‘Why so?’
‘Look at it this way – you’ve just unseated a bloody king and changed this entire nation. Word has reached me there are still a few royalists who are unhappy, even though they voted with the majority of the Senate. I would not be surprised if blood gets spilled on that Senate floor before too long. Worry not,’ Tibus continued. ‘I’ll see to it that you don’t hang about long. We’ll have need of that mind of yours in darker places than this.’
‘That sounded almost like a compliment.’ I smiled.
‘Oh, Lucan Drakenfeld.’ She placed one firm hand on my shoulder. ‘I’m not made of iron. If I have been harsh, it is for good reason. You see, your actions are likely to leave Detrata without a king – as a republic, for the time being. That could have ramifications across Vispasia.’
‘How so?’ I asked, fearing that I already knew the story.
‘Imagine if a nation could successfully rule itself without a king once again. Imagine how that would be received in nations close by. If Detrata can do it, why not Maristan? Vispasia is a Royal Union, after all, and even the Sun Chamber depends upon the blessings of royal blood. How will the continent organize itself without royal rulers? This is not to say it can’t, but such issues have been preoccupying my mind of late. Needless to say, many of us in the Sun Chamber will remain in Tryum for the time being, for diplomatic reasons. It’s probably for the best if you’re kept away for a while. But let it be known far and wide that your actions here have been of exceptional quality. I would say that your father would be proud, but that doesn’t quite seem to possess the same meaning any more.’
‘Not especially.’ The guilt of what might happen to Vispasia was already starting to churn inside me.
‘Don’t boast about this,’ she cautioned. ‘Your work is to be commended but, as I say, people might not appreciate all you’ve done in the long run. You might not appreciate it yourself in a few years, but at least you’ve done the right thing.’
Senator Veron barged into the study with a jug of wine in one hand and a cup in the other. ‘Don’t boast about it?’ he declared, grinning. ‘The man’s famous. Think of all the parties you’ll be invited to! Think of the women and men who will fall at your feet. People will speak about this for years to come. Now both of you, none of this whispering, not tonight. Vispasia can wait another evening. Come and join the celebrations. I’ve at least a dozen senators who want to shake your hand, Drakenfeld, and I promised them I could make that happen. One of them is a powerful lady, recently divorced, if you find yourself in the mood for climbing social ladders.’
‘Celebrations?’ Tibus asked, rising up from her chair. ‘Is the death of a king a time to celebrate?’
‘That depends who you ask, my dear commissioner. Many have come tonight to celebrate a liberation, of sorts. Judges, senators, clerics, even the city censor, they’re all here. The republicans are jubilant. We’ll need to organize a consul for the short term. I might run for such a position myself, come to think of it. That’s worth a drink or two, surely?’
Tibus gave a heavy sigh and smiled. ‘And so it goes . . .’
I did not have the heart to tell Veron I would be leaving the city, not just yet, so instead I took his jug of wine, poured myself a cup and, with his arm around me, joined the others.
The following morning Leana and I readied to leave Tryum. Veron seemed genuinely distraught that I was going and I had to admit I felt sad myself. In a short period of time I’d grown fond of him, even though there was much about his character that I hoped I might change. I said I’d try to visit or, at the very least, write to him. There and then he wrote me a credit note and a down payment in coin for my property – a sum that I felt was more than it was worth, but he waved away my efforts to negotiate him down. He said a pleasant goodbye to Leana and for the first time there was no hint of lust in his manner.
Commissioner Tibus and the entourage of Sun Chamber officials gave us something resembling a sending off, lining up in Veron’s ornamental gardens to bid us farewell. In front of the others, Tibus handed over to me an exquisite leather wristband, the kind given to victorious generals by their kings or queens. On one side was a golden head of Polla and on the other the burning star of the Sun Chamber.
‘A token for your efforts,’ Tibus declared.
‘Breathtaking craftsmanship, commissioner. I don’t know what to say.’
‘And those horses, over there, are for the road.’ She indicated the two handsome brown mares standing outside the gate. ‘Head to Bathylan, on the border of Detrata and Koton. I’ll see to it that you receive more instructions soon, and we’ll send on your salary.’
