Drakenfeld

by Mark Charan Newton

  ‘He always kept in good shape, exercised regularly and ate well – he’d been like that all his life.’

  ‘Who knows why the gods decide to take us,’ the pontiff replied. ‘His funeral will be in a few days, once we continue the rituals here to see his soul is at peace. The necessary arrangements and notifications have already been made.’

  ‘Oh . . .’ I fumbled around for a purse of money. ‘How much should the donations be?’

  The pontiff waved for me to relax. ‘It has all been paid for by the administration of the Sun Chamber. You will be notified before his body is to be burned. We are reading the stars each evening, waiting for an auspicious alignment.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘After that, once we allow his ashes to be collected, it will be another day or so before you may have them to place within the family mausoleum.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I replied. ‘I’m staying at his – my – house, should you need to find me.’

  It was reassuring that my father would receive the dignity bestowed upon his office, but now that I had seen his body, something did not sit right.

  With a head full of sorrow, I walked back to my residence alone, speeding through the streets now, passing the bars and taverns with their oil lamps, past the youths clustering in alleyways, and through the emptying plaza in which wind-blown litter skittered across the flagstones.

  And when I eventually arrived home, there was a visitor waiting for me.

  Senator Veron

  ‘I’m Senator Veron,’ he said, rising from being draped across a couch. ‘You might have heard of me.’

  We gripped each other’s forearms in the formal Detratan greeting. He looked only a few years older than me, forty summers to his name at the most, and rather young for a senator. Veron’s bronzed skin and athletic figure were also not typical of those who spent most of their time in shaded rooms arguing politics, but I’m sure his good looks didn’t do any harm come election time. We stood approximately the same height, and where my eyes were brown his were a startling sky blue. His long face was handsome in the classical way, though his hair was beginning to recede a little. His easy, confident manner disarmed me momentarily; that was, until the quality of his gold-trimmed cloak reminded me once again that he was a politician. His smile seemed well practised.

  ‘So. The son returns.’ Veron’s voice was remarkably crisp, and I couldn’t trace a hint of dialect. He stared at me with great intensity, trying to read my expression to see what I made of him. ‘A Sun Chamber official who’s both a Drakenfeld and easy on the eye,’ he continued. ‘I’ll have to watch you if you go near the Regallum district – politicians are naturally wary of handsome professionals like yourself. You tend to win over crowds and usurp us; which, to be fair, is exactly what any of us would do in your position.’

  ‘There’s not much danger of me heading there so long as everyone’s behaving themselves,’ I said. ‘It’s been weeks since I arrested a politician.’

  ‘That’s the spirit.’ Veron slapped me on the shoulder before producing a leather scroll tube, which he’d been carrying in his bag. ‘This is from the Court of the Sun Chamber. As senator for this district, it was sent to my address for me to place directly into your hands when you arrived. I’m guessing your people don’t trust messengers.’

  ‘It could have been that they wanted you to be present when I read it. Any idea what it’s about?’

  ‘Sadly I worship the wrong gods to be able to read a sealed scroll – I’ve asked Trymus often enough, but as far as founder gods go he’s not been particularly helpful.’ Veron indicated that I open it, and he turned to regard a fresco to grant me some privacy to read.

  I broke the seal, opened up the tube and pulled out the letter.

  Lucan Drakenfeld.

  You will by now have reached Tryum, in Detrata. The Court of the Sun Chamber has now consulted on the issue of your father’s sudden and sad death at some length and, for the foreseeable future, and given that there is no Officer in Tryum, we have deemed you suitable for the post.

  Your work in Venyn has been commended and, by order of Commissioner Tibus, you are to inherit your father’s seat in Tryum. Both King Licintius’ office and the Senate are being informed presently. Direct notice will be sent to the Civil Cohorts, for what it is worth, but you may investigate incidents as you see fit unless we find something else that merits your attention.

  May Polla offer you her blessings.

  Sheriff Goul,

  Deputy Administrator for Vispasian Royal Union West.

