“Please, my friends, sit. Take your ease.”
I dismissed the servants thinking that they had probably had as much excitement as they could manage for one night. We ate and drank in silence until Faedron broke it asking the question that was on everyone’s mind.
“Are you certain it was not a kayet, Meriq?”
I considered the question carefully. I was as certain as I could be. “But I don’t suppose we will ever be certain since we cannot question the man.”
“Well I think we can blame that on “Captain Claymore” there for so expertly turning a potential prisoner into dog meat,” Faedron said, giving Dthor-Aid’n a pert, cocky smile.
“Well, maybe next time you should take the lead, corporal. You could perhaps romance the next would-be killer a little. I’m sure he will respond to your manly charms and a polite request to refrain from gutting the Ez’n.” The captain retorted.
“There is nothing wrong with my charms, Captain, manly or otherwise.” Faedron clipped with a bright, cocksure smile. “You should try a little charm yourself sometime. Who knows, perhaps then you might manage to lose your virginity.”
I leaned forward and moved a plate of cakes away from Dthor-Aid’n’s twitching hand. The man laughed. “A sensible move, lad.”
“One bread brawl a night is more than enough, my children.”
Aenar set his tea aside. “Well, we may well learn something more on the morrow, Ez’n, once we have had chance to look over the body. But you seem certain he is not a Morlan assassin.”
I nodded. I did not believe the man was a Morlan of any caste and I neither did I think that he was an actual assassin. And if he had been a kayet I seriously doubted that I would have survived, and neither would most of the men who now sat with me. No. This was a clumsy attempt to make it seem like the work of Morla.
“That so-called “clumsy attempt” as you put it almost cost you your life, lad.” Dthor-Aid’n said stonily “And next time,” the soldier admonished, “it may well succeed.”
“Next time I will be ready,” I told him. I frowned slightly as a thought struck me, “What exactly were you all doing in the alley anyway?” I asked.
The men exchanged conspiratorial glances. “Lurking.” They said in chorus.
“Actually, it’s Faedron’s fault,” Aenar told me as the group rose to take their leave, “He noticed that the street was in darkness as he was seeing you off.”
“And I guessed you wouldn’t have the good sense not to take the shortcut.” the corporal said amiably.
“So we decided to follow you.” Maegor concluded.
“As luck would have it.” I said. “Thank you again, my friends.”
The men saluted and left. I picked up a sheet of parchment and flicked the lid off the inkwell. Sleep would not come easily this night, I thought, if it came at all and so I turned my mind to the matter of the street urchins and their predicament.
Like most cities in the Pentageonate Kalina had its fair share of street-sleepers and other vagrants. And even though there were recognised brothels, there was still no shortage of whores of both genders on the streets. Youths and young women from the poorer families would often ply their trade in the squares or secluded alleys if they were unable to secure a more respected position of companion or consort in one of the Pleasure Palaces or one of the more elite bordellos of the capital. Gaining work in any one of the various bath-houses or brothels was looked on with considerably more favour than trading as what the soldiers referred to as “street-slit” and there was clear disapproval of the so-called Company of Wolves who were seen as wholly salacious and reprehensible in their barrack room behaviour.
Still, the situation for the street-sleepers was not completely hopeless. Discussions with the various men of the Royal Guard had been quite fruitful for I was eventually told of a disused barracks in the western part of the city that had once housed mercenaries. Once it had been mentioned I seemed to recall the building from my general meandering around the capital. From what I remembered the edifice was in generally good repair, and if I could get the king to agree it, it would make a perfect almshouse for the needy; and, if I played my pieces well enough it would put the urchins under the protection of The Crown and send a very clear message to Balten and his cronies.
†
CHAPTER 10
VISION
THE MEETING with the king went well enough. He looked over the proposals for the almshouse and agreed it without question. It was well past time, he thought, that the matter of the destitute was addressed. And of course, he observed, it would mean there was no need for the young to seek solace in the barracks from those of a somewhat dubious moral nature. The king gave me a sideways look which I deliberately ignored.
“And when were you going to tell me about the attempt on your life, Ez’n.” Janir asked suavely as he served us tea.
“When I was certain that it was an assassination attempt and not some opportunistic footpad trying his hand, Majesty.” I responded equally smoothly.
Janir dangled the kayet amulet in front of me, the gesture eloquent as all of Janir’s understated movements were.
“An easy thing to copy,” I said dismissively. “It is probably counterfeit, for as I told Captain Dthor-Aid’n last night, I probably would not have survived an attack by a real kayet despite the proximity and swift action of the Royal Guards.”
“So have you any suspicions, Ez’n?”
Now there was a truly loaded question! Did I have suspicions? Where should I start? There were numbers of people who would like me dead. Senators Kourbis and Zayin for a start, though I seriously doubted they would have the courage to hire a killer for fear of being discovered if the plot went awry. Then there was Shiraj, the Seer who had been most conspicuous by his absence and most noticeable because he had made no attempt to pay his respects as was custom since I was installed as Ez’n. And, of course, there was Balten. After all he had given me two battle dogs that had been secretly trained to kill me on command; a fact I did not choose to share with the king at this time, and on top of that I was about to interfere with one of his most precious pursuits; another fact I chose not to share with the king for if I was to find a way to prevent Balten from gaining the Zetan throne the less information I gave the king regarding the various intrigues the better it would be.
