12. 11
Most townships in Craetos had only simple justiciars.
They would administer time in the stocks, or take a hand for theft.
They would send anyone who had committed a heavier crime into a larger town with a dedicated sunner; in Lefterin, the town nearest to my parents' farm, we were privileged enough to have one. The farming community of Lefterin, with one apothecary, one school, and a market street you could walk down in less than a minute, was not really big enough to deserve a sunner. The man, Annis Panakova, only took up the post because his family had wanted to move out of Dytho to the countryside. Our prison had room for four inmates, though it was rare that more than one of the cells were occupied. Annis Panakova was an efficient man, and once the crime had landed them in the cell, it would be only days before they found themselves in a noose in Lefterin’s dusty square.
Standing in front of Dytho’s prison for the first time as the carriage pulled away behind me, I knew at once this was a vastly different enterprise.
Set at the northern edge of the city, just past the inner city wall, the roads were dirtier and the northern stables across the road carried their own unique smells.
The homes around the prison were cramped and narrow, sloping into one another, which only made the prison all the more imposing.
It was three stories and fenced to the height of their roofs, built entirely out of strong stone.
A staircase led up to the second floor of the building, which was the only floor with windows.
The roof was completely level, and decorated with columns holding nothing.
It was a strange impression from the ground, a flat and square building with long columns poking out of the top like a pin cushion.
Two male sunners stood guarding its entrance.
Sunners, devotees of the House of the Sun, were granted a couple of unique abilities when chosen by Akaur and marked with gold.
Most could summon light from their hands, similar to torchlight.
It made them great candidates for catching those who operated under the auspices of night.
More than that, though, the chosen followers of Akaur could call upon him for justice.
Akaur himself, the God of the Sun, was an all-seeing witness.
If called upon under a sacred oath to him, those with evil in their hearts would be compelled to speak the truth.
It was only to be done with evidence of a truly evil crime, and there were rumours of a distinct limit to how often a sunner could perform the Oath of Light, but it nonetheless made them invaluable in Craetos.
I had done nothing wrong, and yet standing outside of the prison made me feel guilty. I tried to shrug it off as I approached the men.
They wore the typical outfits of all sunners.
A long, blue overcoat with golden buttons, and a badge in the shape of a stylised sun, with swirling points over their left breast. Their eyes were obscured by the shadows under their matching blue caps.
They never wore gloves, for it prevented them from making the light in their palms. Further, their gold-marked palms were their identification, in the unlikely event their uniform wasn’t enough.
One of them, who had already been looking at me as I appraised the building, stood a step forward from his leaned position.
“My lady,” he said, tipping his cap to me. I had taken a carriage here for this precise reason. Davian and I hoped the civilised manner of my arrival would show me as someone of import and class. “Are you visiting?”
I offered him a hesitant smile. “Not quite. I’d like to speak with a sunner, if that’s okay?”
He nodded, though I could see his curiosity had been piqued. Clearly, he expected me to be reporting a crime. “Go inside,” he said. “There’ll be someone you can speak to.”
I thanked them as I stepped past. My heart thudded as if they might stop me and demand the Oath from me there and then. My intention was hardly criminal, but I would be lying to a sunner today, and the thought made me deeply uncomfortable.
I ascended the stairs. One white lie, a couple of questions, and then I was gone. Hopefully, we would learn a missing piece that Davian needed and it would all be resolved before the week was out. He’d ask around about the God of Fire on my behalf, and Ekris would let me back in.
I pushed open the door, forming my expression into one of sadness and desperation. That was my first lie.
Inside, the room was cold. Not in temperature, though it was cooler than the stuffiness of the afternoon air, but in decor.
There was a well-crafted oak corner table, behind which sat a young man close to my own age, with red hair and a quizzical brow.
There was a plain wooden door to the left with a hazy swirl of pocked glass, through which I saw the hint of a drab room and shadows of people.
A second plain wooden door led somewhere to the right behind the desk.
Then there were two more secure doors. One directly to my right, a sturdy door painted near black, with a thick bolt across it.
