Drakenfeld (44 page)

After she gathered her belongings, I guided her to the door and placed a small purse of coins in her pocket. ‘Tell him what happened, but tell him I’m safe.’ We steered her
down the path and she wailed when she saw Farrum’s head on the gate.

Leana grabbed a shoulder bag of her belongings and I picked up mine.

With our swords visible, we marched down the blood-splattered path, past Farrum’s severed head, and into the streets.

Finally confident we were not being followed, we proceeded through the backstreets, navigating our way towards the South Gate, through Vellyum and then Plutum, losing ourselves in the intensity
of the crowds.

I felt numb. My mind was a mess and sweat streamed down my face. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything to Leana. The vision of Titiana’s hanging body could not be released from my
mind. Why did she have to die? Was her death a warning to me, a way to make me fall apart?

I vowed to myself, in the presence of Polla, that her death would not go without justice being served.

As we saw the limits of the city approach, the high wall that kept separated the urban sprawl from the countryside, Leana took me to one side. ‘If the king looks for us, he will have let
these soldiers on the gate know about us.’

I looked around, trying to read the crowd for any followers. ‘That’s a good point. We should find a cart – a heavily loaded one, or possibly one that stinks.’

‘You want us to ride on a cart?’

‘No, underneath it. If it’s not worth the hassle, the soldiers won’t bother searching it and will wave us through.’

We waited for the better part of an hour until a trader came along the road, taking out rotting manure from the city stables to spread on the farmland beyond. I offered him ten
pecullas – five now and five on the other side – which wasn’t much as far as bribes went, but he was poor enough for it to make a difference. His wide cart reeked, but we climbed
underneath, hanging on to the timber frame as the horse plodded on. The cobbled road tipped us this way and that, violently lurching over any potholes, and soon we found ourselves approaching the
city walls.

The cart rolled to a halt and my arms were already starting to ache. I closed my eyes and prayed to Polla that we would not be found. Voices came, one of them the farmer’s, the other
probably that of a soldier. A foul liquid dripped through the cart and onto my sleeve.

What was taking so long?

A few pairs of boots shuffled back and forth around the cart.

Eventually a whip cracked, the horse plodded forwards, the cart rolled on. I breathed out a sigh of relief as we passed the South Gate and continued rocking along the South Road out of Tryum. I
held on for what felt like hours, but in reality was far less than that. We tipped up at an angle as the horse took on a hill, and it was only when we crested it and levelled out that I called out
to the farmer.

The cart rolled to a halt. We came out from underneath. I brushed myself down and paid the farmer, who continued on his way. The South Road was busy with trade and travellers, and at the base of
the hill stood the contained mass of Tryum. Optryx remained a bright palace on the horizon: if the king was in there, I would find him. But not yet, not now – first I had something else to
do.

We walked for miles that afternoon, trudging only for a little while along the main road, but then out onto dusty tracks to avoid any incident. Clouds provided enough cover
from the sun, making the journey bearable.

It was early evening by the time we reached the nearest settlement, a small town called Festellum. We found a small tavern with a tiny top-floor room and pretended to be a simple couple on our
way to the city. It was a sparse place, with far fewer furnishings than my own home, but at least we could rest in relative peace.

Accustomed to Bellona’s fine cooking, I was disappointed in the tavern’s offerings, but Leana pointed out that we were lucky to be alive and should be grateful we still had our heads
to eat with.

She had a point.

That night Leana took to the floor. ‘I am now used to soft furnishings. It is not good for the soul. You have the bed.’

I lay staring at the ceiling for some time, incredibly exhausted – in body and mind – from the day’s events. I tried to make sense of what happened. It took me a long time to
dismiss the image of Titiana hanging there, devoid of life. It seemed wrong that someone so vibrant and energetic could be so . . . still.

In my mind I turned over what Lillus had said to me, reflecting on my moments with Titiana. It seems my ego had got the better of me. I genuinely believed that her affections for me had been
sincere.

Anyway, the answer would never come, and there was no way to find out. All I had was my investigation, and my determination to find the one thing that could prove my theory about Lacanta still
being alive: Lacanta herself.

A thoroughly deep sleep came laced with melancholic dreams, which seemed to linger on during the first hour of the day. Eventually I couldn’t recall precisely what they
were about, only that there was a racing chariot and a falcon circling in the sky above it. Perhaps if we came upon a Detratan mage or a priestess on the road it would be worthwhile checking if
there was some hint buried within the hazy images.

The sun had not quite risen and already we were preparing to leave the settlement. After acquiring food from the tavern kitchen, and a crude map from one of the other guests, we managed to buy
two mares from a young couple who were heading into Tryum and needed the money.

As dawn broke, there were already many travellers on the road, mainly traders, though a few priests – and I thought again of the poor priestess who had never made it to her temple.

So many people go missing each week it is easy to become complacent: but I make sure I never do, conscious there is always a loved one, someone who cares, someone whose life will never be quite
the same again.

We did not arrive at the station post until the middle of the afternoon, exhausted from the heat and dust of the journey. Away from the main road the landscape had been
unforgiving, and I was relieved to enter a small copse of trees and see the small, round, crenellated building, in which the Sun Chamber agent would be stationed.

It was not widely known that these structures existed, let alone were inhabited. It was hidden among old poplar trees on the side of a small valley and we could have had trouble finding the
place. There was a small stable behind the building, so any passers-by who strayed this far from the road would probably dismiss it as a farmhouse. Yet that stable was constantly active with the
horses of messengers and officials passing back and forth, and a gentle river of information was always flowing.

With immense relief we dismounted, tied our horses and banged on the door. It opened up, and an elderly man questioned who we were, so I told him.