“And how is young Jalin?”
“There is a slight improvement, majesty, thanks largely, I have to say, to Jae’nt’s efforts. He has at least managed to get the boy to drink a little.”
“You have Jae’nt playing nursemaid Ez’n?”
“In truth, my king, there was little I could do to prevent it. He was so overcome with remorse when he saw what state the lad was in he took over his care almost at once.”
Janir gave a brief nod of approbation but said nothing. I guessed from his demeanour that the news pleased him in the hearing of it as much as it pleased me in the telling.
The evening seemed to settle quickly, the day disappearing rapidly with the onset of a chilling mist that rolled in from the plains and swathed the city in a cold, grey shroud. In the quiet of my study I reclined, eyes closed, in Anubis’ great chair listening to the soft click and crack of the logs in the grate and watching the flickering light that danced on my eyelids.
The temple bell sounded the first hour of the night and Aarin appeared to tell me that my bath was ready. I thanked him, grateful even at just the thought of bathing. The day had been long and exacting, for having finished my business with King Janir, there remained those few obstinate petitioners who it seem were determined to be seen whether I willed it or not. On top of all that I had started the search for suitable staff to man the Almshouse as well as artisans with the skills to restore and alter the old barrack block. It would be a long process, I thought, but a project that would be well known by the time it was completed.
I sank into the hot water with a satisfied sigh, luxuriating in the sensation of stiff muscles relaxing.
> “Shall I attend you, Ez’n?”
I sat up and craned around at the sound of Jae’nt’s voice from the bedchamber doorway. He approached the edge of the sunken bath, walking a little awkwardly and, I noticed, with a slight limp. As he drew closer I could see that the manacles had chafed his ankles quite severely despite his efforts to protect them with strips of cloth.
“No, thank you, Jae’nt. But I think you could do with soaking your feet a while. Sit with me.”
The prince unstrapped his caligulae and perched on the edge of the bath, gingerly submersing his feet in the hot water. He let out a soft sigh and smiled slightly. “That feels wonderful. Thank you Ez’n.”
“I will have Aenar come and strike those off in the morning.” I told the prince motioning him to stay seated as I rose and he handed me a towel.
“With respect, Ez’n, I would rather wait until Jalin agrees to that.”
“Indeed?” I must have looked every bit as astounded as I felt for the young prince gave me a broad smile.
“It is the only honourable thing to do, Ez’n. This discomfort should only end when the boy sees fit to grant it.”
I nodded my agreement, finding myself pleased with the thought that perhaps Jae’nt was in fact making some headway at taking responsibility for his misconduct. Wrapping myself in the towel I made my way to the bedchamber where one of the servants had set a tray with a light supper and a cup of hot milk. As I shifted the tray from the bed to the nightstand a cygnet ring rattled across the salver coming to rest against the plate with a light “chink”.
I picked the ring up and examined it setting it aside once more as I reached for my dressing robe and then slipping it into the pocket as I moved to the reception rooms. When I entered the withdrawing room it was to find Faedron and Dthor-Aid’n stationed at attention in the foyer.
“Captain. A word if you please. Leave us.” This to the servants as I returned to the lounge. “I believe this is yours, Captain.” I said taking the ring from my pocket. “Did you misplace it?”
“No Ez’n, I placed it on your tray deliberately. I wanted you to be aware that we were here guarding you. I hope it was not a presumption. We simply wanted you to know that you were safe in the company of friends.”
I handed the soldier back his ring. “Your concern is appreciated, captain.”
“May I return to my post Ez’n?”
“Of course.”
The captain bent his knee taking my hand and pressing it first to his head and then to his heart. “You will be kept safe, Ez’n. You have my oath on this.”
He rose then and strode back to where Faedron stood with his mouth agape. I pushed the drawing room door leaving it slightly ajar. It was obvious that Faedron was going to say something and, in my usual curious way, I was interested to hear him.
“I cannot believe you got away with that!” Faedron was saying, “taking his hand and . . .”
“Making a formal declaration of loyalty?” The Captain interjected.
“Oh! Is that what it was?”
“What else could it be?” Dthor-Aid’n asked coolly.
“Well I know what it looked like—Captain.” Faedron said icily. “And I’m surprised that Meriq did not rip your hand off for it.”
“I am sure the Ez’n did not mistake my intentions, Corporal.” Dthor-Aid’n’s tone made it quite clear that any further discussion was prohibited.
I smiled to myself. Only Faedron, idealist and romantic that he was, would have read a romantic overture into such a formal gesture. And only Faedron would have challenged his Captain on such a point. He was, after all, the older brother I would never have, and seemed to watch over me accordingly. In many respects he was like Anubis, and probably would never consider anyone worthy of my attentions, male or female—and I found myself almost pitying anyone who became matched to me.
Returning to my bedroom I stoked the fire and settled down lying back on the pillows and watching the dancing firelight through my eyelids. Slowly the rhythm of the flickering firelight and the steady click and crack of the burning logs began to lull me into sleep.
