Retribution (Drakenfeld 2) (15 page)

Grendor’s apartment was on the upper floors and overlooked one of the two main forums of Kuvash. Here in the daytime, Sulma Tan explained, people would gather not just to trade, but to read out news and give political speeches. I found the latter difficult to believe, given that I’d seen no signs of a parliament, which all nations in Vispasia were meant to possess. The queen’s rule looked to be a firm one, and if her government existed at all it was barely mentioned.

That aside, as this area was meant to be a thriving place in the daytime it was a good place to live to keep up with the city’s affairs. Thousands of people would have passed by when the sun was up. Maybe that was how Grendor liked things – busy, hectic, full of activity. Then again, given the nature of his death, was he a fearful man, desiring to be close to others at all times, knowing that someone might come for him? I was perhaps letting my imagination get the better of me.

Access to the apartment was up a neat stairway. While Sulma Tan knocked on the door at the top of the stairs to call on Grendor’s wife, Leana moved her torch along the walls of the stairwell. Blood had been smeared on otherwise-clean walls, especially down near the bottom. Because it hadn’t rained hard, we could still see scratch marks between the pavement and the stairs.

‘We saw that he had dirty heels,’ I said to Leana. ‘He may have been dragged here, from the road.’

‘Brought by a cart?’

‘It’s hard to say. He might have been dragged all along the road for all we know. Although a cart would be more discreet.’

Leana crouched down by the marks with her torch. ‘The marks seem wide enough – hip-width apart – to have come from boots.’

‘There was mud on them, which suggests his body had been somewhere else at some point. We probably knew that anyway.’

A new voice interrupted us.

‘Good evening.’ A woman of around thirty summers came down the stairs to greet us and stepped into the flickering light of the torch. She wore her dark hair tied back; her bright eyes, green maybe, were soft and her expression, understandably, haunted by grief. She wore a black shawl bordered with crimson lace.

‘My name is Borta,’ she began in perfect Detratan. ‘I’m Grendor’s wife. You must be Officer Drakenfeld and Leana. I received your messenger, Sulma Tan, to say you would be coming.’

Only then did I think she was surprisingly young to be the wife of someone so old, and I wondered at what age she had married him. She must have been in her teens. Sulma Tan had told me that Borta was well connected, through powerful families such as the Rukrid clan. Like so many marriages in Koton, she explained, theirs had been arranged between two families – and it had grown into love.

After a few cordial exchanges, with great dignity, and without any encouragement from me, Borta explained the events that had led to her discovery of her husband’s body.

Occasionally her speech was hard to follow and her words descended into an inaudible whisper, and at times she was fighting back tears. Her willingness to involve herself so quickly in the investigation was impressive, so much so that at first I thought it suspicious, but her body language appeared genuine. I did not think she was lying. Many of my older colleagues would have used a firmer hand, and been more blunt in seeking information, but I preferred a more gentle approach. In my experience, the truth was always more forthcoming with empathy rather than bullying.

‘The last I saw of him was two days ago, late in the afternoon,’ she said. ‘Later that evening he went out for a supper with his five friends. All elder statesmen of the city, one might say. He was often out late at night.’ She listed their names and I looked to Sulma Tan for guidance – she nodded a confirmation, suggesting these were all people she knew.

‘They were all gentlemen of our armed forces,’ she continued. ‘Not the navy, with whom he often socialized, but the army. All of them friends of the queen. Good people. They always treated me with respect.’

‘Why was he meeting with the army?’ I asked.

‘It wasn’t anything official,’ she replied. ‘He has friends everywhere. He says it’s good for business.’

Business
. This must have been the shipping company that Sulma Tan mentioned earlier. To my mind Borta was describing a man whose social connections were simply ways to make more money. Grendor was a shrewd individual. To have friends in the army could make various trade routes more secure from raids, should he have money invested in certain quarters, or be importing from difficult regions. Though the nations of Vispasia were not at war, there were often tensions with factions and nomads who chose not to submit to any particular royal.

