Drakenfeld (24 page)

I said nothing while he ordered drinks and motioned for me to sit. After wine was brought to our table, he spoke in the half-light about how often he came here, that he used the cordial
atmosphere to negotiate business contracts and trade rights for the city, but most of all he came to escape the Senate.

‘Do you enjoy your work?’ I asked.

He gave me a sly glance. ‘You question me as if I’m a part of an investigation. I know how it works. Get people talking.’

I smiled. ‘I’m merely curious about the life of a politician in Tryum. It’s been so long since I’ve had the opportunity to liaise with someone of such a lofty
status.’

He picked up his glass and took a sip of wine. ‘People in the city talk a lot. They like to criticize the role of senators.’

‘Oh, I wasn’t criticizing . . .’

Veron waved my apologies away. ‘I can sympathize with such sentiments. We senators do not always possess a perfect reputation, but many of us do good work, Drakenfeld. We bring money into
the city and we honestly try to look after the people. Things are a lot different since the days of the collapse of the Detratan regime. There is fairness and light where there used to be a
ruthless rule, though that’s probably why some want to recreate those days. The money’s being spread about more on public services, and not on lining someone’s coffers. Me?
I’m happy when people leave me alone, and if that means building a better sewer or public baths, so be it.’

‘And how will recreating the old days work precisely? Remove Detrata from the Union? Risk the wrath of a continent?’

Veron held his hands in the air, grinning. ‘I merely speculate, Drakenfeld! It’s Senate talk, you know me. People talk of a lack of space here, of the need to stretch our wings a
little. I’m sure Mauland’s capitulation to us will help on that front. The frontiers are a little safer, the nation can be proud once again.’ He paused to take a sip, one eye on
the nearest serving girl. ‘Which reminds me, I wanted to pick your brains about policing.’

‘Ask away,’ I replied.

‘The king’s applying gentle pressure to shake up the cohorts, which means we senators have to deal with them. There is still much crime in the city, and our cohorts, who report to
senators individually, are under a great deal of strain, or so they tell us. Between you and me, they seem a remarkably disorganized bunch, and I dare say many of them are corrupt as hell, taking
all sorts of illegal payments, working with the gangs and so on, which means the people of Tryum do not trust them. What advice do you have from what you’ve seen so far? I know you’ve
not been here long, but I would like a fresh pair of eyes to evaluate matters for me. I have a report on my own district to make to the Senate and I’d like to see if I can improve things not
just there but across Tryum. To make it a proud city once again, to recapture some of that discipline from the Empire days . . .’ He gave me a satisfied look on that final point.

I sipped my watered-down wine before giving him a considered answer.

Constable Farrum kept prisoners in his own home, I explained, in front of his children. The cohorts had so few resources to hand, and gained little respect from the people of the city. In my
experience in other cities, this often meant that they preferred to make money on the side. They needed more public resources and a stricter code of training – something to make them feel
proud. I suggested Farrum was a good man, ultimately, and that he just needed support.

‘I have seen no evidence of criminality on his part,’ I finished.

‘That’s because he’s in awe of you,’ Veron laughed. ‘It must be rather lovely to be envied.’

‘I don’t see how – I don’t see why.’

‘It’s rather simple. Not only are you an officer of the Sun Chamber – a station which even the most honest of them could only ever dream of obtaining – but you’re
also a Drakenfeld. Your father did more to help this city than any of those cohorts combined will achieve. His name carries prestige, and you carry that same name.’

Wearing an eye mask, a girl danced slowly on stage, rather near us, moving her arms through the air as if she was swimming deep underwater. It was an utterly enchanting move, but seemed to be
technically brilliant as well.

‘I’m sorry,’ Veron continued, ‘his name must be a lot for you to live up to.’

‘Only in Tryum.’

‘You’re working on a case that is the talk of Tryum, at least. And speaking of the talk of Tryum . . .’ He leaned in a little closer. ‘It seems our glorious General
Maxant will be entering the political arena very soon.’

‘He seeks a place in the Senate?’ I replied.

Veron nodded. ‘With Lacanta gone, the king will need a new figure to help him influence senators, someone with a bit of presence in the absence of Lacanta’s skills behind the
scenes.’

‘He doesn’t strike me as a man of politics.’

‘It’s the only way for him to go. The people are fond of him. He has significant financial resources at his disposal now. He’ll do well. The king is going to have him by his
side at the Stadium of Lentus in a couple of days’ time – you’re welcome to accompany me to that, by the way. In fact, I insist.’

‘I’d be delighted to do so, thank you. I haven’t seen one of those races in years. Are they still as brutal as they used to be?’

‘A little more so now the rules have been relaxed even further. Perhaps they’re the perfect way to honour a general who has been away on a brutal campaign for years, though I believe
it will also feature a funeral speech in honour of Lacanta. You’ll want to attend for that reason alone, no doubt. But before this, Maxant will be making a speech tomorrow
afternoon.’

‘To the Senate?’

‘No, to the people,’ Veron said. ‘His streets are going to be in one of the lower regions of the city – possibly Vellyum – to help the king establish even more
popularity with the poor.’

A cynical move, but perhaps good tactics on behalf of Licintius. ‘I may wish to hear what our victorious general has to say for himself on political matters.’

‘I thought you might,’ Veron replied, but he wasn’t looking at me – he regarded the women on stage.

My gaze followed his. Of the three women who were now dancing, I thought I recognized one of them – it was the woman I saw walking by my house recently, the one who’d strolled
straight out of my past.

Initially it was only because of a scar on her back that I recognized her, but then her movements and the shape of her limbs confirmed who it was. Watching a little more attentively, I could
hardly believe who I was seeing. She wore a green eye mask, and a green wrap of cloth around her breasts and waist, and I was absolutely certain it was her.

