Drakenfeld

A Blade to the Throat

Leana shuffled towards the table as I was eating breakfast. Sunlight streamed across the spread of bread and spiced lamb; the early morning aromas from the garden were heady and vegetative, and the ripple of the fountain was soothing. The sun in this garden was always peculiarly intense. There were no high buildings nearby, and the roof was low, meaning that one could find a deep warmth in every corner at most hours of the day. Quite often the shadows of birds sitting on the roof could be seen around the edge of the fountain and, as a child, I had fun guessing – nearly always incorrectly – the species in question.

This was a much more pleasant set-up than the fish odours and curses of tradesmen that constantly afflicted my ground-floor apartment in Venyn City. In comparison I felt like a king.

‘I didn’t hear you come back last night.’ I smiled as she struggled to sit on the nearby wicker chair in the shade. She was wearing just a white shirt and black breeches, none of her light armour, and she seemed unwilling to face the light.

I popped a piece of bread in my mouth and took a sip of water. ‘Am I to take it from your rather unresponsive presence that you had a good night?’

She could barely meet my eyes. ‘My apologies, Lucan. It is not in my nature to overindulge.’

‘Nonsense, this is a new city for you. I expect you to have fun from time to time. One of us has to.’

‘Your wine here in Tryum… Spirits save me, it is so strong.’

‘The staff were always tight in Venyn City and they watered it down. Here you must suffer the consequences of fine hospitality.’ It was amusing now to be especially cheerful and loud.

‘What is our plan for today?’ Leana gestured towards the bread and I nodded for her to help herself.

‘There are a few affairs I must set straight before we do anything else. My father had rented offices towards Regallum, only a few streets away from the king’s residence, so I need to check if they are still in the family name. But before that, I’m heading out to discover all the secrets of the city.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m going to get my hair cut and have a shave.’

Leana gave me a blank look. I grinned, drank up my water, scooped up my cloak and headed out into the morning sun.

Human memory is a curious thing, about as reliable as a myth.

Often I would lie in my ground-floor apartment in Venyn City, reconstructing these dusty back lanes and plazas in my mind. The roads walked mentally were littered with echoes of emotions or events, but they seemed well beyond reach, a fading dream. Today my route was deliberately taken at a very slow pace, so that I might retrace my past and locate these places in my mind, but what could be gleaned from my observations was that friends had moved on, shops had closed down, and nothing was how it used to be. While I was busy outgrowing my home, it was busy moving on from me – and I was fine with that.

Tryum was firing up for the day and everyone moved about with purpose. Stone walls glowed in intense sunlight and already the heat was becoming uncomfortable. As the sun climbed higher, the streets thinned out and people ventured indoors, into cafes or brothels, standing under awnings or stepping into offices. My white shirt, grey doublet, black trousers and boots were too much for these temperatures.

The salon was located on a dusty street on the edge of Polyum, which faced the slightly poorer district of Tradum. It looked in good health: a freshly painted green sign bearing the name Lillus, with a stall jutting out from the front that sold fabrics of all colours. Someone was busy washing the flagstones outside. The walls were covered in the scratched reports of satisfied customers. I headed inside into the cool shade.

‘Well then,’ said the old man with a thick moustache and a balding head, as he turned from arguing with one of the water boys. His skin was a little lighter than Leana’s. ‘Well, well. Do my eyes deceive? Is this… ?’

‘It is,’ I said, stifling my laugh. I quickly glanced around and nodded to the two customers on the benches, and observed that behind them the faded frescoes of sporting heroes had not changed in the slightest. Light from the open-roofed hall passed through another doorway, and nearby there were several purple paper lanterns. In a back room, pine incense was burning.

‘Lucan Drakenfeld, my boy!’ He turned to his assistant on one of the chairs by the window. ‘We have an honoured guest – a member of the renowned Sun Chamber!’

Lillus shuffled over to me and took my face in his palms. I bent down and saw the accumulated years in his dark face, though the creases came from smiles and not scowls. That was all I needed to know.

‘Lucan, it is so good to see you,’ Lillus breathed. ‘So very good. The boy has become a healthy man.’

‘You’re looking well too, Lillus.’

