Drakenfeld

by Mark Charan Newton

  ‘It’s all right,’ I cautioned. ‘They’ll give us no trouble – the gods have been unkind enough to them as it is without us creating a scene.’

  I felt the gazes of unseen people, each one observing our steady progress through the streets. People wore a nervousness, and continued on their business with a discreet urgency. Many clearly didn’t want to hang around for longer than they had to, in order to get their daily shopping or to travel elsewhere. The lower regions of the city were not places to stay unless you were unfortunate enough to have no other choice.

  ‘It does not seem the type of place for kings to visit,’ Leana said.

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ I said. ‘Though this place could provide good lodgings for actors, I wonder how it happened that people from here managed to work their way up into Optryx?’

  ‘Is society split in Tryum, so that rich and poor must not live together?’

  ‘It’s like that throughout most of Vispasia,’ I replied. ‘Wherever one finds cities, one finds divisions forming.’

  Walking in the midday heat through the dusty streets, I unfolded the paper that Senator Veron had given me, containing the address of the Skull and Jasmine theatre company – but there seemed little hope of me finding the exact spot. Addresses in this part of the city tended to be based on descriptions of how to get somewhere, but even with this it seemed unlikely we’d actually find the place.

  We passed a tavern situated roughly in the right area, surrounded by tenement housing. Its sign had long since faded, as had the colour of its wooden doors, and there were two rusting braziers on each side.

  ‘Your buildings are so tall,’ Leana said.

  ‘Walls were built to mark the limit of growth. The only way to build now is up.’

  We stepped under the green awning into the darkness inside. It took a moment for my eyes to become accustomed to the lack of light, but at least it was much cooler here. The ceiling was wooden, supported by several thick beams, the floor made from large stone tiles, and there was a hearth at the far end.

  A gang of young and old men sat playing dice in the corner to our left, with a pile of coins about the value of five pecullas before them. There were a couple of business deals going on to our right, judging by the ledger book, and next to them sat what looked like a foreign priest, naked from the waist up, gorging himself on a loaf of bread. I smelled cooked food and bad wine. A few shafts of sunlight worked their way through from the shutters behind, but otherwise the place was lit by candles on the tables. Everything about the place said it was a fire hazard.

  All in all, there wasn’t much of a refined atmosphere to be found here.

  ‘Reminds me of Venyn,’ Leana observed. ‘I bet more than a few nights here have ended in blood being spilt.’

  ‘Hey!’ shouted a man serving wine to a customer, ‘this is my tavern you’re talking about.’ He was a bearded, skinny fellow in his late forties, and wore a loose-fitting pale shirt covered in stains.

  ‘Do you own this place?’ I asked.

  ‘I lease it. But I consider it mine, yeah. Who’re you?’

  I stepped nearer, showing my golden brooch. ‘My name is Lucan Drakenfeld, officer of the Sun Chamber.’

  He frowned as if trying to remember the name, then his composure fell away completely. ‘Oh no, we don’t . . . look, this may not be the finest of places, but I pay all my bills on time and we don’t get anywhere near as much trouble as we used to.’

  ‘Relax,’ I said. ‘I’m not here because of you. I need your help in finding an address.’

  ‘Yes . . . Of course. Though it might be easier if you gave me a name – addresses change with the winds in Plutum.’ He laughed awkwardly. Everything about his posture suggested that events occurred here that were not fully within the limits of the law.

  ‘I’m not seeking an individual. I’m looking for the residence of people from the Skull and Jasmine theatre company.’

  He looked quickly to those behind me. I made a hand signal to Leana to be on her guard.

  ‘Skull and Jasmine, you say?’ the man repeated.

  ‘If you’re about to warn any members of your establishment behind my back to attack us, I can assure you the matter will be dealt with quickly and that one of the more careless Sun Chamber torturers will have the chance to practise their craft on you. Am I clear?’

