Drakenfeld (7 page)

‘Lucan, it is so good to see you,’ Lillus breathed. ‘So very good. The boy has become a healthy man.’

‘You’re looking well too, Lillus.’

He waved away my comment. ‘Listen to this! I am an old man with not much left to give. But I try. I keep busy. But you – you have good skin, brown like a polished table. You look
every bit like your mother’s people of Locco, though it takes a skilled eye to match you up with them. Your eyes – dark, yes, but they dazzle me so! It is a good thing I have no wife,
as I would keep her far away from you.’

‘If you keep talking like that I’ll start to believe your flattery. Anyway, are you telling me you’re still not married?’

‘Ha! Fonce, listen to him.’ He turned to one of his younger staff members, who looked so similar to Lillus he could have been a son. ‘Married indeed – no, I am still
unattached and as charming to the ladies as ever. If I am lucky, many of them are charming in return.’

‘You’re a randy old goat,’ I said grinning.

‘Lucan, I am interested in simple pleasures, simple things. The ladies – they tell me much.’

‘Then tell me, Lillus – as I’ve been away for many years – what do your ladies have to say about Tryum?’

‘Always after information,’ he whispered softly, and our conversation took on an entirely different mood. ‘Come, we will head to the room at the back, where it is much cooler
and no one can hear us speak.’

After the initial exchange of pleasantries, and catching up with family histories, we came to the subject of my father’s death.

Lillus paused at this point to apply the shaving cream with a thick brush, licking it across my face with seriousness. I sat back in the same old chair I’d used as a child – though
back then it had been with a board to raise me up. Despite a few rips in the upholstery, it had stood the test of time, much like Lillus himself. Up on the ceiling I noticed an elaborate
latticework of spiders’ webs, behind which drifted the blue smoke of incense. In the windowless room, shadows were chased into the nooks and crannies by the soft lantern light.

‘I confess your presence has been somewhat expected.’ Lillus was more focused. ‘Your father recently asked me to pass on a piece of information when you returned. He would not
say what it concerned and it seems to me more riddle than fact. But he said that you must revisit a childhood place, one which stored many memories. He also asked me to help you out should you ever
need it – as if he needed to say so. Does this mean something to you?’

‘It does,’ I replied, not entirely convinced that it did.

‘Then my work is done. Your father paid me well, you know, over the years – far more than he should have. It is a shame I did not see him for some time before his passing.’

‘You always acquired such essential information for him.’

He waved his hand. ‘People like to talk to their barber, do they not? I merely harvest the gossip. It was for him to sift through such words for that golden nugget of truth.’

He brought his razor to the edge of my jaw, and proceeded to make firm, precise strokes down my neck.

‘Tonight is the big night,’ he announced, then leaned in to whisper. ‘The general returns from abroad; a success, so they say, and that will please the bloodthirsty. The city
criers have been announcing a festival for many nights. King Licintius will be there, with his sister Lacanta, as well as the general and his family and so on. Men and women of the Senate will be
there: Chastra, no doubt, close to the heart of operations – cynical as always. Veron, the man who governs your district, a man I haven’t yet learned to trust. I hear tell that Senator
Divran, ever since she lost her husband, has turned to dark ways, dark gods . . . magic. She will also be there.’

‘Magic?’ The razor scraped along my jawline again.

‘Only rumours. I cannot vouch for them. But, yes, the wife of Senator Trero – a man of many dubious businesses – suspects her husband is being drawn into the dark arts by
Divran, who is said to be the witch of the Senate. It is said she conducts strange rituals. She tries to raise the dead.’ He paused and leaned in a little closer. ‘Divran blames Lacanta
for having driven her husband to suicide.’

‘Is there anything in that?’

‘Lacanta is an attractive lady, and has ways of charming people, and frustrating them also. I cannot say what went on between her and Divran’s husband, but it is said he simply fell
from a window by accident. Anyway, all of this magic talk, it is probably nothing more than a few dubious sacrifices and wishful thinking. It happens from time to time.’

‘Who else is going tonight?’

‘Most important people. You know how these things are. Maxant’s success comes at the right time for the politicians. He has unlocked not only fresh labour, but more importantly a new
grain supply.’

‘Good news then.’ I didn’t let on that Senator Veron had visited last night. I wanted to hear what Lillus had to say, someone who was not a senator.

‘An understatement,’ Lillus whispered. ‘The lower districts, Plutum and Barrantum, they are really starting to suffer. The first grain shipments arrive within the week. Maxant
is not a slow man. No doubt he will hand out the first bowls of grain himself – the people’s hero. It is said he could be lining himself up for a place in the Senate. I have heard many
anxious voices. Politicians are under great strain. We were probably weeks away from food riots, though you would not hear such talk broadcast about the city. It is whispered, along the roadside in
Polyum, Tradum and Vellyum, that Maxant is asking for land for his veterans, too, but what land will remain for them? Sun-baked clay is not much use. That may cause trouble, should King Licintius
not oblige – though I think he will. He is a very good and old friend of Maxant.’

‘What are the senators’ wives saying?’

‘Or husbands – we have several female senators these days. Dalta’s Rule.’

‘Ah, thanks to the charming Queen of Dalta. She who owns such precious resources gets to have a say in the laws of Vispasia.’

‘Behind the scenes, there is pressure to reward hard-working impoverished families with land further afield. Detrata has prospered and now we are too big – that has led to rumours
that the Senate wishes to expand our borders somehow. The king resists – he knows the value of Vispasia. New aqueducts are nearing completion to bring water, despite the old ones in the city
being broken in places. There is demand for bigger projects, though King Licintius is not of a mind to spend money on such things, and nor is his sister, for that will mean more taxation –
they had been unpopular enough.’