He waved away my comment. ‘Listen to this! I am an old man with not much left to give. But I try. I keep busy. But you – you have good skin, brown like a polished table. You look every bit like your mother’s people of Locco, though it takes a skilled eye to match you up with them. Your eyes – dark, yes, but they dazzle me so! It is a good thing I have no wife, as I would keep her far away from you.’

‘If you keep talking like that I’ll start to believe your flattery. Anyway, are you telling me you’re still not married?’

‘Ha! Fonce, listen to him.’ He turned to one of his younger staff members, who looked so similar to Lillus he could have been a son. ‘Married indeed – no, I am still unattached and as charming to the ladies as ever. If I am lucky, many of them are charming in return.’

‘You’re a randy old goat,’ I said grinning.

‘Lucan, I am interested in simple pleasures, simple things. The ladies – they tell me much.’

‘Then tell me, Lillus – as I’ve been away for many years – what do your ladies have to say about Tryum?’

‘Always after information,’ he whispered softly, and our conversation took on an entirely different mood. ‘Come, we will head to the room at the back, where it is much cooler and no one can hear us speak.’

After the initial exchange of pleasantries, and catching up with family histories, we came to the subject of my father’s death.

Lillus paused at this point to apply the shaving cream with a thick brush, licking it across my face with seriousness. I sat back in the same old chair I’d used as a child – though back then it had been with a board to raise me up. Despite a few rips in the upholstery, it had stood the test of time, much like Lillus himself. Up on the ceiling I noticed an elaborate latticework of spiders’ webs, behind which drifted the blue smoke of incense. In the windowless room, shadows were chased into the nooks and crannies by the soft lantern light.

‘I confess your presence has been somewhat expected.’ Lillus was more focused. ‘Your father recently asked me to pass on a piece of information when you returned. He would not say what it concerned and it seems to me more riddle than fact. But he said that you must revisit a childhood place, one which stored many memories. He also asked me to help you out should you ever need it – as if he needed to say so. Does this mean something to you?’

‘It does,’ I replied, not entirely convinced that it did.

‘Then my work is done. Your father paid me well, you know, over the years – far more than he should have. It is a shame I did not see him for some time before his passing.’

‘You always acquired such essential information for him.’

He waved his hand. ‘People like to talk to their barber, do they not? I merely harvest the gossip. It was for him to sift through such words for that golden nugget of truth.’

He brought his razor to the edge of my jaw, and proceeded to make firm, precise strokes down my neck.

‘Tonight is the big night,’ he announced, then leaned in to whisper. ‘The general returns from abroad; a success, so they say, and that will please the bloodthirsty. The city criers have been announcing a festival for many nights. King Licintius will be there, with his sister Lacanta, as well as the general and his family and so on. Men and women of the Senate will be there: Chastra, no doubt, close to the heart of operations – cynical as always. Veron, the man who governs your district, a man I haven’t yet learned to trust. I hear tell that Senator Divran, ever since she lost her husband, has turned to dark ways, dark gods… magic. She will also be there.’

‘Magic?’ The razor scraped along my jawline again.

‘Only rumours. I cannot vouch for them. But, yes, the wife of Senator Trero – a man of many dubious businesses – suspects her husband is being drawn into the dark arts by Divran, who is said to be the witch of the Senate. It is said she conducts strange rituals. She tries to raise the dead.’ He paused and leaned in a little closer. ‘Divran blames Lacanta for having driven her husband to suicide.’

‘Is there anything in that?’

‘Lacanta is an attractive lady, and has ways of charming people, and frustrating them also. I cannot say what went on between her and Divran’s husband, but it is said he simply fell from a window by accident. Anyway, all of this magic talk, it is probably nothing more than a few dubious sacrifices and wishful thinking. It happens from time to time.’

‘Who else is going tonight?’

‘Most important people. You know how these things are. Maxant’s success comes at the right time for the politicians. He has unlocked not only fresh labour, but more importantly a new grain supply.’

‘Good news then.’ I didn’t let on that Senator Veron had visited last night. I wanted to hear what Lillus had to say, someone who was not a senator.