Tibus called for Leana, surprisingly. Leana stepped forward, only to receive a similar leather bracelet to mine. Instead of Polla’s head, the silver detailing on it was completely different. ‘For assisting young Drakenfeld in this whole debacle, and for helping to capture Licintius,’ Tibus said.
Leana seemed genuinely shocked and gratefully received the wristband. ‘Where did you find this?’
‘One of our men asked a few questions and ran to locate an Atrewen craftsman first thing this morning, to reset it with Atrewen icons. Drakenfeld told me of your background, so Polla would be of little use to you. Not much in the way of a reward, forcing our gods upon you, is it? I’m sure Polla would think of it that way.’
Leana smiled and thanked her once again.
And that was that, no grand ceremony, no big parade. We gathered what possessions we had and walked down the long path of Veron’s gardens.
We stopped off to visit Lillus, and to see if Bellona was there and coping well. She already had her stall out selling all sorts of pastries and delights. When she saw us she seemed overwhelmed with joy and ran around the front of her stall to embrace me.
She stepped back all of a sudden, full of apologies for being so forward.
‘Don’t worry,’ I laughed. ‘I’m happy to see you again.’
Lillus stepped outside at that point and I said to Bellona, ‘Is this man looking after you?’
‘Looking after her? Already she is looking after me!’ Lillus rubbed his stomach. I knew exactly what he meant. ‘Besides, she is doing a much better trade than that nonsense fabric seller. People want to eat while they wait, not fondle cloth.’
I had a private word with Lillus, thanking him for his efforts, and he congratulated me on the case.
‘It is a shame about your father,’ he added, shaking his head. ‘Sad that I did not know such things myself. I knew he was a different person, yet still, yet still . . .’
‘It was hidden from everyone in the city, bar Lacanta and Licintius,’ I replied. ‘One other thing – I don’t suppose you know where my brother went when he left the city, do you?’
‘No, sadly. Why?’
‘I’d like to track him down eventually, to see what’s become of him. But it’s not important.’
‘Lucan, there is one final thing,’ Lillus said. ‘I have only heard this through . . . my usual networks . . . but the republicans are going to run the nation for a while.’
‘That’s right.’
Lillus nodded, in the way that said he knew far more than me.
‘Go on . . .’
‘My sources have heard many things overnight. The glories of Mauland have inspired a significant number of senators. There has been talk in taverns, between dozens of them, that they wish to expand our borders, to give more land to the army, and to—’
‘Reclaim the glories of old,’ I replied, repeating only what had echoed in the city during my short time.
Lillus gave a sad smile. ‘It will happen sooner than you think, too. The humiliation of being surrounded by an army has only worsened things. They are hungry for foreign blood and they want out of the Union.’
‘How many senators are involved?’
‘More than one hundred. This might be the end of Detrata being part of the Union.’
‘Is it my fault?’ I asked. ‘By removin
g Licintius, have I made it easier? Have I wrecked the Vispasian Royal Union?’
‘Do not burden yourself with these questions. You let a nation make its own mind up on the treatment of their king. You merely provided justice for the dead. This militaristic streak is nothing new. It has always been here, and it may have happened eventually anyway. Who can say, for that path has now been closed.’
My time in this city was over; we had to move on.
We stocked up on some of Bellona’s snacks for the road, said our goodbyes, and continued on our way out of the city. The departure was a much more pleasant exit than hanging underneath a dung cart, though this time I felt nauseous for other reasons.
Tryum presented itself to us one last time and I tried to absorb it all, for who knew what state I’d find it in the next time. The East Road was rammed full of traders and travellers, the city still in the process of opening up after the siege. On one side a wood yard was opening its gates for the day while next to it a stonemason sat chiselling at his bench. Overhead a skein of geese swooped by, making quite a racket, while two oxen lumbered into view as a priest struggled to pull them along the busy road.
The steps of a temple belonging to Festonia were being washed clean of pink and red petals, the colourful flowers sailing for some distance down the road, and a couple of dogs came by to drink the blessed water. The shrine to one side was overflowing with wax from the candles. I could smell all sorts of spices from a cooking pot and, as we passed the taller, poorer buildings, dyed cloth was being stretched out to dry between them. In a way, it was heartening to see that so few lives had been disrupted by recent events. Kings and queens may fall, but cloth still needed to be dyed.
