Retribution

A Night Mission

Night descended fully over Kuvash and the humidity and close air of the day remained. But the mood of the city — or at least in this prefecture — had changed entirely. It was likely that all cities were essentially the same in that each showed two distinct, jarring personalities for the day and night respectively. Unfamiliar cities tended to exaggerate these differences, as one looked with more focus at the details: the erratic behaviour of the locals and how social dynamics might alter after sunset, the different scents of street cuisine, or the noises of religious ritual. As we walked through these clean, well-behaved streets, with the occasional glimmer of a City Watch glaive here and there, all I could tell about Kuvash was that it was incredibly restrained. Anything slightly remiss remained hidden just out of sight — a contrast to Tryum where everything and anything happened on the streets in front of you.

‘I do not understand why someone who lives such a pure life would be killed in such a way,’ Leana said.

‘If he’s dead, that is,’ I commented. ‘He might well be out there still.’

‘He is dead,’ Leana snapped. ‘Just look at those pieces of his body. If they are an indication of his condition. .’

‘I’m inclined to believe you,’ I replied. ‘Maybe someone took exception to his sermons.’

‘So what are our next steps?’

‘We’ve only seen the pleasant side of the city so far,’ I said. ‘Suppose the pieces of the arm of the bishop really were thrown over the wall. We might be able to find the rest of his remains. Besides, I’d quite like to see the real people — I bet some of them might give us another perspective.’

We walked down-city from the temple towards the wall that separated the two prefectures, and headed to the huge gate. The guards at the station point were perplexed that we would want to leave at this hour; but I stressed that I was on official business.

‘You’ll not find much out there but madmen who worship savage gods,’ one said, tipping up the brim of his helmet. ‘All the sanity is this side.’

‘Even a madman thinks he sees the truth,’ I replied.

Without response they shuffled over to the gates and began to haul back the double doors. ‘We’ve had more soldiers return, and there are more coming back later, so the place will be busier — just to warn you. At least you’ll be more secure though.’

‘Where are they returning from?’ I asked, hoping to get a glimpse into the military procedures. All I knew was that these people had a strong military tradition, especially their cavalry, and that their warriors were proud and noble people — even if there were not many excuses to fight these days.

‘They’re coming back from all over,’ one replied. ‘By all accounts the border with Detrata is going to get livelier.’

‘Why do you think that is?’ I asked, somewhat surprised. ‘No one’s at war.’

He gave a short laugh. ‘Not yet. But we hear all sorts of strange talk about troop movements on the border.’

‘Nothing will happen,’ I declared. ‘We’re a continent in union. We have been for two centuries.’

‘Aye. Tell that to the soldiers at the border.’

We were ushered through the small gap they made in the gate, and the gate shut behind us. For a moment we stood outside the door, and I felt a little numb at what had been said.

‘You do not think that it is serious?’ Leana asked.

‘It is difficult to say anything on the subject knowing so little about it. I’d wager that Sulma Tan can let us know what is happening from a Kotonese perspective, but what on earth is happening in Detrata? Has the Senate gone mad to start military operations of this kind? Then again, it could just be a skirmish over a trade route — a mere tension between nations that will be settled diplomatically, as happens so often. I will ask for more information from the Sun Chamber when I write to them in the morning. But for now, we have our case to resolve.’

Moonlight caught the angles of the buildings in a particularly sinister manner, which might have explained why few people were around at this hour. Unusual, animalistic utterances were coming from beyond the edges of the streets; unfamiliar dialects and strange-sounding words highlighted the sense of alienation.

A soothsayer collared us in the streets, her rancid breath carrying portentous omens — that we would find nought but death in the city. ‘There’ll be bodies and bodies,’ she muttered. ‘Bodies and bodies everywhere.’

‘Thank you, lady,’ I said, excusing myself, but to no avail.

Leana was a little more forceful with her request to be left alone and at the sight of the blade, the soothsayer bowed and retreated into the darkness.

‘That people believe such nonsense only encourages soothsayers like that,’ I remarked.

‘People will believe anything,’ Leana muttered.

This was not the time for me to bring up Leana’s own strange beliefs concerning living among spirits, so I maintained a diplomatic silence.

A fine mist had worked its way up from the river, leaving only our immediate surroundings fully visible. There was no sign of any soldiers as yet. The place was eerily quiet.

