Drakenfeld (46 page)

We were up before the sun, making our way deeper into Destos. In the morning we investigated two villas a mile apart from each other, both sprawling complexes fit for a royal,
but we found no signs of life. The first villa had been put up for sale but no one had made a claim for it, while the second was in the hands of a retired general who only used it on occasion. We
searched each property but there were no signs of anyone living in them. They were splendid places and it seemed such a waste for them to stand empty.

In the afternoon we met up with a scout and reached the third property of the day, smaller and tucked away in a copse. I approached the main entrance with the scout, with Callimar, Leana and the
others around the other side to see if anyone made an exit. Yet its inhabitants were a wealthy couple who used the place as a holiday home, and their story stood up well.

On the slow trek away from the property, my heart began to sink. We could search these places for ever and still find nothing. Callimar said little, but his expression revealed a growing
scepticism, one that I was starting to share myself.

Another cool, uneventful evening followed, but by morning the agent had connected with our camp. He spoke of a property on the coast, concealed under a cliff-face. He had
spotted movements of what looked suspiciously like soldiers in disguise making their way to and from the place the previous afternoon, yet nobody local knew of any owners.

We followed the agent’s lead and rode towards the coast and, along the way, met up with a large group of Callimar’s veterans. Our small force grew to twelve.

This was not the Destos I remembered. It was supposed to be lush and vibrant, a playground for the rich of Tryum. Some of the grasslands we went through had been tortured by
the sun over the past few weeks, leaving dried-up riverbeds and wilting plants. Some farm dwellings had long been abandoned. There were large villas that had fallen into ruin, paint cracked,
materials stolen for rebuilding elsewhere. Even the isolated, more cultish temples had fallen into disrepair – it was no way to treat a god, whatever one’s persuasion. These were
symptoms of the state of Detrata and made the sentiments of senators who yearned for the old days understandable, if unreasonable.

We reached the coastal track in late afternoon, with the Ferrous Sea to one side as calm as could be and sandstone cliffs directly below us. Our agent told us that we only had a short way to go.
The path wound down through large gorse bushes dotted with yellow flowers, and eventually our procession came to a halt.

Callimar rode back towards me. ‘How do you want to play this one, Drakenfeld?’

After a moment’s reflection, I said, ‘The most important thing of all is that Lacanta remains alive. If she sees several soldiers running towards her, there is always the risk that
she may take her own life. What’s your view?’

‘She’ll have protection. We should wait until nightfall, examine if there are any guards, eliminate their threat without drawing attention, and break in to the villa. If she’s
there.’

I turned to the agent, a tall, skinny fellow in sand-coloured clothing, who had a cool, detached expression. He replied, ‘I’ll go down and survey the situation again. Expect me again
at dusk, no sooner.’

‘Good.’ To Callimar I said, ‘Whatever we plan, I’d prefer it if we could keep the killing to a minimum.’

‘As weak a disposition as ever, eh, Drakenfeld?’ Callimar chuckled and held his arms wide like a bargaining merchant. ‘We’ll try. But sometimes a little blood is
unavoidable.’

With no campfire, and hidden well away from the road, we waited for the agent to return. Callimar possessed a remarkable talent for making himself and his veterans invisible.
It was a lot cooler here with the breeze washing in from the sea and we ate uncooked, meagre rations. Callimar had requested noise be kept to a minimum and we occupied ourselves with nothing but
quiet contemplation.

As the sun slipped from the sky, I felt the chances of bringing the murders into the light were going with it. We had trekked halfway across Detrata on a whim because of a book I’d spotted
on Lacanta’s shelf. It was a thin connection, but I had nothing else to go on. The grim faces of the soldiers made me wonder if we had all been wasting our time.

‘Someone approaches,’ called a voice.

As expected it was the agent, who dismounted with a sense of urgency and marched directly towards me, surrounded by the others.

‘What have you seen?’ I asked.

‘At least two soldiers walking the perimeter of the property, and someone I believe to be female standing in the gardens looking out across the sea.’

‘You believe to be a female?’

‘Yes. Her form was feminine, but her hair had been cropped.’

‘A woman trying to disguise herself,’ I wondered aloud, growing more excited at the prospect.

Night came and we moved down the hill towards the villa – myself, Leana and the veterans, who were all prepared for combat with their armour strapped tightly and
clutching short swords. The road sloped gently at first, before turning into a dirt track taking a more precarious zigzag down towards the sea. There were cart tracks here, indicating regular
traffic, perhaps for food or supplies, or even an important guest or two.

Swiftly, we spread ourselves out into a thin line, three veterans hurrying ahead, and the rest of us deliberately lagging behind.

Down through the trees I could see that the location below was precisely as the agent described. It was one of the most wonderful places imaginable. The light of the moon indicated where the sea
ended and the cliff-side gardens began, but the tidal roar seemed to come from everywhere. The building itself was a large, square whitewashed structure, with a gap in the middle for more formal
gardens and a fountain, the top of which we could see easily from our elevated approach. The cliffs extended up either side and, out to sea, stood an outcrop of rock that looked like the arm of a
god reaching for the moon.

Towards this serene retreat, a second faction of the veterans abandoned the road and slunk down between the trees, heading for the rear of the property. That left Leana, myself, Callimar and one
other soldier. We left the track and headed around to a side wall. I heard a muffled noise to one side, but then nothing more.

Moments later, one of the other veterans trotted towards us holding a blade. ‘From a guard, now dead. It’s a Detratan short sword, standard military issue.’ He threw it to one
side.

‘It’s definitely her then,’ I said, with more belief than ever.

