Drakenfeld

by Mark Charan Newton

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  ‘Domina omnium et regina ratio.’

  ‘Reason is the mistress and queen of all things.’

  Marcus Tullius Cicero, Tusculanae Disputationes

  For Emma and Oliver

  Contents

  Justice Being Served

  Preparing for a Homecoming

  New Luxuries

  Senator Veron

  A Blade to the Throat

  The Locked-Temple Murder

  First Steps

  Would She Have Screamed?

  The Witch

  Veron’s Party

  Debts

  Heading Down-City

  The Skull and Jasmine House

  The Snake Kings

  The Stench of Death

  Veldrum Hecater

  The Apothecary

  Perhaps Some Dancing

  Nostalgia

  Politics

  A Glass Vial

  Optryx

  The Bookshelf

  A Small, Underground Tavern

  The Mausoleum

  A Bloody Business

  A Way to Make Money

  The Stadium of Lentus

  Nucien Malvus

  She’ll Ride

  Evening Games

  Suicide?

  Henbane

  Poison Sellers

  A Sign

  Back to Optryx

  Getting out

  A Meeting

  The Search

  Deeper into Destos

  A Cliffside Villa

  Questions and Waiting

  The Sun Chamber Commissioner

  Siege Conditions

  A Time for Answers

  Bad Memories

  Getting Away

  Justice Being Served

  A bell called in the priests for prayer, drowning out the worst of the screams. Through wooden shutters I squinted at the vivid brightness, peering down at the men in green robes as they rushed across the paving stones of the courtyard. They surged towards the steps of an impressive temple, which was carved out of the rock-face, crowned with a triangular pediment and covered with ornate symbols. In their haste, one of the priests lost his sandal on the way and paused in the sultry heat to slip it on again. Even out here it seemed everyone was in a rush.

  The man stared up in shock when the prayer bell was silenced and the sound of Cornellus’ agony could be heard in all its hideous clarity.

  The Temple of Procetes – a remote religious settlement hidden within a gorge – was a pleasant venue to be dispatched to for the day. It was a far cry from my usual haunts. After being in Venyn City for so long, I was happy to escape the city’s dark, crowded streets. In stark comparison to the almost gaudy, luxurious architecture of Venyn, here were ancient limestone walls with clean lines and subtle decoration, modest statues of deities, and the constant waft of fragrant incense and cooling breezes from the gorge. It made for a peaceful place, and Procetes was a frugal and simplistic god. Within the settlement, decorum and diligent prayer were expected, personal ostentation was frowned upon, and the priests lived in quiet contemplation of their god.

  On reflection, it was perhaps not the best place to carry out a punishment order. I wondered how long it would take before someone investigated.

  Cornellus’ screams continued in the next room, each one making me cringe at the agony he must have been feeling. Unlike many of my colleagues, I was less than enthusiastic about this particular aspect of the job.

  Eventually, the door burst open. A balding priest in a plain woollen tunic, his remaining strands of hair slicked down with sweat across his forehead, held the door frame for support as he regarded me with a look of utter disgust.

  ‘Do you have no respect whatsoever for the honour of Procetes?’ he spluttered.

  I considered that carefully before answering. ‘I wouldn’t want to anger your god in his own temple, of course. But you should have considered that before sheltering a known felon.’

  ‘He claimed sanctuary,’ said the priest almost spitting in his fury. ‘We would have done the same to protect anyone in need. Every person deserves the right to shelter here. You told me that you would be questioning him. What are you doing in there?’

  ‘Me personally? Nothing.’

  The priest’s face paled as another desperate scream echoed around the stone complex.

  ‘As to what my associate is doing, I believe he is pouring molten silver into Gravus Cornellus’ eye sockets.’

  The priest glared at the brooch on my white shirt, a hollow, blazing sun made of gold: the symbol of the Sun Chamber, the institution that, in working with kings and queens, helped keep the many nations of Vispasia together in alliance and peace.

  ‘If it’s any consolation, this torture is not for me,’ I continued. ‘I don’t enjoy seeing anyone suffer, but I must carry out my orders.’

  He muttered a curse, gesturing to the heavens with his hands. ‘But why? Surely an Officer of the Sun Chamber should conduct himself with more compassion. You are supposed to maintain the peace – uphold the law, protect the innocent not indulge in this . . . this savagery.’

  I raised my eyebrows. ‘Upholding the law is precisely what I’m doing. And it’s the innocent who have been threatened by the actions of that man in there.’ I gestured to the door from behind which Cornellus’ screams were reaching an uncomfortable crescendo. ‘Try explaining to the innocents living in the slums outside your temple gates, or the ghettos in Venyn City, why they won’t receive this year’s food gifts from the city’s council. It’s thanks to Cornellus’ nefarious accounting activities. Meanwhile, he’s built himself a wonderful mansion in the country and been living in the lap of luxury, eating fine foods and drinking expensive wines, not to mention the numerous whores he had visit.’