  Tibus had ordered the move – high praise indeed, coming from one of four commissioners, a high rank in the Sun Chamber.

  ‘Good news, I trust?’ Veron said.

  ‘I appear to have a new job.’

  ‘My congratulations.’ The senator placed his strong hand on my back once again.

  ‘Please, where are my manners,’ I said. ‘You must take a drink with me.’

  ‘I won’t say no if you have any wine,’ he replied.

  I hastily called for Bellona to see if there was any around. She shuffled away bowing to rustle up some refreshments while I urged her yet again not to call me master.

  ‘It’s always wise to keep your servants in their place.’ Senator Veron nodded to me as if he’d supplied me with some profound advice.

  ‘I’m fairly informal when it comes to such things. I’ve never had a servant before. Besides, angry staff will often be the first to help guide a knife into a cruel master’s back. I saw it happen often enough in Venyn City.’

  ‘A wild and adventurous place, so they tell me. You must tell me of your time there. I thrive on tales of far-away cities. The Senate can be rather dull at times – especially once Senator Chastra gets into full flow.’

  We took our seats on a curved settee overlooking the fountain in the garden, and sipped on watered wine and sweet snacks. The evening was humid; the smell of vegetation was pungent. In the distance were the sounds of the city, the constant low hum of a thousand voices. Lanterns and oil lamps surrounded us, casting a mellow light. I felt myself starting to relax.

  ‘This food is remarkably good,’ I breathed, gesturing for him to help himself to the snacks.

  ‘Not for me,’ Veron replied. ‘I’m looking after my health.’ He patted his stomach.

  ‘Very wise,’ I replied, but consumed two of them anyway. At the back of my mind was Leana’s voice berating me.

  ‘I knew your father, Calludian, reasonably well,’ Veron said. ‘I’ve not been in the Senate all that long, just a few years, but I see to the needs of citizens from this neighbourhood, so our paths crossed now and then. His death was a great shock to us all. He will be missed. The man knew a thing or two about the world, as well as where the good wines come from.’ Veron paused, with a gentle smile on his face. ‘I was there the day he caught Saludus, the priest murderer, after the king tasked the Sun Chamber to help find him. At the time the city was living in fear as body after body was left hanging in public places. People were talking about the vengeance of gods and all sorts of devilry. It turned out not to be so.’

  Again, another reminder of his incredible deeds, making me feel once again inferior and in awe. ‘I remember when I was young all the cases he worked on seemed to affect the city profoundly in one way or another.’

  ‘That’ll be your memory playing tricks on you. I’m sure it wasn’t always like that – recently he was often buried in administration and all those annoying little concerns of the great unwashed. You’ll start receiving them soon enough. I’m surprised the Sun Chamber puts up with it, reporting to royals as you do.’

  ‘We get a lot of our funding through kind royal donations, as is tradition, though of course we own a lot of land, and make plenty of money to pay for ourselves.’

  ‘Powerful indeed. Who keeps an eye on you lot then? What happens when one of your own officers misbehaves?’ He was clearly amused at this notion.

  ‘All I meant was that we don’t nee
d royals to give us large donations these days.’

  ‘Clever. Less dependence on the royals.’

  ‘Yes, but it means royals can tax their people far less, and we’re responsible to the people of Vispasia every bit as much as any king or queen. Though a king could ask for our help, generally we judge for ourselves what may be for the good of Vispasia. It just so happens that royals, too, are interested in the same things we are. Peace and stability.’

  ‘And profit,’ Veron remarked, smiling to himself. ‘It’s all quite politicized.’

  ‘Bureaucracy, more than anything,’ I replied, but wanted to change the subject. ‘I don’t suppose you know what my father was working on, before he passed away?’

  ‘I believe the last case he discussed was in exposing a rather nasty little daughter–father marriage,’ Veron said.

  ‘That sounds disturbing.’

  ‘It was. Things got a lot worse when a lynch mob found out about them and burned down their house because they didn’t want the gods cursing their community. Disgusting business.’

