Retribution

Queen Dokuz Sorghatan

During my decade as a member of the Sun Chamber, I had set foot in only three royal courts — or the localized equivalent. My formative years, in a very junior position, were largely spent in some of the vilest holes of the continent, or some of the dullest. Any orders back then were usually to copy out papers into a coded or foreign language, or to head out to investigate the dregs of society: lowly thieves, pickpockets and petty criminals who were deemed above the remit of more experienced officers.

As my reputation grew over the years — or, as I suspected, I simply became more trusted — I was awarded the honour of access to higher levels of society. During my time in Venyn City I had worked with representatives of Prince Bassim and been permitted to stroll through his opulent halls. Also, I had been in the presence of the Queen of Dalta, who surrounded herself with so much gold and lived in a place with such intense sunlight that, at times, I had to shade my eyes as she addressed me.

Every one of these courts was unique in its own way. Not so much the design, though that was certainly true, but more for the atmosphere — and it was the atmosphere that I was most interested in. In the expressions of those gathered at the court, a learned woman or man could read the state of the nation. From concern at local political upheaval, to jubilance at the growth of trade, everything was on display in the faces of those gathered there.

Rumours were always more interesting than facts in places like this, and I had never seen any of the truly scandalous events reported by my peers. Some told of executions in front of one king, drunken orgies in the presence of others, many forms of debauchery that only the rich could afford to enjoy with impunity. I occasionally wondered if they ever happened, or if the stories that came from such lives would always be more interesting than truth.

As we walked through the wood-panelled corridors and rooms towards the palace’s main hall, soldiers stood in line on either side. In the gaps between them I could see incredible statues, busts and paintings, ornaments made of gold and silver. What struck me as unusual was that many of these items were replicas of famous ones I’d seen in collections elsewhere. This was more of a museum than a place to live, though if one lingered no doubt the soldiers would soon usher the viewer outside.

The central hall was situated under a dome that appeared so large it was almost structurally impossible. Ornate images were painted upon the inside of its curved surface. Remarkably there were tiny windows, which allowed a curious light to fall down directly on the throne below, in the centre of the room. The floor was made up of large, black slate pieces, and only the hundreds of lanterns saved the place from seeming too dour.

A good seventy or eighty soldiers lined the hall, spaced so that it never looked too crowded. A handful of courtiers loitered within this protective enclosure, wearing resplendent cloaks of green, red and blue silk. Today being a religious day, we were requested to wear a hood-like strip of bright-blue cotton over our heads and down over our ears, the lengths reaching to waist level. Sulma Tan said that it was out of respect to Astran and Nastra, though she did not say what was the purpose of the gesture. Not wanting to cause any offence by disregarding local customs, we willingly obliged.

Sulma Tan now had a nervous energy about her, and a sudden air of subservience that didn’t seem in keeping with her character. The defiant woman who had greeted me, if greeted was the right word, had become a different person entirely in the queen’s presence.

All sorts of people had come to the court. A couple of poets could be overheard reciting aloud nearby, and I was reasonably certain there were astronomers present: one man had unrolled a chart of some sort, which appeared to show the orbits of other worlds around the sun — a relatively recent way of thinking, as was my limited understanding on the subject. There were even actors, or dancers, waiting at the far end. This collection of individuals again showed the diversity of cultures in the city of Kuvash — or, at least, within the royal palace.

Out of those standing within the throng, just how many of them knew the bishop? I wondered if he had dealings with the court as well as seeing to religious matters. As an outsider, and a newcomer to the court, it was natural that many treated me with suspicion, which could easily be perceived in their glances. It was important not to read too much into that.

Sulma Tan steered us to one side of the chamber, not too far from the sumptuous throne. On closer inspection, I noted that it was built around a centre of luscious red cushioning. The throne itself was crafted from silver, with elaborate decorative features of what looked like planets and the sun, echoing the kind of things I’d seen on the astronomer’s chart. The level of detail was staggering and it glimmered with the brightness of newly cast or highly polished metal.

Suddenly I realized what had been niggling me ever since I’d set foot in the chamber: whereas in Detrata, for example, there would be antique items, crumbling statues that indicated a long history, here absolutely everything was so very new. The statues were bright and had clearly been carved within the last couple of years; none of the metalwork had lost its newly cast vibrancy. Even the academics brought here were ready to discuss the very latest observations. Queen Dokuz was clearly a progressive monarch — or at the very least a woman who was fond of high culture. She wanted to be surrounded by the best, for people to walk among the finest offerings of Vispasia.

