So why had no one witnessed anything happening that night?
Everyone had of course seen Lacanta mingling with guests, and plenty of people had seen her corpse, so what had happened in those precious, final moments between? Had she been ensconced with a lover, or been involved in some heated discussion?
Away from the temple were smaller rooms, private quarters perhaps, and a kitchen. Next to the kitchen was a room I took to be a pantry at first, but noted a large number of plates stacked to one side with food in gradual stages of decay. When we unlocked it and entered we disturbed two rats, which scurried past us and out into the corridor, scaring the male cook in the next room. There wasn’t much in the room, simply a strong smell of food that had gone off. However, on the far wall, next to a stack of discarded hessian sacks, was an engraving of an upright hand with an eye in the centre of the palm.
It was the offering of Light, a symbol of Polla’s brother-god Ptrell. He was a rare god indeed, barely worshipped this far west. I hadn’t seen it at all in the city, so what was it doing here in a room buried within Optryx? Who had taken the time to engrave the symbol of Ptrell into the wall? It appeared to have been done recently, too.
Somehow, perhaps because of his association with Polla, discovering this symbol seemed to reassure me. I felt, through him, Polla might be trying to tell me that I was on the right track, to tell me to keep looking.
Invigorated by this sign, we headed to Lacanta’s room, which was a good deal more pleasant, as it had been aired and incense had been lit to rid the place of the stench of death.
‘Incense, just like in the temple,’ Leana observed. ‘Except that could have been as part of an offering.’
‘What if that incense had not been part of an offering at all, but an attempt to rid the temple of the smell of death, just as it has been in this room?’ I remarked.
‘You mean not sacrifice, but it could be the act of a . . .’ she searched for the word, ‘calculated killer?’
‘Not of a calculated killer. Corpses do not give off a smell immediately and a calculated killer would have known that.’
Leana stepped towards me. ‘So it could be their first killing, and they were trying to hide their tracks, even though they had no need to so soon?’
‘Exactly. Or it could have been a distraction for whoever was to investigate the case. Or people might have been encouraged to believe it was a religious killing. The incense could mean something or nothing, such is the curious nature of this crime.’
‘What was it you said to the king,’ Leana said, ‘about missing objects?’
‘When I first came in this room, because of a space in the dust on one of the tables . . .’ I marched over to the small piece of furniture. ‘This one, in fact. It looked as if an object had been removed from it. Now, not a trace of evidence remains.’
‘You think it might be significant?’
‘Everything could be significant at the moment,’ I sighed. ‘At the time I was too preoccupied with her corpse and the royal physician to contemplate the situation. I should have paid more attention. If there was something missing, we’ll probably never know. Judging by its shape I assumed it might have been a book or a storage box. Much like the one missing from my father’s room – though in that case I have a suspicion it was the base of a statue that might have been sold. Anyway, whatever it was, it has been moved.’
‘In the night, the killer might have gone back to her room to remove something,’ Leana speculated. ‘Or one of her lovers might have come back to take an item that they thought could make them look guilty.’
‘She certainly led a complicated existence.’
I continued searching around the room and decided to take a closer look at some of her reading material, which was in the far corner of the room, up on a high shelf. There were four large books piled on top of each other, as I remembered the first time, volumes in blue or green leather. I lifted each one down in turn and opened them up. Two books were on Detratan mythology: famous classics that most of the wealthy homes in Tryum were rarely without. It took a while to make out the writing on the spine of another since it was so old; but when opened it was revealed to be on the natural wildlife that could be found in a coastal province called Destos, which I remembered fondly from my childhood as a rural holiday area for the rich. It seemed to have been read many times. Inside a book of plays there was a hand-drawn map containing the sketched names of places – it was difficult to work out where, but it might have been important because the paper was reasonably fresh and potentially drawn by Lacanta herself. In fact, the lines and symbols didn’t seem unlike those in Senator Divran’s study.
Was Lacanta interested in the dark arts? I put the paper in my pocket while no one was looking.
‘Now this is interesting.’ The final book was a volume of plays by the famous, ancient Maristanian writer Locottus, which seemed to fit neatly with the idea that both Lacanta and Licintius were appreciative of the theatre, but it was inscribed to her as ‘a gift from Nucien’. I reached into my pocket and drew out the list of names that Veron had provided. There were only ten names written down and a man called ‘Nucien Malvus’ was one of them.
‘Is it the same one?’ Leana asked.
‘We have a match,’ I replied. ‘It’s about time we made our presence known in the Senate – this will give us some further purpose. While we’re there we can go through as many of the names on Veron’s list without creating a bad name for ourselves as hunters of senators.’
I put the books back and took one more look around before leaving unsatisfied.
I made my formal requests with the staff to visit the Senate building, but it turned out that all the senators had already gone home for the day. Only then did I realize just how much time we’d spent looking in every nook and cranny we could find in Optryx.
Noting that the sun was low in the sky, we hurried home.
On the walk back it seemed right to explain to Leana who I was meeting later, and we briefly discussed what had taken place while Veron dragged me out.
‘You found her then,’ Leana said.
