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Authors: Mark Charan Newton

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The Stench of Death

When Leana arrived she put her hand to her nose. ‘Spirits save us, are there no more windows to let in the breeze?’

‘None that I can see.’

The pervasive stench indicated that the man had been dead for some time. His blood had pooled and dried on the floor. Dressed in casual garb, which seemed loose-fitting on his slender frame, his
skin was lightly bronzed and his hair was dark-blond: he fitted the description that Clydia had given us.

‘Leana,’ I said, ‘I need you to find your way back to the Skull and Jasmine house. Though we’ve travelled a long way around the city, I don’t think it’s too
far from here. We need Clydia to come here and identify the body. Tell her she can bring a couple of the other actors if she needs them.’

Leana nodded and left the room, and a moment later I spotted her sprinting through the street.

With the sounds of the busy community outside, I set about assessing what had happened.

There was no blood to be found on the walls and in fact not even around the edges of this room – which implied there had not been a struggle. There were no signs of a fight, no broken jars
or pottery, all of which were still standing by chairs or on tabletops. There was an uneaten loaf of bread, a bowl of olives and two apples on the table, laid out for a solitary dinner with one
wooden cup of water, and two silver peculla coins next to it.

One of the other rooms was his sleeping area, a dark bare chamber with a couple of unlit lanterns and, aside from a small bag of clothes, there was nothing for me to go on. Everything was
incredibly neat and tidy, the picture of an everyday man living alone.

The state of the room where the corpse lay suggested two things: either the man had taken his own life, or he was killed by a professional. Yet, it couldn’t have been suicide. Not only was
there no blade nearby, but if this was Drullus, he had paid a lot of money to hide away here in order to keep his life, not to give it up. But if it had been a murder, then the victim must have
known his killer to have let him in. Either that, or we were dealing with a highly skilled operator, who could move about the streets with quiet grace and stealth, and could gain entry to this
building without force. In many respects, it was not unlike the case of Lacanta’s murder. I double-checked the rest of the house, especially the windows, but there were no signs of anything
being amiss.

I reached down and turned the body over, noting that the stiffness of death had long since set in. There was just one clean but very deep cut along his throat. Had the blow been a rapid slash
from in front, or a careful slice from behind? The knees were bent, too, which indicated he had been kneeling down before his killer as his throat was opened – as if he had submitted himself
for execution. Drullus may have known there was no point in running away: this would have been a pitiful death for the poor actor.

There was a dark thread no more than the length of a finger, which had been caught in his nails as if he’d been clutching at his attacker, pleading for mercy. A piece of thread this common
could tell me very little, but simply added to the broader picture of what may have taken place.

There were no signs of a head wound, not even any bruising to the flesh. So he hadn’t been beaten or attacked, pointing again to a professional hit rather than a break-in or robbery gone
wrong. His tunic was drenched in blood, but I didn’t yet want to strip the clothing to examine the rest of his torso, not until Clydia had formally identified him and confirmed my
suspicions.

Leana returned with Clydia and two of the other actors; young attractive men, one with a slender frame, one with broad shoulders, both with cropped black hair – they
looked similar enough to be brothers. One wore a grey tunic, a dark cloak and sandals, the other had dressed in tones of dark green. Clydia, in her long blue cape, was dressed for the rain.

Crouching down, I peeled back a blanket I had found to cover the body, revealing his face, trying to hide the worst of the injuries from them. Clydia immediately let out a wail. She turned into
the shoulder of the slender actor and sobbed and heaved repeatedly while he stroked her hair with one hand and stared aghast at the scene.

The one with the broader shoulders stepped forward and crouched down next to me. ‘That’s him all right,’ he breathed and shook his head. ‘Poor, poor Drullus.’

Poor Drullus indeed. So here before us all was the most promising lead in the case of Lacanta’s murder, and he was dead in his own safe house.

‘I’m going to ask some routine questions and I’d be grateful if you can answer truthfully.’

The actor nodded.

‘When did you really last see Drullus?’ I asked.

‘I honestly didn’t see him after the performance at Optryx – and we left before the ceremonies started to reach a climax. We tend to come and go out of our house, so
don’t really pay much attention to each other’s movements unless there’s a production looming. But I’m pretty sure it was right after that evening’s performances, when
we went our own way.’

‘Do you have any idea who might have done this, perhaps an enemy of the group?’

‘There were people we all upset, and often. Actors aren’t exactly loved in Tryum. We’re treated like whores a lot of the time.’

‘But could anyone you know have come in here and slit his throat? I ask this, because I’m inclined to believe Drullus knew his killer and let him in.’ I explained the few signs
of a disturbance and that the broken door was our doing.

‘I honestly don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t even know what this place is – your lady –’ he indicated Leana ‘– told me he was hiding
out. I’ve no idea why. He made no mention of it before. He just went out, but we didn’t think it important because he could be gone for a couple of days at a time.’

The other man, his arms still around Clydia, nodded to con-firm this point.

‘Well,’ I continued, ‘it seemed he intended to remain here for a while at least. Look at the food on the table.’

‘That’s Drullus’ diet all right. He liked to look after himself – said that his physique and complexion would improve.’

‘He didn’t even drink wine, not like we do,’ Clydia added.

