Retribution (Drakenfeld 2)

by Newton, Mark Charan

‘Your instructions for tonight?’ Leana asked. ‘I need something to take my mind off this nonsense.’

  ‘For now, keep an eye out for our friend from the rooftop – or anyone regarding us for longer than seems necessary.’

  ‘That happens all the time.’

  ‘Well then, just memorize any faces that stand out – we know too few people in this city. Otherwise, it would be prudent to soak up something of the mood, and the concerns of these people. Eavesdrop here and there – you never know what might help us. Perhaps the bishop was killed due to some reason of state importance that we’re so far unaware of ? I’ll be putting a few questions to the guests and . . .’

  Sulma Tan returned quickly. Her distressed expression suggested our plans for the evening were about to change: ‘You must come quickly, please. There will be no party for any of us tonight.’

  We followed her back out the way we came, then along a wood-panelled corridor, but took a sharp left through a doorway that barely seemed different from the panelling.

  She guided us through another series of rooms that, if we had not been with Sulma Tan, we would never have known existed. It suggested we were entering some secret part of the palace, and that was enough to tell me something serious had occurred. Sulma Tan said nothing.

  Soon we found ourselves tucked away in a small brick chamber with a curved ceiling, and lit only by cressets on the walls and two storm lanterns on a table. The same four figures I’d seen a moment ago, during the social gathering, were standing here and each of them possessed a similar, sombre expression.

  A tall, gaunt-looking man with long grey hair looked at me with a fierce stare. He wore the dark-blue silk robe I believe was associated with the Kotonese navy.

  ‘This the fellow?’ he snapped.

  ‘Lucan Drakenfeld,’ I began, ‘Officer of the Sun Chamber. This is my assistant Leana.’

  ‘Duktan, sea marshal – leader of the Koton Navy.’ He sat on a long oak bench beside the table, and there was an air of nervousness about him now, as if despite his seniority the necessary procedure had escaped him.

  The other three, a mix of ages, each wore similar robes, though in different hues of purple and green. They remained silent and in their own private thoughts.

  ‘What’s happened?’ I asked, assuming the worst.

  ‘There has been another murder,’ Sulma Tan said quietly.

  She did not say a thing after that and, for a while, no one else did either. My impatience was getting the better of me, but it was as if no one knew who should divulge the rest of the information. Perhaps Sulma Tan was waiting for one of the others to do so. The room was full of uncertain gestures and uneasy glances. Two of the men were visibly dumbfounded. They stood there shaking their heads. Another looked as if he would slit the throat of the next man who made eye contact with him. Each had the air of the military about them: strong posture, good, well-polished boots, military trinkets on their tunics, wristbands, brooches, badges of honour. Though there was no armour today, not even the colours of their regiment; they had not been looking for a battle tonight.

  ‘Was the victim a friend or colleague?’ I asked, to no one specifically.

  ‘Stood alongside him for thirty years,’ Duktan muttered eventually, though he expressed far more about his profound feelings during his ensuing silence. ‘He saved my life once, on a ship off the coast of Venyn. Pirates. Said I’d return the honour and I waited another twenty years. I’ll never get the chance now.’

  Sulma Tan seemed either uncertain of the etiquette or merely content to allow others to speak.

  A blonde-haired soldier entered the chamber through a large door wearing the blue and black of the city’s equestrian troops. She beckoned us all to follow.

  Leana and I waited respectfully, and still a little impatiently, at the back of the line as everyone filed out, back through the corridor. It was as if we would never find out what was going on.

  We only had to wait a few minutes, until we arrived in another chamber, one that was similar to the medical room where we had examined the corpse of the bishop. Laid out before us on a table lit by paper lanterns was another body, this time in one piece. So far as I could tell, anyway, as a flag of Koton had been stretched across him, the red stag directly above his chest. However, a significant amount of blood had seeped through onto the surrounding bold-blue material, staining it a far darker shade. As I stood at one end of the outstretched corpse, I noticed his boots poking out from under the sheets. Though they were mostly clean, there was a significant accumulation of scuffing, dirt and mud on the heels, which suggested that the body had been dragged at some point.