As I began to doze the irregularity of the light seemed to resolve into a steady movement, like waves gathering and striking on the shore. The flashes of light became the sudden reflection of sunlight on shields and the shadows themselves began to form into dark clad soldiers marching across the veldts of Mederlana to the Medran fort in Doria.
Suddenly I was in the main avenue of the fort town watching as the thick oaken gates were blasted asunder in a tempest of dust and fire. The black soldiers flooded through the gates like army ants, sweeping all before them. Their swords flashed yellow under the smoke occluded sun slicing through the defenders’ blades as if they were nothing more than staves and piercing armour as if it was not even being worn. Yet by far the most disturbing aspect of the dream was the effect of the weapons on flesh.
The blades cut through metal flesh and bone with unnatural ease and the wounds inflicted oozed black slough and blood. Then, as I watched, a black solider ran through me and plunged his blade deep into the chest of a young Doric hoplite. The man froze, the scream forming in his throat cut off as a geyser of fire burst from his gaping mouth. His flesh broke into black blisters which burst open spewing flame and black puss and in less time than it takes in the telling the man’s body collapsed into a pool of smouldering slime.
The screams of the dying began to fill my ears, roaring in my head like a mountain cataract. The vision grew bright, the images blistering like burning paint until the whole vision shattered like a dropped bowl. Shards of the image flew past me, the screams growing until I could scarcely bear the sound.
Suddenly, before I even realised it, I was out of bed and crossing the room to where Jalin was sitting bolt upright screaming for all he was worth. He clutched me as I drew near, digging his nails into my back. The screams subsided into ragged, rasping gasps as Jae’nt, the servants and house guards burst into the room.
After a short while I managed to extricate myself from the boy’s vise-like grip and held him away, making soft, soothing sounds, and when finally he seemed to focus his gaze on me I said, “It’s alright, Jalin. You’re safe.”
“No, my lord,” the boy answered softly, “We are none of us safe. The burning ones are coming.”
“A dream, Jalin. You’ve had a bad dream.” I told the boy as the household returned to normal.
The boy regarded me seriously for a moment before flopping back on his pillow. “Then we have shared the same dream Ez’n.”
He had fallen into a deep sleep before I could reply. I watched him for a short while. His face was calm, clear of the tensions that had been evident during his illness. I knew then that he would recover from his recent ordeal. What I could not be so sure of was how this recent shock would affect him. Clearly the boy had somehow shared my dream with me; how he had done this would, I supposed, remain a mystery.
Dthor-Aid’n appeared in the bedchamber doorway with Jae’nt holding a tray. “He is asleep,” I told the men. “Let him be.”
Dthor-Aid’n motioned Jae’nt in. “This is for you, Ez’n-Kyr. You seemed troubled.”
I smiled at the man. “I somehow doubt that tea will soothe it.”
“Never underestimate the power of the red grass, my lord.”
The workers lapsed into silence as I appeared in the doorway of the Almshouse. Beside me Galen, the master builder hopped uneasily from one foot to the other as I inspected the building section by section.
The builders had done a remarkable job. They had remodelled the kitchens and what had been the soldiers’ refectory on the lower floor, converting several of the weapons stores into bathing areas and garderobes. The drill yard and archery ranges had been re-structured to form an exercise yard for older children and a play area for the younger ones.
The upper floor had been gutted and divided into two areas to provide segregated dormitories with two rooms provided for the male and female orderlies w
ho would provide night supervision for the children. The loft space also had been cleared and converted to provide accommodation for the Almshouse staff all of whom I had interviewed with Zhartal over the lunation that the works had been progressing.
The king had ordered that all of the noble houses of the city should tithe five gold pieces each lunation to fund the shelter and further ordered that every household would donate clothing and food to provide the refuge with sufficient stores for the first few settans of its life.
Overall the idea of the haven was well-received with all but a few, Balten’s crew being among those who decried it as a drain on our society. They were even more dismayed when they discovered that I had placed my own hand-picked guards at the shelter’s boundaries to ensure that only those adults who were authorised to enter the building gained access to it.
The shelter would house about a hundred children aged from infant to sixteen cycles. Time enough, I concluded to give the children time to grow up and learn to make their own choices regarding the direction their lives would take without interference from the unscrupulous and depraved. It had to be said that housing one hundred would not make a huge difference to the number of homeless and abandoned children, but it was at least a start and I had every intention of creating similar homes in the middle and lower cities.
When I finished my tour I turned to Galen. “My friend, this is a credit to your skill. I am delighted.”
The man looked visibly relieved almost falling over himself to take his leave so that he might pass the news on to his fellows. As I left the haven I paused by the hoarding outside the main fence calling to Galen to attend me.
“May I have your hammer and some nails, please Galen?”
“Of course, Ez’n.” The man handed me his claw hammer and a handful of tacks. Reaching into my satchel I pulled out a lacquered parchment a nailed it to the board.
“And if this does not set a bear among the wolves, I do not know what will.” I muttered to myself.
A Rising Darkness Page 14