Drakenfeld

by Mark Charan Newton

  I knocked on the apothecary’s door, making certain my face remained in the shadows. All around were the sounds of the city moving into its evening alter ego, while on the next street along was yet another cart grinding its wheels against a wall or pavement, and at least three local residents cursing at the driver.

  The door opened and a woman in her forties, wearing a smart grey gown, stood there. ‘Oh, I’m afraid I’m just about to finish for the night, sir.’

  ‘Perhaps I should come back some other time then. I don’t wish to impose.’ My voice felt uncomfortably frail and I turned away quickly.

  ‘No, please, come in,’ she said rather jovially, placing a hand gently on the side of my arm. She looked me in the eye and had such a determined look about her. ‘It’s been a quiet day and I could do with the trade. Besides, you actually seem as though you are avoiding me, which I find curious. Please, put yourself at ease.’

  Laughing awkwardly, I followed her inside and closed the door behind me.

  The smell was incredible: a whole array of herbs, spices and oils blending together, some on a small stove, others sitting in open jars. In the light of a couple of paper lanterns, I was able to take a better look at the woman. She was maybe a bit younger than I first thought, her hair a pale blonde rather than grey – the kind of colouring found in people from the far north. Her eyes were an intense shade of green, and set in a narrow face. Her gown covered a grey woollen tunic that was splattered in stains, much like that of an artist. She also seemed to have a surprisingly good posture, and not that of someone who had spent years hunching over a table.

  Thick wooden shelves held up ledgers, one of which was open on a desk, next to a candle. From my quick glance, I noted long lists of complex plant names with observations alongside them, much like those of a physician. This was promising: there seemed to be the satisfying air of logic about her profession.

  ‘So how can I be of help?’ she asked. ‘It is not often I have a gentleman of such lofty upbringing visiting me.’ Her voice was soothing. I could have listened to her talking all night long.

  ‘Is it my accent?’ I wondered if I sounded out of touch with people who lived even a few streets down from my own.

  She gave a gentle laugh and walked behind her work desk, on which stood glass jars and wooden trays with little dividers. ‘Your boots, actually. I’ve not seen boots that well made for a long time.’ Her gaze moved up and down my body, keenly assessing me.

  ‘I’m here because I need something to calm the mind.’

  ‘Could you be more specific?’ she asked. ‘Is it a headache?’

  ‘No.’ I watched her grind some seeds or herbs with a pestle and mortar.

  ‘It’s OK, it really is,’ she said. ‘I don’t know who you are; you don’t have to tell me either. I won’t even tell you my name, if anonymity is important. But I can’t help you unless you tell me the specific symptoms. I’m not some countryside witch. There’s a considered process to my methods. Now, are you having strange thoughts or dreams?’

  ‘No more than anyone else,’ I replied.

  ‘Well, we can rule out trying a mage to read them for diagnosis then. Tell me more.’

  ‘It’s my father. He suffers from seizures. I’m concerned I might have inherited such things, though I’ve shown no signs of it. I’m worried that I too might be cursed by the gods.’

  ‘Who is your god?’

  ‘Goddess,’ I replied. ‘Polla.’

  She nodded. ‘The lady of knowledge – I’ve read her texts and can see why your mind matters to you. But tell me about your father’s symptoms.’

  We probably both realized this was a charade, but I revealed what I could under the guise of my father: that the seizures occurred, sometimes in sleep; that they came and went with no reason nor rhyme; that he could remember nothing about them at the time; and that the experience was certainly not one conducive to visions. I added that he was used to them – that they were part of his life now, and he accepted them and the headaches that sometimes came with them, but he would certainly appreciate them to strike less often so that he could get on with his life.

  When I finished the description of the affliction, the apothecary stopped what she was doing and nodded. ‘I’ve heard of such seizures before. Sometimes they come after an injury to the head, sometimes they come after a great illness. I’m afraid I have nothing that can stop them for ever. However, I have heard of some remedies that can – for some people – lower the risk of these seizures occurring, so that may be of help to your father as well as yourself, if you are worried such things are hereditary.’