  The tavern manager simply shook his head. Nothing was said for a moment, and in that silence rats could be heard scurrying across the stone tiles. The gang members by the entrance all took their seats again and began staring into their drinks as if nothing had ever happened. Meanwhile the sweaty priest just kept on filling his mouth with bread.

  ‘Good,’ I said, and regarded the manager once again. ‘Now why would you have us threatened?’

  ‘They’re protection, that’s all,’ he said, his voice almost faltering on every word. ‘We gotta look after ourselves down this way. Nothin’ personal.’

  ‘I think I see,’ I said. ‘You’ve paid protection money for them to keep your place in order? More fool you if you want to get into that business, friend.’

  ‘What choice does someone like me have with the gangs?’ he whispered. ‘Those senators let them run these districts to keep the peace. It might be all right for someone like you, with your connections, but I have to make do with them.’

  I shrugged. ‘Now, please, it seems you’ve heard of the Skull and Jasmine troupe. Tell me more. I’m particularly keen to know their recent movements.’

  He sighed and drew a chair up to one of his round tables. Leana and I remained standing – I didn’t have any intention of remaining there for longer than I had to.

  ‘Actors is actors,’ he sighed and spread his hands out on the table. ‘Weird bunch at the best of times. Can’t understand any of the fancy Detratan-style shows that you often see. You know, real culture lovers’ stuff. But the Skull and Jasmine’s more popular with the public you see – they do things involving recent happenings, and the likes. You know, they do plays of local news or gossip, that sort of thing. I like them stories – real easy to understand.’

  ‘Have you seen many of their performances?’ I asked.

  ‘Couple. There’s a tiny amphitheatre only a few streets away. A lot of the travelling performers go there before they perform in the likes of Polyum and Regallum. Keeps them in touch with the common folk, they say, but I’m sure that’s because it’s cheaper to drink and bed someone around here, heh!’

  ‘Has there been any behaviour that you might think was odd, or out of character?’

  ‘You tell me what’s odd for the likes of them!’ He started laughing but when he saw how serious I looked he began to concentrate. ‘Well, it’s funny you say this about their behaviour. As a matter of fact, there’s been all sorts of gossip in here. Weeks ago one of them, so I’ve heard tell, was spreading gossip of how he was all intimate with King Licintius. Tell you what, that’d explain why at his age Licintius ain’t found a wife.’

  It was common knowledge that Licintius had quickly divorced his first wife many years ago after she had an affair. Would he be the sort to turn to the affections of an actor? It seemed unlikely – though not improbable. There had been more eccentric royals in the past, but one didn’t often see them mix with the lower classes.

  ‘What were this man’s assertions?’ I asked. ‘In fact, what was his name?’

  ‘Can’t remember what he was called, but this was just talk – you know how it is sometimes. Some of them were bragging about it beforehand, saying how they were getting paid a lot of coin for this production at Optryx – we’re talking in the hundreds of pecullas.’

  ‘This place doesn’t seem to be the regular haunt of a king,’ I said.

  ‘Aye, I’ve no idea how their paths crossed.’

  ‘What have you heard since the night at Optryx?’ I asked.

  ‘Since Lacanta’s murder, you mean? That why you’re here?’ His expression betrayed his hunger for gossip.

  ‘
Answer the question.’

  The man looked down at the table with a wry smile that soon faded. ‘No one’s heard much since, it’s as if they’ve gone into hiding. It’s all a bit strange, but then I’ve always said, these actors are weird people. Worship strange gods. Their lives are full of debauchery. They all bed each other, taking it in turns or going all at the same time probably, I don’t know.’

  ‘Who they choose to bed does not make them strange people,’ I replied. ‘It depends on one’s preferences and one’s gods, of course. Why do you honestly think they were strange?’

  ‘Just their behaviour, like. You know. Always going around drunk, being everywhere and then – all of a sudden – being nowhere. That’s strange for them, at least.’

  ‘Do you think they left the city?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge. Think they’re just staying quiet. If they killed anyone, they’d need to stay out of sight if you ask me.’