  Sulma Tan stepped to one side of the corpse with her head bowed, unable to hide her distress. She did not cry though. She merely clenched the side of the table and stared down with an unnerving vacancy.

  ‘Grendor,’ she breathed, and added something else I couldn’t hear. The others crowded around the corpse. Their faces showed nothing but despair – whoever lay there was extremely well respected by them.

  ‘He was like an uncle to me,’ Sulma Tan said.

  ‘Who was Grendor?’ The only reference I had heard of him so far was that he was a friend of the queen, and that she was thinking of trusting him to look after her daughter. He was obviously someone of importance.

  ‘Grendor of the Cape, that was his full title,’ she replied. ‘He was one of the queen’s oldest friends – she will be horrified by this. Moreover he was one of our greatest ever naval officers. He helped build a fleet so big that we were no longer laughed at by other nations – as we once were, being a nation more accustomed to horse travel. He led the very first surveys of our difficult coastline, and charted the thousand islands. Grendor was sixty summers old and retired from the navy long ago. He advised the queen on wider military strategy, though spent some of his time managing a shipping company. He cheered her up with jokes. Everyone loved his wide smiles. I’ll miss his laughter, and the way he’d diffuse our serious talk.’ She smiled. ‘He never could take me seriously – he said such seriousness was an affliction of younger people. When we got to his age, he said, hopefully we’d have learned to let go and laugh more.’

  ‘He’ll still be laughing up there when he faces Astran and Nastra,’ Duktan added. ‘Aye, still laughing.’

  I waited a brief moment for everyone to pay their respects. It didn’t seem right to blunder in with my questions until everyone had had their chance to grieve. Leana and I stood back, waiting as the others peeled away one by one, until only Sulma Tan remained.

  ‘Where was Grendor’s body found?’ I asked.

  ‘Near to his house,’ she replied.

  ‘Could you describe the location for me?’

  ‘He lived in a large house near the centre of this prefecture,’ she said, ‘overlooking the new forum. It had only been constructed in the past year. It’s a very nice place. His wife, Borta—’

  ‘Nastra bless her,’ Duktan interrupted.

  ‘. . . found his body at the bottom of the stairwell,’ Sulma Tan continued. ‘It’s a public space, a very visible part of the prefecture. In fact it was Borta who sent an urgent message to us. One can only imagine what she’s going through.’

  ‘I’ll see to it that she’s looked after,’ Duktan said. ‘And his sons.’

  ‘I’d like to visit his home as soon as possible, but for now, if no one would be offended, I would like to see exactly what we are dealing with . . .’ I gestured to the flag that had been draped across him.

  Duktan moved his arms forward, then paused – glancing at those around him. ‘Who will join me?’

  I waited for them to reach their decisions, keen that my respect be noticed. Eventually all of them in unison peeled back the banner.

  ‘Blessings of both Astran and Nastra . . .’ Duktan breathed.

  The body didn’t look like it was sixty years of age. Instead Grendor of the Cape had the build of a man far younger – in his forties perhaps. Had it been neatly combe
d, his greying hair would have reached his shoulders, but instead it was tousled and covered in blood. Grendor had received a head wound above his right ear, but that didn’t look severe enough to have killed him – it was more the kind of blow meant to knock him out. His finely made brown tunic had also become stained, though the cause of that was much more difficult to tell. It might have been blood, or muddied water. A quick sniff suggested the former.

  Sulma Tan walked over to the side of the room to fetch a blade, then she handed it to Duktan to cut away his clothing. ‘I have done this once already recently,’ Sulma Tan said to him. ‘I do not possess the will to do it to Grendor.’

  Slowly, methodically, Duktan cut away Grendor’s clothing, first revealing a bruised and bloodied torso. Then Duktan commenced cutting around the britches, down towards the dead man’s boots. The group gave off the occasional groan as more and more of his ruined and battered body was exposed. When Duktan had finally finished and revealed the hideous wounds in full, Leana and I moved in closer to get a better look.

