The Raike Box Set

by Jackson Lear

  “The last time was a one-off.”

  “People died. Lots of people died.”

  “I know. I did the bulk of the killing.”

  She squinted at me, almost suspiciously. “You know that half of Erast is looking for … you …” It clicked midway through her sentence. The suspicion faded, turning instead to something closer to sadness. “Is that why you were in Verseii?”

  “I’m taking a breather from Erast.”

  “For how long?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “What about your friends?”

  I shook my head. “Just me.”

  “Are they still alive?”

  “As far as I know, yes.”

  “But you’re the only one who was run out of town?”

  I nodded. “I was in charge. Now I’m retired.”

  “So why are you here?”

  “Because I have a feeling that Gustali had Artavian murdered and that your husband might be next.”

  A deep resignation crossed her eyes, no doubt accompanied by a barrage of internal swearing that she was too polite to actually mutter. “Are we to see a repeat of your last performance?”

  “It’s unlikely. At this point I’m simply tracking down whoever is responsible for Artavian’s death. After that, who knows? Depending on if Artavian deserved it maybe I’ll just hold onto whatever I learn from his demise for the rest of my days.”

  “Is that likely?”

  “I can keep a secret. No one knows what you and I last talked about. Even after getting blind, stinking drunk, no one was any the wiser.”

  “How would you know, if you were blind, stinking drunk?”

  “Because I charged your name with magic and it didn’t go off.”

  She sighed, showing off her soulful brown eyes as she gently shook her head. “You’re actually here to help?”

  “Yes.”

  And with a great deal of hesitation, Alysia waved her hand towards the front door. “I suppose you should come inside.”

  “Thank you.”

  As I followed her I couldn’t help but puzzle over her slender frame. She was shorter than I remembered, but then again our longest conversation had us both standing upright where height can be exaggerated. I remember her in a long gown, her hands clasped together with a blue shawl draped behind her back and over her elbows. Now she wore a white dress, a halter top that wrapped cleanly around her neck with the long lengths of cloth continuing down to wrap around her waist.

  Two things struck me about her house. The first was realizing that I had never been invited into a home this grand before. The second was that this was among the smaller side of imperial wealth, considering that its resident was still only a mid-level officer in the military. The distance between the gate and front door may have only been a few paces, but the interior stretched an impressive distance away from me. The building, inside and out, was a sandstone yellow with vaulted ceilings, oak beams crisscrossing throughout, sea-blue tiles along the floors, and statues of house gods everywhere. From what I could tell, the residence was a giant L shape with a long atrium along one wall.

  Alysia dropped me off in the reception room, one of three rooms in the bottom end of the L section. A rectangular pool, six feet wide, lay in front of me with the statue of two archers entwined, pointing in opposite directions. The room to my right showcased a number of lounging chairs and pouffes, all covered in fine woven fabric. Ahead of me: a corridor, guarded by two foot-high statues of differing house gods. To my left: a pair of impressively heavy doors, locked.

  I took a few liberties with my time and peered into the atrium. Woven canvas hung from one side of the home to the outer wall, allowing for pockets of light to filter through here and there. The outer wall was covered in a fine tile mural, largely hidden by orchids and lilies. Blue and purple wisterias hung from beams, high enough for women to lift themselves onto their tiptoes to smell them, low enough for most men to get a face-full of flowers like they’ve just walked into a spider’s web.

  Three statues were in sight. All different. An additional two recessed walls with carvings were fixed into the outer wall. Beside the front door was another recess with the most recent addition to the godly home, if it was godly at all. My understanding of these imperial homes used to be that the lords and ladies tried to cover every possibility there was by appeasing a dozen of the major gods at the same time. In later years I learned that was less true. Technically, the empire owned this home and many more just like it. Commander Lavarta paid rent, a sum nearly as much as his salary from the army. His personal wealth covered the rest of his expenses and this house was very much a status symbol in the province. Because the house had a rotating number of residents, there was a house god chosen by the governor and Lavarta himself. Not just that but there was a house god for every previous governor of Syuss as well as every previous resident of this home. If you ever moved it was accepted that you could take a statue of a god along with you, providing that it was your statue to begin with and that the god hadn’t had time to settle in and make this home their own. But anything built into the walls or actual house had to remain.

  I’ve often wondered how many faux pas ever went punished by the gods. Surely someone, somewhere, had renamed and repurposed one of their statues out of either laziness or penny-pinching. Say the statue used to be Asar. Now it’s Silvair. Some doe-eyed kid is told by mama-dear that this statue is Silvair. How is the kid to know any different? Every night they make their offering, thanking Silvair for keeping them safe, while Asar looks down on them, shouting: ‘That’s me, you idiot! Not him!’ It’s probably how half of the god-wars began.

  Needless to say, Alysia had left me alone for long enough to allow my mind to wander. A handmaid strolled by at one point, dressed in a long cream gown and a red rope belt. She called me ‘sir’. She smelled of flowers and had no doubt bathed recently. I had not. She was in a fresh change of clothes. I was not. At least I had something in common with her boss: we were both trained to kill our enemies and we were both presumably very good at it.