‘An understatement,’ Lillus whispered. ‘The lower districts, Plutum and Barrantum, they are really starting to suffer. The first grain shipments arrive within the week. Maxant is not a slow man. No doubt he will hand out the first bowls of grain himself – the people’s hero. It is said he could be lining himself up for a place in the Senate. I have heard many anxious voices. Politicians are under great strain. We were probably weeks away from food riots, though you would not hear such talk broadcast about the city. It is whispered, along the roadside in Polyum, Tradum and Vellyum, that Maxant is asking for land for his veterans, too, but what land will remain for them? Sun-baked clay is not much use. That may cause trouble, should King Licintius not oblige – though I think he will. He is a very good and old friend of Maxant.’

‘What are the senators’ wives saying?’

‘Or husbands – we have several female senators these days. Dalta’s Rule.’

‘Ah, thanks to the charming Queen of Dalta. She who owns such precious resources gets to have a say in the laws of Vispasia.’

‘Behind the scenes, there is pressure to reward hard-working impoverished families with land further afield. Detrata has prospered and now we are too big – that has led to rumours that the Senate wishes to expand our borders somehow. The king resists – he knows the value of Vispasia. New aqueducts are nearing completion to bring water, despite the old ones in the city being broken in places. There is demand for bigger projects, though King Licintius is not of a mind to spend money on such things, and nor is his sister, for that will mean more taxation – they had been unpopular enough.’

‘How old is she now?’

‘Twenty-four summers, I believe, and an incredibly well-read woman, so they say. She is more beautiful than one can imagine, growing the wonderful curves of womanhood. That is how the statues are carved, but apparently she does look like them.’

‘I would’ve thought a man like Licintius would have used her to seal some commercial pact with another nation, especially if food was scarce. It’s not unlike a king to do that, no matter how abhorrent for the lady.’

‘That’s true. As for Lacanta – she… she is not well controlled, it is fair to say.’

‘Is that a problem?’ I asked. ‘Surely she has her own will?’

‘Yes. But her status requires that her life is not her own, as does the king’s status. Lacanta likes the company of many other men and women, so the rumours go. One by one, she steals their hearts and then their minds. Not inherently a bad thing, of course, but it causes tensions where there should be as few as possible. Licintius cannot stop her, though I suspect he doesn’t really care, as he is making a good job of causing scandal himself ever since he became a patron of the theatre.’

‘That would explain the number of street productions I’ve seen.’

‘What’s more, he has permitted the formation of the Guild of Prostitutes. Such attitudes are frowned upon, though I like it myself.’

‘No bad thing that they have some organization and protection,’ I replied, remembering how unsafe life could be for the oldest trade.

‘Many in the Senate disapprove. It is easy to forget that this is still a conservative city, full of conservative morals. And with Licintius bringing in labour from abroad to build the aqueducts and complete his temples – at the expense of the poor here, I should add – and with Lacanta busily corrupting marriage after marriage… well, it is simple to see why many wish to see the royal brother and sister no longer in such a powerful position. There is talk of Maxant being shoehorned in as a republican leader, someone who can begin campaigns abroad, but will the people support a military dictator? Who can tell? Besides, as I say, Maxant and Licintius are old, old friends.’

‘We live in complex times, old friend,’ I said.

‘We do. And it makes life all the more interesting, I find.’

Lillus finished his shave and threw a hot towel across my face then commenced to trim my hair. For a little while longer he talked of the arts, of scandalous affairs, of suspected orgies, of missing people, of immigration and nationalism, and of the resurgence of gangs ever since Licintius inherited the throne – though he claimed the latter was due to senators using whatever methods they could to influence their own neighbourhoods.

A visit to Lillus’ was never dull but, more importantly, never without gain. One did not pay merely for a haircut – the costs included information about the fabric of the city. My years away from the city no longer seemed important: my studies of contemporary Tryum were complete.

‘Now, here is the handsome boy I remember,’ Lillus announced, stepping back and offering me a small mirror to look at myself. He’d done a wonderful job – my hair was only a fraction shorter, but far neater, and my skin felt incredibly refreshed after the shave.

‘Not so much a boy any more,’ I said. ‘My bones ache a little more each day.’

‘Nonsense. They ached when you were a boy, too – you just cared less.’

