Drakenfeld by Mark Charan Newton Page B

were fresh in their memory, though I did not mind if anyone came to me later with information. Faces or snippets of conversation
could crystallize in the mind days, even weeks after a crime, and still prove to be useful. Afterwards, my details were circulated to anyone in a position of authority in the room.
    People could not be kept on site for much longer, despite my efforts, and the sun soon began to rise on a new day. When the guests commenced their exodus, I returned once again to the outer
doors of the temple of Trymus. Leana was still there, sketching out the inside on a piece of parchment.
    ‘I am convinced it is sealed,’ she said. ‘No way in. No way out. Apart from that battered door.’
    ‘You would have thought we’d have a few days to relax before being thrown straight into a murder investigation,’ I remarked, staring at the temple door.
    The face of Trymus looked down upon me, his severe expression somehow appropriate for the mood.
    ‘What does Trymus even stand for?’ Leana asked. ‘I never can understand why there are so many gods. You people have a fixation with them.’
    ‘Trymus and his wife, Festonia, built Tryum. They are the god and goddess of war, among other things. He made himself king and defended the original settlement against waves of strange
invaders. Apparently during the Detratan Empire one couldn’t move for his temples. He’s seen as a blessing in wartime – and for agriculture. No doubt in times of food shortages,
like now, people make as many offerings as they can so that he’ll heal the crops.’
    ‘It does not seem to have done much good,’ Leana remarked.
    I eventually came to an agreement with some of the senators that we would return to Optryx later, after everyone had rested. If the killer was in the building, the soldiers stated in no
uncertain terms that they would find them – though given the amount of skills he or she might possess, I doubted that. If the killer had indeed escaped, they were likely to be far from Optryx
by now.
    As we were about to leave, Veron informed me that he had arranged, with the administrative staff of the residence, for me to be granted a meeting with King Licintius later in the day.
    What would my father have thought about all of this? Would he, too, be making the same decisions?
    The matter needed to be resolved as quickly as possible – it was a chance to prove myself to the people of Tryum.

First Steps

    Though the remainder of the night was humid, I slept peacefully enough, and dreamt of falcons soaring over my house in a most unnatural manner.
    After waking, I was prompted to make an offering to the small shrine to Polla, which my father had kept in immaculate condition. There, in the corner of the open hallway, with a cool breeze
passing across my back, I muttered the purifications in an attempt to clear my mind, channel some of her essence, and to think logically.
    How had Polla coped in a crisis? When she had been alive all those centuries ago, before she had become a goddess and assumed a position of power, she had been a remarkable lady, living through
times of deep religious and political strife, when women were treated abysmally by their societies, and never failing in her quest to understand the world better, to fathom her position within the
universe. Praying to such a figure each morning was always inspiring.
    Bellona provided a hearty breakfast: despite the events of the previous night I was famished, and devoured the minced pork and flatbreads. Leana had been up for a little while and joined me just
as I was finishing. She had been to the Forum to see what people were saying of the murder, but it seemed no one had even heard the news yet. Or if they had, they were too afraid to talk about
it.
    After breakfast, I took a moment to walk around the house trying to familiarize myself with my past once again – it was an uncomfortable process because in some ways I didn’t like to
be reminded of the person I