Drakenfeld

The Locked-Temple Murder

The men from the Civil Cohorts gave Leana a brief look of suspicion and surprise when she stepped outside with me, but she shrugged it off, as she always did. We were both armed, both wearing cloaks to keep off the chill, though I made certain my golden brooch was in plain view. We were marched through the backstreets of Tryum, which were still full of energy: drunken crowds in masks flowing from place to place; home-made shrines and private ceremonies under oil lamps; exuberant, torchlit fan-dances.

Soon we entered the relative calm of the Regallum district, where soldiers from the King’s Legion had been stationed along major junctions, though a few were hurrying past in pairs – and in haste. Their orders echoed sharply around the street, and a few citizens were being stopped and roughly searched in the shadows.

Heroic statues stood tall, their expressions lost to the night. Pillars defined the nearby buildings; there were no cheap stores lining the streets here, no traders harassing passers-by to buy their dubious wares.

The men from the Civil Cohorts were joined silently by some of the King’s Legion, who guided us along a road that led behind Optryx, an immense, intimidating building without much light. We banked upwards towards the royal residence; from here in daytime, it would have been possible to look down over most of the city. Only a couple of temples were positioned on higher ground than this, to be closer to the gods.

The cohort was halted at the door. Eventually, after some fuss and security checks, Leana and I were guided into one of the most impressive buildings I had ever seen in my life – and I had seen a few.

As a child I often wondered what it would be like to live in Optryx. Back in those days I imagined it to be simply sumptuous, though perhaps with wild animals and spirits gallivanting through the hallways; in my version of this place there was a constant stream of performers, jugglers, singers and acrobats. There would have been a thousand soldiers standing in polished golden armour patrolling the rooms. Though it was the whimsical fantasy of a boy, I never imagined I’d be visiting the place as a grown man for work.

Domed ceilings, each with intricate hollow panels, towered into the shadows some fifty or sixty feet above my head. Cressets burned from lushly decorated walls, candles were perched on central columns; their light cast down on the multicoloured mosaic floors and on thick, pink marble columns. Every other wall was painted with rich frescoes of the heavenly plains of existence – a logical trend in the arts, of which I approved – as well as gods, kings and emperors of the past. The colours used here were well beyond the everyday palette, and would have cost a small fortune. Here was a bold statement of power and wealth indeed. The rooms through which we were taken – each one equally as large as the predecessor – forcefully humbled whoever walked through them.

My pulse quickened as we passed through gold-plated double doors and into a room packed full of people. It was obvious that this was no longer a celebration – it seemed more like a wake for the dead. People muttered to themselves in small groups, seated on the floor, their expressions glum or exasperated. At regular intervals along the walls, and in larger numbers by the door, stood soldiers in bright armour. Two of them gestured with their spears for me to pass through the doors. One of them paused as Leana followed, but I stressed that she was my assistant, and she was permitted soon enough.

Senator Veron veered towards me wearing his finest red robes of state, which contained incredible gold details and religious motifs. Stepping carefully over more people sitting on the marble floor, or simply shoving through clusters of those who were still standing, he arrived somewhat shaken.

‘Drakenfeld, I’m glad you’ve made it.’ We shook, gripping each other’s forearms.

‘You were the one who sent for me?’

‘I certainly was. I thought you might be available to cast some light on the matter. This isn’t one for the lawyers either – at least, not yet. I only hope you’re half as good as your father.’ Close up, I could see that he was clothed splendidly in a fine, crimson tunic, and both his belt and boots seemed to be of sublime craftsmanship. His expression was far more serious than that of the light-hearted senator who’d visited my house.

We turned to face the room. ‘What’s the situation?’ I whispered, suddenly aware of the volume of people around us. ‘All I’ve heard is that there’s been a death.’

‘I’ll say. This way.’ Veron steered me through the glum faces of the guests. Nearby the guards were closing the door, as if to make sure no one could escape.

‘Can you tell me anything else about the situation?’ I asked.

‘Best if I showed you,’ Veron said turning back.

