Leana grabbed a shoulder bag of her belongings and I picked up mine.
With our swords visible, we marched down the blood-splattered path, past Farrum’s severed head, and into the streets.
Finally confident we were not being followed, we proceeded through the backstreets, navigating our way towards the South Gate, through Vellyum and then Plutum, losing ourselves in the intensity of the crowds.
I felt numb. My mind was a mess and sweat streamed down my face. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything to Leana. The vision of Titiana’s hanging body could not be released from my mind. Why did she have to die? Was her death a warning to me, a way to make me fall apart?
I vowed to myself, in the presence of Polla, that her death would not go without justice being served.
As we saw the limits of the city approach, the high wall that kept separated the urban sprawl from the countryside, Leana took me to one side. ‘If the king looks for us, he will have let these soldiers on the gate know about us.’
I looked around, trying to read the crowd for any followers. ‘That’s a good point. We should find a cart – a heavily loaded one, or possibly one that stinks.’
‘You want us to ride on a cart?’
‘No, underneath it. If it’s not worth the hassle, the soldiers won’t bother searching it and will wave us through.’
We waited for the better part of an hour until a trader came along the road, taking out rotting manure from the city stables to spread on the farmland beyond. I offered him ten pecullas – five now and five on the other side – which wasn’t much as far as bribes went, but he was poor enough for it to make a difference. His wide cart reeked, but we climbed underneath, hanging on to the timber frame as the horse plodded on. The cobbled road tipped us this way and that, violently lurching over any potholes, and soon we found ourselves approaching the city walls.
The cart rolled to a halt and my arms were already starting to ache. I closed my eyes and prayed to Polla that we would not be found. Voices came, one of them the farmer’s, the other probably that of a soldier. A foul liquid dripped through the cart and onto my sleeve.
What was taking so long?
A few pairs of boots shuffled back and forth around the cart.
Eventually a whip cracked, the horse plodded forwards, the cart rolled on. I breathed out a sigh of relief as we passed the South Gate and continued rocking along the South Road out of Tryum. I held on for what felt like hours, but in reality was far less than that. We tipped up at an angle as the horse took on a hill, and it was only when we crested it and levelled out that I called out to the farmer.
The cart rolled to a halt. We came out from underneath. I brushed myself down and paid the farmer, who continued on his way. The South Road was busy with trade and travellers, and at the base of the hill stood the contained mass of Tryum. Optryx remained a bright palace on the horizon: if the king was in there, I would find him. But not yet, not now – first I had something else to do.
A Meeting
We walked for miles that afternoon, trudging only for a little while along the main road, but then out onto dusty tracks to avoid any incident. Clouds provided enough cover from the sun, making the journey bearable.
It was early evening by the time we reached the nearest settlement, a small town called Festellum. We found a small tavern with a tiny top-floor room and pretended to be a simple couple on our way to the city. It was a sparse place, with far fewer furnishings than my own home, but at least we could rest in relative peace.
Accustomed to Bellona’s fine cooking, I was disappointed in the tavern’s offerings, but Leana pointed out that we were lucky to be alive and should be grateful we still had our heads to eat with.
She had a point.
That night Leana took to the floor. ‘I am now used to soft furnishings. It is not good for the soul. You have the bed.’
I lay staring at the ceiling for some time, incredibly exhausted – in body and mind – from the day’s events. I tried to make sense of what happened. It took me a long time to dismiss the image of Titiana hanging there, devoid of life. It seemed wrong that someone so vibrant and energetic could be so… still.
In my mind I turned over what Lillus had said to me, reflecting on my moments with Titiana. It seems my ego had got the better of me. I genuinely believed that her affections for me had been sincere.
Anyway, the answer would never come, and there was no way to find out. All I had was my investigation, and my determination to find the one thing that could prove my theory about Lacanta still being alive: Lacanta herself.
A thoroughly deep sleep came laced with melancholic dreams, which seemed to linger on during the first hour of the day. Eventually I couldn’t recall precisely what they were about, only that there was a racing chariot and a falcon circling in the sky above it. Perhaps if we came upon a Detratan mage or a priestess on the road it would be worthwhile checking if there was some hint buried within the hazy images.
The sun had not quite risen and already we were preparing to leave the settlement. After acquiring food from the tavern kitchen, and a crude map from one of the other guests, we managed to buy two mares from a young couple who were heading into Tryum and needed the money.
As dawn broke, there were already many travellers on the road, mainly traders, though a few priests – and I thought again of the poor priestess who had never made it to her temple.
So many people go missing each week it is easy to become complacent: but I make sure I never do, conscious there is always a loved one, someone who cares, someone whose life will never be quite the same again.
We did not arrive at the station post until the middle of the afternoon, exhausted from the heat and dust of the journey. Away from the main road the landscape had been unforgiving, and I was relieved to enter a small copse of trees and see the small, round, crenellated building, in which the Sun Chamber agent would be stationed.
It was not widely known that these structures existed, let alone were inhabited. It was hidden among old poplar trees on the side of a small valley and we could have had trouble finding the place. There was a small stable behind the building, so any passers-by who strayed this far from the road would probably dismiss it as a farmhouse. Yet that stable was constantly active with the horses of messengers and officials passing back and forth, and a gentle river of information was always flowing.
With immense relief we dismounted, tied our horses and banged on the door. It opened up, and an elderly man questioned who we were, so I told him.
‘Ah, of course, Drakenfeld,’ the man declared, before turning inside. He waved over his shoulder for us to follow. ‘Drakenfeld, the young officer from Tryum. Knew your father well. Sadly I couldn’t make the funeral, but I did visit his body. A letter you sent came through here not long ago. You’re not following it up, are you? We dispatched the messenger on a fresh horse, so he was as quick as any messenger in Vispasia.’
‘I’m confident the letter got to its destination, but I’ll not be around in Tryum for the reply, unfortunately.’
‘Trouble?’ he asked.
I gave a nod.
‘Which is why you’re here?’
‘Correct again,’ I replied.
‘Right you are. I’m Trajus, by the way. Retired officer – used to do what you do, but find myself more suited to being behind a desk these days.’
‘I’m not sure being behind a desk would ever suit me.’