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Authors: Mark Charan Newton

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‘I believe the last case he discussed was in exposing a rather nasty little daughter–father marriage,’ Veron said.

‘That sounds disturbing.’

‘It was. Things got a lot worse when a lynch mob found out about them and burned down their house because they didn’t want the gods cursing their community. Disgusting
business.’

I searched for the right words, hoping for something more considered. ‘What was he really like, in the months up to his death? I hadn’t seen him for years. We wrote occasionally but
it was all rather formal.’

Veron gazed at me with a shadow of sympathy. ‘Full of life.’ He stared into the fountain. ‘A vibrant sort. He was a great observer of other people, so I often felt under
scrutiny in his company. A conversation could be more like a board game. But when we became accustomed to one another we dined now and then at each other’s houses, but he had his wits about
him and rarely said too much. Me, on the other hand, once I get a cup of wine in my hand you’d do well to shut me up.’

‘Full of life,’ I repeated. ‘An active man.’

‘Quite the athlete in his youth, so he liked to tell me. Yes, he kept active. Though, it is worth saying that in his final months he lost a little of that colour.’

‘Do you think he could have fallen ill?’

The senator weighed up the question in his mind, and I grew increasingly curious about his manner: the way he’d look around the house for distractions, or pick up ornaments and eye them in
the light of a lantern.

‘That isn’t unlikely,’ Veron said. ‘He was quieter. He was seen out far less often – and you know how important it is in Tryum to be sociable. We all know each
other here. Social circles keep us together – they help maintain some sense of order, as we all keep an eye on each other’s affairs. So, yes, perhaps an illness could well have claimed
him in the end.’

‘The physician said it was his heart.’

‘That sounds about right,’ Veron agreed. ‘We had a good team of people there that day, as well as folk from the Pollan temple. I’m not a medical man, but I can tell
you’re curious about his death. You think it suspicious, hence the questions.’

‘I have a healthy suspicion of most things.’

‘You’d make a good politician. But listen, let’s not talk about such depressing matters, not on your first night back in Tryum. We should be welcoming you to the city, young
man. I’m glad another Drakenfeld is here to maintain some sort of order. You’ve good blood in you.’

‘Are the cohorts any good at policing the streets?’

‘They are what they are,’ Veron replied. ‘They change personnel regularly, they can be flaky and unreliable, they can bring their vendettas with them and cause more trouble
than they’re hired to prevent. I’d like to change them if I could. They’re hardly cut from the same cloth as the mighty Sun Chamber.’

‘Do they report to you directly now?’

‘Yes, Licintius wanted more discipline, but not the military sort – tends to offend the hoi polloi when you have men with swords running about the place. Bad for morale. Besides,
despite his friendship with Maxant, Licintius isn’t a fan of the military. No, each senator can organize his own policing for the district these days, which works rather well – given
how competitive we all are, no one likes to have a high crime rate on their watch.’

‘Which is probably why you’re glad another Sun Chamber officer has arrived.’

‘That’s not the only reason. Your father had many good wines, too, so I’m anxious to see they’re not wasted.’

I laughed and took another moment to assess the man. He seemed capable of being honest enough to be charming, though one could never tell with politicians.

‘Now, I’m hungry for news – I read briefs from time to time, but they lack clarity on these matters. I’ve heard about an end to campaigns abroad for Detrata’s army.
Are all the soldiers returning?’

Veron became animated. ‘Yes, and what a relief! More than that, the return of General Maxant is nothing short of a triumph. He came back to the city a night or two ago and celebrations
have been scheduled by King Licintius for tomorrow evening. While the city will have plenty of food and games, there will also be the affair in Optryx. It’s almost like the heady days of the
Detratan Empire two hundred years ago.’

‘And look how that ended.’

‘Peace came eventually.’

Once the Empire had dissolved . . . It was strange how people could speak of the past as if they had actually lived through it. ‘You sound rather relieved about Maxant’s return
though.’

‘I am,’ Veron continued. ‘Maxant’s freed up a grain route from Mauland. Shipments are already heading our way. We’ve wilting fields all over Detrata – many of
the senators wondered how we would feed the lower districts. Not only has Maxant secured food, but he has secured a nation in the name of the Vispasian Royal Union, and Detrata gets priority over
the food.’

‘So, Maxant has finally defeated the Maulanders.’

‘Mauland’s king is now subject to Vispasian laws. It is said that Maxant defeated an army of one hundred thousand Maulanders with a force half that. Many of the defeated warriors and
communities are being shipped back as slaves as we speak.’

‘A rarity for the Union,’ I said.

‘Think of the labour!’ Veron said. ‘They’re all rather pale-skinned and weak-looking, so they say. It does not appear to be a particularly sophisticated culture, up in
that cool northern climate. A lack of sunlight will do that to you.’

The children of Tryum were often told stories about the violent citizens of Mauland – the Maulanders would get you if you didn’t study hard, or eat your supper – so to hear
that the primitive society had fallen to General Maxant was a stunning concept. ‘Maxant is quite the hero, then. I look forward to the celebration.’

‘I’ll say,’ Veron replied, smiling. ‘King Licintius was almost weeping when he announced the news to the Senate. King Licintius and his old friend General Maxant have
given Detrata a flavour of old times. The king needed it, too – there’s a vicious streak of republicanism developing in the Senate, so this will ease his woes.’

‘Are you of a republican persuasion?’

‘I can be. I can be a royalist too. I find if one is more versatile in beliefs, one’s career lasts longer, but there’s a strong desire in the Senate to return to past
glories.’

‘Empire building?’