For some time we walked through the throng – a good few hundred, all in all, each in their most opulent clothing. Platters of food were discarded on side tables, having been pillaged long ago. A low-level muttering had replaced lively chatter; more than once we stepped through deep silences as conversations suddenly paused at our approach. Along the walls, bright banners of Detrata, each one bearing either the image of the double-headed falcon or the cross of the founding gods, hung down from an impressive height.

Towards the end stood two copper-coated statues of Trymus in different dynamic poses, and we passed between them and into a small corridor with rooms branching off either side. The aesthetics remained the same: continuing the bright and bold displays of wealth, the marble, the gold leaf, and the over-the-top artistic statements.

Then before us stood a structure set within a large hall. It was marked by a much larger set of doors, above which stood a stone carving of the god Trymus – wild eyes and big beard. A solid wall extended for some way on either side, and there were no paintings on this – merely the pure unadorned limestone. Soldiers and a few high-ranking officials were loitering here – the crowds had been kept well away.

‘This is a private temple of Trymus,’ Veron informed me. ‘Maxant’s ceremony was to be held here, they were due to enter the temple at midnight, but the temple had been locked. The door had to be broken down by Maxant’s soldiers so that they could get in. And when they did…’

I frowned. ‘Did they not have a key?’

‘They didn’t expect it to be locked. They tried to fetch someone to get another one, but they were running out of time. It was General Maxant’s privilege to open the door at midnight – as part of his triumph, so that he could receive the blessings of Trymus and wear Trymus’ mask for the evening – and his men urged him to get in there before the midnight deadline passed and the stars moved out of alignment. The ceremony loses its essence and Trymus may not have been able to receive contact. Besides, the sooner he did, the sooner we could all get drunk. A few of Maxant’s soldiers then tried to knock the door down. It took four of them a good while to prise it open. And when they did…’

Veron nodded to the brutish-looking guard who cautiously pushed the door open for us. The senator led the way; Leana and I followed him inside.

In the centre of the temple, laid on the floor, was a woman’s body covered in blood.

‘This is Lacanta,’ Veron whispered. ‘The king’s only sister, second in line to the throne – and now dead, Trymus help us all.’

It was dark in the temple, so I asked for torches to be brought closer, and eventually two soldiers obliged.

Lacanta lay on her side, on one arm, with her other extended out to one side at a right angle to her body. Her face had been beaten, and was bloody and bruised, but bad as those wounds were, they were not what had killed her: there was an unmistakable deep wound around her neck that showed where her throat had been cut.

‘This is horrific,’ I said, louder than intended.

She had been wearing a brilliant blue dress, with small gem-stones around the hem, and this was stained with her blood, as were the long waves of her dark-blonde hair. She was a voluptuous woman, someone who indulged in the pleasures of life from the look of her, and her jawline was very well defined. Jewels and gold rings remained on her wrists and ankles, so this did not look like a robbery, though one could never be certain.

‘And none of her things have been taken?’

‘Not that we’re aware of.’

‘Has a weapon been found?’

Veron shook his head.

‘Are you sure no one has taken one away for safe keeping?’

‘The room is exactly as we found it.’

‘Who’s we?’

‘At first Maxant’s soldiers and himself. A few senators piled in pretty soon after, but not as many people as you’d think. Twenty at most. No one has touched a thing, and most of those twenty were ushered out by the soldiers who then dealt with the panic throughout the rest of the building. Hysteria tends to build quite quickly.’

I looked at the body and noted how her clothing seemed to have been pulled out of place. ‘Does anyone think she has been sexually tampered with, in any way?’ I asked somewhat hesitantly.

‘I’ll get permission to make such enquiries,’ Veron said.

I nodded. ‘I’d appreciate it if the king’s physician – if he has one – could look over her, once she’s been cleaned up. I’d like his or her opinion for it might tell us more about what happened here, and the type of murderer we are dealing with, if she had taken poison, or whether or not she’s been planted here like this, after being killed elsewhere.’

‘Planted?’

‘It’s distinctly possible.’

Though it seemed unlikely. There was blood here, of course, but if she had been planted, there must have been blood somewhere else outside the temple. I put this to Veron and he sent one of the soldiers to clear the area even further, so we might assess the scene better.