  I lifted myself higher as Alysia returned from down the corridor. Behind her strode the thirty year old commander. My height. Short, dark, curly hair. Freshly shaved. His red tunic fell to just above his knees. His leather belt was knotted to one side, the straps dangling freely like he had spent the last few months with a sword beside him at all times and now he needed something there to prevent him from feeling completely naked.

  He sized me up. Picked me out as a criminal immediately. With a halt and a deep breath inward he held his glare upon me to see who would flinch first.

  Alysia led the introductions. “Auron? This is Raike. Raike? This is my husband, Auron Lavarta, Commander of the Fifth Army.”

  Lavarta’s glare shifted into a squint. “How do you know my wife?” Strong voice. Controlled. Had a future as a senator if all went well.

  I didn’t delay. “Our paths crossed when we were both looking for a missing girl. When we were done Miss Kasera Lavarta offered me a job on behalf of General Kasera.”

  “Your paths crossed? That’s a cute way of saying you went on a murderous rampage.”

  “I killed a lot of bad people, yes. Child kidnappers. Thugs for hire. Practitioners of the dark arts. But a girl’s life was at stake.”

  Lavarta stiffened. No doubt he had heard several points of view of the story already. “Why are you here?”

  “I happened to be in Verseii when your army arrived.” What little humor he had remaining fell in an instant. “I didn’t kill your aide-de-camp. I was busy apprehending a fugitive from Erast, a man I handed to the magistrate’s office in the morning.”

  Lavarta grunted at me. “Again I’ll ask: why are you here?”

  “You have a man dead by asphyxiation. He didn’t drink enough that night to throw up. He didn’t eat enough that night to throw up. You’re unlikely to find any poison within him or any physical damage to indicate that he was attacked. The lazy theory wou
ld be that he died of exhaustion after having walked more than a hundred miles in a week. But if he’s regular army then he should be able to handle two hundred miles in a week without much complaint.”

  Lavarta’s squint shifted into something of a surprised ‘huh’.

  I pressed on. “Four months ago something happened between Artavian and Lieutenant Gustali. Their relationship soured and he was paranoid from that moment on. He didn’t die in camp, which is smart of his killer as that reduces a greater military interference. You no doubt have a suspicion of who did it and why but you can’t prove it. I think I can.”

  Lavarta studied me for a while longer. “That’s a bold assertion.”

  I nodded, allowing him to dwell on the silence.

  “How do you know Artavian?”

  “I don’t. I happened upon the inn he died in the morning after, and saw his bare feet while on the stretcher. Young enough to be in his prime.”

  Lavarta stiffened, angled his chin to the side. “You were there?”

  “I saw you, yes. You were respectful to the innkeepers. It made me believe that you were a decent person. If you were an asshole I wouldn’t have bothered coming all this way to help.”

  “So, this is you helping?”

  “It’s me offering my services.”

  Alysia asked, “How do you know Artavian was murdered?”

  “Because it would be too much of a wonderful coincidence if he died of natural causes the night before he returned home. And because no one of authority has taken his death seriously. Present company excluded. You’ve got a disinterested member of the military police investigating and you’re being stonewalled by everyone saying it was natural causes.”

  Lavarta gave me a point for that one. “How do you think it happened?”

  “Someone held him down in his bed and poured their own vomit into his mouth.”

  Alysia’s face puckered in disgust.

  “Have you seen this before?” Lavarta asked.

  “Something similar. I grew up with professional drinkers. You have a problem with someone and your boss won’t do anything about it? You challenge your rival to a drinking contest. First man to puke loses. With any luck your problematic friend drinks so much that they’re carried off to their bunk where they promptly throw up and die choking on their own vomit. If I had to guess, I’d say that Artavian discovered something sinister about Lieutenant Gustali. Gustali knew he had been caught and tried to smooth things out. Maybe there was the offer of hush money, or a favor in the future that would be the equivalent of a bribe. In all likelihood, Artavian refused, or accepted and later returned the money after having a crisis of conscience. While on the journey back to Torne he became increasingly nervous. Gustali was sure to throw his weight around, given who his father is. Somewhere in the last four months Artavian told you what he knew about Gustali. This has left you with a problem. Gustali is a junior officer and, by the sound of things, has ridden on his father’s name his entire life and is something of an asshole. If you punish Gustali he’ll tell his father, but his father happens to be your boss so you’re caught in a problematic position yourself. Directing a murder investigation onto your boss’ son is difficult and – by and large – unwise. On the bright side, you now know me. I don’t care about the lieutenant or his father. I’m fine with taking the direct approach at finding out what happened instead of walking across eggshells because I might risk offending the governor. I can’t promise that I’ll find Artavian’s murderer or even learn why he thought you might be next, but I can try.”

  Alysia slowly turned towards her husband. “What?”

  “It’s nothing,” assured Lavarta.

  She turned back to me. “What do you know?”

  “Nothing yet about why or when it might happen. If I find out, I’m likely to try to stop it from happening first and then let you know what I uncovered.”

