Just as the man reached the well, Xanthippus leapt out, thrust his arm around his neck and flung him to the ground. In an instant, he had his knee on his chest and his dagger at his throat.
"Make a sound and you die," Xanthippus rasped at him.
The blue man stared up with round eyes that strained to glimpse the blade at his throat. His lips moved.
"Not a sound," Xanthippus warned. He lifted the man to his feet and guided him into the dark alley where he thrust him up against the wall of a building. Xanthippus scrutinized the man's face carefully. He was not one of those from Jakuk. He would have preferred that he was. How many blue men were there? "Why do you follow me?"
The man shook his head uncomprehendingly.
"Don't pretend you don't understand," Xanthippus said. "I heard you speaking in the yard. I will ask you again: Why do you follow me?"
"I will be missed," the blue man croaked.
"I daresay your sweet mother will miss you, if you don't answer me," Xanthippus said. He thrust his dagger into the flesh of the man's throat, stopping just short of drawing blood. "Who are you and why do you follow me? What is the meaning of this...this blue and yellow?"
"You will certainly be killed, Gyriecian pig," the man hissed.
Xanthippus clenched his teeth. Every muscle in his body tensed. His hand trembled in rage. He sheathed his dagger and pulled the man's sword from its scabbard, the metal hissing as he withdrew the broad, curved blade. Behind him he found exactly what he needed, a low stone wall. He yanked the man to the opposite side of the alley and forced him to his knees. He placed the man's hand atop the stone wall so that only his index finger lay extended upon it. He held the hand there and lifted the sword menacingly. The man tried to rip his hand away, but Xanthippus held him in an iron grip. There had been a day when he would not have had the control for this; the man would have been a bloody ruin by now.
"One more time. Why do you follow me?"
The man struggled, but he could not break Xanthippus' grip.
"We know who you are," the man said defiantly. "If anything happens to me--"
Xanthippus brought the sword down hard, severing the tip of the blue man's finger. It flew off somewhere into the shadows. The man let out a sharp cry.
"The whole hand is next," Xanthippus said. He grasped the man's forearm, pinning his wrist to the stone. A little black pool spread under the stubby end of the missing fingertip.
"No!" the man cried. "I'll tell you. Do not cut my hand!"
"The next word better be--"
"I am Mejadym," the man blurted out. "I was ordered…We were ordered to watch you."
"By who? Who ordered you to follow me?"
"We know why you are here--"
"Damn you!" Xanthippus raised the sword.
"No!" the man cried. "Kerraunus orders us. It was Kerraunus."
"Prince Kerraunus?"
The man nodded, wide-eyed.
"It is Kerraunus who wants Hurrus dead?"
The man nodded again. "We are ordered to watch you."
"To help me? Or to stop me?" He already knew the answer. He remembered the man in Jakuk, Jorem. His group could have killed them on the spot.
"To observe…"
"Where can I find Kerraunus?"
The man began telling him, but hesitated. His shock had worn off. He looked dangerously pale, his eyes unfocused. Xanthippus was afraid he would faint before he was through with him.
"If you lie to me, I will have your head and your hand."
The man finished telling him and Xanthippus clouted him on the side of his head with the pommel of the sword. The Mejadym fell in a heap. Xanthippus threw the sword over the stone wall and dashed back to the well. He waited there for a moment, heard nothing and saw no one and then made for the wine house door. Nydeon was sitting by himself. He signaled him and his companion met him outside.
"They are Mejadym," Xanthippus told him on the way to their tethered horses.
"The blue men are Mejadym?" Nydeon started. "Then that crazy bastard in Jakuk--"
"All the blue men are Mejadym."
Nydeon whistled. "Seus warned us about them. Are they trying to kill us?"
Xanthippus threw a leg over his horse's back. "They probably are now," he said.
Nydeon untied his horse and mounted. He looked down to his left and saw the drunk laying there behind the animals. "How long before one of these horses drops a load of shit on that guy's head, do you think?"
"That'll have to be wager for another time, my friend. Tonight, we have a rendezvous with royalty. I've got a load of my own to drop…"
The moon had risen above the rooftops as they set off through the city to find Kerraunus. They rode as rapidly as they dared, not wanting to raise suspicions. The empty streets grew wider and the plazas broader and their noses told them when they had firmly left Reeking Town far behind them. The center of the city was occupied by massive festival squares and public buildings, as fabulous as the stories held. It was a city of giants, of crouching lions and looming man-beasts of every sort. The men skirted lighted areas where torches burned and people gathered, remaining as best they could in the shadows, out of sight of both men and gods alike. Their horses' hooves rang out on the hard pavement and filled every hollow square with the sound of their passage. Still, they traveled unseen and unmolested.
