Retribution (Drakenfeld 2) (51 page)

‘Spoken with the confidence of a Detratan,’ she sighed.

I decided to continue with my boldness, now I had paid her nation a compliment. ‘Might I enquire as to what will happen to the Rukrid family? Before we left for Evum, we discovered that they had been behind the attempts to kill or capture Nambu.’

‘Yes.’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘It is amazing what news torture brings. They wanted to stop
my lineage
, would you believe? The issues with Detrata forced their hand sooner. They thought I was weak in the face of such rampant imperialism. I, who have sent most of my troops to the border, who risk my own security by moving soldiers away, and they think
I
am weak? They have been trying for years to get to me. So they thought they would get to my daughter instead, and made repeated efforts to ensure I was the last of my line. At first they paid for assassins and then, able to trust no one else, they trained their own family members to commit the crime.’

‘I trust you responded accordingly.’ As I spoke I glanced at Nambu and could see the pain in her face, knowing what her mother had done.

‘The Rukrid family is no longer a concern, Drakenfeld.’

‘Have they been forced to flee?’ I recalled there had been a good dozen of the Rukrid clan present at the Kotonese Games, young and old, and I imagined them scampering across the border in fear after what happened.

A cruel smile came to her lips, the sign of the savage queen materializing for just an instant.

‘You misunderstand me,’ she said. ‘The Rukrid family is no more.’

That was that. Leana and I had done our job, and I had resisted interfering in the matter more than was necessary. We headed to our quarters to pack up our belongings, though I was in no hurry to leave for Free State. A long journey lay ahead of us, and would take a good few weeks of travelling. Once we arrived, who knew how long we would remain there?

Sulma Tan knocked on the open door and I casually beckoned her in, glad to be seeing her one last time before we were to leave. She was wearing a vibrant green dress, styled like a long tunic, but considerably more ornate, and her boots were well polished.

‘I have a message from Nambu,’ she said. ‘Well, more specifically, the message is for Leana.’

‘Can she not come here in person?’ Leana asked.

‘Her mother wants her by her side as she begins to understand the coming conflict. It will apparently be good for her and I can appreciate the sentiment. I think what you did was a good thing in helping the young princess. The queen was even quietly impressed that her daughter killed a man.’

‘It is understandable,’ Leana muttered. ‘What does Nambu say?’

‘She wishes for you to write with further instructions on how to carry on her training from time to time. Mere direction, perhaps techniques she can seek out from local tutors.’

Leana gave a smile of a kind I had rarely seen. ‘I will insist on a punishing regime from afar.’

As if aware of some desire for Sulma Tan and myself to be alone, Leana strolled into the adjacent room, where Nambu had spent her stay with us.

‘That was not completely the reason why I came,’ Sulma Tan confessed.

‘No?’ I moved tentatively to the other side of the bed.

‘I wanted to give you this.’ From her pocket she produced a small purple velvet purse. ‘But please, you must open it on the road.’

‘I will,’ I replied, and firmly placed the item within the pocket of my tunic.

‘Thank you for your help,’ I offered. ‘Without it we would have been truly floundering.’

‘It was mostly your work.’

‘Our work,’ I replied. ‘You used the census information. You helped with so much of the research.’

‘If you ever visit Koton again,’ she whispered, ‘please, come to Kuvash. I will see you are welcome here.’

And with that she smiled and walked away, soon leaving only the sound of her footsteps.

In the pink light of dawn Dorval saw us off from the stables, a wry smile on his face that could have been taken to mean any number of things.

It was difficult not to imagine what scenes might have gone on here at the stables, where the murder victims had been taken. Even now the military had closed down Sojun’s workshop, with just one yawning soldier standing outside the door, rubbing his hands in the morning chill. If I knew Sulma Tan at all, later in the day there would be an operation being conducted down below.

I was sad to never get a chance to speak to Sojun and Elliah again, or even Brell. There was much that I could have uncovered, so much more I wanted to ask about the details, but events were conspiring against me and it was important that the affair was concluded with local powers at the helm. I had carried out my orders – to investigate the murders.

The lanes of the prefecture began to become busy again: traders trundling out with carts to the marketplaces, various coloured awnings being extended over pole-strung meats. By the time we passed through the prefecture gates, the sounds of prices being chanted could already be heard. A priest began to sprinkle white petals along the road behind us.

It would be some time before we arrived in Free City, where we were scheduled to liaise at the conclave of officers from the Sun Chamber. There we would discover our instructions as to where to go next, no doubt, but once again we moved our lives on, never settling, never putting down roots. And this is how we would exist indefinitely.

We rode through the poorer prefecture where, after being in the Sorghatan section for so long, everything was so crammed in and haphazardly constructed. Presently, as we continued on our way, the buildings became lower, cruder and spaced further apart. The city began to return to something more ancient, and a true representation of who these people were: a nomadic culture that had tried to settle. This was the real Koton, the one the queen tried to hide in her own prefecture.

