When Tryum was a dominant player in the city states of the Detratan Empire, two hundred years ago, it not only expanded through architectural ingenuity, but the military pillaged other nations, bringing back their structures, their essence and, most of all, their treasures.
As a result, parts of the city were a mishmash of stolen cultures, thrown up in quick succession during the years of expansion – and, it has to be said, without much consideration for city planning. Over several decades, Tryum became a mess of streets. The city’s royals, in the more logical districts of Regallum, Polyum and Tradum – and to an extent Vellyum – tended to demolish anything that didn’t please their eye, and permitted architects and businessmen to step in to fill the gap with something altogether more satisfactory. The problems became more apparent when it was realized that different rulers had radically differing tastes – so schemes were cancelled and new designs requested. It also meant that these days tourists never understood the nuances of the streets, and could often be found stumbling down an alleyway in a dangerous neighbourhood, never to be seen again.
With more luck than judgement on my part, we managed to find our way quickly into Plutum, one of the two poorest regions of Tryum.
The buildings here were taller, closer together, and constructed with little care for safety. It was often said that people should walk in the middle of the street in case crumbling masonry or decaying roof tiles fell down on top of them. It had been known to happen.
Streets became narrower, more illogical in their direction and filled with even more people. Those caught up within the traffic were noticeably poorer, their clothes more austere: ripped trousers, no shoes or boots in some cases, grubby tunics, and there was not a single piece of metallic jewellery on display.
Carts rolled by carrying meagre supplies of grain; amphorae were being filled with water at a fountain; prostitutes stood chewing tree gum in open doorways, idly regarding the street beyond. The graffiti above the head of one lady – featuring the addition of a large phallus, I should add – suggested that one could indulge in all sorts of activities within the room behind her.
Here were merchants, coppersmiths, blacksmiths, a vegetable store, which couldn’t have been doing much trade situated right in the middle of the pervading stench from the sewers. Beggars drifted towards us with outstretched hands, pleading in a variety of dialects. Leana unsheathed her blade in a display that made them step away.
‘It’s all right,’ I cautioned. ‘They’ll give us no trouble – the gods have been unkind enough to them as it is without us creating a scene.’
I felt the gazes of unseen people, each one observing our steady progress through the streets. People wore a nervousness, and continued on their business with a discreet urgency. Many clearly didn’t want to hang around for longer than they had to, in order to get their daily shopping or to travel elsewhere. The lower regions of the city were not places to stay unless you were unfortunate enough to have no other choice.
‘It does not seem the type of place for kings to visit,’ Leana said.
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ I said. ‘Though this place could provide good lodgings for actors, I wonder how it happened that people from here managed to work their way up into Optryx?’
‘Is society split in Tryum, so that rich and poor must not live together?’
‘It’s like that throughout most of Vispasia,’ I replied. ‘Wherever one finds cities, one finds divisions forming.’
Walking in the midday heat through the dusty streets, I unfolded the paper that Senator Veron had given me, containing the address of the Skull and Jasmine theatre company – but there seemed little hope of me finding the exact spot. Addresses in this part of the city tended to be based on descriptions of how to get somewhere, but even with this it seemed unlikely we’d actually find the place.
We passed a tavern situated roughly in the right area, surrounded by tenement housing. Its sign had long since faded, as had the colour of its wooden doors, and there were two rusting braziers on each side.
‘Your buildings are so tall,’ Leana said.
‘Walls were built to mark the limit of growth. The only way to build now is up.’
We stepped under the green awning into the darkness inside. It took a moment for my eyes to become accustomed to the lack of light, but at least it was much cooler here. The ceiling was wooden, supported by several thick beams, the floor made from large stone tiles, and there was a hearth at the far end.
A gang of young and old men sat playing dice in the corner to our left, with a pile of coins about the value of five pecullas before them. There were a couple of business deals going on to our right, judging by the ledger book, and next to them sat what looked like a foreign priest, naked from the waist up, gorging himself on a loaf of bread. I smelled cooked food and bad wine. A few shafts of sunlight worked their way through from the shutters behind, but otherwise the place was lit by candles on the tables. Everything about the place said it was a fire hazard.
All in all, there wasn’t much of a refined atmosphere to be found here.
‘Reminds me of Venyn,’ Leana observed. ‘I bet more than a few nights here have ended in blood being spilt.’
‘Hey!’ shouted a man serving wine to a customer, ‘this is my tavern you’re talking about.’ He was a bearded, skinny fellow in his late forties, and wore a loose-fitting pale shirt covered in stains.
‘Do you own this place?’ I asked.
‘I lease it. But I consider it mine, yeah. Who’re you?’
I stepped nearer, showing my golden brooch. ‘My name is Lucan Drakenfeld, officer of the Sun Chamber.’
He frowned as if trying to remember the name, then his composure fell away completely. ‘Oh no, we don’t… look, this may not be the finest of places, but I pay all my bills on time and we don’t get anywhere near as much trouble as we used to.’
‘Relax,’ I said. ‘I’m not here because of you. I need your help in finding an address.’
‘Yes… Of course. Though it might be easier if you gave me a name – addresses change with the winds in Plutum.’ He laughed awkwardly. Everything about his posture suggested that events occurred here that were not fully within the limits of the law.
‘I’m not seeking an individual. I’m looking for the residence of people from the Skull and Jasmine theatre company.’
He looked quickly to those behind me. I made a hand signal to Leana to be on her guard.
‘Skull and Jasmine, you say?’ the man repeated.
‘If you’re about to warn any members of your establishment behind my back to attack us, I can assure you the matter will be dealt with quickly and that one of the more careless Sun Chamber torturers will have the chance to practise their craft on you. Am I clear?’
The tavern manager simply shook his head. Nothing was said for a moment, and in that silence rats could be heard scurrying across the stone tiles. The gang members by the entrance all took their seats again and began staring into their drinks as if nothing had ever happened. Meanwhile the sweaty priest just kept on filling his mouth with bread.
‘Good,’ I said, and regarded the manager once again. ‘Now why would you have us threatened?’
‘They’re protection, that’s all,’ he said, his voice almost faltering on every word. ‘We gotta look after ourselves down this way. Nothin’ personal.’
‘I think I see,’ I said. ‘You’ve paid protection money for them to keep your place in order? More fool you if you want to get into that business, friend.’
‘What choice does someone like me have with the gangs?’ he whispered. ‘Those senators let them run these districts to keep the peace. It might be all right for someone like you, with your connections, but I have to make do with them.’