‘I have. I’m not sure what to do though.’
‘I am not,’ Leana continued, ‘the best person to give advice on this subject. She will not distract you from the investigation, I hope?’
‘You know me better than that.’
‘I do. Your people here seem preoccupied with love and sex, as if it is all that matters in the world.’
When we arrived home, a message had been left for me from the pontiff at the Temple of Polla: now that the various rites had been performed on my father’s ashes, they would become my property in the morning, to take to the family mausoleum.
After washing, changing into my smart attire – a deep blue tunic and cloak, my best black trousers – I made myself smell fresh for the evening using what little fragrance was available.
And waited for Titiana to arrive.
Sunset came and there was no sign of her. I paced the hallway, convincing myself that it was stupid to expect anything to happen, that it was ridiculous to even hope for forgiveness. Clearly Titiana had come to her senses. If that was her decision, I could not blame her.
Presently there came a knock at the door and I managed to rush there before Bellona. Titiana stood on the doorstep, a vision worth the journey across the continent. She wore a wonderful cream and red dress, with just one small necklace, nothing flamboyant, and her dark hair was hanging loose around her shoulders. She was a few years older than the figure who had been preserved in my memories, but somehow she seemed to be even more alluring.
‘I was starting to think you wouldn’t arrive,’ I said.
‘I was starting to think I shouldn’t,’ she replied.
‘Yet here you are.’ I stepped outside and closed the door behind me. Now that I knew that she didn’t detest me quite as much as she could have, a sudden awkwardness came over me. Even when imagining this scene from the other side of the continent I ha
dn’t really planned what we would say or do.
‘I don’t know about you, but I’m famished,’ I said. ‘I’ve not been in the city for a long time. Can you recommend a good place to eat?’
A Small, Underground Tavern
We wandered through the backstreets, away from prying eyes. Titiana was, of course, a married woman, so secrecy was essential; I’ll admit that was something of a thrill.
Tryum’s citizens seemed to behave strangely at this hour. Half-veiled figures drifted in and out of doorways, as if on some illicit business. The city changed its texture completely, as if a new cast of characters had been brought on stage. I half-expected Senator Veron to be following in the distance, swigging wine from a cup and cheering me on.
Titiana led me slowly across the neighbourhoods of Polyum, to an establishment she had always wanted to eat at, but could never afford. She told me that, since I was the one paying, she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to eat there.
The tavern was a remarkably charming place, a subterranean establishment built beneath a temple, right on the border with Regallum. Inside there were hundreds of candles, mirrors, ornate coloured glassware, beautifully crafted wooden furniture, with plenty of happy guests drinking and enjoying its relaxing ambience. From its location, and assessing all these fine decorations on display, I had the impression that a lot of senators might dine there, and I could only imagine the kind of deals that had been struck in the alcoves.
We were seated at a table at the far end of the tavern, a small booth tucked away from the hubbub. A jug was brought over by a serving girl and, as she poured wine into two cups, she told us the owner would be with us shortly to talk about tonight’s dishes. The place was heady with the smell of delicious food, the kind that seemed a world away from what I’d happily snacked on in Plutum and Barrantum.
A man at the table beside us, handsome, but dressed in a shabby brown tunic and unshaven, didn’t seem to fit in with the other drinkers and diners. He had by him a small drum and I wondered if he was a busker. He looked up at me and gave a warm and toothy smile.
The tavern owner strode over to welcome us; he was a middle-aged man of ample proportions, dressed in a wonderfully ornate red tunic. From memory, he proceeded to list several of the dishes that were available. I had been used to austere meals in Venyn City and was amazed at the delights on offer, but in the end I opted for the simple spiced fish dish. Titiana said she would have the same, and the tavern owner left us alone. He turned to the table nearby, where the man with the drum was finishing up and they were discussing payment.
Titiana smiled and looked around the tavern, and the lack of conversation between us was not at all awkward. It was as if we were slowly remembering how we used to act together. From the other table I overheard a discussion between the two men. The man with the drum was asking for forgiveness for not being able to produce enough money.
‘My deepest apologies, I assure you,’ the busker said. ‘I have coin at the home where I am staying – it is but a short trip. Please, if I leave this drum here with you, as insurance, I will retrieve it and return.’
‘That instrument?’ the tavern owner asked, dissatisfied with the offer.
‘The drum, yes. It’s very precious to me – it is my employment around the city. Without it, I’m nothing.’
‘All right . . . But you’ll get back quickly?’
‘Before the night is done I will return,’ the busker urged. ‘I need my drum for tomorrow where I am playing for an important family in Polyum.’
‘Hurry up,’ the owner warned.
‘Of course, of course.’
I turned to watch the tavern owner holding the drum while the shabbily dressed busker headed out of the door. Shaking his head, the owner turned to walk past us.
‘Sir,’ I called, and whispered, ‘that drum in your hand.’
He leaned in closer. ‘This thing?’
‘The man who gave it to you is about to con you,’ I said.
‘Never!’