‘Thanks, Lillus.’

‘I’ve missed the Drakenfeld smile, young Lucan,’ Lillus called after me. ‘Your father’s tended to fade towards the end.’

‘How so?’

‘He would never speak of it. But there was a sadness in his eyes. After knowing him for so long, I could tell these things.’

‘You’ve no idea what could have caused it?’

Lillus shook his head. ‘Not even I could find that out.’

I paid him, bid farewell to the other members of staff, and headed through the front door into the intense heat, shading my eyes from the sun.

Lillus’ conversation still echoed in my mind. I headed home immediately, to investigate the childhood places that my father had mysteriously discussed with him. Those words already felt like some premonition, a vague confirmation of my suspicions that all was not as it appeared.

There were only a handful of areas to search around the house. The pantry that was once my old room was the likely place. There, I knew of one large and loose tile behind which I used to hide my childhood delights. It was surprising that my father would have remembered this place at all.

With a spoon I levered up the black tile in the furthest corner of the room, underneath the small window that overlooked the garden. Sitting down on the floor, I moved the tile to one side and reached down into the gap. I drew out a small wooden box and pressed back the lid into the past.

‘What have you there?’ Leana stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame with her arms folded.

‘Your head is clear?’

‘Let us not discuss that. What is it?’

I showed her the box and invited her down next to me. ‘Only me and my father knew this was here.’

‘You said he hardly knew anything about your childhood.’

‘It seems he remembered something at least.’ Inside the box were small items from when I was young, including dice and a wooden dagger. I drew out a small figure made from clay. ‘I last played with this when I was no more than five or six years old. He gave it to me as a present one birthday, but when I was older I just kept it safe. Wait…’There was a piece of paper under the doll, which I flipped out with my finger. Underneath that was a key.

‘What does it say?’ Leana asked.

I unfolded the thick yellow papers and read the script out loud.

The second page of the letter was in fact the rental deeds to his offices.

‘It’s like he speaks to you from another world,’ Leana observed casually.

‘It suggests that he knew he was going to die, doesn’t it?’ I said. ‘It is as if he made preparations for my coming home in the event of his death, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit it. He always was a proud man.’

‘You are becoming convinced he was murdered.’

‘I feel as though he was. Just look at what he’s saying – “a debt to be paid”.’

‘Some kind of money trouble?’

‘Unlikely. I mean, look at this place. This is a house in Polyum. He was renting offices for his work with the Sun Chamber, but…’

‘Had he ever been that way in the past?’

‘No, never. Well, I think – and this is a hazy memory at best – that he and my mother argued over his ways with women. He spent a lot of money on women and drink at one point, but that was a quarter of a century ago, when he was a younger man. But she never spoke ill of him to me when he’d gone, and their conversations were kept away from my ears. He should have no need for money troubles now.’

‘No one needs to be in money trouble,’ Leana said. ‘It can happen to the best of us.’

My father’s offices were already unlocked when we arrived. The shabby door pushed back with ease; beyond it lay musky darkness and an aroma that could only be generated by old legal texts. The place was almost empty, as if someone had begun to move out. There was a door to one side and a bookcase that had seen long service. Dust motes floated notably near the arched window. The view from it was over a bustling street market. Across the way was a small temple, though I couldn’t see which god or goddess it glorified.

Suddenly, people started to come down the stairs. Leana placed a hand to her short sword, though I waved for her to be cautious. Loud voices suggested that, whoever was coming, they weren’t bothered about being heard. One of them knocked the door back with his buttocks, and cursed as he dropped one end of a large trunk.

‘Who are you?’ I called out.

‘What’s it to you?’ The man was in his forties; he was a foot shorter than me, with wide shoulders that looked out of place on his otherwise lean body. Skin sagged down his face, which was burnt by the sun. His shabby brown tunic was a size too big for him. The other man, just behind, was actually much younger, clearly the man’s subordinate.

‘My name is Lucan Drakenfeld,’ I declared. ‘My father rented this office and I’ve come to inspect it.’

‘Aye, Drakenfeld,’ he spat. ‘Never paid his bloody rent.’

‘It was all paid for.’ I produced the contract and waved it in his direction, but he made no move to read it.

