Drakenfeld

by Mark Charan Newton

  It was too rare for this to be a coincidence. Ptrell had some business in Optryx and I wanted to find out what that was exactly.

  Leana and I both walked with haste through the streets.

  ‘The symbol of Ptrell,’ I whispered as we marched through the pale light of dawn, the smell of woodsmoke thick in the air. The city was as calm as it always was at this hour; this serene picture was how I remembered Tryum to be when I used to recall its streets. Our urgent pace seemed very much out of place with this calmness.

  ‘Do you remember seeing the symbol of Ptrell when we were in Optryx?’

  ‘The eye within the hand?’ Leana replied. ‘Yes. Scratched in the wall in a storage room.’

  ‘Hardly anyone follows Ptrell in Detrata – I believe I said so at the time. Polla is the dominant god here, of those who blend intellectual query with matters of the gods. It just seems hard to believe that a priest of Ptrell is also in the city. What if he’s connected to that sign in some way?’

  Leana shrugged.

  Few people were about so we had to rely on the directions that Bellona had taken, which were accurate. It took less than an hour to arrive at the priest’s dwelling, a small shack somewhere among the backstreets of Vellyum. It was a very old wooden temple, which at first could have been mistaken for a tavern. A corroded brazier stood outside and there were a few food offerings and cheap jewellery draped across a sculpture of a raised, flat hand.

  Leana knocked on the door of the temple with her foot, and we waited.

  Eventually it opened and, smiling from the shade, out stepped a man I assumed was the priest. He wore green silk robes with fine, gold detailing, an effect that looked rather like a spider’s web, and he was carrying a white staff. Wafts of incense could be smelled inside.

  ‘My name is Lucan Drakenfeld, son of Calludian. You’ve called on me a couple of times.’

  His face immediately showed immense relief, as if he had finally met up with a long-lost friend and any moment now he would embrace me.

  ‘Since I learned of your arrival in the city, I have tried unsuccessfully to contact you,’ he said.

  ‘Is it urgent?’

  ‘Not any more. I’ve given up hope now.’

  ‘Maybe I can still help?’

  ‘That is possible. I hope I did not wake you this morning when I left a message? I hoped I could reach you, since you were always out, at the early hour, but that lovely lady wouldn’t let me go until I gave her more details.’

  I smiled and we were led inside. The place was every bit as resplendent as the stone temples further in the city, except everything was crafted from oak and ash – statues, benches, altars. A hazy morning light fell in through wooden shutters.

  The priest sat down on a chair by the window with a sigh, and he gestured for me to sit down. Leana seemed content with keeping watch by the door, though I doubted we’d have any trouble at this hour, and in this place.

  Pockmarks covered the priest’s face, and there was a small burn mark on his hand; that combined with the rope mark on his neck led me to believe that this man had led something of an interesting life. Everything about his expression suggested he was a man of deep serenity; his thick gold rings said he was not short of money.

  We sat in silence for a while, until I said, ‘I follow Polla, a sister to your rare Ptrell.’

  ‘I always like speaking to devout followers of Polla – your hearts seem kinder than many.’

  ‘Yours is a rare temple indeed. I’ve not seen any like it in Tryum.’

  ‘Alas, this is the only one.’ He gave a warm laugh. ‘I have noticed that you are a busy man.’

  ‘Being busy comes with the territory, I’m afraid,’ I replied. ‘Being in the Sun Chamber rather kills one’s private life.’

  ‘Your father was also a very busy man.’

  ‘You knew him?’ I leaned forward, hoping for any news of his final weeks.

  ‘I met him, though I did not know him well enough to say we were friends,’ the priest replied. ‘I met him in his offices, in fact – when I first came to ask him for help. That’s why I have been trying to establish contact at your home.’

  ‘My father is no longer with us, I’m afraid. He died some weeks ago.’

