He turned to the desk and gestured to two pieces of paper. ‘We matched a register taken last night to the guest list. Everyone is accountable. Everyone has at least another to vouch for their presence. Everyone who was invited remained here until released.’
‘Very effective work by your soldiers, general,’ I said.
‘Good men, my lot. We’ve been through much.’
I could only imagine the exertions of a long campaign. Maxant’s army had been abroad for years. They had lost ten thousand men over that period, had fought many battles and skirmishes, and at one point faced starvation. For them to have stuck at it so long would have required a phenomenal sense of loyalty and leadership. Indeed, they had been through so much.
I looked at the guest list. People had been arranged into classes of status, from the men and women of the Senate through to respected citizens of the city. ‘These weren’t the only people here last night. Where are the lists for the staff, the soldiers?’
Maxant nodded. ‘We will get a list of them and let you know if there is something of note. As for the actors—’
‘What access did they have?’ I asked. ‘What were the productions, how long were they in the building?’
Maxant looked to Senator Veron, who shrugged. ‘I’ll ask around. We’ll get the answers – don’t worry.’
‘I would appreciate that.’
‘King Licintius wishes to see you shortly,’ Maxant announced. ‘We have a few moments yet before we must go.’
Senator Veron moved to the shelves to glance at the books. ‘How’s he been since last night, general?’
‘How do you think?’ Maxant snapped. ‘Licintius is devastated. He loved his sister deeply. Their bond was strong, and who else can he really trust? Everyone thinks they can do a better job. Him and his sister were left in powerful positions at a young age with only each other for confidences, so I suspect he feels utterly alone now.’
‘Indeed, it’s very sad, very sad,’ Veron said. ‘Still, at least he has his general back now to confide in.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Maxant stood a little taller as if to express his dominance in the room. Veron seemed oblivious to the fact, merely raising one eyebrow at the now-bitter tone of the general.
Veron shrugged. ‘Only that you’re an old friend, and no doubt he’ll be glad you’re back to help him through this.’
Maxant grunted and turned his back on the senator.
‘The Senate will discuss the matter shortly,’ Veron continued. ‘We must see to it that we establish some firm facts before the rumours spread across the city. Of course, if Drakenfeld here is as sharp as his father, hopefully we’ll have no need to worry about rumours.’
No matter how sharp I might be, it wouldn’t stop people talking.
We exited the room and were absorbed into a larger contingent of officials and soldiers, twelve of us in all. Hushed instructions passed back and forth: ‘You wait for the king to arrive. You fall to two knees – not one, do not bow – two knees. Do not look him in the eye until he has spoken.’
Our group passed through the marble corridors and under the immense domes once again, which were even more impressive in the light of day. We did not walk by the temple. I wanted to return to the scene of the crime in the hope of working out the mechanics of the incident without the distraction of others.
The huge chamber we entered next left me awed. I had never seen such artwork adorning plaster like this – not in quantity, style or clarity. Every vacant wall space was covered in hugely expensive hues, great vistas or scenes from the myths of our lands – that looked so real they could have been alive. Large windows pierced the walls. Through one of the lower ones could be seen the rooftops of Tryum, and the little plumes of smoke from domestic hearths. A city as yet unaware of the crime that had been committed against its monarch.
We were instructed to stand in the centre of the room. The floors were made of highly polished white marble; bold red pillars lined the chamber like a temple, leading to steps up to a cushioned throne. Made of dark wood, the throne was carved in such detail that it couldn’t be appreciated from where we stood. Nobody spoke. The faces of the others betrayed their anxiousness, although Maxant seemed relaxed.
Moments later, after the clattering of a few doors, two soldiers of the King’s Legion led a man into the room.
Those around me fell to two knees while I, a Sun Chamber officer, needed only to fall to one – a quirk of Vispasian law that left me on a par with the greatest citizens of Tryum, but more nervous than it should have. Those nearby had their gazes fixed on the marble floor. Even the mighty General Maxant did not look up, though both he and Veron were on one knee also.
