguely amused by me, officer. Do you find the matters of the supernatural amusing?’

I didn’t answer her, uncertain of my own opinion. Though I was generally sceptical about such things, it wasn’t a subject on which I wanted to be proven wrong. ‘I’d like
to know your activities on the day and the evening Lacanta was murdered.’

Divran told me: she was working in the Senate trying to drum up sponsorship for a team of writers to categorize the natural systems of the world, though few could be bothered to open their
purses. Plenty of witnesses could vouch for her every move. At first she didn’t feel up to celebrating the deeds of ‘a thug’ like Maxant, but she was eventually persuaded to
attend by some of her friends in the Senate. She remained with them at all times, with no interest in the temple – until, of course, there was a murder.

‘Now I am as fascinated as you are,’ she concluded. ‘I have an active interest in documenting the things that cannot yet be explained, as you will see by this
library.’

She gestured to the books and scrolls around her, unaware that I’d seen the animal remains as well.

‘I don’t think the supernatural has anything to do with the murder,’ I replied.

‘What makes you so sceptical? Why not a ghost, or a spirit who can move through walls – such things are common throughout the world.’ Then she added with a smile,
‘I’ve seen them myself. A ghost could easily have entered the temple.’

‘That may be so, but if it was supernatural, why be so brutal? Why leave a key in the door? Why wait until there were so many people around before killing her? The incident has too much
ego involved, and too many flaws to be anything other than a human incident.’

‘Such foolish confidence.’ Divran was restraining her obvious anger. Here was someone who had strong opinions and who didn’t like them being rejected, but who was skilled
enough not to fight back on the issue. ‘Don’t think such things aren’t likely to be down to the unknown. I’ve witnessed more strange things than you care to dream
of.’

BOOK: Drakenfeld
6.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Memory of Death by Trent Jamieson
My Soul to Keep by Carolyn McCray
Poirot infringe la ley by Agatha Christie
Mafia Captive by Kitty Thomas
Holdin' On for a Hero by Ciana Stone
Twist of Fate by Mary Jo Putney
Symby by Heitmeyer, Steven