‘Master said otherwise. Did well not to chuck him out earlier.’

I approached the trunk that the two had been carrying and opened it. Leather-bound legal texts were piled within. ‘Where exactly were you taking these?’

‘Out.’ The man scratched his crotch and spat on the floor. ‘To the master. He can deal with ’em.’

‘Was this everything?’

‘Nah, we took another trunk yesterday evening.’

‘I want it sent back. Who’s your master?’

The man was starting to look thoroughly annoyed, as if I’d just ruined his day. ‘We work for an intermediate, so we hardly ever see him – chief does all that. Owns a hundred properties and only cares that he gets his money each month.’

I wrote down the location of my house and handed it to him. ‘This is where I live. If your master wants to come for dinner to talk about this, he’s more than welcome.’

‘You rich types, you do everything in dinners, don’t you?’ He waved away the paper. ‘I suppose you’ll want these texts keeping here then.’

‘If you could just move—’

‘Cock off,’ he grunted. ‘I ain’t lugging this back upstairs. Someone can sort it out later.’ Wiping his hands on his tunic, he and his colleague sauntered to the door and exited into the busy street.

I opened the trunk and lifted out one brown tome, a fine collection of legal essays by a long-deceased philosopher, and placed it on the desk. The other books here seemed much the same, though each one a little outdated.

Once again, I wondered how my father, a man rarely short of coin, could have become so poor that he struggled to pay the rent on his offices.

I was in no mood to enjoy the festivities that night. My mind had too much to process. Leana did not head out into the city either, despite my urges for her to find out what was going on during the grand feast organized by King Licintius. But she declined. Though she would never say it outright, I suspect she felt a little guilty for her hangover this morning.

Instead we ate in a companionable silence out in the gardens while we watched the sun fall behind the rooftop, before eventually heading inside to our separate rooms. There, I concentrated hard on the conversations that my parents had within these walls, trying to discern something about the past that might inform the present. My parents didn’t really have arguments – they were both too intelligent, and instead they might have reasoned debates over issues. However, my father could be just as domineering over her as he was over his children. As an adult, I never had the chance to understand him completely – having somewhat avoided that challenge for the most part. Putting a continent between us would do that. Had he been someone who lived recklessly though? It seemed hard to match up, though perhaps deep down I wanted to remember him in death as a good and honest person.

Despite the celebrations of the city, which could be heard loud and clear at this hour, and despite the new mystery of my father’s debts, I managed to drift off into a heavy sleep.

A banging on the main door woke me up.

The noise was followed by Bellona calling my name from the other side of the house. I peered out of the window, but could only ascertain that it was the middle of the night. However, it sounded like the festivities were still ongoing.

I dressed hastily and ran along the corridor, almost slipping on the slick tiles. Bellona directed me towards the open door. Just outside, on the step, stood several cloaked men. One of them was carrying a torch, the flames casting a sinister glow on their faces. It was obvious that there was a sense of urgency and restlessness about them, something clear even in this dim light.

‘We wish to speak to Lucan Drakenfeld,’ one man declared, a thickset individual with a neat beard. He looked at me with intense eyes, and he wore the silver sash of the Civil Cohorts – the citizen police of Tryum – across his shoulder.

‘That’s me.’

They all seemed hesitant now they knew my name, wondering who should speak next.

‘I’m… My name is Constable Farrum,’ he eventually said, affecting a much calmer and crisper accent. ‘From the cohort – Civil Cohorts. As officer of the Sun Chamber, your, uh, presence is required. It’s urgent.’ He sounded like an actor forgetting his lines.

‘Well, Constable Farrum, what’s happened?’ I asked.

‘Someone’s dead,’ he said.

‘OK,’ I replied, ‘so where is the body?’ Murders occurred all the time, of course, but it wasn’t often that a murder required so many people to disturb me like this in the middle of the night.

‘Optryx.’

‘A killing in King Licintius’ residence?’ I asked.

‘Yeah and we ain’t allowed into those halls,’ Farrum said. ‘The likes of us don’t get told the day’s password. We were urged to get you. This means I’ll get beatings if we don’t do that, so I’d appreciate it if you hurried along. Sir.’