Drakenfeld

by Mark Charan Newton

  ‘Well,’ I continued, ‘it seemed he intended to remain here for a while at least. Look at the food on the table.’

  ‘That’s Drullus’ diet all right. He liked to look after himself – said that his physique and complexion would improve.’

  ‘He didn’t even drink wine, not like we do,’ Clydia added.

  ‘You . . . you don’t think we’re in trouble do you, sir?’ the slender man asked. ‘Will whoever did this, will they come after us as well?’

  I shook my head. ‘Drullus came here on his own, knowing that it was he alone who was being hunted. And he was right, too. So I do not think you are in immediate danger. I would, however, remain vigilant. If you have friends, go and stay with them. Don’t go out alone. Being cautious will do you no harm.’

  I pulled the blanket back across Drullus’ face, and stood up once again, noting that the afternoon sun was sliding from the sky. It was time to let these actors get back home. They would not be much help now so, after giving them my address in case any information should surface, I told them a message would be sent when Drullus was available for burial.

  Once they had gone, Leana stepped alongside, by Drullus’ corpse. ‘You look unwell.’

  ‘I’m fine. In a way, I grieve for him. Here was a handsome young man with potentially a decent life ahead of him, where he could enjoy his work. And it was cut short, for what reason? What did poor Drullus do exactly?’

  ‘It could be connected to Lacanta somehow?’

  A dead royal and a dead actor, both now in the Underworld with help from a blade. Their lives crossed in some way, potentially, but I suspected that only King Licintius would know how. ‘Before I can really say, we need to see the king. I want to watch his reaction to the news of Drullus’ death.’

  As we headed out of the room, I noticed something by the door frame and crouched down to pick it up.

  ‘Have you found something?’ Leana asked, leaning over me.

  I twirled a leaf around in my fingers. It was still green, indicating it had not been a dried import, and it was generally an oval-shape with several acute points. ‘Henbane, I believe. I could be mistaken.’

  ‘Here.’

  I stood and handed it to Leana, who confirmed my suspicions.

  ‘Now,’ I said, ‘what would an actor be doing with a leaf of henbane?’

  ‘Maybe he made a drug from it to get visions? It could be some creative thing. You know what these people can be like.’

  ‘Henbane is also a poison,’ I replied, standing up. ‘And you heard what the actors told us – he liked to look after himself.’

  ‘Well, he didn’t die because of this leaf – unless it is as sharp as a blade,’ Leana remarked, running her finger along the edge.

  ‘Indeed not,’ I replied. ‘But how did a fresh henbane leaf get here?’

  Veldrum Hecater

  We checked with the locals along the street enquiring where we might find a herbalist but there were none nearby and certainly no one could be found selling henbane on the nearby market stalls.

  While we were in this part of the city, I felt it prudent to pay a quick return visit to Yadrix Velor and the Snake Kings, to see if they knew anything about Drullus’ death. So much for the protection money he had paid them.

  Yadrix was in a much more welcoming spirit this time, as he was hopeful of a connection with the Sun Chamber, but he knew nothing of what had happened to Drullus. He claimed that his job had been merely to provide a safe house for the actor, and it was Drullus’ own fault if he let in his own murderer.

  I also asked him if he dealt in henbane, in any form, but he shrugged. ‘There are stronger poisons available if you want to kill someone,’ he claimed, ‘and more effective herbs if you want to escape reality for a few hours.’

  It was time to head back up-city before the evening fell, but via a route that would take us past the border of Vellyum and Plutum, which was near to the Seventh Temple of Malax. In that area was the house of the moneylender Veldrum Hecater.

  My father’s supposed debt to him had been at the back of my mind all day. With that matter resolved, perhaps my mind would settle more, allowing me to focus on the murders. At the very least, he could stop sending people to attack us. If money was owed, the debts would be paid, but just how bad had the situation for my father been?