  I searched for the right words, hoping for something more considered. ‘What was he really like, in the months up to his death? I hadn’t seen him for years. We wrote occasionally but it was all rather formal.’

  Veron gazed at me with a shadow of sympathy. ‘Full of life.’ He stared into the fountain. ‘A vibrant sort. He was a great observer of other people, so I often felt under scrutiny in his company. A conversation could be more like a board game. But when we became accustomed to one another we dined now and then at each other’s houses, but he had his wits about him and rarely said too much. Me, on the other hand, once I get a cup of wine in my hand you’d do well to shut me up.’

  ‘Full of life,’ I repeated. ‘An active man.’

  ‘Quite the athlete in his youth, so he liked to tell me. Yes, he kept active. Though, it is worth saying that in his final months he lost a little of that colour.’

  ‘Do you think he could have fallen ill?’

  The senator weighed up the question in his mind, and I grew increasingly curious about his manner: the way he’d look around the house for distractions, or pick up ornaments and eye them in the light of a lantern.

  ‘That isn’t unlikely,’ Veron said. ‘He was quieter. He was seen out far less often – and you know how important it is in Tryum to be sociable. We all know each other here. Social circles keep us together – they help maintain some sense of order, as we all keep an eye on each other’s affairs. So, yes, perhaps an illness could well have claimed him in the end.’

  ‘The physician said it was his heart.’

  ‘That sounds about right,’ Veron agreed. ‘We had a good team of people there that day, as well as folk from the Pollan temple. I’m not a medical man, but I can tell you’re curious about his death. You think it suspicious, hence the questions.’

  ‘I have a healthy suspicion of most things.’

  ‘You’d make a good politician. But listen, let’s not talk about such depressing matters, not on your first night back in Tryum. We should be welcoming you to the city, young man. I’m glad another Drakenfeld is here to maintain some sort of order. You’ve good blood in you.’

  ‘Are the cohorts any good at policing the streets?’

  ‘They are what they are,’ Veron replied. ‘They change personnel regularly, they can be flaky and unreliable, they can bring their vendettas with them and cause more trouble than they’re hired to prevent. I’d like to change them if I could. They’re hardly cut from the same cloth as the mighty Sun Chamber.’

  ‘Do they report to you directly now?’

  ‘Yes, Licintius wanted more discipline, but not the military sort – tends to offend the hoi polloi when you have men with swords running about the place. Bad for morale. Besides, despite his friendship with Maxant, Licintius isn’t a fan of the military. No, each senator can organize his own policing for the district these days, which works rather well – given how competitive we all are, no one likes to have a high crime rate on their watch.’

  ‘Which is probably why you’re glad another Sun Chamber officer has arrived.’

  ‘That’s not the only reason. Your father had many good wines, too, so I’m anxious to see they’re not wasted.’

  I laughed and took another moment to assess the man. He seemed capable of being honest enough to be charming, though one could never tell with politicians.

  ‘Now, I’m hungry for news – I read briefs from time to time, but they lack clarity on these matters. I’ve heard about an end to campaigns abroad for Detrata’s army. Are all the soldiers returning?’

  Veron became animated. ‘Yes, and what a relief! More than that, the return of General Maxant is nothing short of a triumph. He came back to the city a night or two ago and celebrations have been scheduled by King Licintius for tomorrow evening. While the city will have plenty of food and games, there will also be the affair in Optryx. It’s almost like the heady days of the Detratan Empire two hundred years ago.’

  ‘And look how that ended.’

  ‘Peace came eventually.’

  Once the Empire had dissolved . . . It was strange how people could speak of the past as if they had actually lived through it. ‘You sound rather relieved about Maxant’s return though.’

  ‘I am,’ Veron continued. ‘Maxant’s freed up a grain route from Mauland. Shipments are already heading our way. We’ve wilting fields all over Detrata – many of the senators wondered how we would feed the lower districts. Not only has Maxant secured food, but he has secured a nation in the name of the Vispasian Royal Union, and Detrata gets priority over the food.’

  ‘So, Maxant has finally defeated the Maulanders.’

