Retribution (Drakenfeld 2) (3 page)

My breath was taken away by the sight before me.

Here was a new city entirely. Gaudy, golden colonnades stretched into the distance on each side. Lanes were paved with precision and the people who strolled along them wore resplendently coloured cloaks, fine boots and tunics. The smell of sweet incense came from large brass braziers that stood burning at street junctions. The buildings were made entirely of bright, clean stone, with barely a wooden beam in sight. A solitary man was brushing the spotless street.

This region reminded me of Regallum, the wealthiest district of Tryum, except – and I found it hard to believe – everything here was
even more
ornate. There were temples with garish bronze statues standing outside of a god I didn’t recognize.

Not too far away a palace loomed up on a higher level than the rest of the city. It was more impressive than even Prince Bassim’s ziggurat in Venyn City, where Leana and I had spent so many years honing our street skills. Could it have matched the royal residence in Tryum? From here it appeared white-walled with a flat, black roof, and featuring elaborate golden gargoyles and other decorations, the details of which I could only guess at from where I stood.

It was turning into a warm day, not unpleasantly hot. A few clouds scudded above the hills in the distance, but otherwise the sun was out, causing the golden statues to shimmer like otherworldly beings.

I asked a young boy for directions to the entrance to the royal palace, and he guided us politely to the main avenue.

‘It’s at the end,’ he said, and I spent a moment following his instruction.

As I tried to thank him he dashed away along the road.

‘He did not even ask for money,’ Leana observed. ‘What strange children they have here.’

A wide straight road guided us towards the gate of the palace. Stalls lined one side of the road and on the other side was a gap, which opened down onto a large river. The water had been used to form a moat around one half of the palace. Down below barges moved along the water, others unloading their cargo, while up here among the stalls people were bargaining furiously. It looked as though there was a healthy trade in goods such as silverware, rugs, leatherwear and tack for horses. I turned back to look at the river. Some way away was a bustling inland port, possibly another settlement entirely.

After walking our horses up the hill and along the busy thoroughfare, navigating the eddies of customers and traders cajoling and haggling, we turned a corner and arrived at the palace. Enormous walls rose up. At the top, forty feet above, four soldiers in ceremonial clothing walked up and down behind the crenellations. We stood looking up, assessing what looked to be a largely decorative structure with no real capability of withstanding a siege. Only then did I notice that we stood alone – none of the locals dared to come within twenty feet of the palace walls.

‘Well, this is it,’ I announced to Leana, ‘now we just have to find a way inside.’

The soldiers on the walls were looking down at us and, shortly, a small doorway opened and several guards marched out and surrounded us. They were wearing different colours from the City Watch, purple and gold, and carried highly polished glaives.

Leaning towards Leana, I whispered, ‘They’re certainly a
colourful
lot.’

‘State your purpose for being here, foreigners,’ came the command.

Foreigners, indeed. We were representatives of the whole
continent
. Our badge of office should have been enough to permit us into the most sacred of spaces. No sooner had I revealed it to him than his countenance changed entirely. ‘My name is Lucan Drakenfeld,’ I began, ‘and I’m an Officer of the Sun Chamber . . .’

Leana and I had been waiting in a small, well-lit antechamber at the front of the queen’s magnificent palace for at least two hours. It was a wood-panelled room with tall candles in sconces and vibrant red rugs. A stag’s head of considerable size was positioned on the wall to one side, one of many hunting trophies we had seen. While I looked at the colourful portraits of those I took to be of the queen’s family – one of whom appeared to be her militant father – we continued to wait by a splendid fire. Every few moments we were reassured by guards that Sulma Tan would ‘soon be here’. More periods of waiting and looking at the paintings followed.

At last a voice addressed me: ‘Are you Officer Drakenfeld? I’ve received no official notification of your visit – am I correct?’

The woman who entered the room spoke in a remarkably clear form of Detratan, without a hint of a local accent – in a way that was far too
precise
to be truly associated with someone from my home nation.

‘Good morning.’ Rising to meet her, I began to introduce myself formally, but she held up a hand.

‘I am Sulma Tan,’ the woman continued, ‘second secretary to the queen.’

Her black hair, with a heavy fringe, was worn down unlike many of the other ladies I’d seen in the corridors, who wore theirs pinned up or tied back decoratively, almost artistically. Framed between curls was her broad face, with delicate features. She wore a necklace of silver and emerald and heavy black boots, while her long, tunic-style dress was made of heavy blue silk. She was about my age – perhaps a couple of years younger. In complete contrast to the nervous guards, her hazel eyes met mine with confidence and intensity. There was an intelligence and analytical mind behind that gaze, with almost a sense of impatience with the rest of the world. Right now she was assessing me, processing why a stranger was here interrupting her busy schedule.

‘I know who you are,’ she said. ‘Or at least, who you represent. You are both from the Sun Chamber, yes?’

‘That’s right. We’ve just now travelled up from Detrata, after stopping off along the way. This is my colleague, Leana.’

‘Colleague?’ Sulma Tan asked, scrutinizing Leana, though without showing a sneer as the guards had done as they escorted us inside.

‘It’s a more preferable word to use than bodyguard,’ I said. ‘And I don’t know what the word is to describe someone who tries to keep me from taking myself too seriously.’

Sulma Tan once again weighed up my words, and chose not to follow my light-hearted introductions with anything like the same tone.

‘Though I note your brooch, I would like to see your papers. You must understand that to us a man travelling from Detrata may be on the business of espionage.’

