Drakenfeld

Deeper into Destos

We were up before the sun, making our way deeper into Destos. In the morning we investigated two villas a mile apart from each other, both sprawling complexes fit for a royal, but we found no signs of life. The first villa had been put up for sale but no one had made a claim for it, while the second was in the hands of a retired general who only used it on occasion. We searched each property but there were no signs of anyone living in them. They were splendid places and it seemed such a waste for them to stand empty.

In the afternoon we met up with a scout and reached the third property of the day, smaller and tucked away in a copse. I approached the main entrance with the scout, with Callimar, Leana and the others around the other side to see if anyone made an exit. Yet its inhabitants were a wealthy couple who used the place as a holiday home, and their story stood up well.

On the slow trek away from the property, my heart began to sink. We could search these places for ever and still find nothing. Callimar said little, but his expression revealed a growing scepticism, one that I was starting to share myself.

Another cool, uneventful evening followed, but by morning the agent had connected with our camp. He spoke of a property on the coast, concealed under a cliff-face. He had spotted movements of what looked suspiciously like soldiers in disguise making their way to and from the place the previous afternoon, yet nobody local knew of any owners.

We followed the agent’s lead and rode towards the coast and, along the way, met up with a large group of Callimar’s veterans. Our small force grew to twelve.

This was not the Destos I remembered. It was supposed to be lush and vibrant, a playground for the rich of Tryum. Some of the grasslands we went through had been tortured by the sun over the past few weeks, leaving dried-up riverbeds and wilting plants. Some farm dwellings had long been abandoned. There were large villas that had fallen into ruin, paint cracked, materials stolen for rebuilding elsewhere. Even the isolated, more cultish temples had fallen into disrepair – it was no way to treat a god, whatever one’s persuasion. These were symptoms of the state of Detrata and made the sentiments of senators who yearned for the old days understandable, if unreasonable.

We reached the coastal track in late afternoon, with the Ferrous Sea to one side as calm as could be and sandstone cliffs directly below us. Our agent told us that we only had a short way to go. The path wound down through large gorse bushes dotted with yellow flowers, and eventually our procession came to a halt.

Callimar rode back towards me. ‘How do you want to play this one, Drakenfeld?’

After a moment’s reflection, I said, ‘The most important thing of all is that Lacanta remains alive. If she sees several soldiers running towards her, there is always the risk that she may take her own life. What’s your view?’

‘She’ll have protection. We should wait until nightfall, examine if there are any guards, eliminate their threat without drawing attention, and break in to the villa. If she’s there.’

I turned to the agent, a tall, skinny fellow in sand-coloured clothing, who had a cool, detached expression. He replied, ‘I’ll go down and survey the situation again. Expect me again at dusk, no sooner.’

‘Good.’ To Callimar I said, ‘Whatever we plan, I’d prefer it if we could keep the killing to a minimum.’

‘As weak a disposition as ever, eh, Drakenfeld?’ Callimar chuckled and held his arms wide like a bargaining merchant. ‘We’ll try. But sometimes a little blood is unavoidable.’

With no campfire, and hidden well away from the road, we waited for the agent to return. Callimar possessed a remarkable talent for making himself and his veterans invisible. It was a lot cooler here with the breeze washing in from the sea and we ate uncooked, meagre rations. Callimar had requested noise be kept to a minimum and we occupied ourselves with nothing but quiet contemplation.

As the sun slipped from the sky, I felt the chances of bringing the murders into the light were going with it. We had trekked halfway across Detrata on a whim because of a book I’d spotted on Lacanta’s shelf. It was a thin connection, but I had nothing else to go on. The grim faces of the soldiers made me wonder if we had all been wasting our time.

‘Someone approaches,’ called a voice.

As expected it was the agent, who dismounted with a sense of urgency and marched directly towards me, surrounded by the others.

‘What have you seen?’ I asked.

‘At least two soldiers walking the perimeter of the property, and someone I believe to be female standing in the gardens looking out across the sea.’

‘You believe to be a female?’

‘Yes. Her form was feminine, but her hair had been cropped.’

‘A woman trying to disguise herself,’ I wondered aloud, growing more excited at the prospect.