Read Online Retribution (Drakenfeld 2) by Mark Charan Newton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mark Charan Newton
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prying eyes. Curiously, Jejal did not seem to mind at all that we wanted to store human remains in his establishment. In fact he declared, with great insouciance, ‘Of course I will oblige. Though you must know, I will be forced to add a small fee to the cost of the room. Just because they are dead does not mean I will not accept payment for their use of my facilities! It is a mistake to draw such matters to a close when life has departed. Who is this fellow anyway? Should I fear some sort of reprisal attacks in my humble dwelling?’
‘For now,’ I said, ‘it’s probably safer you don’t know anything.’
‘You sound like one of my former wives.’
‘I mean we should tell the authorities first.’
‘Agreed, agreed. Always the secrecy with the Sun Chamber! Alas, at least a few secrets make life interesting, do they not?’
At Jejal’s insistence both Leana and myself washed thoroughly before we went to bed – it was only then that I realized just how much we must have reeked after our time in the refuse area.
I rested well that night – enjoying a deep and peaceful sleep that I had not known for a good while. When travelling on the road, working on a case, I always felt on edge, agitated to make progress lest I found my end thanks to some rogue agent or a criminal in the dark wilderness, leaving the case unresolved. Sleep didn’t come easily when one spent most of the time with one eye peering into the shadows, wondering when an attack might come.
Even with Leana, a warrior of considerable talent guarding me, it was not easy to relax. I had not experienced soldiering since the token training we received in the Sun Chamber, almost a decade ago, and so I willingly accepted that I was someone who relied upon basic securities: safe lodgings, armed protection.
To be completely honest with myself, part of me suspected that my curse of seizures would somehow leave me more
vulnerable
, especially in the countryside. Sometimes I could shake uncontrollably in the night and know nothing of it – who knew what attention that might attract out in the wilds?
In the city there were any number of strange noises and events to distract from those of my own creation. Fortunately Leana said I had no episodes in the night. She reminded me that I needed to find an apothecary or herbalist who could recreate the mix I had bought in Tryum, in order to stabilize my seizures.
After a hearty breakfast of flatbreads and local fish, which we ate on a small bench beside a street vendor in the sparsely populated marketplace, we checked with Jejal about somewhere safe to stable our horses.
They had been kept overnight in Jejal’s stables, but would need to be taken somewhere else, to better conditions. What Jejal owned wasn’t much, frankly, and was generally for those who were just passing through. Even the boastful Jejal admitted that it could get crowded and uncomfortable for the animals.
He told us of better quality stables deeper in the Sorghatan Prefecture, so we led our horses along the short journey there, with the body of the bishop in a sack slumped over the back of my mare, Kinder, and the head hanging in a bag over the neck of Manthwe, Leana’s own horse.
Though I was glad of my black cloak, whatever gusty chill might have pervaded the streets at night had long since gone. The day promised something more sultry, and there was a fug of woodsmoke lingering as the city awoke. The comforting, symmetrical lanes of the prefecture were filling up with those heading towards the markets. Scrawny livestock were being driven past new stone buildings. Carts carrying bright cloth clattered along the roads. There were a lot of highly skilled craftsmen here: woodworkers through to silversmiths, and many of them were making equine equipment of the highest quality. But it was the animal-based industry that impressed me most: several small tanneries could be found alongside butchers and shops selling leather goods. The level of
‘For now,’ I said, ‘it’s probably safer you don’t know anything.’
‘You sound like one of my former wives.’
‘I mean we should tell the authorities first.’
‘Agreed, agreed. Always the secrecy with the Sun Chamber! Alas, at least a few secrets make life interesting, do they not?’
At Jejal’s insistence both Leana and myself washed thoroughly before we went to bed – it was only then that I realized just how much we must have reeked after our time in the refuse area.
I rested well that night – enjoying a deep and peaceful sleep that I had not known for a good while. When travelling on the road, working on a case, I always felt on edge, agitated to make progress lest I found my end thanks to some rogue agent or a criminal in the dark wilderness, leaving the case unresolved. Sleep didn’t come easily when one spent most of the time with one eye peering into the shadows, wondering when an attack might come.
Even with Leana, a warrior of considerable talent guarding me, it was not easy to relax. I had not experienced soldiering since the token training we received in the Sun Chamber, almost a decade ago, and so I willingly accepted that I was someone who relied upon basic securities: safe lodgings, armed protection.
To be completely honest with myself, part of me suspected that my curse of seizures would somehow leave me more
vulnerable
, especially in the countryside. Sometimes I could shake uncontrollably in the night and know nothing of it – who knew what attention that might attract out in the wilds?
In the city there were any number of strange noises and events to distract from those of my own creation. Fortunately Leana said I had no episodes in the night. She reminded me that I needed to find an apothecary or herbalist who could recreate the mix I had bought in Tryum, in order to stabilize my seizures.
After a hearty breakfast of flatbreads and local fish, which we ate on a small bench beside a street vendor in the sparsely populated marketplace, we checked with Jejal about somewhere safe to stable our horses.
They had been kept overnight in Jejal’s stables, but would need to be taken somewhere else, to better conditions. What Jejal owned wasn’t much, frankly, and was generally for those who were just passing through. Even the boastful Jejal admitted that it could get crowded and uncomfortable for the animals.
He told us of better quality stables deeper in the Sorghatan Prefecture, so we led our horses along the short journey there, with the body of the bishop in a sack slumped over the back of my mare, Kinder, and the head hanging in a bag over the neck of Manthwe, Leana’s own horse.
Though I was glad of my black cloak, whatever gusty chill might have pervaded the streets at night had long since gone. The day promised something more sultry, and there was a fug of woodsmoke lingering as the city awoke. The comforting, symmetrical lanes of the prefecture were filling up with those heading towards the markets. Scrawny livestock were being driven past new stone buildings. Carts carrying bright cloth clattered along the roads. There were a lot of highly skilled craftsmen here: woodworkers through to silversmiths, and many of them were making equine equipment of the highest quality. But it was the animal-based industry that impressed me most: several small tanneries could be found alongside butchers and shops selling leather goods. The level of
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