‘How old is she now?’

‘Twenty-four summers, I believe, and an incredibly well-read woman, so they say. She is more beautiful than one can imagine, growing the wonderful curves of womanhood. That is how the
statues are carved, but apparently she does look like them.’

‘I would’ve thought a man like Licintius would have used her to seal some commercial pact with another nation, especially if food was scarce. It’s not unlike a king to do that,
no matter how abhorrent for the lady.’

‘That’s true. As for Lacanta – she . . . she is not well controlled, it is fair to say.’

‘Is that a problem?’ I asked. ‘Surely she has her own will?’

‘Yes. But her status requires that her life is not her own, as does the king’s status. Lacanta likes the company of many other men and women, so the rumours go. One by one, she
steals their hearts and then their minds. Not inherently a bad thing, of course, but it causes tensions where there should be as few as possible. Licintius cannot stop her, though I suspect he
doesn’t really care, as he is making a good job of causing scandal himself ever since he became a patron of the theatre.’

‘That would explain the number of street productions I’ve seen.’

‘What’s more, he has permitted the formation of the Guild of Prostitutes. Such attitudes are frowned upon, though I like it myself.’

‘No bad thing that they have some organization and protection,’ I replied, remembering how unsafe life could be for the oldest trade.

‘Many in the Senate disapprove. It is easy to forget that this is still a conservative city, full of conservative morals. And with Licintius bringing in labour from abroad to build the
aqueducts and complete his temples – at the expense of the poor here, I should add – and with Lacanta busily corrupting marriage after marriage . . . well, it is simple to see why many
wish to see the royal brother and sister no longer in such a powerful position. There is talk of Maxant being shoehorned in as a republican leader, someone who can begin campaigns abroad, but will
the people support a military dictator? Who can tell? Besides, as I say, Maxant and Licintius are old, old friends.’

‘We live in complex times, old friend,’ I said.

‘We do. And it makes life all the more interesting, I find.’

Lillus finished his shave and threw a hot towel across my face then commenced to trim my hair. For a little while longer he talked of the arts, of scandalous affairs, of
suspected orgies, of missing people, of immigration and nationalism, and of the resurgence of gangs ever since Licintius inherited the throne – though he claimed the latter was due to
senators using whatever methods they could to influence their own neighbourhoods.

A visit to Lillus’ was never dull but, more importantly, never without gain. One did not pay merely for a haircut – the costs included information about the fabric of the city. My
years away from the city no longer seemed important: my studies of contemporary Tryum were complete.

‘Now, here is the handsome boy I remember,’ Lillus announced, stepping back and offering me a small mirror to look at myself. He’d done a wonderful job – my hair was only
a fraction shorter, but far neater, and my skin felt incredibly refreshed after the shave.

‘Not so much a boy any more,’ I said. ‘My bones ache a little more each day.’

‘Nonsense. They ached when you were a boy, too – you just cared less.’

‘Thanks, Lillus.’

‘I’ve missed the Drakenfeld smile, young Lucan,’ Lillus called after me. ‘Your father’s tended to fade towards the end.’

‘How so?’

‘He would never speak of it. But there was a sadness in his eyes. After knowing him for so long, I could tell these things.’

‘You’ve no idea what could have caused it?’

Lillus shook his head. ‘Not even I could find that out.’

I paid him, bid farewell to the other members of staff, and headed through the front door into the intense heat, shading my eyes from the sun.

Lillus’ conversation still echoed in my mind. I headed home immediately, to investigate the childhood places that my father had mysteriously discussed with him. Those
words already felt like some premonition, a vague confirmation of my suspicions that all was not as it appeared.

There were only a handful of areas to search around the house. The pantry that was once my old room was the likely place. There, I knew of one large and loose tile behind which I used to hide my
childhood delights. It was surprising that my father would have remembered this place at all.

With a spoon I levered up the black tile in the furthest corner of the room, underneath the small window that overlooked the garden. Sitting down on the floor, I moved the tile to one side and
reached down into the gap. I drew out a small wooden box and pressed back the lid into the past.

‘What have you there?’ Leana stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame with her arms folded.

‘Your head is clear?’

‘Let us not discuss that. What is it?’

I showed her the box and invited her down next to me. ‘Only me and my father knew this was here.’

‘You said he hardly knew anything about your childhood.’

‘It seems he remembered something at least.’ Inside the box were small items from when I was young, including dice and a wooden dagger. I drew out a small figure made from clay.
‘I last played with this when I was no more than five or six years old. He gave it to me as a present one birthday, but when I was older I just kept it safe. Wait . . .’There was a
piece of paper under the doll, which I flipped out with my finger. Underneath that was a key.

‘What does it say?’ Leana asked.

I unfolded the thick yellow papers and read the script out loud.

The second page of the letter was in fact the rental deeds to his offices.

‘It’s like he speaks to you from another world,’ Leana observed casually.

‘It suggests that he knew he was going to die, doesn’t it?’ I said. ‘It is as if he made preparations for my coming home in the event of his death, but he couldn’t
quite bring himself to admit it. He always was a proud man.’

‘You are becoming convinced he was murdered.’

‘I feel as though he was. Just look at what he’s saying – “a debt to be paid”.’

‘Some kind of money trouble?’

‘Unlikely. I mean, look at this place. This is a house in Polyum. He was renting offices for his work with the Sun Chamber, but . . .’

‘Had he ever been that way in the past?’

‘No, never. Well, I think – and this is a hazy memory at best – that he and my mother argued over his ways with women. He spent a lot of money on women and drink at one point,
but that was a quarter of a century ago, when he was a younger man. But she never spoke ill of him to me when he’d gone, and their conversations were kept away from my ears. He should have no
need for money troubles now.’