‘My name is Yadrix Velor.’ He smiled widely. ‘And I’m glad to make a connection with an officer of the Sun Chamber.’
Drullus’ hideout was not too far from the Snake Kings and, after the brief interlude, we continued through the streets once again. Unfortunately Yadrix could offer no further information about Drullus, especially on why he was seeking a hideout at all.
‘People seek help from me all the time,’ Yadrix had commented. ‘I do not ask for their secrets – I do not care, as long as they can pay. There is a lucrative trade to be found in such things in this city.’
I hated making deals with people like Yadrix as they were people who profited from misery, but sometimes it seemed the only way of getting what was required.
Relieved not to have engaged in another fight, and glad – as ever – that Leana was by my side, I asked her if she was all right after Yadrix brought up the subject of her country, Atrewe, with that niggling guilt that I had dragged her far from her home.
‘You mean, do I want to go home to Atrewe?’ she replied. ‘No. I am happy here.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes,’ she replied.
‘Do you miss Atrewe? I never ask.’
‘I am happy. Few people in Tryum – in Vispasia – would ever meet someone from Atrewe. From what I understand in Venyn, many think us bad, stupid people. Here so far I have been treated as a novelty. I can change those thoughts – they will respect Atrewens. I believe that will do all Atrewens a favour in the long run.’
Leana and I had shared so many experiences over the years, been in so many scrapes together, that much of my life was framed by her reassuring presence. We’d faced street executions by Venyn gangs; we had uncovered treasure hoards on the eastern Vispasian coast. We had been in the presence of priestesses and bishops, of kings and queens. We’d eaten snake as the sun set, purpling the skies of the desert regions, in our relentless hunt of a multiple child murderer. We had witnessed armies clash on a beautiful glade, turning it into a bloodbath, before moving in to arrest the victorious general with just a hundred men of the Sun Legion at our side. It was difficult to imagine my role without her. And yet, despite all of our shared experiences, she rarely opened up to me. Perhaps it was a cultural quirk, but I felt she knew me far better than I did her.
Bad weather had come again since our brief time with the Snake Kings, and rainwater still trickled downhill. The refreshing smell made the journey to the location somewhat more pleasant. It was the middle of the afternoon and hunger was setting in, so we stopped off at a pastry stall and purchased food to eat on the way. As the rich flavours filled my mouth, it made me realize just how much I’d missed the local cuisine, though it had never cost this much. The vendor muttered only that the city was overcrowded, and that there wasn’t enough food in Detrata.
The house we were seeking was right on the border of Vellyum, situated on a surprisingly pleasant street. A good family with an honest trade might wish to live somewhere like this. There were low-level structures with shops facing the street, much like in Tradum and Polyum, though not as refined. The roads needed a little more repair, the walls were plastered with more graffiti than was possible to read, and there was the overpowering stench of urine – but it was a good street, with a man nearby wearing the sash of the local Civil Cohorts keeping the peace.
Beyond the store selling cloth, we headed through into the narrow alleyway and down the side of the building, the gap only a little wider than my shoulders. We continued along until we found the red door we’d been directed to.
‘This is it.’ I moved to try the door, but paused, considering my options.
‘Knock it or kick it?’ Leana asked.
‘Kick it. He wouldn’t open it unless it’s to someone he knows or is expecting. If we knock, he might slip out of another entrance.’
I took a look around the alleyway to check no one was about. This wasn’t exactly the way we did things in the Sun Chamber. Leana had been a bad influence on me. But there was little here except the high walls and stone pavements, only a washing line stretched at the far end between the two buildings.
Back by the door, we both took a couple of steps, then struck the lock-side of the door together, and it shuddered back. One more determined kick from Leana and it smashed open completely. I rushed inside to confront our suspect while Leana stayed back to see if he would make an exit from a window.
Inside the long, thin corridor was empty but decorated with cheap frescoes and mosaics. Wondering whether our bird had already flown, I moved quickly into the next room, which was a kitchen, before running up the stairs into darkness on the floor above and entering another room. It was filled with a cloying and all too familiar stench. I reached across to open the wooden shutters.
There, sprawled on its side with bent knees, a corpse became illuminated by the hazy afternoon light.
The Stench of Death
When Leana arrived she put her hand to her nose. ‘Spirits save us, are there no more windows to let in the breeze?’
‘None that I can see.’
The pervasive stench indicated that the man had been dead for some time. His blood had pooled and dried on the floor. Dressed in casual garb, which seemed loose-fitting on his slender frame, his skin was lightly bronzed and his hair was dark-blond: he fitted the description that Clydia had given us.
‘Leana,’ I said, ‘I need you to find your way back to the Skull and Jasmine house. Though we’ve travelled a long way around the city, I don’t think it’s too far from here. We need Clydia to come here and identify the body. Tell her she can bring a couple of the other actors if she needs them.’
Leana nodded and left the room, and a moment later I spotted her sprinting through the street.
With the sounds of the busy community outside, I set about assessing what had happened.
There was no blood to be found on the walls and in fact not even around the edges of this room – which implied there had not been a struggle. There were no signs of a fight, no broken jars or pottery, all of which were still standing by chairs or on tabletops. There was an uneaten loaf of bread, a bowl of olives and two apples on the table, laid out for a solitary dinner with one wooden cup of water, and two silver peculla coins next to it.
One of the other rooms was his sleeping area, a dark bare chamber with a couple of unlit lanterns and, aside from a small bag of clothes, there was nothing for me to go on. Everything was incredibly neat and tidy, the picture of an everyday man living alone.
The state of the room where the corpse lay suggested two things: either the man had taken his own life, or he was killed by a professional. Yet, it couldn’t have been suicide. Not only was there no blade nearby, but if this was Drullus, he had paid a lot of money to hide away here in order to keep his life, not to give it up. But if it had been a murder, then the victim must have known his killer to have let him in. Either that, or we were dealing with a highly skilled operator, who could move about the streets with quiet grace and stealth, and could gain entry to this building without force. In many respects, it was not unlike the case of Lacanta’s murder. I double-checked the rest of the house, especially the windows, but there were no signs of anything being amiss.
I reached down and turned the body over, noting that the stiffness of death had long since set in. There was just one clean but very deep cut along his throat. Had the blow been a rapid slash from in front, or a careful slice from behind? The knees were bent, too, which indicated he had been kneeling down before his killer as his throat was opened – as if he had submitted himself for execution. Drullus may have known there was no point in running away: this would have been a pitiful death for the poor actor.