Drakenfeld

The Witch

Senator Divran’s house was a surprisingly small building located on one of the most expensive streets in the city. There were no shops, no reason for normal citizens to stray down these roads. Soldiers made reassuringly regular patrols. A few domestic cats trotted about with the authority of lions. It seemed every bit as secure and well kept as one might expect of a district where the senatorial class resided.

Divran’s house was slender, but judging by the surrounding architecture it went some way back. The wooden shutters were closed and for a moment it appeared as if no one was in, but when I knocked on the door a young maid in a soft blue gown answered.

‘Is Senator Divran at home?’

‘She is,’ the maid said, hesitating for a moment. She seemed someone whose face was normally disposed to happiness, yet something was very uncertain in her mannerisms. She glanced with wild eyes to the large box I was carrying, and must have wondered if I was selling something.

‘Well, can I talk to her?’ I asked, explaining my position.

‘Yes. Please, if you wouldn’t mind waiting for a moment in the study.’ She led me through rooms that had little in the way of natural light, and fetched me a cup of water before leaving me among Divran’s books and papers.

Placing my box to one side, I glanced across some of the tomes, noting some very esoteric titles coming from all over Vispasia. There were papers bound by string on subjects such as natural sciences and ancient religions. Vast lists and strange diagrams that looked more like maps. Some of them displayed stains, what could have been flecks of dried blood – certainly not ink. On some, calculations had been written, based on very old numerical systems, pre-dating the Empire by several hundred years. What could they have been?

Cupboards, shelves and small drawers, each made with exquisite craftsmanship, stood against one wall. Curious, I nudged open one of the small doors to see the skeletons of small rodents arranged on a shelf. In another was the partially decayed carcass of what appeared to be a crow. What reason could there be for a senator to possess these bones? Was every single drawer and cupboard filled with decaying creatures?

Aware that Divran would soon arrive, I moved across to the sole bright spot in the room. A small window looked out over a courtyard plastered in decorative frescos, scenes from nature that seemed an artistic extension of the garden. For a moment I lost my mind in its wonder.

‘Good afternoon, officer Drakenfeld,’ a voice said.

An attractive woman in her late forties or early fifties stood before me, with auburn hair, a broad face and brown eyes, wearing a vibrant high-necked blue dress. She was slender, in an athletic way, and she looked at me as if my mere presence delighted her in a primal sense, like an animal that had wandered into a trap.

‘Senator. Thank you for seeing me.’

‘Well, it was only a matter of time before you came, wasn’t it?’ she sighed. ‘Let’s get it over with.’

‘Was it?’

‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘The witch, Senator Divran, must have something to do with that mysterious murder. Isn’t that what they say?’

‘Who do you mean by “they”?’

‘Oh, come now, Drakenfeld, I’ve been in the Senate for long enough to realize what goes on.’

‘And are you a witch, then?’ I gave a smile.

‘I would be arrested if that was the case, surely?’

‘The law’s not always clear on such matters, even if you were – though that is depending on what you might have done.’

‘You seem vaguely amused by me, officer. Do you find the matters of the supernatural amusing?’

I didn’t answer her, uncertain of my own opinion. Though I was generally sceptical about such things, it wasn’t a subject on which I wanted to be proven wrong. ‘I’d like to know your activities on the day and the evening Lacanta was murdered.’

Divran told me: she was working in the Senate trying to drum up sponsorship for a team of writers to categorize the natural systems of the world, though few could be bothered to open their purses. Plenty of witnesses could vouch for her every move. At first she didn’t feel up to celebrating the deeds of ‘a thug’ like Maxant, but she was eventually persuaded to attend by some of her friends in the Senate. She remained with them at all times, with no interest in the temple – until, of course, there was a murder.

‘Now I am as fascinated as you are,’ she concluded. ‘I have an active interest in documenting the things that cannot yet be explained, as you will see by this library.’