Borta continued to talk, occasionally wrapping her arms around herself and staring at the ground. The sentences were coming more slowly now and when I asked her once again about his final movements, it was an effort for her to speak.

‘I’ve known them for many years. Each of those friends of his have visited me this afternoon to offer their condolences. They said he came to visit, ate well, drank a little too well, but showed no signs of uneasiness. There was no reason to think he knew he was in any trouble. I am sure no one ever does show such obvious signs, Officer Drakenfeld. You must hear all this nonsense so frequently.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ I replied softly. ‘It’s useful to know that he didn’t
feel
he was in any trouble, at least. That might tell us much.’

A polite half-smile faded from her lips. ‘That was the last anyone knows of his whereabouts. He left the supper late at night and started back here on his own. He never came home.’

A gust of unseasonably cold wind passed along the road, beating down the flame of Leana’s torch. The night sky was now cloudless, the bad weather had moved away, and starlight defined the rooftops of the city. The scorching Detratan summer suddenly felt a lifetime ago.

‘Why were you not invited to the dinner?’ Leana asked, bringing her torch a little closer to Borta. Only then did I notice the woman’s classical attractiveness: a beautiful face, surely, in any of the nations of Vispasia.

Leana had asked the difficult question and I was curious as to what the reaction would be. If Borta was hiding something, such as the couple having an argument beforehand, she was betraying nothing.

‘He sometimes wished to dine alone with his friends, as do I,’ she said sincerely. ‘It’s perfectly normal for us to enjoy the company of our own friends as individuals. We women should not be bound to our husbands like a trained dog just because we’re married.’

Leana seem satisfied with that. Later I would have to ask Sulma Tan for the addresses of those men who had dined with Grendor in his final moments, so we could verify what Borta had told us.

‘So to be absolutely clear, he never made it home,’ I said, ‘and that was two nights ago?’

‘I only knew about his absence the following morning when I woke up and he was not lying next to me. I do not wait up for him to return and I am a heavy sleeper.’

‘You presumably raised the alarm immediately?’

‘Not . . . immediately, no.’

My neutral expression must have made her suspect I was thinking the worst.

‘It’s not for any bad reason. I thought then that he might have come back and left early to attend to trade, as he so often did.’

‘Hadn’t he retired?’ I asked, hoping she would expand upon his business affairs.

‘From the navy, yes,’ Borta said. ‘Though he often advised importers and exporters on trade routes and so on. His company kept his mind occupied.’

Imports and exports
, I smiled inwardly. The business of spies and agents throughout the continent – there was no escaping them. There might have been more to Grendor’s life than even Borta knew about.

‘And so,’ Borta continued, ‘when he did not return
yesterday
evening, and I had received no message, I began contacting people. I grew increasingly concerned. Last night, nothing. I began to panic and fear the worst . . .’ She trailed off, her eyes welling up, but she didn’t let herself go fully. We waited patiently until she was ready to continue. ‘Then, earlier this afternoon, I came back and found him . . . here . . .’

Sulma Tan placed a hand on Borta’s shoulder and Grendor’s wife turned into her, no longer able to hold back the tears.

No matter how many times I did this, one of the worst parts of the job was witnessing the impact on those left behind – their own world shattered by such exits. Many of my colleagues in the Sun Chamber did not concern themselves with emotions – either out of their own belligerence or simply because they found it easier to work this way. However, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Borta. My own father having recently passed away, I was perhaps even more sensitive to this than usual. It helped me to remember that each body was more than just a case to solve. They had been a person who had loved and been loved and left a hole in someone’s life that would last forever.

Giving them a moment alone, I stepped away to get another look up the stairs, noting the blood once again, before peering along the street. It was possible that Grendor had been kidnapped on his way home and tortured for a whole day before his corpse was dumped on his own doorstep.

But what could Grendor have to do with the bishop? What connected these two men, if anything? If Grendor alone had been killed, I might have wondered if the murder had a military underpinning. Though I did not know of all the secretive ways of governments and armies, it was possible he had been killed as part of a military operation. Did that have anything to do with the tensions with Detrata? But then again, what could a bishop possibly have done to invoke the wrath of a military assassin?