‘Please rise, all of you,’ Licintius called out. ‘You know I tire of ceremony when matters are of a serious nature.’ His voice possessed a lovely timbre, but was weighed down by melancholy.
Everyone rose to their feet while an aide to one side whispered in Licintius’ ear. His blond hair was wavy, in the style of the military heroes of the old Empire, and he was dressed in a purple tunic that, on closer inspection, contained a spectacular amount of subtle detail in the stitching. His highly polished boots were light brown, matching his belt. There were a couple of items of jewellery around his wrists, gold bangles, a surprisingly effeminate decoration for a king. Everything about his composure, the slight upturned angle of his jaw, the way he held his arms, all suggested years of practice to perfect the look of noble dignity.
Licintius nodded and regarded the rest of the room, moving his gaze across the gathered faces. ‘Lucan Drakenfeld?’
Being in the presence of kings always made my heart beat just a little faster. Licintius stepped forward to meet me. His eyes were a piercing jade colour and he gave off complex scents, reminiscent of jasmine and citrus. Close up he looked a little older, but he couldn’t have been many more years advanced than me, perhaps in his mid-thirties at most. His face was broad and lean, much like Maxant’s, yet Licintius was a slight man, and not anywhere near as tall.
We did not touch in any formal greeting, but surprisingly he placed a firm hand on my shoulder and gave me a sad smile. ‘Your presence is indeed welcome here.’
‘I’m honoured, but regret our meeting is under such circumstances. You have my deepest sympathies, sir.’
‘Sympathies . . . Yes, you do understand, don’t you? A lot of people have been saying that word to me without really meaning it, but you lost your father recently, did you not? We share in our grief.’ He looked back to the others and called over to them: ‘Please, talk amongst yourselves while I see to business with the Sun Chamber.’
Licintius steered me to one side, far away from the ears of the curious. ‘You will find whoever did this to her, won’t you?’ he whispered urgently. ‘You will see that they are brought to justice?’
‘I’ll do my very best, sir,’ I answered. ‘However, it is a puzzling mystery.’
‘Witchcraft,’ the king breathed. ‘I have heard of dark matters in the Senate in recent months. They have tried to harness the powers that belong only to gods.’
‘It is one option.’
‘I have another,’ the king added. ‘That she was assassinated.’
‘Was anyone a threat?’
‘Who was not? Foreign princes were lining themselves up, and she turned them all down.’
‘Her marriage was not your decision, then?’
‘No. I’m no northern barbarian. She could choose her own path.’
‘Are there any such foreign princes you think might have been responsible?’
‘A royal wouldn’t have done it himself. He’d have an assassin do his bidding, of course, but I’d place money on the attack having derived from Maristan.’
An old rival of Detrata, and one that had suffered greatly under imperial rule, Maristan stood just to the south of Detrata.
‘What will it take for you to find the killer?’ the king asked. ‘What help do yo
u need from me?’
Taking a deep breath, I rapidly weighed my options. ‘If it isn’t much trouble, I would like to see Lacanta once again, though perhaps after your physician has seen to her.’
‘Of course, Drakenfeld. I’ll have my physician meet you after this and you can go with him.’
‘Thank you. I’d also appreciate two other things, if I may be so bold as to ask.’
With a tilt of his head he indicated for me to continue.
‘One is access to the Temple of Trymus once again, just to take another look at the scene. The second is to have access to senators, and over the next few days I’d like to speak to those who attended the party last night.’
‘You think one of them is responsible?’ The king looked concerned by the implication. ‘I know they like to stab each other’s back – figuratively, of course. Not here. Not in Tryum – this is no tribal backwater. We are a civilized people.’
‘I’d like to keep my options open.’
‘I’ll see to it that you are granted free access and I will address the Senate personally on this issue.’