‘You . . . you don’t think we’re in trouble do you, sir?’ the slender man asked. ‘Will whoever did this, will they come after us as well?’

I shook my head. ‘Drullus came here on his own, knowing that it was he alone who was being hunted. And he was right, too. So I do not think you are in immediate danger. I would, however,
remain vigilant. If you have friends, go and stay with them. Don’t go out alone. Being cautious will do you no harm.’

I pulled the blanket back across Drullus’ face, and stood up once again, noting that the afternoon sun was sliding from the sky. It was time to let these actors get back home. They would
not be much help now so, after giving them my address in case any information should surface, I told them a message would be sent when Drullus was available for burial.

Once they had gone, Leana stepped alongside, by Drullus’ corpse. ‘You look unwell.’

‘I’m fine. In a way, I grieve for him. Here was a handsome young man with potentially a decent life ahead of him, where he could enjoy his work. And it was cut short, for what
reason? What did poor Drullus do exactly?’

‘It could be connected to Lacanta somehow?’

A dead royal and a dead actor, both now in the Underworld with help from a blade. Their lives crossed in some way, potentially, but I suspected that only King Licintius would know how.
‘Before I can really say, we need to see the king. I want to watch his reaction to the news of Drullus’ death.’

As we headed out of the room, I noticed something by the door frame and crouched down to pick it up.

‘Have you found something?’ Leana asked, leaning over me.

I twirled a leaf around in my fingers. It was still green, indicating it had not been a dried import, and it was generally an oval-shape with several acute points. ‘Henbane, I believe. I
could be mistaken.’

‘Here.’

I stood and handed it to Leana, who confirmed my suspicions.

‘Now,’ I said, ‘what would an actor be doing with a leaf of henbane?’

‘Maybe he made a drug from it to get visions? It could be some creative thing. You know what these people can be like.’

‘Henbane is also a poison,’ I replied, standing up. ‘And you heard what the actors told us – he liked to look after himself.’

‘Well, he didn’t die because of this leaf – unless it is as sharp as a blade,’ Leana remarked, running her finger along the edge.

‘Indeed not,’ I replied. ‘But how did a fresh henbane leaf get here?’

Veldrum Hecater

We checked with the locals along the street enquiring where we might find a herbalist but there were none nearby and certainly no one could be found selling henbane on the
nearby market stalls.

While we were in this part of the city, I felt it prudent to pay a quick return visit to Yadrix Velor and the Snake Kings, to see if they knew anything about Drullus’ death. So much for
the protection money he had paid them.

Yadrix was in a much more welcoming spirit this time, as he was hopeful of a connection with the Sun Chamber, but he knew nothing of what had happened to Drullus. He claimed that his job had
been merely to provide a safe house for the actor, and it was Drullus’ own fault if he let in his own murderer.

I also asked him if he dealt in henbane, in any form, but he shrugged. ‘There are stronger poisons available if you want to kill someone,’ he claimed, ‘and more effective herbs
if you want to escape reality for a few hours.’

It was time to head back up-city before the evening fell, but via a route that would take us past the border of Vellyum and Plutum, which was near to the Seventh Temple of
Malax. In that area was the house of the moneylender Veldrum Hecater.

My father’s supposed debt to him had been at the back of my mind all day. With that matter resolved, perhaps my mind would settle more, allowing me to focus on the murders. At the very
least, he could stop sending people to attack us. If money was owed, the debts would be paid, but just how bad had the situation for my father been?

A couple of shopkeepers nearby were starting to pack up for the day. After asking one of them which was Veldrum Hecater’s door, they pointed to a splendid gated property set back from the
street.

‘You should do this on your own,’ Leana said. ‘It does not look to be a terrible place. I know that this is a private thing for you also.’

‘That’s very considerate,’ I said. ‘I’ll meet you back at our house.’

She nodded and started to walk swiftly back along the high pavement.

The gates to the property were open, so I took that to be a welcome gesture and headed straight for the main door. The gardens, in the late afternoon and after the rain, were magnificent to walk
through, and I noted a handful of species I had seen on my travels, some even all the way from Venyn, and a handsome fig tree.

I knocked on the large double door and called out for Veldrum Hecater. A moment later a hatch slid back and a foreign woman asked for my name. I gave that and my title, suspecting that it would
already be a familiar one in this household.

The door opened and two servants ushered me inside to the hallway, where they told me to wait. Sunlight slid through the open roof at an angle, illuminating a vibrant red fresco beyond. The
fountain in the centre of the room had collected a lot of water. There were many great works of art here, and statues of several kings and queens – including a fine one of Licintius himself,
which didn’t look all that unlike him.

‘Son of Calludian,’ came a voice. A slightly hunched man shuffled towards me, wearing a black tunic, light-grey trousers and slippers, and he carried a cane in his right hand. He
must have been at least fifty years old and the expression that time had carved into his face was one of utter satisfaction with the world.

‘Are you Veldrum Hecater?’ I asked.

He nodded once, and smiled. ‘You look . . . rather unkempt, young man. Have the gods been unkind today?’

I had no answer for that. ‘You’ve sent several men of little skill to my house recently – and if not to my house, then to hunt me through the streets like an animal.’

BOOK: Drakenfeld
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