  I nodded and leaned on the edge of the table. ‘You’re certain they’ll work?’

  ‘Some people of this city will claim opening up a rabbit’s entrails will help you understand the world better. Some people think they can divine things from the skies. Who am I to argue if they believe it to be helpful to them? All I know is that I have made years of studies – as did my mother, and as did her mother. I keep honest notes of what I do. As a man of Polla, I’m sure you appreciate such methodology.’

  I let out a gentle sigh. ‘I’ll take whatever I can.’

  She moved to her shelves and began looking for certain jars, picking them up one by one. She laid them out on her workbench and began transferring the contents into a tiny wooden box.

  ‘How much do I owe you?’ I asked.

  ‘Ten pecullas,’ she replied and, after seeing my reaction, added, ‘prices are going up each year due to demand for herbs. It’s the same all across the country.’

  Funny how we only appreciated the true cost of items when we could barely afford them. I reached into my pocket, counted the coins out and handed them over. She passed me the small box. ‘Make a tisane from these – just three pinches in each cup. Drink it as often as you can.’

  ‘What’s in here?’

  ‘Mainly gingko biloba, which is a known aid for matters of the mind, but I have put in three or four exotic species in addition. I would like it if you could let me know if your father improves at all.’

  This felt like an illicit transaction, but I nodded, thanked her, and without making eye contact moved towards the door then paused. ‘I don’t suppose you would know what henbane could be used for, do you? All I know is that it’s a poison.’

  ‘And a deadly one, too!’ She gave a brief laugh, though her expression grew to one of anger. ‘You don’t want to take any of that. Trust me.’

  ‘No, I’m not going to. I just wondered if there may be other uses for it.’

  ‘Some claim to use it in making alcoholic brews, but mostly it’s used as a poison.’

  ‘Do you know the nearest place where the plant grows?’

  ‘Certainly not near Tryum. I know of suppliers who can fetch some in from further afield, but the nearest grower would be in Maristan at the very least, and that’s a few days’ travel. The poison tends to be created out of the city and imported. You should take care not to acquire any, stranger. Many a good man has died from encounters with that plant.’

  Perhaps Drullus was one of them.

  Perhaps Some Dancing

  ‘Drakenfeld!’ Senator Veron marched towards me in his smart evening attire as I approached the front gates of my home.

  ‘Senator Veron. You’re dressed for a night out in the city, I see.’ I indicated his rich brown cloak, red tunic and polished boots.

  ‘I am,’ he replied, clasping my arm. ‘And you’re coming with me.’

  ‘I am?’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ I asked, as he guided me along the street.

  ‘For drinks, and perhaps some dancing.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not really the dancing type.’

  ‘We’re not the ones who will be doing the dancing.’

  ‘Any particular reason for this?’

  ‘No one should have to spend the night of his father’s funeral alone,’ he declared. ‘So I’ve taken it upon myself to cheer you up.
’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘And you can thank me later.’

  As we passed through the busy streets, he casually asked me how I was getting on with the case and whether or not my investigation of the Skull and Jasmine troupe produced anything of note.

  It became apparent, very early on in our relationship, that Veron was something of a gossip and a socialite but his flamboyant charms were entertaining. Tonight he clearly wanted information to satisfy his own curiosity, and use it in whatever way he could to gain an advantage over other senators. It would do no harm to keep him on side, so while I did not reveal my knowledge of Drullus’ death, my adventures in the lower city seemed more than enough to keep him interested.

  ‘I’ve come also with a message for you,’ Veron announced. ‘The king wants to see you tomorrow, and he requested that I let you know. He’s after something of a progress report – he’s been rotten company since the murder. His mood has been foul and, on quite unrelated matters, he’s ordered his personal guard to beat a priest and a judge – though the latter had it coming to him, to be fair. Anyway, Licintius wants the head of Lacanta’s killer on a spike at the earliest opportunity.’