We waited for the other veterans to confirm that all the guards had been dealt with, before moving on to gain access to the property.

All the soldiers headed around to the front and shortly would set to work busting down the double doors. Meanwhile, myself, Leana and Callimar scaled one of the rear walls using rope. I must
admit I was not as agile as I used to be and, with every lurching grip of the rope, I could sense Leana’s disapproval.

I landed inside, just about avoiding a large rose bush, and stepped into the wide ornamental garden. We drew our swords, and walked towards the rear of the villa, when I heard an explosion of
wood. Screams came, followed by the emergence of several cloaked figures who came dashing towards us. They stopped running and looked around, some with panicked expressions; a few of the others
tried to hide their faces from view. The rest of the soldiers filed in behind them and formed a long line with their swords at the ready. The gathered throng realized they were surrounded and there
was nowhere for them to run.

I stepped forward. ‘My name is Lucan Drakenfeld, officer of the Sun Chamber, and this is General Callimar. I believe you’ve just met his Sun Legion veterans. A woman known as
Lacanta, sister to King Licintius, is being kept hidden among you. We wish for her to be handed over immediately.’

No one answered. Callimar marched forward and grabbed a middle-aged man, who fell to his knees so Callimar had to drag him along on the grass in front of the line of captives. ‘Right,
let’s not piss about!’ Callimar shouted. ‘If no one answers us, this one loses a hand. If no one answers again, he loses a foot and so on. You get the idea.’

Wearily I asked the question once more, and again no one said a word.

Callimar wasn’t bluffing: under the moonlight, he knelt beside the man, whose hood fell back to reveal a gaunt, pale face. Callimar stretched out the man’s arm, pressed his hand down
on the grass and, with two hefty chops, hacked into the arm.

The man wailed in agony, collapsing sideways as his blood surged across the grass. Callimar reached back to grab the man’s foot, and pulled it aside with phenomenal strength, toppling him,
still screaming, onto his back.

‘Ask again!’ Callimar shouted.

So I asked my question again.

At this point, a woman in a shawl moved forward and pleaded with us to stop. ‘He meant no harm. Please, just leave him alone.’

I marched over to her and pulled back her hood. The woman’s hair had been cut short not that long ago, and I was struck by how startlingly similar she was to the murdered priestess.

‘Lacanta,’ I breathed.

We assessed each other, neither of us having worked out what we’d do should this situation arise. Relief overwhelmed me. This supposedly dead woman had filled my thoughts and defined my
actions ever since I had returned to the city. Now here she was.

Leana stepped in alongside me, pointing the tip of her sword at Lacanta’s face. ‘Let’s question her inside.’

Lacanta stared defiantly along the blade.

‘Callimar,’ I called back. ‘We need to ensure any accomplices are kept somewhere safe for now.’ I faced Lacanta, still talking to him. ‘We’re going to take
her into the house.’

Lacanta regarded me with nothing but a cool, distant fury.

We discovered a pleasant room inside the villa. The doors opened to face the sea, and a soldier stood guard outside to prevent anyone escaping.

I let Lacanta feel free enough to recline on a couch, while I paced around the room scrutinizing the trinkets, goblets and other tableware, marvelling at the objects. The villa was every bit as
resplendent on the inside as it was on the outside, with a breathtaking level of detail on everything, from silver cups to carved chairs.

Leana drew up a chair alongside Lacanta, then lit a few candles and lanterns nearby. She moved one nearer the table in order to cast a light on the royal face. Again I was taken aback by how
much she resembled the priestess.

‘Did he have to cut off his hand?’ These were the first words to come from Lacanta’s lips, addressed to any one of us in the room.

Clearly she had been used to making decisions. Her voice was strong yet soothing, her pale green eyes rather disarming. There was a beguiling quality to her face; it was one of striking symmetry
and balance. The words and descriptions of others had led me to form opinions of her personality and of her tone. I had fabricated her entire character in my mind, but now there was the need to
start all over again.

‘I didn’t think he would cut it off. You know soldiers.’ I inched away to examine the frescoes on a wall. Another silence passed. I was happy to let any impatience get the
better of her.

‘What will you do with me?’ she asked, watching the silhouette of the soldier outside the doors.

‘We must wait and see,’ I replied. ‘You were involved in the murder of an innocent priestess. Yet your brother has done a splendid job in fooling the city and the Senate of
Detrata into thinking you were very much dead. To my understanding and experience, the law is not clear on these matters. Alive or dead you are, however, physical evidence of the dishonest actions
and words of a king, to his people and his Senate, so you will return at some point to Tryum. You might find you’re not as popular as you were when you had been supposedly killed.’

The sea continued to churn at the cliffs below, booming into the distance.

‘For now, we have plenty of time to process the strange actions of your brother. His lifestyle was certainly interesting; his activities rather curious, as were his strange antics
down-city.’ I stared at her more closely, and recalled Drullus. ‘Not to mention his lover.’

She was visibly taken aback by my comment, so I stayed with that line of questioning.

‘Of course you know all about that, don’t you?’ I said. ‘You’ve had a while to become familiar with it.’

‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘The actors told me everything, Lacanta, all the details – so there’s no point in denying it. You’ll only waste our time.’

‘And how could actors have possibly seen anything?’ Lacanta fell silent, before muttering, ‘We were so careful. No one could have seen a thing.’

I frowned at that, trying to discern her meaning. ‘Does the name Drullus mean anything to you?’

‘Nothing at all.’

Confused, I began to analyse her words. Lacanta thought I was talking about something else entirely – not the king’s relationship with Drullus, but of another relationship. By a
quirk of fate, she’d just made a confession about something I had never thought to question.