  ‘Ah, I know this, but I was hoping I could talk to you instead. Your father had been looking into a small matter for me, but could not, unfortunately, bring it to a happy resolution in time. Then I recently learned that his son had returned. I thought that perhaps this son may know of something, or could find the time himself to look into the matter.’

  I didn’t want to add more duties to my day, but seeing as he was a priest of Ptrell, a god so close to Polla, it was hardly something that could be refused. ‘What was the issue?’

  ‘Many weeks ago I was hoping to set up this small temple in Tryum to Ptrell, and to establish a community of worship for him.’ He continued in soft, regretful tones, the way someone speaks of a loss. ‘I came here four months ago expecting two visitors to meet me on our holy day, a young lay preacher and a priestess, who had travelled from Maristan where I had been conducting rituals. We travelled separately due to our various holy commitments. Only the lay preacher arrived. The priestess never turned up.’ He closed his eyes and whispered something hard to discern. ‘I feared she had been caught by those foul gangs of thieves and assassins who trade in ruining the lives of others. There was talk that she might have been sold into prostitution or into the domestic slave trade, which we pretend does not go on.’

  My startled expression must have been rather noticeable.

  ‘You think you can help?’ the priest asked, a sudden keenness in his voice.

  ‘Yes and no,’ I replied, my heart beating ever faster. ‘Do you have paper and a quill or reed pen?’

  ‘Yes. You would . . . like me to pass you some?’ He looked as if he was humouring me.

  ‘Please,’ I replied.

  ‘Very well.’ He stood up and rummaged around in a drawer, retrieving a poorly made scrap of parchment, and then provided me with a reed pen and a tiny ceramic pot of ink.

  I hastily arranged myself at his desk and called back to him. ‘I need you to describe the priestess, absolutely everything you can about her, eye colour, hair, any potential places where she may have been marked by religious ornamentation.’

  ‘Yes, well . . . She had blonde hair, if I recall correctly – though not bright blonde. A strong jawline. She would have had several earrings in her right ear to denote her relative inexperience . . .’ He went on in some detail and I nodded to myself as he spoke, pausing only to apply more ink to the pen. After he finished I indicated for Leana to come over.

  She strode across the room and whispered, ‘What is the matter?’

  ‘I think Lacanta’s still alive,’ I replied. ‘We must move quickly.’

  Back to Optryx

  I needed more time, more clarity, and to get back into Optryx to work out what might have happened in the Temple of Trymus that night.

  ‘I do not follow you,’ Leana said.

  I passed her the notes recorded only moments earlier. ‘This is his description of the missing girl he was asking about. See for yourself.’

  Leana held up the document and we walked a little more slowly while she read. ‘Oh. I think I see now.’

  ‘And what do you see?’

  ‘It reads like a description of Lacanta.’ She handed back the note, buried her hands in her pockets and we picked up our pace once again.

  ‘Exactly. So, what if someone like Lacanta had come along at the right time – someone who was utterly anonymous. What if that same woman fell into the hands of the king? For months she could have been kept prisoner until the right moment. In her desperation she carves her holy symbol upon the wall. A Lacanta lookalike, this priestess could have easily been killed just over an hour before Maxant entered that temple in front of everyone. With the body still that fresh, without stiffness having started to set in, no one could possibly have noticed tha
t the body had been planted. What’s more, guests would have seen the real Lacanta only moments before, fooling everyone into believing that the murder took place within a different time frame entirely. There is no possible way Lacanta could have been killed so quickly, and especially not behind a locked door. Furthermore, General Maxant crashes through and places the key in the lock on the inside of the door to confuse everyone. What was made to look impossible, or the use of magic, turns out to be simple to explain.’

  ‘That must mean that Lacanta and Maxant were working together on this.’

  ‘As was, I suspect, the king. However, if a royal is involved in such deceit and treachery – and it can be proven – we’ll immediately have to call in others in the Sun Chamber, a few soldiers from our Sun Legion does not seem enough.’