  For such social creatures to cease being social, something must have happened, but what could it have been? At last, I felt we might have found a genuine lead. I reached into my pocket, drew out the folded-up paper and placed it before him. ‘How far away is this place?’

  He scrutinized it in the half-light. ‘You’re reasonably close.’

  I looked to Leana with a smile. Sometimes I could gain no end of pleasure in proving her blunt doubts to be wrong.

  ‘Guesswork,’ she said.

  I turned back to the manager. ‘Well?’

  ‘Two streets down if you head left out the door. Turn right at the broken fountain and walk about a hundred yards down the lane. There is a place large for the district, and the Skull and Jasmine actors all live in there together.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I was about to leave when I thought I would test out the name. ‘Oh, I don’t suppose you know of a Veldrum Hecater, do you?’

  The panic in his face told me all I needed to know.

  ‘I can’t help you there, mate.’

  He wouldn’t make eye contact after that. ‘I appreciate your time,’ I replied.

  We turned and left the tavern, heading back out into the bright, hot day. Compared with the relative calm inside, the street seemed a dozen times busier than previously.

  ‘That was good,’ Leana said. ‘You did not even have to bribe him.’

  ‘He was so scared, he’d tell anyone anything they wanted. I don’t know how much to trust him given how quickly he wanted us out of there.’

  The Skull and Jasmine House

  A river of stone, the buildings and streets of the city were constantly transforming. Everywhere around were statues or structures either in various stages of decay or being constructed with bright, new stone; though as we moved further down-city we saw much more of the former.

  We followed the tavern keeper’s directions to the broken fountain, which three men were repairing while another was rebuilding the road around it. There on the corner of the street, side by side, stood crumbling statues of the gods Trymus and Festonia. They were posed to represent the story of the founding of the city, where these two gods – man and wife at the time – established the first few buildings that would eventually become Tryum. Together they organized a small army to fight off strange creatures that besieged the settlement, and their heroic sacrifices later made them become gods. Though the statues had lost their shields and swords, they still stood tall and defiant, inspiring everyone in the neighbourhood on to greater acts.

  Leana bought a quick snack from a street vendor and offered me a bite, but I never wanted to eat at a time like this. I prepared myself to be ready for whatever these actors would do. The house turned out to be on a quiet street. There was a battered red awning outside and on the door was a painting of little white flowers curling in an S-shape with a skull set on top.

  They looked over the looming, pale stone structure. As the tavern keeper had said it was large for the district, which made me think the Skull and Jasmine troupe were not doing as badly as many actors. I suspected that royal money might have gone into helping them live here.

  ‘No windows or doors anywhere down the side,’ she said. ‘This seems the only way in and out, from the front at least. Do you think they’ll run from us?’

  Memories of Venyn, where every other person we sought out tried to flee on our arrival. ‘I doubt it. Not if they’re in favour with the king.’

  Knocking on the door, we stood back and waited. At the end of the street a priest walked by chanting his morning prayers. A dog sifted through the detritus that had gathered around the base of the buildings.

  Leana moved in and banged the door again with her fist several times. Eventually someone came to unlock it.

  A young woman stood there, black-haired with a heavy fringe, wide-eyed and dressed in a once-ornate blue gown that had clearly seen better days. She stood a little shorter than me and was thin to an unhealthy extent. She stared at both of us, her gaze lingering on Leana for a moment longer. The girl was giving nothing away in her expression.

  ‘It’s early. What do you want?’ Her voice was surprisingly crisp and confident.

  ‘My name is Lucan Drakenfeld, officer of the Sun Chamber. I need—’

  ‘An officer? I was wondering when you’d get here.’

  ‘You know of me?’ I asked.

  ‘No, I’ve no idea what the Sun Court—’

  ‘Sun Chamber.’

  ‘Sure,’ she continued. ‘I just figured that someone would come along sooner or later, someone official, and I reckon you’re someone, right? Everyone looks to the low-downs first.’