  It was at that moment I realized our stay in Koton would probably be a lengthy one.

  A spectacular number of cuts and puncture wounds covered Grendor’s pale skin, much in the same way as had befallen the bishop – though the bishop’s body was too decomposed for a true comparison. Grendor had only recently died. Given the stiffness of the limbs and the colouring of his face, I guessed no more than a day. None of his limbs had been visibly broken and the bruises had not yet grown so bad that they would obscure a lot of the injuries.

  When his mouth was opened for examination, it was obvious that the tongue had been cut out.

  ‘What do you think?’ one of the men asked, looking up at me as if I might divine a prophecy from these wounds.

  Sulma Tan nodded for me to go on, so I addressed the others.

  ‘We examined Bishop Tahn Valin’s body earlier today and found wounds similar to those we can see here on Grendor. The bishop’s tongue had also been removed.’

  ‘The same person did this then.’ Duktan closed his eyes, grasping the end of the table, leaning over his dead friend, fighting back either tears or rage. Eventually he stepped away to compose himself.

  Sulma Tan had a worried look, even though she couldn’t quite bring herself to make eye contact with me, but she must have been thinking the same thing. The notion was probably more profound to her. This was happening in her home city after all.

  ‘I can’t say for certain that it was the same person who did this,’ I continued, ‘merely that the wounds share certain characteristics. Both men, I think it is fair to say, suffered cruel and unusual deaths. However, there was no dismemberment in this particular case, whereas the bishop had pieces of his body discarded around the city. No, it’s too early to start making the assumption that we are definitely dealing with the same murderer. Not without more information. With that in mind, I would very much like to see the scene of the incident.’

  ‘Oh come on, officer,’ Duktan snapped. ‘You’re a man of the world. Tell us what you think. Give us a hunch. Something to go on.’

  People rarely wanted to dwell on what may be complicated facts. They wanted easily digestible answers, almost always right away. When emotions were involved, especially, there was little headroom for quiet contemplation on such matters.

  ‘Well, here’s what might have happened – but this is purely speculation and shouldn’t leave this room as an official theory.’ The others nodded their approval. ‘Grendor was struck down with the blow to the head, which was just behind his ear.’ I indicated the wound. ‘That suggests it was not done in combat. Maybe he did not even come face to face with his killer at this stage.’

  ‘At this stage?’ Duktan muttered. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Please, bear with me,’ I replied. ‘Grendor’s body was then taken somewhere, perhaps dragged, which caused the dirt and scuff marks to the heels of his boots. Then all these wounds were then inflicted upon him. Such wounds take time to inflict, and they are not done lightly, nor are they the sort of thing that can be done in the street without anyone noticing. Given this was torture, it is possible – though we cannot be certain – that he was awake to endure much of this. At that point he was face to face with his killer.’

  A couple of the men muttered something inaudible to each other, as if in fear of their lives or planning some form of revenge.

  ‘After this,’ I continued, ‘his body was returned to a very public place. It’s likely his body was left to be discovered. Whoever did this wanted Grendor to be seen in this state.’

  ‘Like the dismembered limb of the bishop,’ Leana said. ‘You do not do such a thing unless you are making a statement.’

  While the others were lost in their own contemplation of the matter, Sulma Tan moved over and steered me to one side, out of earshot of Duktan. ‘You are suggesting that two very high-profile and respected men could have been killed in the same manner, by the same people. That officials of our country are being deliberately targeted.’

  ‘It is only speculation so far,’ I replied. ‘We need more evidence and I don’t like to jump to conclusions. But I’m only describing what’s obvious. You were probably thinking the same, too.’

  Her eyes flickered minutely from left to right, from one of my eyes to the other, as she was trying to read my expression. She folded her arms and peered back at the corpse. ‘What do you suggest we do now? I know perfectly well how the queen will react to this. There will be chaos in the court if this is made public knowledge, and I imagine rumours will spread. She will ensure more soldiers patrol the prefecture instead of being directed further afield. What’s more, the gates will be monitored in such a way that it will make life difficult for traders to come and go. The rivers will be policed heavily too. The queen can put a tight grip on the city if she wishes . . .’

