‘Let their words wash over you. Most of it is a lot of pretentious nonsense. Anyway, you’ve not met them yet – you might decide you like them.’
‘Just why must we go to this stupid thing?’
‘For work and for pleasure,’ I replied. ‘Many of the highest levels of Tryum society will be gathering under one roof. There’s every chance one of them will be able to tell us something about the murder, or at the very least open up some useful routes of enquiry. It’s why we should be glad that Veron has welcomed us into his social circle – that man is giving us quick access to the great and good of Tryum, whether or not he realizes it.’
Two heavily built servants admitted us into Veron’s wonderful rectangular garden, which was rich and sensuous, filled with wide-leaf plants that weren’t domestic varieties. A dozen scents were being emptied into the evening sky, jasmine, marjoram… smells that blended with cooking aromas coming from the house. From inside came laughter and gentle music from a lyre. It seemed ridiculous that a house could be so big in Tryum: built on one level, it was set back from the streets, and designed in the city’s typical style, with regular columns, a symmetrical facade, decorated with thin lines of painted details, but it was too dark to perceive the full array of colours.
Cressets burned outside and above the entrance way, bright yellow beacons against the indigo sky. There were braziers lit amidst the foliage throughout the garden, encouraging exploration and secret conversations in the half-light.
We were welcomed by two more of Veron’s serving staff, each garbed in a rich silk tunic, before the senator himself came forward to greet us.
‘Ah, Drakenfeld! And… Leana, isn’t it?’
She nodded.
‘Thank Trymus you’re here, Drakenfeld,’ Veron said, his annoyance plain to see. ‘Ever since General Maxant arrived he’s been boasting of his bloody conquests. We need some intellectual stimulation. Quote a philosopher or two. Make something up about the stars. Anything to redirect the conversation away from savage topics.’
‘I’ll see what we can do,’ I replied.
There were at least three dozen people scattered around Veron’s mansion, many of whom I recognized from the night at Optryx. People were gathered in their fineries, in gold-trimmed cloaks, plush tunics, beautiful dresses and necklaces. Faces soon turned to regard us as we mingled. I noticed how the walls of Veron’s house were well painted, with scenes of cities from the myths, where the gods dwelled. Mosaics were many coloured, the lanterns crafted from bronze. It was clear that Senator Veron had great personal wealth and I wondered idly where it came from. Incense mixed with the scent of spiced meats, which were carried about on trays by attentive servants. General Maxant was there, dressed in his military finery and his deep-red cloak, accompanied by two women who appeared to be in awe as he spoke to them.
Veron pointed out one man, dressed unusually in crimson breeches and a bold red tunic, with all sorts of delicate decorative details, as Cettrus the Red, one of the riders from the Blood Races. ‘Now I know people will frown on us cavorting with people so far down the social scale,’ Veron said, ‘but the riders are popular men. It adds a little excitement to proceedings – not to mention making me seem an eccentric host.’
‘Is your wife here?’ I asked.
‘Atrella? No, no – she’s away on business. She’s left me with the much harder job of entertaining this lot. Did you meet Senator Divran, by the way?’
‘I did, yes.’
‘Doesn’t she send a shiver down one’s spine? Did she do it then – murder Lacanta?’
‘No. I don’t think so. Do you know how Divran’s husband died?’
‘Oh yes, quite a scene – not to mention a mess.’ Very briefly, Veron confirmed Divran’s descriptions to be accurate, though he added his own particular sense of colour.
There was a strange hush as we were guided through the house, many people stopping their conversations and openly staring at us. I could feel Leana tense at my side.
Veron clapped his hands for the lyre player to cease.
‘Please,’ I whispered, ‘no need for formalities on my account.’
‘Nonsense!’ Senator Veron announced me with my full title, as the new officer of the Sun Chamber for Tryum, son of Calludian, and assigned to investigate the murder of Lacanta. He then introduced Leana as my assistant and gave a brief version of how we met. ‘We will expect more details of such a story tonight!’ he finished, then turned to me as the chatter rose again, and spoke slyly. ‘You’re not wedded in any way, you two?’
‘No,’ I confirmed quickly, as I noted the outrage in Leana’s face.
‘Good,’ Veron replied. ‘There are several women here who have been dying to get their hands on you.’
‘Oh, I’m not really looking—’
‘No one ever looks,’ Veron said, ‘but if the gods decide it’s the right moment, there is no need to fight against their cosmic will.’
As Leana smirked at my discomfort, Veron steered two young women into view, one a black-haired lady with olive skin and wearing a green dress, the other with lighter hair, yet piercing blue eyes, and wearing an outfit that matched them. The women immediately began talking to me – or rather, talking at me. This had not been my plan for tonight: I did not come here to seek a bride, but answers. Yet they did seem rather charming…
I felt a sharp nudge in my ribs from Leana and a look that told me I’d better not be distracted from the case or abandon her to these people, but before she could glare at me too long, Leana was then guided towards one of the trays of food by another guest.
It turned out the women Veron forced upon me, Aemilia and Messalina, were wealthy daughters of senators and lining themselves up for the Senate one day. They seemed pleasant company, but I could tell they were more interested in my position within the Sun Chamber than me personally. There was a wide-eyed look about them that made me feel as if I was just another rung on a social ladder.
When they said they were at Optryx the previous night I steered the conversation immediately to the murder. They had both been disturbed by the events. I asked them if they knew Lacanta in person and, as predicted, they replied in less than favourable terms about her behaviour in the company of men.
‘She liked to break hearts,’ Aemilia confided. ‘It could have been any one of fifty men who killed her – and any one of fifty women, for that matter. Though most likely it was someone using illicit magic. It could quite easily have been some servant hiring a soothsayer or curse-trader, someone who has nothing better to do than dredge up discredited gods. Disgusting.’
‘Why do you say it was magic?’ I asked.
‘Illegal cults,’ Messalina replied, and leaned in as if we were conspiring. ‘I’ve heard tell that such cults brought a farmer back from the dead – from the very hands of the gods, wouldn’t you know? It just isn’t right, if you ask me.’
‘You’ve heard tell,’ I said.
‘You don’t seem convinced?’ she asked. ‘Oh I know, I know. I’ve met people like you before, people who don’t believe in the other realms.’
‘Though I admit my job can make me question matters too much, I believe there are many mysteries,’ I replied. ‘But in my goddess’s writings, we tend to apply logic first and foremost. Only then can we begin to delve deeper into the unexplained – once reasoning has been ruled out. It is how she differs from, say, Trymus, whose followers deal mainly in faith first, questions later – if at all. That is why she remains the only god associated with the Sun Chamber.’
‘Be careful,’ Aemilia said, stepping back from me as if I’d been cursed. ‘It is simply not wise to speak ill of the gods.’