  ‘That’s fortunate,’ I replied, contemplating how calm he’d been in my company. ‘I’d actually hoped to meet with the king soon, and to revisit some of those rooms in Optryx.’

  ‘You think there may be something useful there?’

  ‘It wouldn’t hurt to explore the place further, to get an idea of any potential hiding places the killer could have used.’

  ‘You lead an exciting life, Drakenfeld. It’s a world away from legislation. Let me know if you need further access around the city and I’ll do what I can.’

  ‘I appreciate it, senator. So, where exactly are we going?’

  ‘You’ll see,’ he replied, with a devilish smirk. ‘You’ve made it perfectly clear that you are a man who does not want to settle down with a woman—’

  ‘Despite your best efforts,’ I laughed.

  ‘I have cousins, distant relatives, who are still unattached and you seem a worthy match indeed.’

  ‘Are you working on commission for them?’

  ‘There’s a business worth exploring!’ he replied. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, if you’re not in the market for a wife, then you are a man who must like the pleasures that an unattached life can offer. Therefore, we are going to one of the more . . . shall we say, exclusive taverns in the city.’

  ‘A tavern . . . with dancing?’

  ‘The finest women in the city, no less.’

  ‘You mean a brothel.’ I shook my head. It was no secret that everyone in Tryum was fascinated by such matters – apart from me, who had better things to do. There were brothels of all kinds, for all purses and all tastes. Sometimes the business of sex never even made it indoors, and around some districts one might see furtive transactions being made behind crumbling colonnades.

  ‘By Trymus, no,’ he said. ‘You don’t approve of such places though? Not in the mood for women? I know of a place for men – good, strong young men, so it’s said. One or two of the senators openly use them when their wives are away. The women are more discreet about it when their husbands are out of the city, and have the men come to them.’

  ‘Wherever we are going will be fine, so long as it’s not a brothel.’

  ‘That’s the spirit!’ he declared. ‘You won’t regret it.’

  I already was.

  ‘Besides,’ he continued, ‘the tavern is a rather good place, since it is secluded, dimly lit, and will permit us to talk openly. Now that the only Sun Chamber officer in the city is in my neighbourhood, I want to pick your brains about better policing.’

  From indulging in prostitutes to examining legal matters, the range in the man’s morals did not seem apparent to him, but I did not mind too much. To be honest, the drinks and bright company would be a blessing tonight. Veron was correct in thinking I had not wanted to be alone.

  Located on a good street, the tavern looked rather impressive, much like the private residences on either side of it, with a grand facade made up of regular columns, each one possessing remarkable detail.

  As we passed through the iron gates, a couple of alleyways led away either side, but I couldn’t see any assailants or anyone wanting to collect a debt, only puddles glinting in the light of several cressets. So far, the moneylender was keeping his word.

  Inside, the building was luxurious, and it didn’t strike me that the place could be considered a crude tavern. Then we passed through to a large room beyond, which was an assault on the senses. The walls were gaudy with colour, a mix of deep reds, purples and blues. There were quite a few people here, many having conversations in booths lit by candles, or lounging on long, circular couches, with hostesses perched nearby. Across a marble floor, drinks were being carried by busy serving staff, while men and women of good standing chatted as if this was any ordinary party. I could only speculate at what was happening in the rooms beyond, where women led men away by the hand. At the end of this long room was a stage, on which women were dancing to the slow, tribal beat of a drum. Needless to say, they were not wearing much, just a few strips of cloth.

  Cressets burned, incense was heavy in the air, and everyone but me seemed glad to be there. Veron strode about with an ease I couldn’t quite share. He led us to a small table in front of the stage, where he applauded the three scantily clad female dancers. Each of them wore a mask, possibly for artistic reasons, but I wondered if it was also so that the many hungry eyes around the room could not identify them.

  ‘Does your wife approve of you coming to this place?’ I asked Veron.

  ‘Oh, yes – this is one of the milder establishments. She’s probably doing the same sort of thing wherever she is.’