  Thankfully the king was not in residence. His banners were not on display by the entrance gate and the guards of the King’s Legion seemed confused about whether or not I could go in, despite the fact that Veron had supplied me with the week’s password. Their uncertainty unnerved me – the king had given us access, so had he suddenly declared that access revoked? Lacanta’s body, we were told, was being kept in a temple further down the city, and there was an effort to steer us in that direction, but I wanted to see inside the residence. Eventually I managed to negotiate our entry, threatening to bring the Sun Chamber army.

  We dashed to the chamber where I had previously seen the sign of Ptrell. Once the door was opened for me, I headed straight up to the sign on the wall: it was indeed still there, as clear as ever, an eye set within a palm. The priestess must have been kept in here for a while before she was murdered, to have taken the care to engrave it with such neatness, and so deeply, into the stone.

  Aside from a couple of wooden crates and a rack of clay pots, there were few signs of use for the room. A few flecks of blood remained on the wall, which could have come from anywhere, and the floor tiles had been scrubbed – one area, near the door, even retained brush marks in the dried, dirtied water, which suggested to me that no one previously used this place at all. I enquired with the cooks and staff nearby as to whether or not they entered the room, but half of them had never seen it open, while the others merely assumed it was a storage area.

  Standing in the doorway, I peered down the passage. The room was located near to the Temple of Trymus so she could have been moved there quickly and with discretion, and without coming into contact with the guests that evening. It was also close to the kitchens – and I recalled the king’s physician, Yago Boll, suggesting that a small fruit knife might have been used as the murder weapon. That weapon had long since disappeared, but if it had been a fruit knife, then the kitchen was where the murderer could have acquired one.

  As we left Optryx, I had the suspicion we had upset someone. Certain members of staff started to give us accusing glances, and pointed in our direction. A soldier was called over, but we didn’t hang around to learn of the results.

  The day had started bright, but a few hours into it clouds began to move in again, the rays of sunlight few and far between. Under such darkening skies we located the temple, on the edge of Regallum, where Lacanta’s – or rather the priestess’s – body was being kept.

  ‘What will you look for?’ Leana asked.

  ‘The description we were given by the priest made a reference to several ear studs on her right ear, but none on the left – these were part of her indoctrination ritual. I want to look for the holes these piercings would have left – Lacanta would never exhibit such an unusual array of decoration because of the fashions of the city. If they are there we’ll know for certain that Lacanta is still alive.’

  This particular Temple of Trymus was small and had to be sought out with some effort. It was located down a narrow lane ending up at a low limestone wall, so it was a place of little traffic. The bearded head of Trymus was carved in stone above the entrance, and a large, locked wooden door stood in our way. I knocked, but there was no answer, and Leana scrutinized the rest of the building but could find no other means of entry.

  The lock mechanism was easy enough to pick and, a few moments later, I pushed the door open to find darkness beyond.

  Once our eyes adjusted, the light from the street was our only guide, until Leana found a candle in a nearby room that was still lit for the offerings. Where was the pontiff of the temple?

  It did not take long to locate the body. It had been stretched out within an elaborate gold cot with highly polished details of fauna; precious silks had been wrapped around her body and her face had been painted red. Various faces of Trymus, carved from marble and bronze, loomed over her from the surrounding walls.

  ‘Could you bring over that candle?’ I said.

  Leana stepped closer and we looked down over Lacanta’s head. I lifted away her hair and examined her ears closely. The skin was not what it was, and possessed a dried, frail texture, but sure enough her right ear bore the markings I was looking for.

  ‘They would have removed the earrings so that she bore even more of a resemblance to Lacanta, of course. Also, the priest’s description of her was of someone slender, but the body we found was somewhat amply proportioned. It isn’t unlikely that she’d been kept and fed for some time, I suppose? The priest said she had disappeared well over four months ago. Depending on when she was found, that remains a good hundred days of rich royal food and no exercise.’ I shook my head. ‘I remember the physician confessing that he’d not seen her properly in over two years – his bad memory helped convince me she was genuine at the time, unless he was in on the act as well.’