I’d have so many more questions for Borta and tonight was not the best time to conduct a thorough interview.

I consulted Leana briefly on my thoughts, and she agreed that it would be better if we started afresh the next day.

‘If the murderer is the same person,’ Leana concluded in hushed tones, ‘he is unlikely to have gone far. We may yet find him.’

After consulting with Borta and Sulma Tan, we agreed that Leana and I would return first thing in the morning, once Borta had taken the opportunity to sleep and gather her thoughts. Borta was grateful for the gesture and walked slowly, with heavy steps, up back through the darkness to her front door. Would she be alone tonight, or would any relatives come to comfort her? By the time I’d thought of this she’d already locked herself in for the night.

The three of us remained in the area a little longer, doing our best in the poor light to examine the streets for signs of the incident, for something that could give us a trail. For an hour at least we combed the cobbles and knocked on the doors of neighbours, but few people answered strangers at this hour and no clues turned up. At least, none that we could see in the dark.

Sulma Tan had been studying the stairs for further evidence.

Not wanting to disturb Borta I said quietly: ‘Have you found anything?’

Stepping back down towards me she shook her head. She stood on the edge of the kerb regarding the buildings opposite. ‘Nothing at all, and it is getting late – I really ought to be back soon.’

‘You don’t have to help us find evidence, you know that?’

‘I can’t seem to leave such matters alone,’ she said. ‘I like to do things myself as I am so often surrounded by people who are useless. It is a habit I cannot shake easily.’

‘What a compliment,’ I replied, smiling.

‘I didn’t mean you,’ she said. ‘You both seem very capable – I meant the administrators in the palace.’

‘I knew what you meant. Thank you for your help here. May we escort you back to the palace?’

‘No, I’ll be fine – I know my way around the prefecture well enough. You can presumably find your way back. Will you need me in the morning?’

‘We’ll not hold you up any more than we have already.’

‘I would appreciate regular updates, so that I may keep the queen informed. Please use our messenger service – it is highly commendable.’ She began to leave and then stopped herself. Her shoulders relaxed a little more, and now she spoke in a softer tone. ‘Of course, should you need help and advice about the city or its people, you know where to find me and I will be happy to help you. In the meantime, I’ll get the names and addresses of Grendor’s dinner companions and get them sent to you. Goodnight.’ She gave a discreet bow to us before walking gracefully into the darkness.

I sat back on the kerb and watched her until she was out of sight, then listened to her heavy boots for a few moments. It was then that I realized I’d forgotten to ask her if we could find a more secure place to stay.

Leana perched next to me, moving her scabbard out of the way, and I could sense she was about to impart some of her wisdom.

‘I would have thought by now,’ she began, ‘that you would be less obvious in your approaches to women. Besides, you never get to the point with them. You . . . dither too much in such matters. In Atrewe, we do not mess about. If there is attraction, people act upon those sensations – women and men speak their minds. So, for once why not do things the Atrewen way and spare yourself the agony?’

Laughing, I shook my head. ‘No, not that.’

‘No attraction?’

I shrugged. ‘I can’t think of anyone but Titiana . . .’ As soon as I spoke her name I could see her again: dead, hanging in my garden, blood pooling underneath her feet. Killed in such a way because of my investigations. I couldn’t even imagine my own home any more, not without evoking her image. Titiana was an old love, one who I rediscovered; our renewed acquaintance never really had the chance to breathe and develop fully in those few days. Now it never would.

It was funny how closed paths were the ones we often wished to walk the most.

‘You must let her go, Lucan.’ Leana’s tone was neither cold nor warm; it was never easy to perceive her intentions.

You can talk
, I wanted to say. Leana, who lost her husband years ago during war, who was still bound even in death, wanted to lecture me in the art of letting go of a loved one. Perhaps she was aware of her mistake, for she gave as close as she normally gets to an apology. ‘It is not my business, I know. Come, let us return to our room. We will not be solving much tonight.’