  A couple of shopkeepers nearby were starting to pack up for the day. After asking one of them which was Veldrum Hecater’s door, they pointed to a splendid gated property set back from the street.

  ‘You should do this on your own,’ Leana said. ‘It does not look to be a terrible place. I know that this is a private thing for you also.’

  ‘That’s very considerate,’ I said. ‘I’ll meet you back at our house.’

  She nodded and started to walk swiftly back along the high pavement.

  The gates to the property were open, so I took that to be a welcome gesture and headed straight for the main door. The gardens, in the late afternoon and after the rain, were magnificent to walk through, and I noted a handful of species I had seen on my travels, some even all the way from Venyn, and a handsome fig tree.

  I knocked on the large double door and called out for Veldrum Hecater. A moment later a hatch slid back and a foreign woman asked for my name. I gave that and my title, suspecting that it would already be a familiar one in this household.

  The door opened and two servants ushered me inside to the hallway, where they told me to wait. Sunlight slid through the open roof at an angle, illuminating a vibrant red fresco beyond. The fountain in the centre of the room had collected a lot of water. There were many great works of art here, and statues of several kings and queens – including a fine one of Licintius himself, which didn’t look all that unlike him.

  ‘Son of Calludian,’ came a voice. A slightly hunched man shuffled towards me, wearing a black tunic, light-grey trousers and slippers, and he carried a cane in his right hand. He must have been at least fifty years old and the expression that time had carved into his face was one of utter satisfaction with the world.

  ‘Are you Veldrum Hecater?’ I asked.

  He nodded once, and smiled. ‘You look . . . rather unkempt, young man. Have the gods been unkind today?’

  I had no answer for that. ‘You’ve sent several men of little skill to my house recently – and if not to my house, then to hunt me through the streets like an animal.’

  ‘Ah. That is true.’

  ‘All I received from these men was a garbled message about my father’s debts. If you had a problem, you should have talked to me personally. I’m a reasonable man and I always follow the law.’

  ‘You know how these things go, a man of your standing,’ Veldrum replied. ‘Delegation. A message goes down the chain and before long it becomes rather confused. I’ll see to it that someone’s punished. I’m sorry my men bothered you, but . . . we were owed rather a lot of money.’

  ‘So I understand,’ I said. ‘How much?’

  ‘Let me see. Please, let us move to a more private room, away from the curious ears of my slaves.’ The old man gestured for me to follow him. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘Water would be most refreshing, thank you.’

  ‘Nothing stronger?’

  ‘Not at this moment,’ I replied.

  ‘As you wish. I will see one of my slaves brings it to my study.’

  Again, he stressed the word ‘slave’ as if he wanted to make a point of owning them. It was rare to see slaves within people’s houses these days – they were illegal unless brought in from overseas. No doubt Veldrum Hecater would be among those seeking to purchase slaves fresh from Maxant’s victory in Mauland.

  His study was lined with ledgers, and a large desk stood against a small window that faced across the gardens. The place was a bit of a mess, with piles of paper all over the black and red tiled floor. Veldrum lifted a hand abacus from one wicker chair and asked me to sit while he rifled around in one of his drawers. A milky-skinned young man i
n plain clothing came in to hand me a cup of water, and I thanked him. Veldrum did not even seem to notice he had come in.

  Veldrum drew out a heavy ledger and, with focus and caution, flicked through the pages while muttering about the quality of the paper. It seemed absurd that, for this man, something so profound in my father’s life – these apparent debts – could simply be reduced to another line of information in a book.

  ‘Here we are,’ he announced, hunching further over the book as if to better understand his own handwriting. ‘Now, your father borrowed twenty thousand pecullas and, with interest, the deal we agreed on was for him to pay back thirty thousand within a year.’

  I nearly spilled my water, but managed to place the cup to one side. ‘Thirty thousand pecullas?’

  ‘That is correct. It is one of my larger loans, but he was in a good position in society and had a stable career, and the rate of interest was very competitive. I don’t always make such pleasant deals.’