  There was a sound of footsteps skidding in another room, and the rattle of armour. Someone was coming our way.

  Leana blew out the candle so we were in utter darkness, but the soldiers had already entered.

  ‘Do not move, either of you!’ a voice shouted.

  There were at least three men in the room. Holding my breath I heard Leana unsheathe her blade before slamming into one of the soldiers. In the clamour I drew my own and, as my eyes grew better adjusted to the darkness, I took my chances against one of the men, but merely ended up striking metal in the dark. After I heaved one of them up against the wall, I followed Leana, sprinting back out the way we came.

  ‘The wall,’ she snapped.

  I sprinted after her breathless, and when we came to a wall that was about my height Leana gave me a hand to get over it, before scrambling up after me.

  ‘They will not easily climb over in their heavy armour,’ she said.

  We ran without purpose or direction, losing ourselves in the crowded plazas and the hectic morning trading, turning this way and that before finally taking refuge in the shadow of a tavern.

  I was exhausted and sweating; my breath came in great heaves. Leana recovered swiftly and asked, ‘Who were they?’

  ‘The King’s Legion, I think.’

  ‘Why come after us now?’

  ‘Because someone, somewhere, has given the order for us to be stopped. I think we shouldn’t really have been permitted to enter Optryx in the first place, which explains their initial confusion.’

  ‘But the king, he said we can go there whenever we like, yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘That’s what he told us. But I suspect, if he now knows we’re on to something, he’s going to be desperate to stop us. He wouldn’t dare touch me at the start of the investigation. Two Sun Chamber officials dead in the same city, a week apart? He knew that would invite the wrath of the Sun Legion and have agents, spies and officials all over Tryum. He probably thought he’d let me try to investigate as much as I could, but suspected I would not be able to solve his mystery.’

  ‘His mystery?’

  ‘I’m convinced that he’s at the centre of this – it couldn’t have been done without his knowledge. It’s impossible for all things involved in this affair to have been so without his knowledge, and his influence or manipulation. Now he thinks we’re close he will probably try to stop us, a
nd not care at all that the Sun Legion might come. He must have assumed the crime appeared so impossible to solve that he could have his fun with me. I’m annoyed now, though. The king will eventually dispose of that body on the funeral pyre.’

  ‘Then no one will believe you,’ Leana observed.

  ‘Once it’s burned the only evidence will be for me to produce Lacanta herself.’ I searched my mind to work out what my next move would be.

  ‘Lillus,’ I whispered.

  ‘You want a haircut now?’

  Getting out

  At the salon on the edge of Polyum, in front of the fabric stall, Lillus was busy berating a middle-aged woman with an incredibly weathered face and garbed in a dark shawl.

  ‘Never do I want to see you here again!’ Lillus bellowed. ‘Away with you.’

  ‘Charming the ladies as always,’ I called out.

  ‘Ah, Lucan, my boy. A pleasure to see you – though is that stubble I see? This must change.’

  ‘I tried shaving at home, but it’s not the same. What was the issue with the woman?’

  ‘She was a witch. I caught her trying to gather human hair off a client so that it could be used for a curse. But this is not the only problem, it seems – you are troubled, Lucan. You and your friend have been running. Step into the cool shade. Drink something. Talk to me.’

  ‘Lillus, it’s an important matter,’ I said. ‘Do you think we could have a moment of privacy?’

  He regarded me with a renewed sense of professionalism. ‘It will be so.’

  Drinking a cooling tisane, sitting on the benches, beneath the frescoes of sporting heroes and large purple paper lanterns, I enjoyed a moment of peace to gather my thoughts.

  Leana stood by the front door keeping an eye on the street and, after seeing her for the first time, Lillus informed me that his mother, too, had come from Atrewe. I told Lillus of my situation, knowing he was fantastically well connected: he was the eyes and ears of the city, and I needed them. He simply nodded, gently brushing his moustache, inclining his head now and then.