Titiana.

I watched her dance right in front of me, her face tilted away as part of the routine, but soon she came within touching distance. Her bronzed legs were almost precisely as I remembered, as was
the rest of her lithe body, currently arching back over. When she rose to the top of her pose with her dark hair spiralling down, she looked right at me – and froze.

The music continued, but she didn’t move for several heartbeats.

We continued staring at each other and she realized she had lost her place, falling far behind the other women. Her dark eyes were just as incredible as I remembered; they possessed an intensity
that made me feel guilty just for looking at her. She tried to compose herself and rejoin the others, soon hiding the fact that she had ever been out of rhythm in the first place.

The song finished, the music stopped and the woman I was convinced was Titiana turned to escape behind the stage and out of the back of the room. I leapt up and tried to pursue her, but two
hefty-looking men wearing short daggers intercepted me. No one wanted a scene here. I heard Veron muttering something to me, but all I could do was babble that I’d be back shortly.

Where was the damn exit? I ran past all the guests towards the entrance, and back outside. The streets were cool, thronging with the energy of night and all that might entail for the people of
Tryum. I hurried around the side of the building into one of the alleyways, just as the back door to the bar opened up – and that was where I dashed.

‘Titiana.’

She slammed the door, breathless, and slowly turned to face me. No longer wearing her mask, I knew for certain it was her and no other.

In a rapid move, Titiana slapped me across my right cheek.

That really hurt.

‘I probably deserved that,’ I breathed.

Her face was heavily made up for the stage, and I wished she would wash it all away to reveal who she was. She moved to strike me again; I caught her wrist this time. Titiana moved her other
hand and I grabbed that, too. ‘I heard you were back, you bastard.’

‘You can’t still feel such hatred for me?’ I asked, exasperated.

‘I can – and I do,’ she replied.

Whether she pulled me or I pushed her gently back against the door, it was impossible to tell, but it was certainly mutual. Her lips moved to within inches of mine, and we just remained there,
knowing exactly what to do, but uncertain of the consequences.

Titiana shoved me back and said, ‘We can’t. Not again. I’m a married woman now – a lady of Tryum.’

‘You were the last time,’ I replied. ‘Or at the very least, you were on your way to being one.’

‘It’s different now. And you can’t tell anyone you know me.’ No longer could she focus on my face. Instead her attention was taken by anything either side of me, anything
other than me.

Our foreheads touched gently. ‘I’ll not breathe a word of it. Why would I want to share this good secret? I’ll happily come back and pay double for private dances. Triple
even.’

‘I didn’t think the Drakenfelds were the type to come to such places.’

‘Admittedly this isn’t my usual night out. It was Senator Veron who brought me here. For a moment I was worried he was going to drag me into a brothel.’

‘I’ve heard about him,’ she replied. ‘The senator who spends more time at dinner parties than engaged in Senate business. He comes here a lot.’ She paused for a
moment, her anger gradually diffusing. ‘So what are you doing back in Tryum? I thought you’d gone for good.’

‘I came to attend my father’s funeral,’ I said.

Titiana’s expression grew sorrowful and for a moment she seemed lost for words. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss. I heard he had passed away. He was a good man. But how long have
you been back?’

‘Only a few days. I’ve since been attached to the Lacanta murder.’

‘Really?’ Her awe came and went like a puff of wind. ‘So, you’re still with the Sun Chamber . . .’

There was a bitterness in her voice. Conscious she was hardly wearing anything, I took off my cloak and put it around her.

‘We should not be here, Lucan. What if somebody sees us?’

‘This is one of the least suspicious acts in the vicinity of this tavern. What if someone saw you in there?’

‘I take such a risk each night.’

‘Why do you need to work here?’

‘Because of the money. It pays well and there isn’t as much danger as you’d think. I’m an attractive woman and all I have to do is dance and occasionally speak pleasant
words to gullible but rich old men. There’s nothing else involved – people go down-city for more.’

‘I know the types that come to these places. You’re a smart woman – you could be doing something safer for the money.’

‘I could have, but not after what you did.’

The guilt hit home, but I tried to ward it away in my mind with the logic that ultimately she was the one who had broken the law. ‘Let me take you out for something to eat tomorrow. I want
to speak to you more. That’s all I want. Simply to talk.’

‘Then what?’ Titiana snapped. ‘Sleep with me until you’re satisfied, and leave me in the middle of the night?’

‘You know that’s not what I would ever intend to do, and if I did when I was young, that was because it was mutual, and we didn’t want anyone to find us together.’

We said nothing for a while, though it wasn’t awkward and didn’t seem to matter. The contours of her face seemed so familiar, which in itself was a strange sensation.

‘I must go,’ she whispered eventually.

‘Tomorrow. You know my old house?’

‘I can’t exactly forget it,’ she replied.

‘You’ll come then?’ I asked. ‘Tomorrow evening, at sunset.’

‘OK.’ Titiana opened the door behind her. ‘But I really must go.’

With that she disappeared back inside the tavern, closing the door behind her.

Veron was standing outside waiting for me, his hands in his pockets, and he was grinning like a child who had just discovered the taste of sugar.

‘So,’ he declared, ‘finally there is a woman who gets the blood pumping through the veins of Lucan Drakenfeld. And a dancer, too! Now I’m jealous. You know, I was
starting to think you possessed the libido of a statue.’

‘You’re going to want to know who she is, aren’t you?’

‘I am.’

‘I thought you might,’ I replied. I looked up and down the street, and it was busy with evening activity. ‘Let’s go back to mine – it will be a lot quieter
there.’

‘As long as there is wine to go with this story of yours, I do not mind.’