  ‘Atrella isn’t in the city?’

  ‘No, she’s out and about doing a few business deals with people in nearby nations. Our children have grown into fine young men and women, and are living their own lives. Well, when they’re not bringing shame on the family, that is. My wife being the really smart one of us has stepped in for me, in order to finish off negotiating various trading deals. It was said I couldn’t be trusted, but I don’t know. Hopefully this business will be enough to see that we live well in our old age. Don’t worry, she’s quite safe – she’s taken twenty former military personnel with her for protection.’ He paused to stress the fact. ‘That’s if they’re not busy roughly taking her at her insistence.’

  Veron didn’t even seem annoyed by the prospect of infidelity. He just kept on grinning to himself. Beyond his carefully orchestrated facade, I got the impression that he’d crossed a point in his life where he just didn’t care any more, and that he would now forever drift between islands of sensual pleasure. While I’d had my suspicions about Veron, I felt rather sad for him, suspecting that he might actually be a rather lonely man.

  I said nothing while he ordered drinks and motioned for me to sit. After wine was brought to our table, he spoke in the half-light about how often he came here, that he used the cordial atmosphere to negotiate business contracts and trade rights for the city, but most of all he came to escape the Senate.

  ‘Do you enjoy your work?’ I asked.

  He gave me a sly glance. ‘You question me as if I’m a part of an investigation. I know how it works. Get people talking.’

  I smiled. ‘I’m merely curious about the life of a politician in Tryum. It’s been so long since I’ve had the opportunity to liaise with someone of such a lofty status.’

  He picked up his glass and took a sip of wine. ‘People in the city talk a lot. They like to criticize the role of senators.’

  ‘Oh, I wasn’t criticizing . . .’

  Veron waved my apologies away. ‘I can sympathize with such sentiments. We senators do not always possess a perfect reputation, but many of us do good work, Drakenfeld. We bring money into the city and we honestly try to look after the people. Things are a lot different since the
days of the collapse of the Detratan regime. There is fairness and light where there used to be a ruthless rule, though that’s probably why some want to recreate those days. The money’s being spread about more on public services, and not on lining someone’s coffers. Me? I’m happy when people leave me alone, and if that means building a better sewer or public baths, so be it.’

  ‘And how will recreating the old days work precisely? Remove Detrata from the Union? Risk the wrath of a continent?’

  Veron held his hands in the air, grinning. ‘I merely speculate, Drakenfeld! It’s Senate talk, you know me. People talk of a lack of space here, of the need to stretch our wings a little. I’m sure Mauland’s capitulation to us will help on that front. The frontiers are a little safer, the nation can be proud once again.’ He paused to take a sip, one eye on the nearest serving girl. ‘Which reminds me, I wanted to pick your brains about policing.’

  ‘Ask away,’ I replied.

  ‘The king’s applying gentle pressure to shake up the cohorts, which means we senators have to deal with them. There is still much crime in the city, and our cohorts, who report to senators individually, are under a great deal of strain, or so they tell us. Between you and me, they seem a remarkably disorganized bunch, and I dare say many of them are corrupt as hell, taking all sorts of illegal payments, working with the gangs and so on, which means the people of Tryum do not trust them. What advice do you have from what you’ve seen so far? I know you’ve not been here long, but I would like a fresh pair of eyes to evaluate matters for me. I have a report on my own district to make to the Senate and I’d like to see if I can improve things not just there but across Tryum. To make it a proud city once again, to recapture some of that discipline from the Empire days . . .’ He gave me a satisfied look on that final point.

  I sipped my watered-down wine before giving him a considered answer.

  Constable Farrum kept prisoners in his own home, I explained, in front of his children. The cohorts had so few resources to hand, and gained little respect from the people of the city. In my experience in other cities, this often meant that they preferred to make money on the side. They needed more public resources and a stricter code of training – something to make them feel proud. I suggested Farrum was a good man, ultimately, and that he just needed support.