‘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.