How, then, would she take to our details of the dismembered bishop?

I became alert to the approach of footsteps — slow, heavy boots from dozens of soldiers striking the stone floor. The rhythm was mesmeric, with at least three seconds between steps. The blue-hooded crowd turned almost in unison as men and women, garbed in red shirts with slitted puffed sleeves and white trousers, marched into the room two by two. There were ten of these ceremonial soldiers in all, though the sound of their passage suggested a far greater number.

At the rear of the entourage came four intriguing figures: two men in what I took to be flowing feminine versions of the national dress in pastel blue. They might have been the queen’s eunuchs.

But the true focus of the room was on the two ladies.

One stood much shorter than the other, and was clearly in her teens. She was surely to transform into a woman of great presence one day, though currently her demeanour suggested that she would rather be anywhere but here. She must have been Nambu Sorghatan, daughter of the queen, who strode alongside her as the vision of what her daughter would one day become. On our way here Sulma Tan had mentioned that her father, the queen’s former husband, had died a long time ago of a coughing sickness, and that his name was now rarely brought up.

The woman led the nation; one day so would the girl.

Queen Dokuz Sorghatan and her daughter each wore a gown of exquisite silk — the mother’s colour was a rich shade of purple with daedal gold stitching and bright silver buttons, while her daughter’s was an exact replica, but a few sizes smaller and in crimson. The queen was heavily made up, lending her face a pale, almost ethereal sheen, and her black hair was arranged in an elaborate, if somewhat improbable, style. A large silver crown, more like a silver laurel wreath, rested upon her head. Her daughter’s hair was much more conservatively arranged, and merely tied at the nape of her neck. I noticed that her eyes were an incredible bright-blue.

The queen broke from the group and led her daughter to the throne. With slow, measured movements, a point of ceremony rather than effort, the queen turned to sit on the throne. She did so in a manner that suggested the throne caused her some discomfort, and she raised both hands to alter the crown that appeared to sit awkwardly.

Her daughter moved around to stand on her right and the figures I’d taken to be eunuchs then moved to their position behind the throne, before turning to face the rest of the crowd.

Everyone visibly relaxed at that moment, though the tension remained thick, the room full of uncertainty. A few more people then filed into the court, until there were around sixty of us standing within the perimeter of soldiers. One of the eunuchs leaned forward to whisper something into the queen’s ear. After she nodded, he then beckoned Sulma Tan forward.

She motioned for us to follow her through the crowd and only then did I realize I had not been briefed on the correct royal etiquette. There was little need to tell Leana what to do — we were experienced enough to know that we should keep a close eye on Sulma Tan’s behaviour, and mimic her gestures where appropriate. However, it did not stop my anxiousness growing with every step.

The second secretary fell to one knee before the queen, and lowered her head, placing her forearm horizontally in front of herself. We did the same, rising only when Sulma Tan rose. These gestures seemed to please the queen.

The queen spoke without hesitation, her voice full of authority: ‘Please, to your feet. You are Detratan?’ She spoke in my native language.

‘I am,’ I replied. ‘My name is Lucan Drakenfeld, Officer of the Sun Chamber. This is Leana, my assistant.’

The queen’s gaze settled on my companion. ‘Astran’s mercy, such beautiful dark skin. How wonderful to see such variety in our humble city.’

‘I am from Atrewe,’ Leana said.

‘You are both from places of high culture.’ The queen gave a grin that almost started to crack her make-up. She possessed a wide, animated face and bright bold eyes. I estimated her age to be somewhere around fifty — her white make-up, with vibrant azure areas around her eyes, made it difficult to be certain, or indeed to read her emotions clearly.

‘We like to think so, at least,’ I replied, more to break the silence that lingered rather than to converse in a casual manner. From my experience, it often pays to let people in high positions speak first, and at some length.

If the young Nambu Sorghatan had made eye contact with me, I would have acknowledged it, but she did not. Sulma Tan extended no ceremonial greeting towards her specifically.