  ‘How much did he pay back?’ I asked.

  ‘He made regular payments of five hundred pecullas a month, which would have taken him a long time to cover the full debt, and which may well have ended in more interest if the contract became invalid.’ Veldrum followed the lines in the ledger once again. ‘That said, he did make one rather large payment and very nearly managed to clear the debt . . . Yes, here we go. He made a payment of twenty-one thousand pecullas.’

  ‘In one go?’

  ‘That is correct. Three months ago, to be precise. I remember it because it was just before the Festival of Festonia.’

  ‘How much is left on his account?’

  ‘He needed to pay four thousand pecullas to settle the debt, which, of course, falls to you to pay. I have all the paperwork here – all signed in the presence of a witness.’

  He showed me the documents and, true to his word, there was my father’s signature and the family seal in red wax alongside it.

  ‘I’ll pay the four thousand,’ I sighed. Taking into account the bribe I’d have to pay from this morning, it meant all of my remaining savings, all the money I had transferred across from Venyn, would be gone. I still hadn’t received any salary payment this month from the Sun Chamber, but it could not arrive soon enough.

  ‘Oh, that is good news.’ Veldrum Hecater reached for a reed pen to make a note in the ledger. He blew for the ink to dry and set the book on his desk. Meanwhile I started wondering just how under Polla’s blessed gaze I was going to make ends meet. I would have to send urgent messages to a Sun Chamber station post to transfer money in my name to Tryum. Perhaps one day I could sell the villa – I barely had enough use of all the rooms in one house let alone another one standing empty.

  ‘I’ll have the money sent to you by nightfall tomorrow,’ I said.

  Veldrum Hecater nodded and sat back in his chair.

  ‘There’s just one small matter that I don’t quite understand,’ I continued. ‘Why would my father come to you, a moneylender down-city? I do not mean to cause offence, sir, but there are far more respectable establishments in Polyum and Tradum that he could have sought. Banks themselves, perhaps.’

  Veldrum broke into a peaceful smile. ‘He came to me for the same reason anyone would, young man. Shame. Shame certainly helps a person feel humble. Whatever his reason, he was too proud to go to someone in his own neighbourhood who might know him. Gossip does tend to spread like wildfire in Tryum. However, I can’t help you out with the question of why. That is one mystery you will have to solve for yourself.’

  ‘The debts will be settled. Will you call off your men?’

  Veldrum nodded. ‘I am sorry they have been rather rough. Many of them are not in my employment directly – we tend to outsource to private groups from time to time. I don’t like all that nasty business, but people will go about the city believing they can take money from others but not give it back. The world cannot operate in such a way.’

  I said my goodbyes to the moneylender and headed back out into the streets, which were bathed in the soft red light of sunset and, pulling my cloak around me, I strolled back along the busy main roads towards Polyum, wondering why my father needed the money and how someone in a position of responsibility could have ended up in this kind of trouble.

  The Apothecary

  Early in the evening I decided to take a bath, and felt all the better for doing so.

  A small, private bathroom was such a privilege. The floor possessed a lovely pattern of bold red and blue mosaics, and there was a metal-lined base to the bathtub itself, under which hot coals were placed to warm up the water – though one had to be careful the coals were not too hot, else they might burn.

  There were many public baths scattered throughout Vispasia, of course, but they were very social places, where senators, councillors, traders, soldiers and bureaucrats would hatch their plans. This comfort was such a contrast to life on the other side of Vispasia. It was easy to see how wealth might easily spoil someone.

  Bellona, Polla bless her, had already heated a few coals and placed lanterns around the room creating a mellow and relaxing atmosphere. In this quiet solitude I could gather my thoughts – and there was no shortage of things to be thinking about.

  Lacanta’s death echoed through my mind. Her seemingly impossible murder and the still-burning incense – was that possibly some kind of offering to Trymus? The locked door niggled me incessantly. Then there was the room that suggested she was, at heart, rather a quiet person, and not the scandalous figure portrayed in public. Were her affairs all some kind of act? A way to work her political charms in order to steer Licintius’ policies through the Senate?