I gave a short bow of thanks, but wanted to ask him more. ‘I may also have a few extra questions for you to help locate Lacanta’s murderer. No one knew her as well as you did.’
Licintius gestured with upturned palms. ‘If you have something to ask, please go ahead.’
I glanced back to the whispering crowd behind us. Maxant towered silently at the back next to Veron, who seemed to be smiling at one of the women nearby.
‘Did anything last night strike you as particularly out of character for anyone? An argument perhaps.’
Rooted to the spot, the king descended into deep concentration. He looked almost angry, and his momentary silence made that all the more potent.
‘Nothing odd, as such,’ Licintius said. ‘No. There were a few people upset at the actors I brought in, but that is to be expected when the classes mix. It does them good, though, whether they like it or not.’ I noted the promise of a smile, but nothing more. ‘There was a row. One or two of the grander families did not appreciate me bringing foreigners into Optryx. They don’t like those from abroad – they don’t trust our neighbours.’
‘What happened after that?’
‘Nothing. It all quietened down thankfully.’ The look of sadness on his face grew. ‘I do wish people would be more open-minded in this city.’
‘But other than that – there is nothing that comes to mind? Nothing in the days leading up to the event? Please, anything you suggest could be vitally important.’
He reflected on the matter for some time before saying, ‘Two nights ago, while out riding in the country, one of my men pointed out two meteors to me – one following another, and each with a large tail. Do you think it could mean anything? My astrologers suggested it meant the gods were displeased. Do you think such things would be connected to her death? Why else would it have occurred in the temple, if it was not the business of gods?’
‘I am afraid such matters are out of my area of expertise,’ I sighed.
Licintius glanced down at the floor and his silence was profound. ‘I will send a messenger to find you when I have more time for you to ask your questions, Drakenfeld, and we will talk in private. Now, sadly, I have too little time to grieve. Others demand my attention.’
With a look of profound weariness Licintius marched back to the group. In a quiet, firm voice, he enquired who was next.
Would She Have Screamed?
I waited on my own, sitting on the floor beneath the altar of Trymus, just in front of the spot where Lacanta had been found dead. No hard evidence remained now, of course, but I could clearly recall the position in which she had been found. What must she have been thinking in her final moments?
Some people preferred to see out their time surrounded by statues of deities, but they had usually lived a long and successful life; they had the luxury of choosing how their time would end. But not Lacanta.
Would she have screamed? Would anyone have heard?
The room was solid, and there had been a celebration in process, potentially loud enough to drown out any noise that might have left her lips. If one was intending to murder to make a statement but not be discovered, this was an ideal location.
Standing up, I looked at the bearded stone face of Trymus, and wished that, as the only witness to the crime, he could speak to me right now. But communicating with the gods was the job of priests; I’d have to rely on my own investigations.
The double doors were crafted from a very fine wood, possibly oak, and the grain was heavily polished. There were gold-leaf shapes pressed decoratively in a thin, rectangular line around the edge, and in the centre the ornamentation was of trees or flowers. The key was still in the lock, on the inside. There were no signs it had been tampered with. The other door bore the brunt of the damage from Maxant’s men – a testament to the strength of the lock – and had splintered where the bolt had been.
‘It seems only Trymus saw what happened last night.’ A short man, garbed in a green shirt, brown trousers and black boots, approached. He was balding, the remaining strands of hair left to him slicked across his head, and stood with the slight hunch of a man who had spent many years as a scribe or at a workbench. A short ornate dagger hung by his waist, though he didn’t seem nimble enough to use it. He gripped my forearm lightly and we shook. ‘You’re a tall one, I’ll give you that. We’ll just have to see if altitude reflects intelligence.’
My face must have shown my confusion.
‘Didn’t anyone tell you I was coming?’ He shook his head and looked to the gods. ‘I am Yago Boll, the king’s physician.’
‘Ah, of course, I’m delighted you could meet me so soon.’