  The priest flushed and glanced again as the screams started to descend into a pitiful wailing.

  ‘You might say that it wasn’t especially virtuous, was it? It was just as well one of our agents caught him in the act before even more people starved. Then his punishment would have been more severe.’

  ‘Surely no one is deserving of such punishment as molten metal being poured into his eyes?’ He wiped his face with his hands.

  ‘Silver. Molten silver. We caught him siphoning off coin destined for the treasury in Free State so that he might be – and these were his own words – “surrounded by the finer things in life”. So, in order for him to have his needs addressed, it was decided that his eyes should forever have fine metals imprinted upon them. Apparently one of our sheriffs possesses a sense of irony.’

  ‘This is horrendous,’ he said shaking his head. ‘It is such a waste.’

  ‘Not entirely,’ I remarked. ‘At least we didn�
�t use gold.’

  The priest was clearly in distress at the suffering of a fellow human and, despite my facetiousness with him, I secretly sympathized.

  ‘You Sun Chamber people, you come here abusing your powers—’

  ‘I’m merely carrying out my orders,’ I told him. ‘Anyway, I argued that his life be spared. Even this is a kindness of sorts.’

  He did not seem particularly impressed by my efforts. ‘I insist you finish this torture immediately.’

  ‘It sounds like they’ve already ended.’ The relative silence was somehow more profound now. ‘You should head to the temple, priest. Cornellus will need all the prayers he can get.’

  He glared at me again and left the room; shortly after he was striding across the courtyard, where sounds of holy chanting drifted, now uninterrupted, around the large enclosure. I rubbed at my eyes and felt the beginning of a headache. I’d told the priest the truth, that Cornellus’ crime was a serious one, and the priest was lucky that the man’s confession had not implicated the temple in any way.

  The door was flung open and Maxid stepped forward, wiping his hands on a stained cloth. Behind him were Cornellus’ legs, limp on the floorboards, the straps still keeping him in place – not that he’d be making his escape any time soon – and the smell of smoke drifted out towards me.

  Maxid was the size of an ox and just as fragrant. His long hair was damp with sweat and every time he shaved, his beard seemed to be reborn within the hour. His brutish figure looked ill at ease in the impressive doublet and cloak of a soldier of the Sun Chamber. Despite his appearance and occupation, he was actually a mellow man at heart and a softly spoken soul.

  ‘Well?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s done.’

  ‘You didn’t kill him then?’

  ‘Oh good heavens, no.’

  ‘There’s a first time for everything.’

  ‘Well, I’m a careful fellow,’ he said, with a level of refinement that didn’t suit the rest of his image. ‘You see, I only used minute amounts of silver to burn away his eyeballs. Any more would have gone into his brain.’ Maxid gestured at his own head to illustrate his point. ‘It just isn’t any good. As I say so often, this is a job for only the highly skilled.’

  ‘He’s free to go now,’ I said. ‘We can release him at the temple gates, but for Polla’s sake, at least give him a stick to help him, and see that he’s well looked after. Cornellus was ultimately a respectable man with a powerful family, and we should treat him with all the dignity we can. We don’t want to get a reputation for tormenting people needlessly.’

  Maxid nodded glumly. ‘Ah. I don’t suppose you could do that instead? He might not wake for another hour or more, and I’d dearly like to ride back now while the sun’s still high.’

  ‘All right, I’ll wait.’

  ‘You’re a good fellow.’

  ‘What job have you got lined up next?’

  ‘None at the moment,’ Maxid said, packing some vicious-looking tools into a leather bag. ‘I’ve a little free time. Our agents are doing good business and my skills are in high demand these days. So for now I’m going back to Venyn City and I intend to purchase some lithe young studs to bed for the next day or two, before another request comes in.’

  I smiled. ‘Buying love won’t make you happy.’

  ‘Who said anything about love?’ Maxid replied with a small smile.

  ‘Well, as long as it keeps you off the streets. Oh, that reminds me, this is for you.’ I reached into my pocket, pulled out a purse of money and threw it over to him. ‘Make sure you don’t catch any diseases.’

  Maxid caught the purse in one muscled hand and peered inside, scrutinizing the contents. ‘Well, farewell, Drakenfeld!’ He picked up his belongings from the corner of the room and lumbered straight past me.

  I glanced once again at the still form of Cornellus, feeling regret at what had transpired. The law could be brutal at times – but, as I told myself so often, Vispasia would be a far darker place if there was no law.

  Leana was sitting in the late afternoon sunlight, her dark brown skin glimmering in the heat. The stone seats were almost too hot to sit on, but I managed to perch alongside her. Dressed in tight-fitting clothing the colour of the local stone, and with a sword sheathed at her waist, she was watching children from the local village as they ran around a fountain, each of them waving a small wooden doll above their heads. She explained that the children were playing a game based on the birth of Procetes. Little plumes of dust rose up from the street as they dashed about with abandon, while elderly beggars watched from afar and pulled themselves deeper into the sanctuary of the shade.

