Drakenfeld (41 page)

‘Go ahead,’ he grunted. ‘It’s not like I’ve got much of a future round here.’

I asked Leana to step back and continued more calmly. ‘I believe my father came here and bought some wares off you.’

‘I don’t do refunds,’ the man replied, casting a suspicious glare in our direction.

‘Look,’ I continued, ‘I just want to know something very simple – whether or not you sold my father poison.’ I gave a description of him and a rough estimate of
when my father might have come here.

‘Father, y’ say?’ The man looked me up and down before his eyes settled on my Sun Chamber brooch. ‘Man came in here weeks ago wearing something that looked exactly like
that.’ His finger prodded the brooch and I nodded. ‘I ain’t so good with descriptions, lad. My memory ain’t what it used to be. That’s a blessing round these parts.
People want to remain unknown – that’s why they come to me and not the fancy places – but I remember a brooch like that all right. He didn’t look much like you
though.’

‘Did you sell him this?’ I held up the vial.

The man smirked and shuffled into his back room. A moment later he returned with a box, which he opened to reveal dozens of similar vials.

‘These are mine,’ he replied. ‘I only keep the blue ones for poisons – to keep it separate from the other potions.’

‘So my father did come here.’

The expression on the apothecary’s face relaxed a little. His voice lost its bitter edge. He looked as if he felt sorry for me. ‘I did sell it, yeah. But so what? I sell a lot of
poison.’

‘Did he come here asking specifically for this? Did he seem hesitant in any way?’

‘He asked for this one, there was no doubt he knew what it was for. People don’t buy that sort of thing to cure headaches, though it would do the job just as well. I know
you’re looking for answers, son, but you’ll not find much. All I can say is that I’ve rarely seen a man so lacking in spirit and vitality. I put it down to age, but when a man
buys poison, well . . . All you know is that someone’s life is going to end, sooner or later.’

We went outside and I crouched down in the street, holding my face in my hands. A cart clattered by and the driver cursed at a passer-by. Dust rose up around me and my eyes
soon began to sting. Dreary shades of yellow and brown began to merge in my blurred vision.

I could only speculate at the pressure my father must have felt to have taken such an act, to have made that decision to end his existence and take his chances with the gods.

Leana placed her hand on my shoulder and she guided me to my feet again.

‘No one need know,’ she said. ‘You carry the shame only in your heart – others cannot see in there.’

We walked most of the way back along the backstreets of Tryum in silence. The only thing that brought me out of my glum state of mind was seeing a stand that sold a selection of straw dolls
– one was very much similar to a gift I had given Titiana years ago. We had taken a ride out to the woods that day, where we camped and ate roasted meats under the starlight. Those were more
innocent times.

I purchased the small doll, which was no taller than my fore-finger, and slipped it into my pocket. Leana frowned at me but didn’t comment, and we continued on our way.

We arrived home at dusk. I was hoping to avoid speaking to anyone, but the men of the Civil Cohorts seemed in buoyant mood.

They eagerly revealed they had caught several thieves today, and had kept an immaculate and precise record of the persons involved, which would inevitably lead to private prosecutions. Their
aggressive questioning had linked two of the men back to a gang who sought to gain the blessing of a couple of senators, to get work come the election season.

Veron, who had by now returned, was delighted with this news – as he could use it for his own purposes in the Senate. Now that they had a more robust point of contact and sense of
organization, they had found the citizens of Tryum wanted to bother them with all sorts of trivial matters. One reasonably well-off man had been struggling to cook his dinner, because his wife was
ill, and was so panicked that he decided to reach out to the cohorts for help.

‘As if we could produce anything better than sludge!’ Farrum chuckled. ‘I told him to bugger off in the end. Wasting our time like that.’

‘People will want to look up to you all the time now they know where to come. I’ve had it often over the years – we are in a position to help people, so naturally they’ll
come to us. Don’t be too harsh in judging them.’

‘Aye, you’re right. So any more ideas on the murders?’ Farrum asked.

‘Not yet,’ I replied.

‘Did you manage to speak to any senators?’

‘No.’

I opened the door to my room and was both surprised and relieved to find Titiana sitting on my bed. Though I had hoped for solitude, her company was not a disappointment.

She asked me how my day had been and I gave her an honest assessment. Her soothing gestures and touches opened me up yet again, and when I spoke of my meeting the king she stared at me with
awe.

‘What’s he like?’ she asked. ‘I think I’ve only ever seen statues of him, but we all know how reliable they can be. What’s he like as a person? Tell
me.’

Charmed by her innocence, I gave her my opinion of him – that, ultimately, he was a good person, smart and dedicated. But this time I hinted that the king wasn’t being entirely
honest with me about Lacanta. ‘He seems to be a link, somehow, between all of these killings, this whole mess. I’m missing something, and I can almost see it – perhaps I already
have, but I just need more time.’

‘I can’t stay for long,’ Titiana whispered. ‘I should have said so when you first came in, but then I saw your sad face.’

‘You don’t need me to moan at you all night long. I’m not ideal company right now.’

‘No, you don’t understand. My husband will be returning to Tryum shortly. I may not be able to come back here as easily.’

‘Oh,’ I replied. This was something I really should have anticipated. I searched my mind for the right thing to say, but could only mutter, ‘When can we meet again?’

Titiana looked to the floor. ‘I really don’t know, Lucan.’

I nodded my understanding. I did not need telling twice.

Titiana gazed up, unsettling me with her focused eyes. ‘I want you to know, though, that whatever happens . . . I have . . . these past few days have been—’

I placed a finger to her lips and kissed her brow. ‘It’s taken me all this time to finally find you again. The gods will, I’m sure, arrange for another meeting soon
enough.’