‘So what is your plan?’ Leana asked. ‘Do we walk around here until we get stabbed?’

Looking around, it wasn’t likely that anyone would try to hassle the two of us other than the soothsayer.

‘We should find a tavern,’ I concluded. ‘The nearest one.’

‘You want a drink?’

‘Not exactly.’

We continued walking through the dingy, twisting lanes until we spotted a whitewashed building with timber frames and a brazier burning outside. The smell of spilt wine and urine was strong.

‘This seems to be appropriate enough. And to answer your original point — no, we’ve not come to drink. This place is within a quick walk of the bishop’s temple. Someone in here might well have attended one of his daily sessions, if they had been permitted into the other prefecture. They might have a useful word or two to say about the priest. We’re only ever going to get the clean-living version from officials. It is what inappropriate acts the bishop has committed — if any — that I’m interested in.’

Inside, the tavern was dreary — barely any brighter than the night. A few candles burned on the tables and bar, sitting in holders that had swelled up with years of dripping wax, but their light was absorbed by the darkness. A dozen customers were scattered about the place, tucked into alcoves or sitting alone on benches, staring into their tankards. Sprigs of herbs had been nailed to the walls for scent. Four skinny cats were asleep near to the stove for warmth, but far enough away from any customers who might disturb their peace.

I asked for wine from the young man behind the bar, a lad as slender as the cats and with a face to match. His head was a fraction too large for his frame, his face was broad, his eyes green and almost lifeless. Surprised that anyone else had come in tonight, he served us wine with a jug of water, and placed down two wooden cups. His gaze caught my brooch and when he made eye contact with me again I asked in Kotonese: ‘Did the Bishop Tahn Valin ever come in here?’

A smile grew on his face, just a slight one. ‘Hardly. People of his sort don’t tend to come down these parts.’

‘Do people like you go up to those parts?’

‘Some do, some don’t. I’m too busy. As for religion, my mother has a shrine out the back and we hope for the best. Invite the gods in when we have dinners, that sort of thing. That’ll do for me. Others take their business with the gods more seriously.’

‘Could you point me in the direction of someone who has attended any of his services?’

‘Sure.’ He nodded to a woman sat at a table behind me. She looked a little older than me, and was dressed more smartly than the others in the tavern. ‘Lady there, she goes up quite a bit. One of those who thinks getting involved with people like that will see her right in the next world. Or this one, if she can get her way.’

‘Thanks for your help,’ I replied.

Leana and I walked into the small alcove where the woman was drinking alone. ‘May we join you?’ I asked.

She was wearing a black lace shawl and black dress, with chestnut hair now slightly greying and must have been in her early forties. Her eyes were a pale shade of green. She had a nervous face so I tried to put her at ease.

I explained why we were there, and our business with the bishop, but without letting on that he had been murdered. ‘So you see,’ I added, ‘we merely wanted to know if you knew the bishop so we can find out what’s happened. Many people are deeply worried about him.’

After a moment’s silence, she spoke in calm, clear words. ‘He’s dead. It’s nothing to do with me.’

‘Ah, dead,’ I replied.

She glanced repeatedly between Leana and me, as if uncertain of knowing how to act or what to say. She clearly wanted to be anywhere but talking to me, but I let the silence linger hoping she would fill it with detail.

She did not.

‘Did you attend his temple?’ I asked eventually. ‘The gentleman behind the bar believes you did.’

‘What’s it to you?’ She glanced over my shoulder briefly, at the bar, then back down to the table.

‘If he’s dead,’ I said, ‘it might help me find the killer — if you could share some of your knowledge.’

She continued to be evasive until I produced a silver coin. I hadn’t changed any coin to the local currency, but Detratan silver was never to be sniffed at. She snatched it from my outstretched hand.

‘I went to his temple, that’s right. Good man. Honest. Too few like him around.’ She was obviously proud of the bishop. ‘Helped people like me, too. Gave food when it was needed. Never asked for anything back.’

‘Did he ever create trouble?’

‘Never.’ She almost laughed at the notion, but seemed too dour to comment fully. ‘Not even with non-believers.’

‘And you’re convinced he’s dead?’ I asked.

‘I am.’

‘On what grounds do you believe this?’

Her sudden, feral stare almost startled me. ‘Because I know who’s keeping his head.’