  ‘The heat, it never slows down children,’ Leana commented. ‘If the dolls were carved from bone, it would remind me of a game I played when I was as old as they are. Here . . .’ Shading her eyes with one hand, she handed me a tube containing a rolled-up letter. ‘A messenger gave me this.’

  I eyed the tube in my hands. Letters were always something to be cautious about: they were usually requests for me to travel somewhere else, demands for more paperwork, news of a trivial dealing in a provincial town that needed addressing, or complaints from some nobody about the way they had been treated. But I noted the seal of the Sun Chamber in the wax, and opened the letter immediately.

  Reading it, I felt a numbness hammering me. Hands shaking – just for a moment – I absorbed the information, even though none of it seemed to register at first.

  Lucan Drakenfeld,

  It is with regret that we must report your esteemed father, Calludian Drakenfeld, died during the night from heart failure. Your presence is requested immediately in the city of Tryum in Detrata, where you will deal with his remaining affairs and liaise with the pontiff at the Temple of Polla.

  You are currently relieved of all present duties in Venyn City and a replacement will be allocated shortly.

  Regards

  Sheriff Balus,

  Senior Administrator for Vispasian Royal Union East.

  ‘What is it?’ Leana asked.

  Words felt trapped in my throat. ‘My father has died.’

  Rarely did I see emotion in Leana’s face, let alone sympathy, but there it was – I hoped it wouldn’t last too long.

  ‘How did he pass?’ she asked.

  ‘Something to do with his heart, so it says.’ I held the letter in the air before returning my hands to my lap. ‘A natural death.’

  ‘Your loss is great, Lucan. I am . . . so sorry. I will make a sacrifice to Gudan tonight to see that the spirits comfort him.’

  Not now, I wanted to say, please none of this spirit nonsense now – but I didn’t. Instead I rested my head back against the stone wall and stared up into the blinding sun.

  Deep into the night, when Leana was asleep in her bed at the far end of our tavern room, after I had made my prayers to Polla and noted down the events of the day, I opened the letter and read it again by candlelight, contemplating the words, hoping they would gain more clarity.

  My father, one of the greatest Sun Chamber officials who had ever lived, was already a fading memory. Greatness can be a matter of perception, however. Though he paid for an excellent and privileged life for myself and my brother, Marius, he never quite knew what to do with us after our mother died. Various people cared for us while he was busy with work. Names and faces came and went with the seasons. When he spent time with us we were beaten no more than the average child of Tryum. My brother, who was a year younger than me, took things to heart. I could never identify with his utter loathing of our father. Ultimately I felt I had more right to hate our father, after what he did to me at the time.

  Despite any negative feelings, I always respected him. My only true treasured memory of him was when I was only seven or eight summers old, sitting in our garden while my father explained to me the importance of his badge of office – the one I also wear. I asked him what the Sun Chamber was and I still remember, for the first time, a softening in his voice and postu
re, a quiet pride that began to show. He became a different man.

  The Vispasian Royal Union, he explained, was made up of the eight nations of this continent. Each royal head, with the help of elected representatives, enacted the principles of the founding treaties of the continent, the most fundamental of which was that there would be no war between nations. We prospered. There was peace and security. He looked me in the eye and said that he helped to enforce the essential laws that maintained a bond. ‘We are peacemakers,’ he said, ‘not warmongers. The world is better for it. There is no more important job.’

  It was inevitable that I would follow that path, and his affection grew for me after I made that decision.

  However, I spent my later life in his shadow. My conversations with older officials throughout the Vispasian Royal Union would often involve them referring to him and his famous cases with affection. My world was often comprised of being the son of Calludian rather than a man in my own right, and perhaps that reputation would never fully go away. Death rarely seemed to end the business of the living. But this man – who I had both feared and admired, who had given me life and then dictated its path without realizing – was no more.

  I was no longer Son of Calludian. I was Lucan Jupus Drakenfeld, second generation officer of the Sun Chamber. A free man.

  I watched the flame of the candle for some time, contemplating all these matters, trying to recover my memories of the buildings and people that defined my time in Tryum; moments of my childhood returned to my mind, the walls that bore my graffiti, the games we played in the street.

  Eventually, as it always does, the candle sparked out.

  Preparing for a Homecoming

  Preparing for my return home, the following morning I headed to the merchant house by the harbour in Venyn City, capital of the nation of Venyn, to exchange my money for a receipt with the intention of exchanging it back for the local currency, pecullas, upon reaching Tryum in Detrata. I put the receipt in a small leather tube that I hung around my neck, and walked along the seafront, enjoying the pleasant morning sunshine and the salt tang on the breeze for perhaps the last time. For who knew where I would be sent next after dealing with my father’s affairs – Sun Chamber officers tended to be dispatched wherever we were most needed, though often it seemed that Leana and I had been forgotten in this city. I wrote confirmation of my travels and posted them to the sheriff, who all officers reported to, and took the long walk home one final time.