‘I’m afraid so – it’s a very old trick. He’ll most likely be working with a partner, someone who will be in the tavern tonight, and probably very well dressed. He or she will then tell you that this instrument is worth a great deal of money, that it is a Detratan collectable or something like that, and they’ll then try to convince you to let them buy it off its owner for a large sum.’
‘What are you on about?’
‘He’ll then hope you buy it from the busker, who doesn’t know the alleged true value of the instrument, for a much smaller price. You’re meant to think you can sell it back to the well-dressed man for a huge profit, but all that will happen is that you hand over a lot of cash for what is, ultimately, a cheap drum. Meanwhile, they’ll have shared the coin and not even be in the same neighbourhood by the time you notice.’
‘You seem very sure,’ he laughed.
‘I have seen it done in many other taverns in cities across this continent. You’re not the first. You’ll not be the last. It is a very old trick.’
‘You’re a cynical man,’ he replied. ‘People are better than that!’
‘That may be so, but keep hold of that drum and wait to be approached – then you can comment fairly on my nature.’
With a cautious glare the tavern owner nodded and took his drum to the countertop nearby, placing it beside the sacks of fresh bread.
Titiana frowned at me, and gave a short laugh. ‘He’s right, you seem very sure of yourself.’
‘With the drum, I am, at least. Not so much with you it seems.’
‘You were confident enough last night.’ All I was getting was a half-smile, but I had waited for years to see just that much. ‘Yet you claim to struggle with me now?’
I shrugged. ‘Love makes things more difficult.’
‘Love. You said you loved me right before you gave me the wound on my back.’ The half-smile remained on her face. ‘If that is what you think of love, then you’re better off without it.’
This wasn’t going to be easy. Over the years I had speculated on this imaginary conversation, of how it would go and how we would both act, but in my head my words had come out effortlessly, and she had been a lot less hostile. I was better off sweeping away criminals from the streets of Vispasia, than trying to form pretty sentences with her.
‘Titiana, you might have married and started a new life, but I never really moved on. I’ve never had the opportunity to find a partner, or start a family. I’ve simply travelled from city to city, from street to street, dealing with those at the edge of the civilized world.’
‘You made your choices,’ she replied. ‘I notice that you can’t seem to apologize for your actions.’
Was it only pride from making me do so? ‘I am sorry for what happened, and for my part in it. I’m truly sorry.’
It didn’t seem that difficult, after all, to say the word.
Though we sat in silence for a few moments, it felt as if a tension had been ever so slightly dissolved. We could relax. The serving girl brought over a complimentary bowl of olives and a tiny loaf of sourdough bread, a refreshing gesture that would probably be reflected in the final bill. As she left a smartly dressed man in polished boots and a rich silver tunic with gold hem approached the tavern owner. After a moment of easy-going conversation, he pointed towards the drum.
Titiana must have caught me looking. She leaned forward, her face caught in the warm glow of the candlelight. ‘Now that it seems you’re right about this busker, are you going to be as unbearable as I suspect?’
Smiling, I shook my head. ‘I’m certainly not as bad as I once may have been. I’ve been involved in rather more important matters than this – which is simply one of the oldest confidence tricks going. It’s fascinating. Watch him: he’s full of charm, wearing the finest clothes, in order to gain the owner’s trust. It’s all very well planned.’
We observed the conversation between the men for a moment longer. Eventually the man in the crimson tunic walk
ed out of the tavern.
The owner approached our table with a haughty look on his face. ‘Consider your meal free if you can tell me what happens next and, more importantly, how to make sure I am not conned out of any coin!’
I leaned back in my chair. ‘You’re OK for now. The busker will return, but all you really need to do is make sure he pays for his meal, and then you simply hand back the drum. He may seem hesitant – surprised, even – but simply concentrate on making sure you collect payment for his meal. Accept nothing else. He should leave you alone after that, and will probably head off to attempt this again in a more unlucky establishment.’
He nodded and turned to Titiana, gently pressing down on her hand. ‘If you ask me, you should keep hold of this fellow – in Tryum, there are too few like him.’
The expression on her face alone was worth the price of a dinner.
We ate our meal in a more pleasant mood than I could have possibly hoped for. What’s more, I couldn’t remember eating more flavoursome food: the taste of the fish was so intense and tender.
We talked, and I tried desperately to make her laugh in order to hear what it sounded like again. A hundred memories flashed back before my eyes. I didn’t know how accurate they were, given the layer of sentiments within them, but those moments from our younger days returned: day trips riding out to the coast; making love in the garden of the Temple of Festonia; long, hot days where we’d go swimming, then wade onto the shore where I’d proceed to kiss her skin under a ferocious sun. It didn’t really matter where we went or what we did, just as long as we had each other’s company, and our affair lasted for months without anyone ever knowing what we were up to. Was it any surprise I hadn’t really moved on?
Gradually, Titiana opened up to me – not much at first, but enough for me to know she no longer loathed me. Which was, ultimately, progress. It turned out she was living in Vellyum, which wasn’t as bad as things could have been. Her husband was a wine merchant for the middle classes, and spent much of his time out of the city ensuring the trade was running smoothly.
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