  Lavarta grimaced, crinkling his forehead and looking unusually annoyed at having his authority taken away from him in his own home. “You aren’t exactly discrete.”

  “True.”

  “And while you might have a history of cracking skulls and breaking bones, there are laws to obey and people’s words to adhere to.”

  “And you will follow these laws even if the governor himself hired an assassin to murder an officer of your own army?”

  Another grimace. “It’s his army.”

  “How many of the grunts can he name? Less than five?”

  “You’re being rude.”

  “Let me ask you: if one of the barbarian tribes in the north sent an assassin across the border and killed Artavian, and you discovered who did it, what would you do?”

  It was my turn to wait in silence as the commander baited me. “What do you think would happen to me, my wife, and my family if I hired a thug who went out and killed our governor and his heir?”

  “It depends how heinous the crime is.”

  “Murdering a governor is as bad as it comes, short of targeting the emperor.”

  “Not that crime. What did Artavian discover about Gustali? Depending on how bad that is, Ispar will look the other way.”

  “I know Ispar better than you do. They won’t look the other way for long. They’ll dig up whatever they can about my family and run us into the dirt. You as well.”

  “Is it a secret worth dying for?”

  That stumped him. Even the day before, I got the feeling that he was a careful and calculating man. Assertive enough to tell Lieutenant Kace that Artavian was murdered yet cautious enough to act only when the weight of what he knew showed him how to proceed.

  He wasn’t going to give me a yes or no that day. Maybe not even the next. No matter. I was certain that I had Alysia’s attention and she would be able to help me, whether she was aware of it or not.

  I asked, “Who gave permission for the stewards to leave camp for the night?”

  “It was Artavian’s request.”

  So he really was paranoid? Interesting. “And Gabriella stayed behind.”

  He nodded. Slowly. “How do you know that?”

  “I’m good at my job. Is gambling allowed among the officers?”

  “No.”

  “Does it happen anyway?”

  “It’s the army.”

  I said, “What are the chances that the night Artavian was murdered, half of the lieutenants and sergeants got together for a game of cards and a little drink? Enough of it and them so that they want to keep quiet about breaking the rules. But it could also have provided Muro and Gustali with an alibi to those who wouldn’t be considered under Gustali’s sway? You know, an impartial witness or three.”

  “Why would that matter?”

  “Because someone knew where Artavian was staying for the night.”

  They both nodded, each going into their own minds and coming up with some kind of plan to deal with their newfound crisis. Lavarta clamped up, resigned in assuming that a lengthy argument with his wife was in his immediate future. Alysia instead nodded rhythmically, as though she was creating a mental checklist. If I had to guess, high on that list was to make sure Zara intercepted me before I devastated the province.

  Lavarta’s authority returned. “Will you be staying in Torne for long?”

  “A few days. Then I plan on moving on.”

  “Then perhaps this is goodbye.”

  “Of course. It was good to finally meet you.”

  Silence. And lots of it.

  Alysia looked my way. “I’ll show you out.”

  Outside, Alysia said, “I had a feeling you were going to show up one day.”

  “Trust me, I didn’t count on it.”

  “What happened to your promise of not leaving the company?”

  “They had other ideas.”

  She looked me over, waiting for me to elaborate.

  I fished out the letter Artavian had written, the one Martius had given me. “Can you read this to me?”

  She rolled her eyes, making a mental note to
come back to my departure from the company and looked over the letter. “Would you like it in Telucian?”

  “Isparian, please.”

  “‘Father,

  It is with a heavy heart that I must pen my final words. I wish I had more time in this world but if you are reading this then the end in the north has followed my path home.

  I want you to know that I have nothing but the highest respect for the life I have led. If, given the choice to do it again, I would not have done anything differently. I’m sorry I didn’t write more. And I’m sorry if things were ever strained between us. I was never meant to follow you, but to choose my own way.

  They’re asking me to blow the light out now. I should go.

  Take care of Miera. You two are good together. I love you both and I hope to see you again in the beyond.

  All my things to you.

  Your son,

  Artavian.’”

  Alysia folded the letter over and held it tightly between her fingers. “I saw his parents yesterday. This would’ve been useful.”

  I held my hand out for the letter.

  She shook her head at me. “Why did you leave the company?”

  “They drowned me.”

  “They … wait, what?”

  “Drowned me. Chained me to the inside of a cow’s water trough. Hands, feet, waist, throat, and one by one they poured water, beer, and piss all over me, just enough to cover my mouth by not my nose. They locked another water trough on top of me and dumped a sack of rats and stinging eels inside.”

  Her eyes widened as though she expected to see a ghostly glow surrounding me if she only looked hard enough. “How are you still alive?”

  “Because the Captain used to have a couple of sisters he was fond of, and if there was a way to exact his revenge on disease and fatal pregnancies then he would’ve done the same thing as I did with Lieutenant, Greaser, and Runaway. So I stuck to that, saying that Kiera was the closest thing I had to a sister when they took her away from me.”

  She fell silent for a moment. “You’re not going to go on a murderous rampage and kill them all?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because they drowned you.”