Retribution (Drakenfeld 2) (6 page)

‘The last time that anyone saw him was at the end of his last daily, dusk sermon – on the remembrance evening. People left one by one and he went alone to the back of the building – as he had always done. I heard him go into his quarters and I left him to it while I went to mine.’

‘And he just vanished?’ I said.

Damsak nodded. ‘When I knocked on the door later that evening, to ask if he would like a cup of wine to help him sleep, he gave no reply. I went in, and his room was empty.’

‘You heard nothing?’

‘No. Though my quarters are on the other side of the temple, and I liked to leave the bishop to his quiet contemplation. He was due to rise early, you see, to take alms to the poor. And so . . . I really cannot see why someone would be so . . . vicious as to butcher him in this way.’ The priest paused to make a circle with his hand above his head. ‘What ill times we live in . . .’

Damsak’s face once again exhibited the distress of someone who felt like he was being hunted.

‘What did you do when you didn’t find him?’

‘I did little that night. He might have gone for walking meditation about the city. It was only in the morning, when he still had not returned, that I contacted the City Watch.’

‘Is it possible he left his quarters willingly, then?’ I suggested, leaning back on my hands. ‘To meet someone else?’

‘Very much so, though he’d have no reason to,’ Damsak replied, somewhat confused. ‘Anyway, as I say, I contacted the Watch and they must have notified the various authorities within the queen’s palace. I heard very little. I maintained everything as it was here and wrote to the elders within our organization, to keep them informed. After that matters were kept out of my reach – they were not for me to know. The bishop had gone, and that was that.’

Only to be later returned in pieces. If the priest’s account was completely true, then there was only a small window of time that night in which the bishop could have been taken. It was possible that the killer invited the bishop outside, but that sounded unlikely. What was more probable is that the killer was all too aware of the bishop’s movements. He knew exactly when to strike so as to cause minimal fuss – it had all the hallmarks of a well-planned assassination, by a killer who was familiar with the bishop’s routines, and who had easy access to this prefecture. The idea that someone would send an assassin to kill a simple bishop did not make sense, unless the priest was only giving us part of the picture. He might not have known all of it himself.

‘May we see his room?’ I asked.

‘Of course.’ Damsak rose with ease from the cushions, and I followed with a grunt.

Despite being far younger than the priest, I was going to find it difficult getting used to the Kotonese custom of sitting on the floor and getting up again.

I could almost hear Leana’s thoughts:
You’re too soft
.

We were led into the small living quarters at the back of the temple, and Priest Damsak lit the candles on the wall mounts. Frugality did not seem to adequately describe this place – in comparison, my current rented accommodation was fit for a queen. Here was just a small bed in one corner, an old oak table at which he must have dined and worked – judging by the ink pots, candle and plates – and a rug across the flagstones. The handful of books on a shelf beside his bed were theological texts.

‘He wasn’t much one for furnishings or ornaments,’ I said, thinking how the room was too dark at this hour for a thorough search. I glanced up to a simple leaded window above the bed.

‘We do not encourage trinkets,’ Damsak replied. ‘Tahn always said that one cannot take trinkets to the heavens. Other than for purposes of identification, generally speaking our organization does not approve of such things.’

‘What about lovers?’ I asked, wondering if the priests were celibate like some other religions. ‘Was there any woman or man in the bishop’s life we should know about?’

The glare I received was expected. ‘No. We do not socialize in such a way. There is too much work to be done and lovers can be something of a distraction from our cause. They are
frowned
upon.’

‘What exactly is your cause?’ Leana asked.

‘The work of Astran and Nastra, of course,’ he replied with a peaceful expression.

I followed up Leana’s line of approach. ‘That work being . . . ?’

‘Guiding souls to the heavenly realms, ensuring that their lives are led in the appropriate way so that they may attain as fine a position in the next world as possible, and divining from the texts what people’s right course of action should be. We have a focus on helping farmers to nurture the land and occasionally we go out to bless their fields.’

‘No, the day-to-day work,’ I replied. ‘What did the bishop actually
do
as a priest?’

‘Sermons, administration for the temple, alms for the poor – though much of that was conducted in Tahn’s private time. Generally we ensure that Koton’s spiritual needs are met.’

Vagaries. This was all I was going to get for the time being, so I let the matter pass. Perhaps Damsak would warm to the matter over time and divulge something that was out of character for the bishop, but at the moment these descriptions of habits weren’t helpful.

‘Who came to this temple?’ I asked. ‘Just those from this prefecture?’

‘Oh no. Those who can prove themselves honourable are permitted at certain times to attend religious services. The gates are opened and individuals vetted. Occasionally we might take our teachings to the street in the hope that we can steer one or two less fortunate souls onto a firmer, more divine path.’

‘And he was the only bishop in the city – no rivals tucked away elsewhere?’

Damsak gave a gentle shake of his head. ‘No rivals, no other bishop.’

Looking around, the place was too bare. I could perceive no blood on the floor or walls, nothing to suggest a struggle. I casually tested some of the walls for a loose block, though there were none, and the flagstones were sound underfoot.

‘Has anything been touched since the bishop’s disappearance?’

‘Not at all,’ Damsak replied. ‘This is the first time I have really set foot in Tahn’s quarters since the incident. It
still
does not feel right for me to do so.’

Judging by his tentative movements, the fact that he loitered in the doorway, and the concerned look upon his face, he was probably telling the truth. The bishop really did live in such a pure way.

‘If you could see to it that this room continues untouched for a few days, we’d be most grateful. It is likely we will want to return.’