  ‘This is an awfully big building for a low-down,’ I replied, and she gave a slight smile. ‘Please, I’d like to ask some questions.’

  ‘Sure, come inside. The place isn’t exactly clean – that’s what living with others does for you.’

  We followed her inside into the musky darkness. The house was similar to many good homes in Tryum: there was a large hall with a small open roof, adjacent rooms in which to dine and a kitchen. I assumed there were sleeping quarters higher up. But everything was run-down: many floor tiles were cracked or covered in grime; the paint on the walls was peeling. There was a strange smell, much like that of the bar, and there weren’t many windows. Clearly this was a building that had once been a place of beauty, and it was sad to see it in this decayed state.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I asked.

  ‘Clydia. What’s your name?’ she asked addressing Leana directly.

  Leana moved forward and introduced herself, seemingly amused at the young girl’s attitude.

  ‘So,’ Clydia continued, ‘Lucan Drakenfeld and Leana. How’s your day been?’

  ‘Well, I attended my father’s funeral this morning, but things are starting to improve.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry to hear that,’ she replied, possibly even sincerely. ‘I’m guessing you must really enjoy your work to still be out today.’

  ‘Something like that. I’m after information, and I think you might be able to help me.’

  ‘I’m guessing you’re going to want to know at least two things.’ Clydia reached down for a clay jug beside the table. ‘Wine?’

  I shook my head. ‘It’s too early.’

  ‘Suit yourself. As I was saying, you’re going to want to know what we were doing the night of the murder, and you’re also wondering how a bunch of people like us get to know the king.’

  ‘If the acting doesn’t work out, with a mind like that you could try for a career in the Civil Cohorts.’

  ‘Pah, I’d trust them less than I’d trust an actor,’ she sneered.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Low-downs. More often than not, men from the cohorts will accuse us women of all sorts, get us in some dark alleyway and then try to lift our dresses. Life’s shit at the bottom, not that someone like you would know. Just look at the way you dress. Fancy fabric, ’n all. Such a lovely voice. A nice education, no doubt.’

  ‘I am not here to judge,’ I said, ‘I’
m simply here to find answers to my investigation.’

  ‘What’s she here for then?’ Clydia indicated Leana, then slumped on a cushion near the wall, alongside two fine-looking amphorae.

  ‘Leana helps when the answers aren’t as forthcoming as I would like.’ I gave a gentle smile.

  ‘That a threat?’

  ‘Not yet.’ I hoped Clydia wouldn’t give me too much trouble, and it seemed to me that her tongue was likely to be her most offensive weapon. ‘What exactly is the Skull and Jasmine?’

  ‘I’ve often wondered that myself.’ Clydia chuckled as if noting some private joke. ‘We’re a loose group of nine actors, from different parts of Vispasia.’

  ‘You have a local accent – you’re from Tryum, I take it?’

  ‘Close. I’m from a small town further along the coast. Tryum seemed to absorb me somehow. Came here five summers ago, when I was fourteen, but the Skull and Jasmine didn’t really come together until two years back.’

  ‘How did it happen?’ I spotted a couple of stools next to the table, and drew them up for Leana and myself.

  ‘We were desperate people. Had little in the way of money. We all fell in love with street theatre – how could we not? – and started putting on little productions to spread the word of the older cultures.’

  ‘How did you get on?’

  ‘Not well. We didn’t make much money.’ Clydia shrugged.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Instead, people wanted more and more popular tales instead of art. They wanted to hear stories of what General Maxant had been up to in Mauland, stories of popular heroes, gods, comedies . . .’ She took a sip from her cup and sighed sadly. ‘There’s not much art to that, but it paid our rent and food for a while. People don’t come to see us to learn, they come to forget, to dream.’

  ‘Dreaming still requires thought. So somewhere along the line you fell in favour with the king.’

  She smiled, shaking her head with amusement. ‘Strange isn’t it, people like us – a girl like me – suddenly finding ourselves in that big residence.’