Retribution

The Documents

Nambu lay fast asleep on her bed, a vision of tranquillity.

I felt guilty for what happened tonight. I never wanted her to feel as if we had been lumbered with her — even though that was, in all reality, a true fact. But how would the princess have felt if we were to make such disapproval obvious? She would have been miserable company, a heavy stone around our necks. Seeking to avoid that situation, I had treated her with equanimity, allowing her to see what we would see, to follow our steps through the city and so get a view she would not otherwise have. In a distant region of my mind, one that wished to avoid influencing future queens, I hoped she might see more of reality so that she would understand how difficult life was for people not born into grandeur.

Our routines were not typical. Though we were up with the sun, there was no guarantee we would rest our heads after it had set. We might walk for miles in a day with little success and we would, more often than not, find ourselves in a scrape or two. Clearly such events had taken their toll on the princess.

At least she did not have to do this for her entire life. Leana and I would move from city to city upon receiving an order and very often there would be too little time to settle into comfortable routines, to build up friendships, let alone start a family or direct affairs from the sanctuary of a court. Of course, many Sun Chamber officers could find themselves stationed in a city for years — decades even. My father was one such example. He settled in Tryum, Detrata, in his early twenties. He died there.

I tried not to let such distance from normal human affairs harden me like it had some of my colleagues. One could find grim souls working in various parts of the continent, enforcing Vispasian law through gritted teeth; jaded old officers and agents who had exchanged raising a family and watching their own young children play, only to handle corpses or ensure affairs of state were handled smoothly down on the streets.

Reminding myself of this sometimes saddened me. Was it the life I wanted indefinitely? Leana was a good companion, however, and stopped my path from being too lonely. In some ways, Leana had become a sister to me, and I would grieve deeply if she ever left my service.

Nambu stirred in her sleep and I moved from the doorway, pulling the door closed behind me. I couldn’t blame the young princess if she was feeling scared and tired. It was justifiable, but she was made of tough stuff and would no doubt be eager to continue with Leana’s combat lessons tomorrow. She was more than the child her mother believed her to be. There was a determination there, and a desire to learn not found in adults.

At what age did someone stop being a child, anyway? I had nothing on which to base a single thought on the matter. For some reason I found myself enjoying the princess’s company: she had highlighted new qualities in both myself and Leana, which were difficult to realize at first. We had begun to care about someone else — no, to care for someone else.

Sighing, I poured myself a cup of water from an amphora and set to work.

Sitting at the desk under the light of several candles, I spread the stolen documents before me and, with a weary mind, proceeded to examine in detail just what Grendor of the Cape, or at least someone in Naval exports, had wanted to keep hidden.

There were approximately fifty sheets in all — the paper being of the cheap variety, it tended to fray around the edges, so it was not easy to make out what I was seeing. Furthermore, it was written in Kotonese, a language whose angular script I found difficult, though I could speak it more or less fluently.

However certain words began to repeat themselves. And one of them I had never heard before.

Evum.

A shipment. Evum. Dates and times for the arrival. Evum.

Was that the strange stone? Were these documents describing how and when it had come into the city?

It looked to me as if there were numerous other companies written down, though it was not clear what they were, and I had not heard of them before. One thing that did strike me as odd though was the phrase:

More offers.

It cropped up a few times, seemingly without context. Was this food offerings for gods? Or was it offers of the kind that a business person might deal with?

Stifling a yawn, I investigated the pages more thoroughly, hoping that something else might present itself, or that I could spot more patterns. My thoughts were beginning to drift from tiredness.

The process felt incredibly isolating, especially given that these quarters were hidden away from the world. Few people knew we were here and no one else knew I had these documents. Sometimes these moments could be revelatory; other times I felt that I might die and no one would know or probably care. There would be some paperwork back in Free State, but usually the only people who were concerned about my business were connected to the cases we worked on, and therefore had an interest in my remaining alive.

Eventually, another name presented itself.

Marinus Mining.

Marinus as in Lydia Marinus.

Another connection — that was worth waiting for. Marinus Mining had been Lydia’s company, then, with a quite legitimate trade, and which had been recorded in the other ledgers. However, in these hidden documents, her company was discussed in the same breath as the mysterious evum.

A gentle knock at the door startled me. I stood and cautiously walked towards it. A moment later a voice came. ‘It’s me, Sulma Tan.’

‘One moment.’ I slid the bolt back and opened the door.

Sulma Tan stood there, her hair pinned up though a few strands hung down across her face. She was wearing a white shirt tucked into black trousers. ‘I hope I am not disturbing you.’

‘Not at all,’ I said, and stepped back for her to enter. She was such a heartening sight after staring at papers for so long.

‘I was up late working.’ She smiled knowingly. ‘It seems you are too.’

‘Yes, sometimes I long to work more in alignment with the sun,’ I replied, taking a moment to scan the corridor and then closing the door.

‘I came alone,’ she said, her eyes glimmering in the candlelight. ‘It’s quite all right — there was no one following me. I walked past to see if you were still up. When I pressed my ear against the door I could hear you sliding papers across the desk. I know that sound well enough by now.’

‘How goes the census?’ I asked.

‘It is almost finished. We will present to the queen in private before going through the motions in the court — she wishes to know these things well before the court in case there are any surprises. She will probably ask a thousand questions and expect them all to be answered in public. It will be a long morning, and then she will want to dwell on matters. More questions will come in the following weeks.’

‘Well, it’s nice of you to visit given how busy you are.’

‘The work is done. I needed a distraction, and I was interested in seeing how you were healing.’

