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Authors: Mark Charan Newton

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BOOK: Retribution (Drakenfeld 2)
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‘And knowledge of the movements of the wealthy,’ Sulma Tan added.

‘Our killer’s profile remains consistent at least,’ I suggested. ‘Access to higher circles. The luxury of time to commit atrocious acts. The care never to be seen by anyone nearby, which implies a rigorous plan in place . . .’

‘A darker power at work, am I correct?’

I could only shrug.

REMEMBR, OFICER DRAKENFELD
, the note had said.
WE ARE INNOCENT.

Nambu stepped in beside Sulma Tan, looking over the body, her face catching the light of the nearby lanterns.

‘And what does the Princess Nambu Sorghatan have to say for herself?’ I asked, limping as I stepped alongside her.

‘I don’t know what to say.’ Nambu’s gaze drifted across the corpse. The expression on her face reminded me of when I was very young, looking at my mother’s body laid out in a temple. My father then had encouraged me to touch her beautiful, dead face. And I did. I most recall the surprise at how cold her skin had become. Now I had grown used to such things, but that initial sensation brought home the fragility of life.

‘Touch her skin,’ I said to Nambu, and the princess did.

She snatched her hand away. ‘It’s so cold. She doesn’t look
real
.’

‘It’s how we’ll all end up,’ I said. ‘Well, hopefully not quite in this state.’

‘How can you all talk about her so casually?’ Nambu asked. ‘She was a real person not so long ago.’

She had a point, though I didn’t believe we were being disrespectful. ‘In our business, one becomes familiar with the dead.’

‘I’ve never really thought about dying,’ Nambu muttered.

‘You don’t at such a young age, do you? The whole world extends before you – the options seem endless. Dying isn’t really much of a concern.’

‘I hope it comes quickly,’ she said.

‘You hope what does?’

‘Death,’ she replied. ‘I hope mine comes quickly. I would not want too long to think about it.’ Nambu stepped away – not out of fear, or upset, but because she had seen enough – and stood beside Leana, who remained as indifferent to the subject as always, in a way that I envied.

In the lingering silence, Sulma Tan took my arm and steered me into a corner of the room. ‘People are now truly worried, Officer Drakenfeld,’ she whispered.

‘Lucan.’

She nodded. ‘They’ve got a name for whoever did this. They’re calling him the Koton Cutter.’

‘They shouldn’t attach a name to this individual. It creates a myth around them. Whoever did this could well be fuelled by their own success. We’re dealing with a strange mind here, which doesn’t need any more encouragement.’

‘Well, you try persuading the masses then. They are uncontrollable.’

And I had few doubts that they had tried to do so . . . ‘I appreciate that wouldn’t exactly be easy. Crowds behave differently in such situations. They have a mind of their own.’

‘That is why the prefecture has now been locked down,’ she said. ‘The gates are sealed and there are regular – and I mean almost all the time – military patrols.’

‘What?’

‘What else can the queen do?’ she continued. ‘She must be seen to act. This is about stilling the populace. Calming them.’

A pause, and she looked directly at me. ‘Do you think there will be more victims, despite these measures?’

I eyed the corpse again. ‘Without a doubt. To know such wealthy people, to then remove them from their premises or place of work, I’d say the killer’s well and truly inside the prefecture.’

‘Then we had better go to my offices,’ Sulma Tan replied. ‘I have procured for you the map you required and now we have another body to plot on it.’

A Cartography of Murder
 

 

It was an impressive piece of work, far beyond what I had asked for. Made from different rolls of parchment and affixed to the wall, the map was several feet wide. I could walk up and down the city in four steps. Sulma Tan explained that she had it commissioned as soon as I had asked for it, and that the city’s foremost cartographers had come together, to scale up existing maps as accurately as possible. She was proud of her work and smiled at me as I marvelled at the detail.

‘Naval Exports, Grendor’s business premises, are here.’ She leaned over the corner at the far end of the map, where the prefecture changed its rigid lines to meet the informality of the natural river.

My respect went further, as Sulma Tan had marked in red ink the location of the victims’ dwellings. Where bodies had been found she marked with an ‘X’. Then, in much smaller blue circles, she had plotted the location of several hundred people who had completed the census and matched the kinds of trades I thought might be of interest.

It was where my optimism came to a halt. There were so many people who fitted the profile of the killer, and there were no discernible patterns in their location. Though the murders were in the same prefecture, with allowances made for the bishop’s dismembered body, they were far apart – potentially a mile or so. Their houses were not close to each other either. If I was going to force a solution from these details, it would not be easy.

‘What does it take to murder someone?’ There was an air of general curiosity about Sulma Tan’s question, and it was not asked with intent. As if she wanted to expand her horizons.

‘Money. Or status perhaps. A wish to gain more power or land, and a certain individual stands in the way of that wish.’

‘So much desperation to climb life’s ladders that the only solution was to have another’s throat cut . . .’

‘It is the way of things, I’m afraid. Rage is another factor. A fight that gets out of hand – too much alcohol with a sword close by. Sadly I’d seen too many men kill in their own homes, too – poor women cut down for senseless reasons by individuals who’d lost control, who were part of a culture that chose to ignore such brutality. Friends could fall out over a loved one and a casualty would result from the competition. Slipping poison in a husband’s dinner to rid a family of a tyrant . . . I could go on.’