‘Of course. I shall see to it that it is not disturbed.’

It is not as though I’m inclined to distrust a priest on instinct, but I thought it prudent for the rest of the day to interview people around the temple – metal traders who were going about their business, bread merchants, weavers – and visit any other place of interest I saw nearby.

The surrounding lanes were well maintained, just as the rest of the prefecture. Walls displayed occasionally decorative frescos, but the colours of the street were simple and bold – red, blue and dark-green paint covered columns and walls alike. It was gaudy compared to the austere surroundings of the temple. Animal motifs had been painted in gold, each one a sublime representation of that creature in a noble pose – a far cry from the severed heads we sighted as we entered the city. It was remarkable how little graffiti there was, too – barely an insult or curse to be seen anywhere. Leana remarked to me how unusual it was to keep two sides of a city apart from each other. Even in Detrata, where the contrast in wealth between rich and poor could be enormous, there was no such barrier.

By going door to door I was able to confirm some of what the priest had told me. The people I spoke to were generally welcoming, offering us tisanes as they went about their business in shop-fronted houses or under awnings. As I had hoped, a few of the traders frequented the temple for various religious festivals and to make donations for quiet contemplation. Everyone here knew of the bishop’s disappearance, but not everyone knew of his death. Those I informed of the news appeared distraught at first, and made signs in the air as they attempted to stifle their emotions.

The much-admired bishop had indeed declared his plans to leave the temple, much to the community’s disappointment. He had been a kind and gentle soul who, unlike other bishops they had known, always took the time to explain some nuance of the gods Astran and Nastra, whether to an old veteran who had recently converted from one of the old gods, or a curious young child. He came across as a very pure being, had never said a bad word, possessed inspirational oratorical skills and ensured that any donated food – once offered to the gods for the first bite – was then distributed among the poor of the external prefecture. The bishop had hoped, so everyone said, to live to a great old age so he could dedicate many more years of service to Astran and Nastra. It was even why he wanted to go on the road – to bring more people into the fold of the enlightened religion, to do
more
good.

This had not been a wasted afternoon by any means, but as Leana and I walked away from the streets surrounding the temple and we watched the last rays of the sun vanish over the prefecture walls, I felt vaguely dissatisfied with what everyone had told us. The bishop appeared very pure, too pure, and not one of his neighbours could give me any insight into why anyone would want him dead.

Night descended fully over Kuvash and the humidity and close air of the day remained. But the
mood
of the city – or at least in this prefecture – had changed entirely. It was likely that all cities were essentially the same in that each showed two distinct, jarring personalities for the day and night respectively. Unfamiliar cities tended to exaggerate these differences, as one looked with more focus at the details: the erratic behaviour of the locals and how social dynamics might alter after sunset, the different scents of street cuisine, or the noises of religious ritual. As we walked through these clean, well-behaved streets, with the occasional glimmer of a City Watch glaive here and there, all I could tell about Kuvash was that it was incredibly restrained. Anything slightly remiss remained hidden just out of sight – a contrast to Tryum where everything and anything happened on the streets in front of you.

‘I do not understand why someone who lives such a pure life would be killed in such a way,’ Leana said.

‘If he’s dead, that is,’ I commented. ‘He might well be out there still.’

‘He is dead,’ Leana snapped. ‘Just look at those pieces of his body. If they are an indication of his condition . . .’

‘I’m inclined to believe you,’ I replied. ‘Maybe someone took exception to his sermons.’

‘So what are our next steps?’

‘We’ve only seen the pleasant side of the city so far,’ I said. ‘Suppose the pieces of the arm of the bishop really were thrown over the wall. We might be able to find the rest of his remains. Besides, I’d quite like to see the
real
people – I bet some of them might give us another perspective.’

We walked down-city from the temple towards the wall that separated the two prefectures, and headed to the huge gate. The guards at the station point were perplexed that we would want to leave at this hour; but I stressed that I was on official business.

‘You’ll not find much out there but madmen who worship savage gods,’ one said, tipping up the brim of his helmet. ‘All the sanity is this side.’

‘Even a madman thinks he sees the truth,’ I replied.

Without response they shuffled over to the gates and began to haul back the double doors. ‘We’ve had more soldiers return, and there are more coming back later, so the place will be busier – just to warn you. At least you’ll be more secure though.’

‘Where are they returning from?’ I asked, hoping to get a glimpse into the military procedures. All I knew was that these people had a strong military tradition, especially their cavalry, and that their warriors were proud and noble people – even if there were not many excuses to fight these days.

‘They’re coming back from all over,’ one replied. ‘By all accounts the border with Detrata is going to get livelier.’

‘Why do you think that is?’ I asked, somewhat surprised. ‘No one’s at war.’

He gave a short laugh. ‘Not yet. But we hear all sorts of strange talk about troop movements on the border.’

‘Nothing will happen,’ I declared. ‘We’re a continent in union. We have been for two centuries.’

‘Aye. Tell that to the soldiers at the border.’

We were ushered through the small gap they made in the gate, and the gate shut behind us. For a moment we stood outside the door, and I felt a little numb at what had been said.

‘You do not think that it is serious?’ Leana asked.

‘It is difficult to say anything on the subject knowing so little about it. I’d wager that Sulma Tan can let us know what is happening from a Kotonese perspective, but what on earth is happening in Detrata? Has the Senate gone mad to start military operations of this kind? Then again, it could just be a skirmish over a trade route – a mere tension between nations that will be settled diplomatically, as happens so often. I will ask for more information from the Sun Chamber when I write to them in the morning. But for now, we have our case to resolve.’