Queen Dokuz simply sat there, letting it be known she was watching us, for a long, drawn-out moment. I had no doubt that her spies had been discussing me, that she had sent her menials to verify the events in which I had participated. To me, it was reassuring.

‘We do not often get visitors from the Sun Chamber,’ she said eventually. ‘What a fine institution that is. I have always supported them when we queens and kings meet. Though not everyone can see it, Vispasia depends upon people like you. I understand not even every royal thinks that, but I appreciate the contribution in terms of justice. Stability leads to prosperity, yet often in times of comfort people forget that luxury of peace.’

‘Your words are kind and wise,’ I replied, somewhat relieved. ‘I’m only sad that my arrival — as it tends to be wherever I visit these days — comes under such circumstances.’

‘I have been informed about Bishop Tahn Valin,’ she replied. ‘Is it as bad as they say?’

‘If not worse.’

One of the eunuchs behind, who possessed thick brown hair and striking blue eyes, made an expression that suggested he thought I was making more dramatic conclusions than were necessary.

‘And you are the man who found his remains?’ the queen asked.

‘I’m afraid so. Last night I ventured outside of this prefecture and soon came upon a trail.’ I wanted to suggest that it was a simple enough investigation, but I felt the statement might have undermined Sulma Tan in some way — so I left it at that.

‘Report to me, Officer Drakenfeld, what you have so far discovered,’ she declared. ‘My child,’ she gestured to her right, ‘will one day be queen and need to deal with such matters. Leave out no detail, no matter how disturbing you think it might be.’

Carefully, and at length, I revealed the events leading up to the discovery of his remains, and of the work we had done so far with Sulma Tan, who was slightly embarrassed at the mention of her name in this context. It was understandable that being associated with the dead in any capacity was not well thought of throughout Vispasia. The dead brought with them bad omens. During my revelations, such as they were, I was all too aware that the entire court could hear what was being said. The queen made no effort to ensure the information was kept secret and I decided that was probably no bad thing, since I considered this to be a thoroughly controlled culture.

After I finished my report, I awaited a response.

‘What are your conclusions?’ Queen Dokuz demanded.

‘It is too early to tell. All we know is that the damage to his body was profound. As your physician Carlon reported, this was not some simple backstreet murder. Or an attempt to settle a score or steal a purse. But a calculated effort to inflict the maximum amount of pain on another human. This sort of thing happens so rarely.’

I heard gasps from one or two members of the gathered throng, who had remained silent during our discussion and could not contain their disbelief.

‘We are all such busy people,’ the queen replied.

As ever when among the decadent quarters of society, I resisted the urge to gesture at all those people standing idly nearby.

‘Sulma Tan, too, is too busy as a secretary. We are in the process of undergoing a great survey of our nation — the very first of its kind for a generation. Every member of my staff is stretched to their limits. What is more, we are constantly striving to better ourselves and our minds and our people. This murder in the Sorghatan Prefecture will be a distraction from matters of enlightenment.’

I noticed the younger Sorghatan scoffed at her mother’s comments, before she looked away in the opposite direction.

The queen gazed contemplatively, not angrily, across to the girl. ‘You disapprove of something, Nambu?’

‘Someone has just been killed,’ she said quietly, in perfectly formed Detratan, ‘and all you can think of is that it’s a distraction?’

It was difficult not to smile, as there was much to be commended in the young lady’s pithy sentiment. There was an obvious tension between the two, and it was as though they had reached an uneasy tolerance of one another. What battles there may have been were probably fought a good while ago. Having a queen for a mother would have made victory very unlikely for the young Nambu Sorghatan.

‘A dead man will not halt our progress, Nambu,’ her mother said softly, placing a hand on her daughter’s arm. ‘You will understand what that means one day.’

The young girl did not flinch; she barely noticed the gesture.

‘Children,’ the queen said, shaking her head.

‘They have such wonderful minds,’ I replied.

‘You think so?’

‘Absolutely I do,’ I said, trying to maintain a gentle tone. ‘Younger people look at the world with such innocence and have open minds as a result. They’re not blinded by our more adult prejudices. They still have wonder. They still know how to dream.’