Two or three miles away from the city and yurts appeared on the open horizon. A warm wind rippled through the grassland, which extended as far as the eye could see.

‘You did not hand back the ring,’ Leana pointed out.

‘Yes, I did,’ I replied. ‘I placed them both on the cushion for the queen as evidence. You saw me do it.’

Leana shook her head. ‘I meant Sulma Tan’s ring, the one she gave you for access and command.’

‘Oh.’ I reached into my inner pocket and there it was.

‘You will feel obliged to return it to her one day,’ Leana said, ‘if I know you at all. Your sense of duty will conveniently strike.’

‘We will just have to see if Koton is still standing. But this reminds me . . .’ I reached into my tunic and pulled out the purse. ‘She gave me this before I left and told me to open it on the road.’

‘Well, we are now on the road.’

After untying the string knot I emptied out the contents into my palm. There was a note, and inside the fold of paper was a ring. In fact, it was Bishop Tahn Valin’s ring, polished, and on a golden chain.

‘What does the note say?’

I read it out as we made our way.

‘She knew your seizures had stopped,’ Leana muttered.

Lost for words, I placed the chain around my neck and tucked the stone securely inside my shirt.

‘So you have a mysterious ring as a souvenir. I take it,’ Leana said, ‘that I am to mention its properties to no one?’

‘Even if you did,’ I replied, ‘I’m not sure anyone would believe you.’

Clouds began to roll in across the region, eventually bringing drizzle. Leana retrieved her wax coat from her baggage and I followed suit, and soon the rain intensified. Large muddy puddles formed in the road and the distant hills became lost. As we rode out along the main road past the last village, I peered back towards the distant city of Kuvash. A group of seven children were chasing each other excitedly, oblivious to the rain.

One of them, a black-haired lad in a brown shirt, suddenly slipped in the mud by the side of the road and his head struck a tree stump. His friends clustered around him. We could hear a few shrieks.

Leana and I dismounted and walked over to see if he was OK. He must have been only ten years old at the most, and had cracked open his skull on a sharp protrusion from the stump. Trickles of blood came down his broad cheeks, to mix with his tears and the rain. His fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly as throbs of pain passed through his body. The other six looked up to us for guidance, and a girl with short-cropped hair asked in Kotonese if we could help.

Perhaps this was a sign or a test from Polla, but as Leana began to bandage the injured child’s head with a strip of torn cloth, I had no hesitation in reaching into my shirt and retrieving the ring that Sulma Tan had given me. I made a double loop of the chain, and draped it over the child’s wounded head so that the ring fell just beneath his ragged collar. As his friends were still looking on, I whispered in a serious tone that the ring was magic, that it would help him, and that he was to tell no one. He squirmed a nod, fighting through the pain of his injury. Whether or not he believed me, I could not say.

We ordered the boy’s friends to help him walk home, to make sure he rested and drank plenty of water. With that, Leana and I mounted our horses once again.

‘Not a word,’ I said to Leana, as we edged forwards. I could see she was thinking how stupid I had been to give away the ring, but I felt an awful lot lighter for it no longer being upon my conscience.

‘You would not listen to me anyway,’ Leana muttered.

As our horses crested the hill, the rain easing off a little, I glanced back at the group of children. The injured boy was being helped along by two others, whose arms were around his shoulders. They had smiles on their faces and their raucous laughter travelled some distance. Whether or not it was all bravado, the boy seemed to be shrugging off his injury as all seven of the children entered a large wooden hut.

They had their whole lives ahead of them.

About the Author

Mark Charan Newton was born in 1981, and holds a degree in Environmental Science. After working in bookselling, he moved into editorial positions at imprints covering science fiction and fantasy. He has written for a variety of non-fiction publications including the
Ecologist
and the
Huffington Post
, and has spoken about science fiction on BBC Radio 4. He is also the author of the Legends of the Red Sun series. He currently lives and works in Nottingham. You can find him online at
markcnewton.com
or
facebook.com/markcnewton
.

By Mark Charan Newton

Legends of the Red Sun

Nights of Villjamur

City of Ruin

The Book of Transformations

The Broken Isles

The Lucan Drakenfeld novels

Drakenfeld

Retribution

Novels are never solo efforts. So I’d like to thank my editor, Julie Crisp, for helping to make this book a much better one than before, and to the wider team at Pan Macmillan for their work on the physical book in your hands (or on your e-reader), from cover design to typography. Thanks to Jared Shurin for his reliably robust and entertainingly abusive comments as a reader. And finally yet another hat-tip to my agent, John Jarrold, for his essential advice throughout the journey.

First published 2014 by Macmillan

This electronic edition published 2014 by Macmillan
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com