‘Human emotions are fragile,’ she replied. ‘It is something I forget in my work. At times a whole society becomes numbers and columns on parchment. Or,’ she gestured to the map, ‘coloured markings.’

‘Human emotions are why murders are commonplace. Though I must add that I have described
normal
murders. Normal people could commit them. Normal people could find themselves with blood on their hands. That does not forgive the crime, of course, but I’ve worked on hundreds of such cases and they are an everyday occurrence. But here we are dealing with something entirely different. Someone who makes a
ritual
out of the killing. We must ask ourselves: who would spend their time torturing not one but three bodies in such a way? And yet, it pays to remember that these victims have not been buried or hidden away. There’s a certain confidence and almost pride in the placing of them. I suspect we are looking for someone who is not poor, who is educated, who has access to the routines of very influential people. They can kill these people and then leave their bodies in public, without themselves being seen.’

‘It sounds as if these are very personal motivations,’ Sulma Tan put forward.

‘The murders
were
very personal,’ I agreed. ‘Whose clan were they aligned to?’

‘None – save the Sorghatan family. But the clans do not engage in this kind of behaviour.’

‘Well, it’s certain this is no mere grudge over some spilt ale. From my experience ritual murders suggest a few things: cult sacrifices, revenge for a truly hideous deed – or a killer who enjoys their work and makes a game out of it.’

She frowned. ‘There is nothing here I’ve seen that corresponds with religious rituals or cults, even in our own dark past. We have not seen strange symbols or offerings near the victims, am I correct?’

Rubbing my chin I glanced across the markings on the map once again, entranced by just how many there were. A breeze passed through the building, making the candles and the edges of the parchment flutter. ‘Well that leaves the other options. How about revenge? Revenge for an unknown reason against some of the most powerful people.’

‘It will be important to look into their affairs in more detail. There must be common ground. Where their lives intersect, we will find the reasons for the murders.’

‘A bishop, a naval officer and a businesswoman,’ Sulma Tan said. ‘To my knowledge – and I can use the queen’s diaries as reference – they had little interaction with each other at the palace. How had their lives crossed over?’

‘They were all of similar age,’ I suggested. ‘They were all upstanding members of society. Unless the bishop has been quietly hiding a fortune, only two were wealthy. Grendor and Bishop Tahn Valin owned similar-looking stones, but there was no sign of such a gem with Lydia’s belongings. But it is possible that these virtuous members of the Kotonese community were not as honourable as their image suggested . . .’

I left the question there for Sulma Tan to answer, but if she harboured secrets, she did not reveal them. In the ensuing silence I pinned the note from Lydia’s body alongside the map.

REMEMBR, OFICER DRAKENFELD. WE ARE INNOCENT
.

‘Thank you for this arrangement,’ I said to Sulma Tan, gesturing to her admirable work.

‘So long as it helps. I trust it does?’

‘Oh absolutely, yes.’ I wasn’t quite so sure about my answer though. Despite the census information, there were too many blue circles on the map. The killer, provided they were of the type I had imagined, could have been any one of several hundred people, and that excluded the hundreds of soldiers patrolling the prefecture.

These thoughts followed me as I returned down the corridor, back to my quarters. Cressets lined the way to the chamber. When I entered, I found Leana crawling on her knees in the semi-darkness but with a blindfold across her eyes.

‘What are you doing, Leana?’

Leana stood up from the foot of the couch and brushed herself down. ‘I am finding my way around this room without sight. We have no natural light. If all the candles go out, we will need to know our way around.’

‘It pays to be prepared, I suppose.’ I lay back down again as a throb of pain shot along my ribs. ‘I never thanked you by the way.’

Leana continued to prod and touch her way around the room. ‘For what?’

‘Saving me. Again.’

‘It is useful – such incidents allow me to refine my skills. Besides, you do not mind me killing people when it is to save your life and when you are unconscious you cannot warn me off. There is pleasure to be found in such work when you are not there on your high horse.’

‘Glad I can be of help,’ I muttered. ‘Is Nambu all right on her own?’

‘She is. I have been teaching her the basics of defence, and she has learned well.’ Leana’s countenance displayed pride, if only for a brief moment. ‘She is a bright and attentive pupil and less of a liability than when we first met her. Of course, she complains of aches and pains from using muscles she did not know she had. This is to be expected. We progressed greatly during all that time you were lying around.’

‘You know, I was actually recovering from life-threatening injuries, not merely lounging about like a decadent king.’

‘Spirits save us. You were not exactly
active
, though,’ Leana replied, tapping the floor with her hand.

‘I’ll give you that.’ I smiled as she struck her knee on a table leg. ‘But with Nambu, I really meant is she all right after the incidents earlier – after seeing a corpse for the first time? I’m not sure this is part of our “look after the princess” duties, but if she’s going to be in our company, it is unavoidable.’

‘She is a little put out by the body, admittedly, but it is important that she sees such things. There is no point shying away from them. Though it would be best if we did not tell her mother we are showing her dead bodies.’

I exhaled a gentle laugh, but it hurt to do so. ‘A wise decision.’

Naval Exports
 

 

The purple sky was brightening to pink. A gentle, mild breeze rolled in from the south, bringing with it woodsmoke from the rest of the city. After a few days and nights of no rain, the prefecture’s streets appeared to have changed colour – the stone becoming considerably paler, the mud sandier, and the place more attractive. My good mood was heightened by the fact that I was no longer limping from my injuries.

BOOK: Retribution (Drakenfeld 2)
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