She gestured to the books and scrolls around her, unaware that I’d seen the animal remains as well.

‘I don’t think the supernatural has anything to do with the murder,’ I replied.

‘What makes you so sceptical? Why not a ghost, or a spirit who can move through walls – such things are common throughout the world.’ Then she added with a smile, ‘I’ve seen them myself. A ghost could easily have entered the temple.’

‘That may be so, but if it was supernatural, why be so brutal? Why leave a key in the door? Why wait until there were so many people around before killing her? The incident has too much ego involved, and too many flaws to be anything other than a human incident.’

‘Such foolish confidence.’ Divran was restraining her obvious anger. Here was someone who had strong opinions and who didn’t like them being rejected, but who was skilled enough not to fight back on the issue. ‘Don’t think such things aren’t likely to be down to the unknown. I’ve witnessed more strange things than you care to dream of.’

There was a finality to her statement, and she regarded the garden now, silhouetted in the bright square of light. A bird flittered about one of the bushes by the window, bringing a sense of tranquillity to proceedings.

‘Your husband passed away recently,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. Did he have anything to do with Lacanta?’

Divran’s body froze, her shoulders became tense – just for a moment – until she released them and became calm once again. She still did not look at me. ‘He killed himself because of her. He threw himself out of a window because he couldn’t have her.’

‘There was no love between the two of you any longer?’

‘There never was at all,’ she said bitterly. ‘I always loathed him. He married me for money and for my family ties.’

She spoke then of his pitiful attempts at furthering his own career in the Senate, of his own ‘pathetic little interests’ and of his sudden affection for Lacanta.

‘It didn’t go anywhere,’ she said. ‘It was never going to. Still, some men are just like that, aren’t they, once these little infatuations take root.’

She spoke of how he died, having thrown himself from a window at a party one night. The height of the fall was enough to kill him, much to the dismay and disgust of the guests. In the lead-up to his death, his behaviour had become suddenly very nervous. He was a paranoid man. He was concerned the authorities were out to get him because of his overtures towards Lacanta. This would all be easy to verify, of course, but something unsettled me. It was the way she described it: hinting at darker forces behind his actions, the possibility of a curse being placed upon him. It was obvious this is what she believed.

She let the doubt hang there: if I chose to believe her story, then I had to accept her supernatural abilities.

‘Do you miss him?’ I asked, watching her reaction carefully; but she gave nothing away.

‘If others say I am a witch, then I can still talk with him.’ She chuckled to herself. ‘It’s even said that I commune with other dead husbands, enabling them to walk about the city. People say a lot of things.’

‘I’m not interested in what others say right now, senator. What do you say?’

‘I say that the dead have ways of still being with us, whether we like it or not. Walk among the tombs sometime, officer. It will do you some good.’

Divran was no more enlightening and always mysterious, enjoying the attention I was giving her. So I left.

When I arrived home, somewhat disturbed by my encounter, a messenger had left notification of my father’s funeral, which was to take place shortly after dawn the next day. I hoped that the pontiff back at the temple had put up a public notification to inform other people.

There was another note from Bellona: a priest had stopped by but left no official message of his business.

With a heavy heart, I tried to clear my mind and set to work.

The statements from the guests were spread out before me, waiting to be sifted through in order to divine some kind of truth. It was an impossible task: the guests would all have vaguely similar or vaguely conflicting statements; families would, most likely, say that they had seen Lacanta at slightly different times before the temple was opened; people would no doubt vouch for each other.

Before that task, I had to send a letter to the Sun Chamber headquarters in Free State, detailing my investigation of this crime and the king’s insistence that the case be resolved swiftly. Someone had gone to great lengths to kill Lacanta and I suspected that it could cause further political tensions. I requested also that any unattached agents be sent to help me, but that was unlikely – they operated in ways that I barely understood.

I took a brief break to sip some herbal tea whilst regarding the sunlit street from my front door, once again familiarizing myself with the city, the passers-by, my neighbours.