At the end of the room was a white door.
There were no plants, curtains, rugs, or cats.
The light was entirely from the windows, and even that came through some kind of grey shading applied to the glass.
The impression was far from inviting. This was a prison, though. It was hardly reflective of the House of the Sun at large. And the red-headed man offered me a smile which could be considered warm. “How can I help you, miss?”
I folded my hands and told my second lie. “My friend, Saskia. She went missing recently.”
“Saskia,” he repeated, his expression blank. Then he blinked and stood from the desk. “You mean the girl from Sea?”
I forced a despondent frown. “Yes, she was a devotee of Pleiidus.”
“I’m sorry.” His eyes widened and he paused, uncertain. “I’ll get Petros. He’s the warden.”
The redheaded boy disappeared through the pocked glass door to the left, and soon enough, he was back.
The man in tow was huge. With his coat and baton to pad him, he looked near enough the width of the door and certainly its height.
His lower lip jutted out and his face had a deep olive tan.
His thick dark brows and prominent nose signalled him as a classic Craeteran.
He was probably attractive in his youth, in a bruiser sort of way, but he hadn’t aged well, and everything about him sagged.
The sagging of his flesh was only made more prominent by how stiff and tall he held himself, like a melting candle.
He stopped before me. “You knew Saskia?”
“Yes,” I said.
There was something in his gaze, something familiar: a hint of interest betrayed by his too-long stare at my face. I was glad that my charms had not completely disintegrated upon losing Ekris' favour. Maybe Davian was right, and I should use my experience to my advantage.
“I was hoping I could help?” I asked, not taking my eyes from him for a moment. “We could see if I know anything that could assist you.”
“Of course,” he replied. “We can talk.”
I nodded, waiting expectantly.
He stared at me as he made his way around the desk, then he broke eye contact to stop the windowed door leading to the other desks. He opened it and called out to the redhead. “Drach, man the desk.”
I pulled off my cloak as Petros gestured to a door behind the entrance room with the desk.
“Can I take your cloak?” he asked.
“How gracious.” I nodded, blinking slowly at him and biting my lip as I handed it over. “Thank you very much.”
He grunted a reply, clearly not used to much attention from a woman. I saw his ears redden as he hung my cloak up on a wooden peg next to the matching blue coats. Good. People were much less suspicious of those they found attractive.
When he ushered me ahead of him, I swept close and brushed my arm against his torso.
I could say it was all for the gain of this mystery, and to avert his attention from any suspicions towards me, but if I was honest with myself, I had missed this.
I had missed the intakes of breath, the uncertainty and desire of my patrons.
This was a weak imitation, and yet the euphoria of feeling wanted still fizzled in my stomach.
Past the door was a small room, with the same greyish light from the window.
There were three bare wooden chairs and a table and two cabinets along a wall.
A few dusty, but seemingly full, inkpots and quills waited.
There was a musty smell to the room, which I attributed to the two empty jugs of wine half-hidden behind the farthest cabinet.
A boring nightshift, a spot of gambling, maybe.
I focused on maintaining my look of sadness, and sat heavily into one of the seats, folding my hands together.
The large Craeteran opened a cabinet behind me, and I heard a ruffling of paper. A few moments later, he was settled across from me with a quill at the ready in his thick fist. I could see the hint of the golden spiral in his clenched hand as it lay waiting over a piece of paper.
He cleared his throat. “Right. What’s your name?”
“Bella,” I said quietly, looking out at the fence through the window. Not much of a view. Then I made a show of darting my eyes to him. “And you’re Petros.”
He paused, and I was concerned I had overdone it. “Yes.”
I offered a weak smile.
“How did you know Saskia?”
I fidgeted intentionally and sighed. “We grew up together, and then she left to join the Sea.”
He nodded. “How would you describe your friendship?”
“We used to be very close, but she was growing more withdrawn in the last few years.” He noted it down. “Too dedicated, perhaps,” I suggested, mostly to see if he would dispute it.
“And when did you last see her?” he asked, saying nothing of my comment.