  ‘Mauland’s king is now subject to Vispasian laws. It is said that Maxant defeated an army of one hundred thousand Maulanders with a force half that. Many of the defeated warriors and communities are being shipped back as slaves as we speak.’

  ‘A rarity for the Union,’ I said.

  ‘Think of the labour!’ Veron said. ‘They’re all rather pale-skinned and weak-looking, so they say. It does not appear to be a particularly sophisticated culture, up in that cool northern climate. A lack of sunlight will do that to you.’

  The children of Tryum were often told stories about the violent citizens of Mauland – the Maulanders would get you if you didn’t study hard, or eat your supper – so to hear that the primitive society had fallen to General Maxant was a stunning concept. ‘Maxant is quite the hero, then. I look forward to the celebration.’

  ‘I’ll say,’ Veron replied, smiling. ‘King Licintius was almost weeping when he announced the news to the Senate. King Licintius and his old friend General Maxant have given Detrata a flavour of old times. The king needed it, too – there’s a vicious streak of republicanism developing in the Senate, so this will ease his woes.’

  ‘Are you of a republican persuasion?’

  ‘I can be. I can be a royalist too. I find if one is more versatile in beliefs, one’s career lasts longer, but there’s a strong desire in the Senate to return to past glories.’

  ‘Empire building?’

  ‘Perhaps. I’ve not seen anything myself, but the rumours are strong that neighbouring royals are nervous. Maxant has taken an army to the edge of our world. If I were them, I’d be nervous too. Anyway, more immediately, we’ll have street tables throughout the city with whatever food can be spared from the city’s stores – which will do his popularity no harm.’

  ‘If I was feeling suspicious I’d say such offerings would be to buy public favour – just like those old imperial days.’

  Veron gave a hearty and warming laugh. ‘With such cynicism you could easily have a place in the Senate alongside me.’ He took another sip of his wine and contemplated the fountain for a little longer. His smile never left his lips.

  We spoke of political matters a little longer, of the importance of Maxant’s return from Mauland, of King Licintius’ sister Lacanta, who was said to be eyeing
up Maxant for marital union.

  We said our goodbyes and he invited me to his large house on the side of Polyum that bordered Regallum, a phenomenally wealthy street – he took the trouble to tell me that fact.

  It was getting late. Leana had not yet returned, but she was more than capable of looking after herself. I stood at the front gate of the house a little longer after Veron left, smelling the city air, gauging the mood of the streets, and watching those intoxicated with alcohol navigate their way along the pavements.

  Finally it was time to head to bed. I’d chosen to convert one of the guest rooms into my own – my childhood room had long since been transformed into a pantry, and it didn’t seem right to sleep in a dead man’s bed. It was a quiet spot at the rear of the house, nearest the gardens, with a small window high up in one wall. A candle glowed beside my bed, and the rest of the room remained unfamiliar and in shadow. Lying there, contemplating the day’s events, something did not sit well inside me. It was very probable that I was experiencing some form of denial about my father’s death – he was, after all, a man who stirred up such odd and conflicting feelings – but it did not seem right that he was dead.

  A Blade to the Throat

  Leana shuffled towards the table as I was eating breakfast. Sunlight streamed across the spread of bread and spiced lamb; the early morning aromas from the garden were heady and vegetative, and the ripple of the fountain was soothing. The sun in this garden was always peculiarly intense. There were no high buildings nearby, and the roof was low, meaning that one could find a deep warmth in every corner at most hours of the day. Quite often the shadows of birds sitting on the roof could be seen around the edge of the fountain and, as a child, I had fun guessing – nearly always incorrectly – the species in question.

  This was a much more pleasant set-up than the fish odours and curses of tradesmen that constantly afflicted my ground-floor apartment in Venyn City. In comparison I felt like a king.

  ‘I didn’t hear you come back last night.’ I smiled as she struggled to sit on the nearby wicker chair in the shade. She was wearing just a white shirt and black breeches, none of her light armour, and she seemed unwilling to face the light.