‘Perhaps. I’ve not seen anything myself, but the rumours are strong that neighbouring royals are nervous. Maxant has taken an army to the edge of our world. If I were them, I’d
be nervous too. Anyway, more immediately, we’ll have street tables throughout the city with whatever food can be spared from the city’s stores – which will do his popularity no
harm.’

‘If I was feeling suspicious I’d say such offerings would be to buy public favour – just like those old imperial days.’

Veron gave a hearty and warming laugh. ‘With such cynicism you could easily have a place in the Senate alongside me.’ He took another sip of his wine and contemplated the fountain
for a little longer. His smile never left his lips.

We spoke of political matters a little longer, of the importance of Maxant’s return from Mauland, of King Licintius’ sister Lacanta, who was said to be eyeing up Maxant for marital
union.

We said our goodbyes and he invited me to his large house on the side of Polyum that bordered Regallum, a phenomenally wealthy street – he took the trouble to tell me that fact.

It was getting late. Leana had not yet returned, but she was more than capable of looking after herself. I stood at the front gate of the house a little longer after Veron left, smelling the
city air, gauging the mood of the streets, and watching those intoxicated with alcohol navigate their way along the pavements.

Finally it was time to head to bed. I’d chosen to convert one of the guest rooms into my own – my childhood room had long since been transformed into a pantry, and it didn’t
seem right to sleep in a dead man’s bed. It was a quiet spot at the rear of the house, nearest the gardens, with a small window high up in one wall. A candle glowed beside my bed, and the
rest of the room remained unfamiliar and in shadow. Lying there, contemplating the day’s events, something did not sit well inside me. It was very probable that I was experiencing some form
of denial about my father’s death – he was, after all, a man who stirred up such odd and conflicting feelings – but it did not seem right that he was dead.

A Blade to the Throat

Leana shuffled towards the table as I was eating breakfast. Sunlight streamed across the spread of bread and spiced lamb; the early morning aromas from the garden were heady
and vegetative, and the ripple of the fountain was soothing. The sun in this garden was always peculiarly intense. There were no high buildings nearby, and the roof was low, meaning that one could
find a deep warmth in every corner at most hours of the day. Quite often the shadows of birds sitting on the roof could be seen around the edge of the fountain and, as a child, I had fun guessing
– nearly always incorrectly – the species in question.

This was a much more pleasant set-up than the fish odours and curses of tradesmen that constantly afflicted my ground-floor apartment in Venyn City. In comparison I felt like a king.

‘I didn’t hear you come back last night.’ I smiled as she struggled to sit on the nearby wicker chair in the shade. She was wearing just a white shirt and black breeches, none
of her light armour, and she seemed unwilling to face the light.

I popped a piece of bread in my mouth and took a sip of water. ‘Am I to take it from your rather unresponsive presence that you had a good night?’

She could barely meet my eyes. ‘My apologies, Lucan. It is not in my nature to overindulge.’

‘Nonsense, this is a new city for you. I expect you to have fun from time to time. One of us has to.’

‘Your wine here in Tryum . . . Spirits save me, it is so strong.’

‘The staff were always tight in Venyn City and they watered it down. Here you must suffer the consequences of fine hospitality.’ It was amusing now to be especially cheerful and
loud.

‘What is our plan for today?’ Leana gestured towards the bread and I nodded for her to help herself.

‘There are a few affairs I must set straight before we do anything else. My father had rented offices towards Regallum, only a few streets away from the king’s residence, so I need
to check if they are still in the family name. But before that, I’m heading out to discover all the secrets of the city.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m going to get my hair cut and have a shave.’

Leana gave me a blank look. I grinned, drank up my water, scooped up my cloak and headed out into the morning sun.

Human memory is a curious thing, about as reliable as a myth.

Often I would lie in my ground-floor apartment in Venyn City, reconstructing these dusty back lanes and plazas in my mind. The roads walked mentally were littered with echoes of emotions or
events, but they seemed well beyond reach, a fading dream. Today my route was deliberately taken at a very slow pace, so that I might retrace my past and locate these places in my mind, but what
could be gleaned from my observations was that friends had moved on, shops had closed down, and nothing was how it used to be. While I was busy outgrowing my home, it was busy moving on from me
– and I was fine with that.

Tryum was firing up for the day and everyone moved about with purpose. Stone walls glowed in intense sunlight and already the heat was becoming uncomfortable. As the sun climbed higher, the
streets thinned out and people ventured indoors, into cafes or brothels, standing under awnings or stepping into offices. My white shirt, grey doublet, black trousers and boots were too much for
these temperatures.

The salon was located on a dusty street on the edge of Polyum, which faced the slightly poorer district of Tradum. It looked in good health: a freshly painted green sign
bearing the name
Lillus
, with a stall jutting out from the front that sold fabrics of all colours. Someone was busy washing the flagstones outside. The walls were covered in the scratched
reports of satisfied customers. I headed inside into the cool shade.

‘Well then,’ said the old man with a thick moustache and a balding head, as he turned from arguing with one of the water boys. His skin was a little lighter than Leana’s.
‘Well, well. Do my eyes deceive? Is this . . . ?’

‘It is,’ I said, stifling my laugh. I quickly glanced around and nodded to the two customers on the benches, and observed that behind them the faded frescoes of sporting heroes had
not changed in the slightest. Light from the open-roofed hall passed through another doorway, and nearby there were several purple paper lanterns. In a back room, pine incense was burning.

‘Lucan Drakenfeld, my boy!’ He turned to his assistant on one of the chairs by the window. ‘We have an honoured guest – a member of the renowned Sun Chamber!’

Lillus shuffled over to me and took my face in his palms. I bent down and saw the accumulated years in his dark face, though the creases came from smiles and not scowls. That was all I needed to
know.

BOOK: Drakenfeld
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