  The king, too, seemed to be more of a mystery than he first appeared. There was potentially the air of a love affair surrounding his relationship with the deceased Drullus. I still couldn’t work out why someone wanted to hunt down and kill Drullus. Perhaps he had seen something that night, or even been the killer. Was it an act of passion – jealousy driving him to kill the one person closer to Licintius than he? It felt like a long shot. Finally there was that leaf from the poisonous plant henbane, which seemed so out of place in Drullus’ hideout.

  On top of all this loomed my father’s mysterious debts. It seemed so out of character for him. What was he doing that required him to borrow so much in the first place? He managed to keep Bellona on staff despite this, though it was well known in our family that he couldn’t cook for himself. I called for Bellona, who briefly made an appearance at the door, though wouldn’t come into the room.

  ‘Was there anyone else who worked here?’

  Her reply came as a whisper, ‘Another cleaner, but your father had to let him go.’

  ‘Could he not afford him?’

  ‘He would not say. Please, I must attend to dinner.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I replied, listening to the soft sound of her slippers across the tiles.

  So the sad truth was that I had never really known him well enough to be a decent judge of his true character. Just as the rest of the world had seen him, all I witnessed was the urbane investigator, more concerned about closing a case than spending time with his family. Perhaps if I’d visited more, if I’d written to him more often . . .

  So many ‘ifs’.

  I would have the rest of my life to worry about being a more considerate son, but for now I slipped down the bathtub and buried my face under the warm water, hoping it would wash away my concerns – if just for a moment.

  Leana later asked if she could use the bath after me, refusing my offer that she could use fresh water, with an admonishment about the waste ‘so typical of this godforsaken, sinful city’. There were times I wish she wasn’t quite as adept with my language – or as colourful – as she is.

  While she was bathing I informed her of my plans to go out into the city to pick up a few supplies. She didn’t question me, thankfully, and agreed to my request that she saw the bribe was paid to Yadrix Velor. I left the necessary money in a purse on her bed. In the corne
r of the room stood her wooden Atrewen idol, a representative of the spirit master Gudan – he was not a god exactly, since there were no definite gods in Atrewen culture. Gudan was a legendary figure to Leana, a man who could converse with the spirits, and someone on whom her spirituality could be focused. It prompted me to take a moment to pray to my goddess.

  Finding the shrine that Bellona had moved into the hall, and bowing before the statue of Polla, I requested her aid in cleansing my mind and strengthening my powers of logic and intuition. Polla was a gentle goddess, her human form one of exquisite beauty and modesty – unlike many of the other gods and goddesses in existence. With the subtle, knowledgeable tilt of her head, and the Book of Wisdom open in her hands, the statue was deeply inspiring. Lighting some incense in a small burner and waving the smoke over my face, I lost myself in the ritual, letting her cool logic and calm presence fill me.

  A few moments later, wearing a green cotton shirt and a decent pair of black trousers, I threw my cloak around me and headed out into the night with a spring in my step.

  Walking out of my gates with a pocketful of coin, the city seemed pleasantly cooler after the rain. Where to tonight? The niggling sensation of the seizure last night had remained at the back of my mind all through the day, and though I had prayed to Polla, I did wonder if a more earthly solution was possible.

  Leana had mentioned there was an apothecary nearby.

  It wouldn’t hurt to take a look.

  The apothecary seemed to be one of those shops that never quite looked either open or closed. And it was on one of those streets that meant a lot of people had to be asked before I was directed to the right place. But sure enough, under a sign with long-faded gold lettering, stood the apothecary. I was glad of its concealed location.

  This street was just about wide enough to get a horse through; it wound tightly down a gentle slope, with two-storey structures on either side. Several cats sashayed back and forth before me, pausing to nose the air as if my presence had somehow ruined the ambience.