‘Some have had the luxuries in which to dream,’ she said, gazing at her daughter again. ‘Some do not realize quite how lucky they are. That said, young Nambu here was the victim of an attack.’ She explained briefly what had occurred. I assume she wanted people to know that her daughter’s security was of great importance. It was possible she had suspicions of someone present, and wanted to make them uncomfortable. ‘I am thinking of handing her to someone such as Grendor of the Cape. A friend of mine who I can trust.’

‘He is a good man, majesty,’ the blue-eyed eunuch added.

‘Yes. Here she is a sitting target, a doe waiting to receive an arrow. Like all royals who remain still, we make easy sport for others.’

The queen snapped her attention back to me in a way that made me feel as sheepish as her daughter ought to have looked. ‘Anyway, real life has not had the chance to wear down children. I still dream, Officer Drakenfeld, though those dreams take more pragmatic forms these days. They are my visions for this nation. My dreams, if the gods smile on us, become reality. Now, to the business of the bishop. If you have so far been employed in the process of understanding the cause of the bishop’s death, I will grant you permission to ask whoever you wish. But I would like the matter to be resolved with some urgency and without too much distraction. We are undergoing our latest census, a great inventory, which is to be marked by an especially large festival of games towards the latter half of this month.’

She was half addressing me, half addressing the rest of the court. The eunuchs behind her glanced towards the rest of the room now, like some extension of the queen’s arrogance and dominance. I wondered if she had taught them the nuances of her expressions so they worked together as a collective.

‘It is a moment to celebrate our proud Kotonese heritage, with the monthly Kotonese Games and a feast, and from there we will as always look to the future.’ The queen became calmer, and spoke subtly. ‘You will understand that I would not like such momentum and happy times to be ruined by some vile character.’

‘If the murderer remains within the city, I will do my best to find them and to bring them before your courts, for you to issue whatever justice you see fit.’

‘Very good,’ she said. ‘I am glad that you will use our court. I do not like rogue operators.’

‘I am not here to get in the way, but to help the wheels of justice move more smoothly. To help you find this murderer. The Sun Chamber works with each nation’s laws, quite willingly. .’

‘How very diplomatic,’ she replied, ‘given that the Sun Chamber helped define our laws in the first place.’

The queen was making reference to over two hundred years ago, when the Sun Chamber was formed during the foundation of the Vispasian Royal Union. It wasn’t quite that we dictated the laws. The founding principles of the continent were forged at the same time as the Sun Chamber itself. They were one and the same. Without the Sun Chamber there would be no independent organization to bind the nations together. There would be no fairness, no independence, and no accountability. If she was trying to test me, to see if her sardonic comment could annoy me in some way, then I would not give her any such pleasure. It was always the way with royals as they attempted to assert their authority, yet we both knew that if I failed to make my reports, then more officers would come and an army could follow.

‘We are ever the diplomats,’ I replied.

‘In the meantime,’ she continued, ‘I ask that you both join me at an event I am holding later tonight. It is a gathering of great minds from across the arts and sciences, fields that I actively encourage to flourish in our nation. Both of you,’ she indicated Leana, ‘are welcome to join us and converse with others. There will be some of the finest food available, and rare wines from Dalta — a present from their queen.’

We probably didn’t have much choice in the matter. I bowed. ‘We’d be delighted to attend.’

‘Sulma Tan will accompany you both to the event.’

‘As you wish, your highness,’ the second secretary replied, with a deferential nod of her head.

‘I will be most pleased to have a Detratan and an Atrewen as guests. Those old countries. . we in Koton envy them greatly. Our history is too undeveloped, so we must take our heritage from others.’

Her craving for prestige was obvious, matching up perfectly with what I had seen of her tastes in art, and I was very curious to see what the evening would entail.

The queen was about to dismiss us from her company when she suddenly stared at me and asked a question that appeared out of context. ‘How are you with protection?’

I briefly explained Leana’s talents, how they had served us in the past, and admitted I wasn’t too bad with a blade myself. ‘We won’t need any of your guard to accompany us, let’s put it that way.’

Queen Dokuz nodded, but said nothing else on the matter. She leaned back in the throne, her unsettling gaze lingering on me for longer than was comfortable, before she dismissed us.

On our way back out of the hall, passing through the onlookers, I wondered if I had misunderstood that last question. It appeared as if the queen had made a simple mistake in a language that wasn’t her native tongue, or had deliberately veiled her words — but had she in fact been assessing our ability to protect someone else?