  ‘I don’t yet believe there’s a need for such actions and I’ll back you up if you think them unwise. Anyway, the queen might not jump to such conclusions. It’s just as likely she’ll simply be distraught at what has happened to a dear old friend. One can never quite tell how people will react to the loss of a loved one.’

  ‘She will not approve of this display of barbarism in the Sorghatan Prefecture one bit,’ Sulma Tan replied. ‘She is . . . sensitive to such things. She prefers order to be maintained at all times.’

  ‘I’m sure the loved ones of the deceased aren’t too keen on this barbarism either,’ I sighed.

  Sulma Tan’s posture softened. ‘Please don’t misjudge my tone. I’m not heartless – I mean to suggest that the queen will want this resolved quickly. You do not know her like I do. This is an embarrassment to her. Soldiers will make life difficult around here for everyone if she brings them inside this prefecture.’

  I shook my head. ‘Not if she wants to keep the news quiet. Soldiers, in their dozens, are rarely subtle in the art of investigation. It will attract too much attention – attention I’m sure she does not want. She can be persuaded on this argument.’

  Sulma Tan turned to face me; all the pressures of life were in that one gaze. ‘So, Officer Drakenfeld, tell me what you want our next steps to be.’

  ‘Two things,’ I replied, with confidence. ‘The physician Carlon said he’d be more help with a fresher victim – well here, in unfortunate circumstances, we now have one. We should see that he makes a thorough assessment of Grendor and have him compare his findings to the limited information regarding the bishop. The comparison could prove important and I’m immensely grateful we have such a learned figure among us.’

  ‘It will be done,’ she replied, ‘though that will only confirm our current suspicions and bring us no closer to finding who did this.’

  ‘That brings me to the other matter: Grendor’s wife, Borta. Maybe she can help me establish a profile of her husband, his movements, where he was last seen, and so on. If I can find a connection between her husband and the bishop, then that may bring us a step closer to find
ing the killer. We could have the matter resolved quickly and without too many other lives being affected. Order will be restored and the queen need not panic.’

  ‘Then, please, make it happen,’ she sighed, before walking back to join the others.

  Borta

  The street was unnervingly dark and quiet, and low clouds had long since conspired to bring about a warm drizzle. Leana, myself and Sulma Tan walked hastily across the slick cobbles of the prefecture towards the scene of the murder.

  We had endured an awkward conversation earlier with the friends and comrades of Grendor of the Cape. They had all wanted to come, to offer their support; but I advised them that tonight might be too soon, and too much, for the wife of the deceased to cope with so many people all at once.

  I could understand their urge to be there, to offer their help or advice to the loved one of a friend, but all of that could wait until tomorrow. Thankfully they were in agreement with me or rather Sulma Tan who spoke very persuasively to them. I conducted a very casual conversation in which I slyly probed them for knowledge about Grendor’s final movements, but it appeared that none of them had seen him for several days. He was a sociable man, they told me, with a lot of friends, and he liked to make the most of his time, ever conscious of his age.

  Leana’s torch created a golden puddle of light that was reflected in the wet stone. Whitewashed buildings, mostly three storeys high, leaned into the street either side of us, dogs trotted alone, rummaging for scraps of food along alleyways. The area looked well-to-do, much like anywhere else in this prefecture, and the buildings well maintained. Private soldiers, or guards from the City Watch, were marching in pairs down the wide, main thoroughfare. I was curious, then, that it wasn’t one of them who had found Grendor’s body. Either the guards were slack, or the murder was thoroughly organized. Eventually we reached a stone building decorated with sculptures of numerous animals, especially horses and stags, carved into wood. The quality of the work was breathtaking. The theme repeated in stone reliefs high up, or had been painted as insignia on doors. It was a house constructed with great taste and a subtle show of wealth and power. I’d noticed how the nation’s art used various elements of hunting, perhaps an echo of the people’s history of a life roaming the plains in codependence with animal herds.