‘Carlon sent you to check on me,’ I muttered.

‘No, I sent myself,’ Sulma Tan replied. ‘Besides, your Sun Chamber work offers more curiosities and a greater sense of adventure.’

‘If that’s what you wish for.’

‘Sometimes I do wonder how long I can sit at a desk. My back aches sometimes from copying papers, and I am only thirty summers. I have to stretch and bend morning and night to ensure that I am not a cripple like some become in my trade.’

‘The Sun Chamber isn’t for everyone,’ I said. ‘Though you clearly have the mind for the job.’

She made a non-committal expression. It did not seem likely that she would leave her life’s work to run around Vispasia — it was a more fanciful moment, perhaps, but the Sun Chamber could really make use of someone as knowledgeable as Sulma Tan.

‘Not every culture allows women to flourish like Koton,’ she said.

‘For all the concerns about Koton being a backward nation, it really is not so. You yourself are very driven, and you are in a position to change things.’

‘You would be driven if you had my kind of upbringing.’

‘Yours was a bad one?’ I asked.

‘Not a bad one; we were reasonably well off. My father died when I was very young and left us a good amount of money for years to come. But my mother filled the home with many strange men seeking to fill some kind of void. Many of those men were abusive, not so much striking her but belittling her, saying that she would remain worthless. I remember holding my sister close in bed as one of her lovers attempted to beat down our front door at some ungodly hour of the night. Yet, the next morning, my mother brought him in. She was vulnerable. I vowed to myself then to never be reliant on another man, to be in such a position.’

She said all this quite calmly. There was no bitterness, no anger, just a quiet determination. We continued our conversation for a little longer, she giving me some of the colour of her life, and asking the same of me, of my time in Detrata and some of the things I had seen in the Sun Chamber. She asked again about my seizures and I trusted her with talking more about them, though it was still uncomfortable for me. She was interested that I had not suffered a seizure for a while.

Eventually we focused on the case again, but not before she had berated me for leaving the lid off the pot of ink.

In hushed tones I told her all we had discovered so far, reminding her of the bodies and of their previous occupations; of the gemstone, who owned it and our information from the jeweller. Then I told her of Grendor’s offices, our night-time raid and the documents we had taken.

‘But it is only with these papers,’ I gestured to the desk, ‘that I can truly start to connect them all. Assuming this “evum” was indeed the strange gemstone, it highlights a direct connection between the three dead bodies. The bishop had worn evum on a ring, and so had Grendor, according to his wife, with his missing amulet. Lydia’s company had possibly helped to bring the evum out of the ground and moved it, perhaps with shipments of her own legitimate goods — salt and the like. But ultimately Grendor’s business had been responsible for the shipping of evum.’

‘You think all three are related to it. .’ she breathed. ‘But I have never heard of evum. In the records of the census, even the older ones within the manuscript hall, I don’t remember the word evum. We have salt, copper, tin, coal, building materials such as slate and limestone, precious stones, and so on, but nothing like evum.’

‘So evum remains a secret to all,’ I whispered.

‘Why do you think they are after this mineral? If it is indeed simply like a ruby, I can’t believe there would be all this trouble over a decorative trinket.’

Because of its properties, I wanted to say, noting again how little I ached from my attack. But that made me feel foolish and little better than a street soothsayer. So instead I simply shrugged.

‘It can’t be simply for the money, either,’ I said, ‘since a precious stone or a mineral needs an active demand from people in order to create a decent business out of it. Should you come across emeralds and diamonds, there are enough wealthy individuals across Vispasia to pay a handsome sum for one. Should you come across iron, there are industries who need it. But evum has no such market. It has no clientele. It remains an unknown entity. All we know is that certain people have come into contact with it — and those individuals, or some of them, have been killed in a ritual manner.’

‘Which implies someone else knows about evum,’ Sulma Tan added. ‘Enough to murder three people horribly.’

‘This gives the investigation some hope at last,’ I said.

‘What is your plan now?’ she asked.

‘Tomorrow I wish to visit the city quarters of Lydia Marinus to see if there is anything there. Also I want to examine her other residence out of the city, and to look at her mining operations — wherever they are.’

‘Yes, yes — I can have the route drawn up for you by noon,’ Sulma Tan said keenly. ‘I know of her properties.’

‘That would be very kind. Could you bring them to her residence tomorrow morning?’

‘Of course.’

‘And. . could you tell me where she lived? My knowledge of this city remains relatively poor for the moment.’

‘It’s an attractive property not too far from the palace. A quiet house on a wide street.’ She added softly, ‘One day, if I have a dwelling of my own, I would like it to be styled like this one — though a mere fraction of the size. Simple and pretty.’

‘Like the old styles?’

‘No, just uncluttered. My mind is cluttered enough.’

‘I’ll pay extra attention to how it looks in that case,’ I replied, then tried to stifle a yawn — but was clearly failing.

Sulma Tan regarded me knowingly, ever-familiar with working late by candlelight. ‘You should get some rest. Come and find me in my offices when you are ready — I’ll only be reading over my reports for the queen — and I will show you the way to Lydia’s house.’

With that she rose and walked to the door, turning just before she opened it. ‘Officer Drakenfeld, thank you for keeping an eye on the princess. She is old for her years, and very smart — we often talk of natural sciences and art, and she has a thirst for knowledge. With her accompanying you about the city, it will help her to grow. That will be good for Koton in the future.’

‘It’s not a problem — we’re finding her to be rather good company,’ I replied honestly, which pleased Sulma Tan.