I moved around to her outstretched arm so that I might get a better look at her skin. It had not yet begun to turn purple, though her hands possessed a touch of blue. I took the liberty of trying to move her arm, to check that stiffness had indeed not yet set in, which put the time of death well within three or four hours, though it was impossible to tell when exactly. These things differed between people and climate.

‘What else can you tell me about the scene, when she was first discovered?’ I asked. ‘Just the facts.’

‘The temple had been locked,’ Veron continued. ‘When we came in, it was said there was a key in the lock on the inside There’s no other way in or out of this place, except through those doors.’

‘No one saw anything?’

‘No. Waiting on the other side were hundreds of guests, who’d been standing there for about an hour before the room was opened in the climax of the ceremony. Not one of them saw anyone come in or out.’

‘I may need a few moments.’ I made a quick inspection around the room and asked for Leana to do the same, inside and out. As we did, a few officials and senators came to observe what we were doing. I felt their gaze upon me, and wished they would go away so we could concentrate.

The temple was at least fifty paces wide, austere for a place of worship perhaps, and in stark contrast to the rest of the building we had just experienced. The flagstones were all made from white and blue marble, and seemed secure enough – I could perceive no trapdoors, no holes. The walls were composed of thick limestone. Some were covered by rich, beautiful red drapes, and I peeled them back in case there was another door – but there was nothing. I took the hilt of my blade and bashed it against the fat blocks like a hammer, but along all sides both high and low the sounds were as I expected. I moved over to the damaged door to see that the heavy iron key was indeed still on the inside.

Outside, however, there was no sign of blood on the floor or walls.

There were no windows here, no open roof. The only light came from candles and paper lanterns – of which there were many. Several votive offerings of food and cups of water lay on an altar and incense was burning. To one side lay the mask of Trymus, a garish, white and purple chequered object with gold trim.

‘Maxant was to wear that for his triumph,’ Veron commented when I paused by it. He added dryly: ‘Soldiers aren’t known for their sense of fashion.’

‘Who lit the incense?’ I asked, examining the smoke. Gentle blue wisps carried the deep woody aroma around the temple. Several small, unlit pyramids stood to one side. ‘It’s been burning for some time now.’

No one seemed to know the answer to my question. I inhaled the smoke, noting that it was the same kind of sandalwood that could be found in any temple in Vispasia.

‘It must have been like that when everyone entered,’ I continued. ‘This incident occurred around an hour or so ago, it seems, and may I confirm that no one had come in for some time beforehand?’

Veron consulted with one of the soldiers from the King’s Legion, who stood resplendent in his purple robes and polished armour. ‘Not even so much as a pontiff,’ he confirmed. ‘As I say, none of the guests saw anything.’

‘I have many more questions, but let me summarize to be clear: around midnight, the king’s sister Lacanta was found with her throat cut. The weapon is not here. None of her jewellery has been removed and she has – I will assume for now – not been tampered with. The temple was locked and sealed, and the key left in the door, on the inside. There’s no other way into the temple unless one was a god; no way out, apart from through those doors.’ I pointed towards them. ‘There is no blood outside that we have seen thus far and, finally, it appears that whoever was in here with her lit incense at the altar of Trymus.’

Leana moved in closer. ‘All of this on the night of a big celebration.’

‘Maybe the killer wanted to scare the guests,’ Veron offered.

‘Perhaps, though there are more subtle ways of scaring people.’

‘The killer might worship Trymus.’ Leana indicated the statue and offerings.

‘Another possibility – it’s a rather morbid sacrifice, if it is one. It’s not uncommon for his temples to receive blood donations, though it is usually from oxen, goat or chickens. How long do you think Lacanta has been dead?’

Veron moved to stand next to us. ‘One of the soldiers claimed her body was still warm when we found it, though it is a hot night and this temple rarely gets cold. Obviously it’s colder now and she’s becoming fixed in place by Malax in his Underworld.’

‘The gods don’t hang about. We’re going to have to get statements from as many people as possible,’ I said.

‘I wouldn’t have thought that will be a problem,’ Veron replied.