‘Hopefully it won’t be another ten years.’ She took my hand and steered me to the bed.

What followed was both intense and upsetting, both a union and a separation. Every moment, each gesture seemed to be stretched out in time; and the passion wasn’t the
same. There was an overwhelming sense of loss about the act – the sudden promise of her absence highlighted some other emptiness inside me.

Afterwards I watched her getting dressed, asking myself if I had wasted my time with her. I had hardly taken my time to understand the only woman with whom I’d genuinely known intimacy
like this.

Before she exited, I reached down to the floor and picked out the doll from my trouser pocket. ‘I bought this, earlier,’ I whispered, and held it up for her. ‘It reminded me of
when things were a lot easier.’

Titiana took it with tears in her eyes. She kissed my outstretched fingers and turned to go. Vaguely I wondered if I’d see her again. If these were my final acts with her, were they
particularly memorable? Would she cherish anything that had happened between us?

I sat in the stillness of my room for some time, staring at the ceiling, and growing increasingly annoyed with myself for allowing my actions to get out of my control.

With a lantern in my hand I shuffled across to the corner of the room and stood in front of a small marble bust of Polla; there, I fell to both knees, placing the lantern on the tiles beside me.
I had said to Leana earlier that Polla required her followers to make their own sense of what went on in this world, and that we should put our faith in the unseen forces.

‘Well here I am, goddess,’ I whispered, with my arms out wide and with my chest naked to her. ‘Here I am, with my father bringing shame to my family, my lover having walked
into the night for the final time and a murder that involves the most important people in the nation. You are no soothsayer, goddess, but my logic is failing me now. I could do with a sign, or a
message. Anything.’

In the silence that answered my call, I stretched out on the floor, exhausted from the day, and stared into the warm, flickering light of the lantern, and a harsh scent came to me . . .

I was staring sideways at Leana’s boots, the floor tiles cool against my aching cheek.

‘Another seizure,’ she grunted matter-of-factly, placing her hands either side of my ribs. She hauled me up and onto my bed.

Feeling rather numb, I said, ‘That was not the sign I was hoping for.’ I grunted.

Leana gave a soft smile. ‘Praying to your goddess will not help you. You have given your heart to another woman instead. Or, perhaps she has taken it of her own accord, who can
tell?’

Leana moved to scoop up her cloak, which she had used as a headrest.

‘How long was I gone?’ I asked.

‘I cannot be sure. I was in the hallway when your woman left you. I heard your foot kick the wall not long after. I do not think it was any longer than normal.’

‘I should really take those herbs from the apothecary.’

‘You should. And this is better, Lucan. Herbs, something real. Practical logic. No prayers.’

‘You talk to your spirit gods,’ I said. ‘There’s no difference. We each need help with what we can’t see.’ Leana walked to the door and I called out softly,
‘I don’t thank you enough for what you do.’

‘I will not refuse a pay rise, if you feel guilty about it.’ Leana left the door ajar as she left.

When I finally came out of my room, Bellona was standing in the hallway, having only just written a message on parchment.

‘Has someone called already?’

‘You were asleep and I did not want to disturb you.’

Smiling softly, she handed me the letter.

‘It was the priest again,’ she continued. ‘I did what you said and took down more details, but he would not share that much. All he said was that he was a priest from the
Temple of Ptrell—’

‘Ptrell?’

‘Yes.’

As in the Mark of Ptrell – the discreet, engraved mark on the wall in Optryx. At the time I had thought it a sign, a piece of esoteric graffiti perhaps, but Ptrell was such a rare god.

It was too rare for this to be a coincidence. Ptrell had some business in Optryx and I wanted to find out what that was exactly.

Leana and I both walked with haste through the streets.

‘The symbol of Ptrell,’ I whispered as we marched through the pale light of dawn, the smell of woodsmoke thick in the air. The city was as calm as it always was at this hour; this
serene picture was how I remembered Tryum to be when I used to recall its streets. Our urgent pace seemed very much out of place with this calmness.

‘Do you remember seeing the symbol of Ptrell when we were in Optryx?’

‘The eye within the hand?’ Leana replied. ‘Yes. Scratched in the wall in a storage room.’

‘Hardly anyone follows Ptrell in Detrata – I believe I said so at the time. Polla is the dominant god here, of those who blend intellectual query with matters of the gods. It just
seems hard to believe that a priest of Ptrell is also in the city. What if he’s connected to that sign in some way?’

Leana shrugged.

Few people were about so we had to rely on the directions that Bellona had taken, which were accurate. It took less than an hour to arrive at the priest’s dwelling, a small shack somewhere
among the backstreets of Vellyum. It was a very old wooden temple, which at first could have been mistaken for a tavern. A corroded brazier stood outside and there were a few food offerings and
cheap jewellery draped across a sculpture of a raised, flat hand.

Leana knocked on the door of the temple with her foot, and we waited.

Eventually it opened and, smiling from the shade, out stepped a man I assumed was the priest. He wore green silk robes with fine, gold detailing, an effect that looked rather like a
spider’s web, and he was carrying a white staff. Wafts of incense could be smelled inside.

‘My name is Lucan Drakenfeld, son of Calludian. You’ve called on me a couple of times.’

His face immediately showed immense relief, as if he had finally met up with a long-lost friend and any moment now he would embrace me.

‘Since I learned of your arrival in the city, I have tried unsuccessfully to contact you,’ he said.

‘Is it urgent?’

‘Not any more. I’ve given up hope now.’

‘Maybe I can still help?’

‘That is possible. I hope I did not wake you this morning when I left a message? I hoped I could reach you, since you were always out, at the early hour, but that lovely lady
wouldn’t let me go until I gave her more details.’