‘Oh, a pleasure. Anything to get away from his insufferable majesty at the moment. He is not one to cope well with his sister’s death, it seems. But you don’t see the rage like I do. At least he’s accepted it this morning. You’d better solve this soon or I’ll be forced to bring more cases of wine from the kitchens and drown my sorrows.’
Licintius hadn’t been at all angry with me, though his face certainly showed the potential for such rage. Maybe he was calmer because I could help him, or maybe his long history with the physician exposed the man to purer emotions.
‘Did you look at Lacanta last night?’
Boll regarded me as if I’d asked a ridiculous question. ‘No, this morning. I deal with the living, for the most part. Let priests handle the rest, I say. Only the servants have been washing her body since then, so she’s easier to examine.’
‘May I see her now then?’
‘Yes,’ he sighed, ‘this way.’
On Licintius’ orders, Lacanta’s body had been laid out in her room and cleaned and dressed in her finest clothes and jewellery. Her hair had been arranged to flow down across her shoulders and a well-placed thin scarf covered the grisly wound that had been the killing stroke. The room was bright and airy, presenting a glorious view down the hill and over Tryum’s rooftops. Pale yellow walls, a polished marble floor, a ceiling painted with deities, it was a pleasant place to be. A huge amount of perfume filled the air.
‘Best not to ask questions about why she’s in this room again and not resting in a temple,’ Yago said, shaking his head. ‘It isn’t right; the gods will not like it. King’s orders though. Now, come then, Sun Chamber boy, son of Calludian, tell me what I cannot see for myself.’
‘I get the idea that you’re not much impressed with me.’
‘I don’t like people telling me about my job.’
‘I’m not here to do that. I want to know what you think, as it happens – please, talk me through how you think she was killed.’
‘Isn’t that obvious?’
‘Tell me what you see,’ I replied.
With an exaggerated sigh, though with notably more energy than before, Yago Boll lumbered across to the other side of Lacanta’s bed.
Leaning over the body, his fat
hand pulled aside the scarf. Only when he glanced up at me did I realize how wild his eyes were. ‘This cut across the throat would have done the serious damage. It caught a major artery. Secondly there have been four further slashes across the face, causing minor disfigurement. She received further knife wounds to her chest and stomach, and a stab wound in her right side, though none of these were deep enough to have been the finishing strokes. The servants haven’t done a bad job of covering the damage, to be honest.’
‘It all seems rather vicious when a neck wound would have been sufficient,’ I said.
‘I cannot tell you if this was because of a struggle or something more ritualistic. There do not seem to be any wounds or bruises that suggest she put up a fight.’
‘What kind of blade would have done this?’
‘It wasn’t a big weapon – I’d say a hand-knife, possibly even something one might find in a kitchen, easily concealed.’
‘You’re quite sure about this?’
He looked proud of himself, as if his years of expertise had built up to just such a moment. ‘I would say it is more likely than not. Fruit knife, even. Something sharp enough to create these cuts one can see here. A sword would have made more of a mess.’
‘Not something an assassin might carry?’
He shrugged. ‘Not really, but it depends on the assassin, of course. You think this might have been a professional job.’
It came as a statement not a question. ‘Something the king said about Maristan. Lacanta rejected the advances of one of their princes.’
Yago Boll shrugged. ‘I try to stay out of such matters. Those things do not interest me.’
I nodded and contemplated the scene. ‘Out of interest, did she suffer from any other illnesses? Did you ever have to treat her for anything?’
He shook his head and moved across next to me again. ‘Lacanta was the picture of good health so I hadn’t seen her in three years. Apart from the king, I tend to deal with senators mainly these days – a paranoid lot. I generally just prescribe the occasional starling or hare when they need the entrails. Lacanta ate rather too well, if you ask me, but her evening antics probably kept her from becoming excessively overweight, if you follow.’
Drakenfeld Page 8