‘Who had access to the key?’

‘There are a few copies kept in the back offices, copies are kept for every lock in the building. Though it’s a private temple, Trymus grants access to all. This section of Optryx isn’t anywhere near as secure as the other side, where the king resides.’

I made a note to ask the temple’s pontiff about copies. ‘Where’s King Licintius? I take it he’s aware of this?’

Veron gave a sad laugh. ‘Poor Licintius followed the soldiers into the room when they found her. He fled to his private quarters in an immediate rage. I’ve never seen him so angry. General Maxant first sent his soldiers to close all the doors in Optryx and to stop people leaving, and then went up to join the king. I don’t think any of the soldiers have the nerve to approach him just yet – in his mood, he might well turn them into eunuchs.’

‘So this is Calludian’s son,’ came another voice. A small, hunched old man shuffled towards me, pushing past the guards on the door with a scowl on his cleanly shaven face. Thin wisps of hair clung to his sweaty head, and he used a stick to prop himself up as he walked. He gave me a look of utter contempt. ‘I never did like the Sun Chamber. Ideas above your station, if you ask me. No one votes for you.’

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,’ I offered. ‘Please, don’t come too close to the body, you might contaminate the scene.’

‘See what I mean?’ the man scoffed to Veron. ‘Ideas above his station in life.’

Veron looked apologetic. ‘This is Senator Chastra. Senator, this is Lucan Drakenfeld, officer of the Sun Chamber.’

‘I’ve heard all about him and his dark bodyguard,’ Chastra muttered, examining Leana with his bright green eyes and a sneer on his face. His mind was still active, even if his body wasn’t up to much. He turned to face me. ‘A woman, too. That must make you feel quite effeminate.’

‘If you’re keen to prove your masculinity, you could always challenge her to a fight.’

Veron placed his face in his palms at my reply. Leana remained impassive.

‘I wouldn’t want to dirty myself with foreigners,’ Chastra replied. ‘Besides, the only fighting I do is with my words.’

‘He certainly does,’ agreed Veron. ‘You should hear him in the Senate – he still gives a rather devastating speech on occasion.’

‘Senator Chastra,’ I said turning to face him. ‘Presumably you’re not here to dazzle us with your charm. You are a man of words so what have you to offer about this incident?’

‘All I have to say on the matter is that it’s unlikely you’ll find the killer. This one was struck down by the gods. Struck down for living an immoral life. A murder in a place like this brings bad omens to the city.’

‘Is that so?’ I asked.

‘Look around you. Solid walls and a sealed door. Struck down by the gods. I’ll be damned if I can work it out.’

‘That’s why you’re not in the Sun Chamber,’ I replied, noting a rare smile on Leana’s face as she continued to examine the temple.

‘If it isn’t the gods, maybe Senator Divran is right with mutterings of magic. But I’ll wager some divine power was at work.’

‘Did you see Lacanta at all tonight?’ I asked.

‘Of course,’ Chastra spluttered. ‘We all did. Earlier this evening she was mingling with her brother and General Maxant, talking to Veron, me, half a dozen other senators. In fact, some of us saw her – and were conversing with her – no more than a few moments before the temple doors were opened. A matter of minutes.’

‘Ridiculous, if that’s what you claim,’ Veron declared. ‘People were standing just outside the door as part of the celebrations for the better part of a whole hour. Dozens would have seen her killer leaving the room if the murder was so soon after you saw her.’

‘You might think it impossible,’ Chastra said more calmly, ‘but I saw what I saw.’

Not impossible, I reassured myself – just baffling.

Impressed by the clarity of his recollection, I listened to what the old senator had to say, and began to patch together a narrative timeline of the evening.

As was clear, Licintius had been holding a huge celebration for General Maxant and his conquests. The two of them were practically inseparable all evening, the king proud of what was happening to his nation, bringing it more prestige and power within the Vispasian Royal Union. Lacanta had been with them for a short while, before going on to blend in with the crowd, regaling people with her tales, using her charm on many of the male senators in front of their own wives. She was, by all accounts, not only rich and alluring – but beautiful, too, a powerful combination of traits, yet her antics, getting thrills from playing mind games, seemed at odds with the other aspects of her personality.