It may have been my mind playing tricks on me, somehow layering the past over the present in my imagination, but I could have sworn that one of the women who walked along the road was familiar. It was just a glimpse, no more, but enough to release a shiver up my neck – though I stopped short of walking out to get a better look.

Perhaps my encounter with Divran had encouraged strange thoughts in my mind, but it seemed like someone I once knew. Who I once loved.

Shaking my head, I finished my tea and resumed work.

Leana returned moments later looking as cool and calm as ever, despite having spent time rummaging around the more questionable parts of the city.

‘The word is out,’ she announced. ‘Everyone in Barrantum knows. Even the slums. By the way, this city has some dire places.’

‘I know. So what were people saying? I like to think there might be truth in rumour on occasion.’

‘They say a ghost or god did it,’ she replied.

‘A ghost?’ Perhaps Divran had been spreading rumours.

Leana shrugged. ‘It is only what I heard. This is not the truth you wanted?’

‘There seems to be a lot of superstition in the city. Anyway, we both have dinner plans later.’

‘What, me also?’ A look of concern came over her face.

‘Yes, you also.’

‘That sounds suspicious,’ she sneered. ‘What do they want with me? I am not dancing or getting naked for any men. I will cut their c—’

‘There’s no need for that,’ I interrupted. ‘As if I would expose you to that! You’ll be present as my guest, that’s all.’

‘Your guest. This still sounds odd, but someone needs to keep you out of trouble. You will be drinking lots at this party I take it?’

‘No, of course not – it is my father’s funeral tomorrow morning. Come to think of it, we probably shouldn’t even stay out all that late.’

Leana nodded thoughtfully. ‘What have you got there?’ She indicated the parchments on the desk.

‘Statements from the guests.’ I told her about my visit to the palace, but my mind wasn’t forming any connections at that moment. Light was fading from the sky, it was early evening and I needed to rest before tonight’s activities.

‘You should know also,’ Leana said, walking away, ‘that I have seen three different men over the past day loitering outside the main gate. One hid a knife up his sleeve. When it was clear to him that no one was going to leave the house, he walked into the crowds and spirited himself away.’

‘Do you think they were anything to do with that rider who was following us before we came to Tryum?’

‘Hard to say from what they were wearing. I do not remember his face,’ Leana replied with nonchalance, and turned towards her room.

It was only then I noticed the small collection of bones she had been holding behind her back.

‘I see you’ve found something to put towards a shrine for Gudan,’ I called out after her.

Leana paused momentarily before I saw a flicker of excitement in her composure. ‘On the edge of Plutum I found a herbalist from Atrewe. An old woman who left long ago, because of the troubles. She makes a living from selling herbs, trinkets and very authentic clay pots.’

Visibly happy, Leana strolled into her room.

It came as something of a relief that Leana had made a connection. She had come with me from her homeland – not that she ever showed much sign of wanting to return. Our relationship was hard to explain to most people: we expressed our bond in our shared silences, our unspoken gestures. We learned to live side by side through rough periods and rougher places, slowly understanding the way each other operated, building a trust that I doubted could be replicated with anyone. Her presence offered protection and security; sometimes I doubted what I could offer her and hoped that, deep down, it went beyond money and a way to escape bad memories.

And I recalled the contradictions of Tryum: indeed it was a city of many cultures, and many new accents and dialects; yet from what I had gathered, people feared foreigners more than ever. This was strange – even in the deepest days of the Empire, it was said that Detrata and Tryum especially welcomed people from all over the continent. We considered them Detratan even though they had not been born here.

Had things changed in the harsher conditions? Had the lack of food led to a natural distrust of people who were not local? Were the senatorial classes sowing seeds of fear so that it might be a popular act to invade other countries? No doubt we would soon find out.

A little while later, in our finest clothing, we left for the event at Senator Veron’s house. We took no more than seven steps out of the front gate before we found ourselves in trouble.