‘Ah, of course, Drakenfeld,’ the man declared, before turning inside. He waved over his shoulder for us to follow. ‘Drakenfeld, the young officer from Tryum. Knew your father
well. Sadly I couldn’t make the funeral, but I did visit his body. A letter you sent came through here not long ago. You’re not following it up, are you? We dispatched the messenger on
a fresh horse, so he was as quick as any messenger in Vispasia.’

‘I’m confident the letter got to its destination, but I’ll not be around in Tryum for the reply, unfortunately.’

‘Trouble?’ he asked.

I gave a nod.

‘Which is why you’re here?’

‘Correct again,’ I replied.

‘Right you are. I’m Trajus, by the way. Retired officer – used to do what you do, but find myself more suited to being behind a desk these days.’

‘I’m not sure being behind a desk would ever suit me.’

‘I was like you, son, but when you get an arrow lodged in your leg and a wound that never quite heals, you don’t get much choice in the matter.’ Trajus moved back to his seat
and relaxed into it with a thunderous groan, which he seemed to enjoy. The place was modestly decorated – bare stone walls, with a stove and a few plain chairs, desks and benches. One
workbench was littered with papers and scrolls, while in the corner of the room stood a small bust of Polla, with beads and necklaces draped over her. In my head I briefly requested her
blessings.

‘Now, what course of action would you like?’ Trajus asked.

‘It’s a serious situation. I’m going to need an urgent message dispatched to my senior officers – have any soldiers been stationed nearby?’

‘Two dozen Sun Legion veterans on the other side of those trees.’ Trajus gestured towards the window.

‘Really? I saw nothing on the way up.’ I looked across to Leana, but she shrugged.

‘Then they’re doing their job properly, son. No one’s supposed to know they’re here. Not even I know what they’re here for.’

‘That might be my doing – or at least I hope it is. Please, can you take me down to see them?’

The disappointment was apparent in Trajus’ face. ‘I’d just got settled in my chair.’

Trajus limped at a frustratingly slow pace through the afternoon sunlight, leaning on his stick for support. Eventually, through the yellowing poplars and down a small country
track, we arrived at a dip in the valley, a natural shelter carved out of the land itself. There were no tents, just a smouldering campfire in front of a small, crumbling barn overlooking the
valley.

‘Where are they?’ I asked.

I heard the clamour of armour – and some brief, sharp orders being issued from up the slope. Silhouetted against the bright sky were the two-dozen men, sheathing or lowering their weapons
almost in unison.

‘Trajus,’ a voice called down, and a figure gestured towards us with the tip of his blade. ‘Who are these people?’

‘I am Lucan Drakenfeld, officer of the Sun Chamber.’

‘Is that so?’ the voice called back. ‘Then we have business with each other, Lucan Drakenfeld.’

The figure marched down the hill and into focus. I could hardly believe my eyes. Looming over me in his resplendent uniform was an old friend.

‘Maxin Callimar?’ I called over. ‘Is it actually you?’

‘You were always getting into trouble, Lucan, even years ago.’

Callimar strode into view smiling – a good deal older, flecks of grey in his beard, his nose even broader than it used to be, those brown eyes more penetrating than before. His skin had
been darkened by a lifetime under the Vispasian sun. His hair was still raven-black, though, and he’d put on a lot of muscle mass over the years. We embraced, and I felt the iron grip of his
veteran arms.

‘What are you now, a captain?’

‘General,’ he said laughing. ‘One of ten in the Sun Legion. And you’ve come a long way since I trained you, so I hear.’

We took a step back so we could assess each other better. We’d known each other in Free State where Sun Chamber officers had to undergo a stint of military education. We became close
friends for that brief time, the way a young and older man can do: me eager to learn, him eager to talk over a cup of wine.

‘Time’s been kinder to you than it has to me,’ Callimar said.

‘I don’t do half the things you lot do.’ I indicated his fellow veterans, who were stepping down slowly from the slope. ‘What good fortune that they sent you.’

‘Fortune hasn’t much to do with it. Our unit had been ensconced in a small town a few hours from the border of Maristan when there was news that some Lucan Drakenfeld character
wanted help. I’m hardly likely to leave a friend standing, especially one like you.’

‘I’m relieved to find a friendly face out here.’

‘Sounds serious.’

‘It is.’

‘Come, then. Trajus, please, we’ll be fine from here. Thank you for bringing him and his colleague down.’

Trajus muttered something before shambling back up the slope to the station post, while Callimar placed his arm around me and steered me towards the barn. It felt good to be among friends, to
have someone from the Sun Chamber back me up in what had to be done.

We walked back to the quiet shelter of the old limestone barn. I introduced him to Leana, and was a little surprised he made no comment on the fact that I had chosen a female
assistant.

We sat inside on rough wooden benches while his veterans set off in small teams around the hillside. Callimar offered us a cup of water, which was gratefully received.

‘So, friend,’ Callimar said, ‘what trouble have you found for yourself this time? The details I was given were hazy at best.’

‘It’s King Licintius,’ I said.

Callimar’s face darkened and his expression grew more serious. ‘Go on.’

‘He’s staged the murder of his own sister, Lacanta, arranged for a priestess to be killed in her place, and tricked the whole city into believing his sister had been killed. In fact,
the whole of Tryum believes the king to be in mourning for Lacanta, but I’m convinced she’s alive.’

Callimar grunted a laugh of disbelief. ‘That sounds like a lot of effort.’

‘There’s a lot more I’m trying to connect. General Maxant has been killed, but I believed him to have been involved in the staging of Lacanta’s murder, too.’ I
explained how Maxant had been the first one on the scene, the only one who could have put the key in the lock on the inside; the connection between him and the actor, Drullus, and the leaf of
henbane. ‘And we found Maxant’s own murder staged in a similar manner – people were led to believe one thing, though quite another in fact happened.’