Veron commented that perhaps it was a way to feel vaguely human in her position, but Chastra scowled at him for such naivety. ‘She was a manipulative bitch, plain and simple. Her brother’s no better.’ He waved down Veron’s protests. ‘No, I’m too old to care for the consequences of what I say, and I have little time for royals, but I am not surprised in the least that she ended up this way.’ He gestured to her corpse with his free hand, his other firmly on his cane for support. ‘The gods will punish the wicked.’

I noticed the derogatory way the old man spoke about women, his patriarchal and archaic attitude if they did not conform to his beliefs of how they should behave.

Chastra’s account of events continued. There had been small theatrical productions all evening, improvised shows in alcoves. Many of the senators had apparently grumbled at having to share this grand event with mere thespians, who then had the audacity to try to talk to guests who were far above them in social ranking.

‘So there were a lot of people from all walks of life in the building,’ I offered. ‘People who would not normally be permitted.’

‘Everyone had been given the password,’ Veron said. ‘Security had to be relaxed tonight, but usually there’s a new password each day, known only to a select few.’

‘We had many different types of people here, many of whom could wield a blade to cut a throat. Even a senator could do that. Even one as old as you.’

‘What are you suggesting?’ Chastra spluttered. A part of me enjoyed his enraged expression. ‘I have committed no murder. Such crimes are for the young and ambitious.’

‘You said it was the gods a moment ago,’ I said. ‘Now, I’d like the soldiers present to take details and accounts of people’s movements this evening.’

Chastra’s face reddened as he glared at me. ‘This is outrageous. A god of some sort has clearly seen to it that this woman’s life was not to be. I am a senator—’

‘And a potential suspect in a murder investigation,’ I reminded him. ‘Of course, your reluctance to conform to protocol will be noted.’

Names and addresses were taken from those who were still here, which I would later match against the guest list I’d asked for. I requested that those soldiers in the King’s Legion who could write put down any useful information. Those who could not write, I asked to continue searching the building. Eventually, people grew tired and protests came from the heads of powerful families to be allowed to go home.

I didn’t want people leaving immediately, not when things were fresh in their memory, though I did not mind if anyone came to me later with information. Faces or snippets of conversation could crystallize in the mind days, even weeks after a crime, and still prove to be useful. Afterwards, my details were circulated to anyone in a position of authority in the room.

People could not be kept on site for much longer, despite my efforts, and the sun soon began to rise on a new day. When the guests commenced their exodus, I returned once again to the outer doors of the temple of Trymus. Leana was still there, sketching out the inside on a piece of parchment.

‘I am convinced it is sealed,’ she said. ‘No way in. No way out. Apart from that battered door.’

‘You would have thought we’d have a few days to relax before being thrown straight into a murder investigation,’ I remarked, staring at the temple door.

The face of Trymus looked down upon me, his severe expression somehow appropriate for the mood.

‘What does Trymus even stand for?’ Leana asked. ‘I never can understand why there are so many gods. You people have a fixation with them.’

‘Trymus and his wife, Festonia, built Tryum. They are the god and goddess of war, among other things. He made himself king and defended the original settlement against waves of strange invaders. Apparently during the Detratan Empire one couldn’t move for his temples. He’s seen as a blessing in wartime – and for agriculture. No doubt in times of food shortages, like now, people make as many offerings as they can so that he’ll heal the crops.’

‘It does not seem to have done much good,’ Leana remarked.

I eventually came to an agreement with some of the senators that we would return to Optryx later, after everyone had rested. If the killer was in the building, the soldiers stated in no uncertain terms that they would find them – though given the amount of skills he or she might possess, I doubted that. If the killer had indeed escaped, they were likely to be far from Optryx by now.

As we were about to leave, Veron informed me that he had arranged, with the administrative staff of the residence, for me to be granted a meeting with King Licintius later in the day.

What would my father have thought about all of this? Would he, too, be making the same decisions?

The matter needed to be resolved as quickly as possible – it was a chance to prove myself to the people of Tryum.