‘Yes, of course.’ I rummaged in my satchel and produced documents stating my name, my station, and a list of honours within the Sun Chamber. ‘As you can see,’ I continued as she shuffled through them assiduously, ‘I am no spy.’

‘You are as you say, Officer Drakenfeld.’

‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘and any ambassadors here from Detrata may vouch for me.’

‘The Detratan ambassador, Carrus Mineus, has returned to your country,’ Sulma Tan declared. ‘He was recalled by your Senate.’

She noted the look of surprise, which must have shown on my face, with obvious interest. Admittedly I was confused as to why the Senate would withdraw its ambassadors. It was no good omen when a country withdrew its diplomacy. ‘Did Mineus reveal why he was leaving?’

‘He said only that he had been recalled.’

‘Did he indeed,’ I replied. There was no tension in her voice. She was very matter of fact about it. ‘Perhaps his departure has something to do with having so many soldiers around the palace?’

‘That is not the reason.’ She paused slightly, and studied me for a little longer. ‘You may as well hear it from me rather than some exaggerated rumour. There has been an attempt on the life of Princess Nambu Sorghatan.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. Was she harmed?’

‘No. The intruder came close, but could not get through to her chamber. He fled out of one of the windows, with a surprising athleticism. It is why we are being extra cautious right now. But to matters more pertinent to your arrival. Am I to understand, then,’ she added firmly, ‘that my second message did not come through?’

‘Your second message?’ I pretended to have no idea what she was talking about, but knew full well what she meant.

‘Ah.’ A smile accentuated the lines of her face. Though this was not a warm expression at all, more of a knowing realization. Perhaps she suspected that the message had been received, but the Sun Chamber had decided to ignore it. There was something about her manner that suggested she was constantly one step ahead of me. ‘This will explain your . . .
presence
. Well, for your information we have, it seems, resolved the issue of Bishop Tahn Valin.’

‘Is he well?’

‘The matter is resolved.’ She regarded me as if to say,
why are you still here?

‘I would very much like it if you could introduce me to him, so that I might record the matter as
resolved
to my superiors. You must know how the Sun Chamber can be. We’re very thorough and I must report this case to be closed in a satisfactory manner, lest more officers be sent to investigate.’

‘If you insist.’

‘I get the impression you don’t appreciate outside influence,’ I asked as the three of us walked along the corridors of the palace.

‘Please, try not to take my actions personally,’ she said, then her voice softened. ‘It’s difficult for outsiders to understand what a proud culture this is. Though we’re openly part of Vispasia, we are people who like to do things ourselves. Or, at least, that is how it used to be. But Queen Dokuz Sorghatan is a lady of high culture and she welcomes ideas from the outside. The finest philosophers, poets and engineers from the surrounding nations are now often to be found in our court. Her donations and large salaries attract a great deal of interest from great minds and scholars.’

‘But when it comes to your bishops,’ I said, ‘you’d rather sort out your own mess.’

‘I would argue that it is not a mess, as you put it. But I see your point.’ Her words came slowly – not out of any difficulty in speaking Detratan, but because she was considering them carefully, like a diplomat or politician.

The corridors were much plainer than the rest of the building promised. There was little in the way of ornamentation, just one dark passageway after another, with bare stone broken by the occasional cresset or narrow window, some of which made a pattern of light across the floor and I could smell . . .

I came round slowly and looked up from my position on the floor. I had obviously suffered a seizure.

Leana was peering over me and, to her side, stood Sulma Tan, with a deeply analytical expression upon her face. Leana was making excuses on my behalf, but my embarrassment was overwhelming. I had no control over these matters – they seemed to strike at will – but to do so immediately upon having met someone from this nation was humiliating, to say the least.

Leana helped me to my feet. I stared sheepishly towards Sulma Tan to make my apologies, weighing up if I should tell her the truth that the gods were punishing me for some misdemeanour.

‘Interesting,’ was all she said. ‘I have seen such things before. How long have you suffered?’

‘Most of my adult life,’ I replied tentatively.

She began to probe me with questions, as if a physician rather than a secretary to the queen, but my almost monosyllabic responses should have given her an indication of my discomfort. Yes, they were mainly in my sleep. There were sometimes headaches. No, they did not happen all the time, just on average every few days. No, I can’t remember what happened. The gods caused them. And so on.

‘I would be grateful,’ I concluded, truly worried for my safety now, ‘if you could keep this event quiet. Just between us. Only Leana knows I suffer such seizures, and it would make my job very difficult if people knew about it – they would not trust me. They would think me cursed by the gods – and they would refuse to work with me.’

Sulma Tan snorted. ‘Ridiculous superstition. I do not believe this is some affliction of the gods.’

It was remarkable that she could be so matter of fact about it. I was certain that I would be treated differently if anyone knew of my seizures. Yet Sulma Tan continued to regard me with as much indifference as previously.

‘I do not think you are
tainted
, no.’ She looked pleased with herself.

And with that she turned and beckoned us onwards. Leana simply shrugged, but her angry glare said much. I vowed discreetly to her that if we came upon an apothecary, we would get some more herbs. Together, the panic over, we moved on.

We eventually reached a large, brick chamber with several desks and wall-to-wall shelves that were rammed with old scrolls. There was one window that overlooked a sunny courtyard garden containing numerous rose bushes. However warm and pleasant it was out there, it was very cold in this old room.

‘This is one of our many copying chambers,’ Sulma Tan said. ‘The queen is very keen on creating copies of core Vispasian texts in both Kotonese and Detratan. We keep copies of each in our very large library elsewhere in the city.’

‘A very industrious process you have here,’ I replied.

‘There is much knowledge to be passed on.’