We exited Tryum and the countryside opened up, leaving my mind free of the wonderful distractions that the city offered.
There remained unanswered questions about what precisely happened, such is the way of this job, and these matters would give me plenty of agitation on the road. That I had unseated a king and, potentially, opened the continent to new tensions was unexpected and undesired. Had I made things worse or had the right thing been done? Lillus’ words provided some comfort.
There was also the ghost of the dead man looking for his wife – my perspective on the world had changed greatly. Somehow one needs to see such beings with one’s own eyes in order to believe – my mind had been forced open, and I lived in a world in which anything now seemed possible.
Many more questions concerned Titiana, admittedly – and whether or not she actually loved me. I had only the king’s word that she did not, and Titiana had not exactly been the most reliable of people herself. I did not know how the king had found her, nor how they conspired against me, but they were both intelligent, manipulative people, while I had been blind to it all.
Perhaps Leana was right, and I was too trusting.
Titiana must have felt something for me; those intimate moments between us could not have all been an act. At least one kiss came from her heart and was not part of some trade I was unaware of.
It seemed to me the more one picks at the fabric of our world, the less one really understands it. For many people it remains better for their conscience to know as few facts as possible, to shy away from the difficult questions – in fact, to place those questions in the hands of our gods. As much as I respect Polla’s will, and as much as I look to her from time to time for guidance, it strikes me as more than reasonable to try to find answers to these matters myself – even if the answers that reality provides are not always comforting.
My goddess, I’m sure, would approve of such an attitude.
Acknowledgements
Though the act of writing is one generally done in isolation, there have been many people who have helped me greatly with detailed feedback and criticism of early drafts. So a big thank you is owed to: Jared Shurin (particularly for his more abusive comments), Anne Perry, Eric Edwards, Ben O’Connell, Liviu Suciu, Kim Curran, John French and Marc Aplin. Thanks, also, to my agent, John Jarrold; and to the wonderful team at Tor UK who, for some reason, keep encouraging me to write books – and most especially my editor Julie Crisp, for making this a significantly better book.
Fantastical literature nearly always draws on historical sources, whether consciously or otherwise. Though Vispasia is a secondary world, many readers will observe that it’s clearly inspired by the classical cultures of the ancient world. I like to think Vispasia could sit somewhere just off the oldest maps as a hitherto unrecorded territory. So, I feel I should at least share with readers a selection of the incredible books that have helped me to understand cultures far older than our own. Some of those that have best brought such worlds to life include: Tom Holland’s Persian Fire; Edward Gibbon’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire; Suetonius’ The Twelve Caesars; Pliny’s Natural History; Procopius’ The Secret History; Livy’s The Early History of Rome; and Mary Beard’s Pompeii: The Life of a Roman Town. Drop me a line through my website markcnewton.com and I’m sure I can recommend more.
By Mark Charan Newton
Legends of the Red Sun
Nights of Villjamur
City of Ruin
The Book of Transformations
The Broken Isles
The Lucan Drakenfeld novels
Drakenfeld
First published 2013 by Tor
This electronic edition published 2013 by Tor
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
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ISBN 978-0-230-77141-3
Copyright © Mark Charan Newton 2013
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Table of Contents
Title page
Epigraph page
Dedication page
Map
Contents
Justice Being Served
Preparing for a Homecoming
New Luxuries
Senator Veron
A Blade to the Throat
The Locked-Temple Murder
First Steps
Would She Have Screamed?
The Witch
Veron’s Party
Debts
Heading Down-City
The Skull and Jasmine House
The Snake Kings
The Stench of Death
Veldrum Hecater
The Apothecary
Perhaps Some Dancing
Nostalgia
Politics
A Glass Vial
Optryx
The Bookshelf
A Small, Under
ground Tavern
The Mausoleum
A Bloody Business
A Way to Make Money
The Stadium of Lentus
Nucien Malvus
She’ll Ride
Evening Games
Suicide?
Henbane
Poison Sellers
A Sign
Back to Optryx
Getting out
A Meeting
The Search
Deeper into Destos
A Cliffside Villa
Questions and Waiting
The Sun Chamber Commissioner
Siege Conditions
A Time for Answers
Bad Memories
Getting Away
Acknowledgements
By Mark Charan Newton
Copyright page
Drakenfeld Page 38