Kerraunus' house was perched on a hill and had a view of the river lands far below. Black date palms swayed against the night sky and from the trees surrounding the prince's estate they could hear the fronds rustling in the freshening night breeze. There were no people to be seen anywhere.
"We don't have much time," Xanthippus said. "My Mejadym friend will be found soon and this place will no doubt be swarming."
They sat mounted under the shadows of a tree line at the edge of the property. They had already circled the house and found what they were looking for -- a wide balcony that faced the river, likely fronting the master's chamber. They left their horses tied in the wood and crept rapidly across the grounds to the base of the balcony. Xanthippus brought with him a length of rope tied to a small iron grappling hook.
He flung it up and over the balustrade above and then tugged on the rope until he felt the hook catch.
"Wait here for me," he told Nydeon. "I'll be back in half-a-hand-span."
Without a word, he climbed the rope hand over hand and clambered over the marble rail, alighting soundlessly on the balcony. The wide doors into the house stood open. Gauzy white drapes spilled out in the breeze. The room inside was dark. It was indeed a bedchamber, and, judging from the lavishness of it, undoubtedly the prince's. Xanthippus had seen entire houses smaller than the canopied bed alone. A great rearing cobra stood on one wall. A dim flickering flame burnt on the altar before it.
Tygetians were mysterious and dark, Xanthippus had decided. Fearful and cruel. Weak, decadent, corrupt and incompetent as well.
He was amazed at how easily he could enter the private quarters of a prince of the realm. He wondered if this one would be happy to see him; he knew the next would not. He drew his dagger and crept quietly across the floor toward a closed door. Despite the fact that he had formulated no plan, he was anxious to meet this Kerraunus, a man who sent his thug lackeys and broken men to meet with Prathians as though they were equals. If nothing else, he would let this Kerraunus know that these Prathians would not be buffeted by his random winds, like stowed-away boys on a Rycassan merchantman. Those days were gone. If the Prathians were to risk their lives for the sake of Tygetian murder, it would be with the full knowledge of what they were up against.
Someone was coming.
Xanthippus heard a man whistling, a merry tune that preceded the sound of footsteps. He pressed himself against the wall behind the door. The whistling and the footfalls grew louder and then stopped. The door handle turned. Xanthippus hoped this was the man he sought and not some poor servant come to warm his Highness' privy for the royal ass…
But when the door
opened and the man entered, he saw that it was no mere servant. Without question, here was the royal ass himself. Xanthippus clapped a hand over the prince's mouth and aimed his dagger at his kidney. His upper body bare, Kerraunus was sure to feel the cold steel of the dagger pressed against his flesh.
"Cry out and you die," Xanthippus warned. When he felt the prince make no move, he asked, "Now, why do your blue men follow me?"
Kerraunus did not even try to turn. Xanthippus removed his hand from his mouth. His arm slipped down over his chest. "Who are you?" Kerraunus asked.
"Oh, you know who I am, Prince."
"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir. Most of my guests arrive announced at the front door."
"I am the one charged to kill Hurrus."
"Then I must quickly inform you that you have the wrong house," Kerraunus said. His voice was calm, his tone tinged with humor.
"But surely you realize by now that if you were Hurrus, my job would be done, wouldn't it?"
"And you must know, Prathian, that if you were my assassin, you would be dead already."
"And yet it is my dagger at your throat, is it not?"
"At my back, actually," Kerraunus said, giving his head a half-turn. "And, I must admit, you have a point."
The prince's self-possession troubled him. He was suddenly consumed with the idea that someone stood behind him. He jerked his head around and saw only the closed door. The flickering firelight of the altar flame made the shadows dance. He felt the prince stiffen in his grasp. He imagined he could actually feel the man's skin prickle under his enclosing arm. When he looked back, he saw that Kerraunus' skin had gone pale and seemed to glisten wetly. Xanthippus gave a little start, but the sensation was as fleeting as the memory of dream. He felt embarrassed when he realized Kerraunus had noticed him jump.
Perhaps he would have to show this prince that he meant business, just as he had the Mejadym. He hoped it would not come to that.
He leaned into the prince's ear, "Why am I being followed by the blue men? Your Mejadym?"
"Who told you they were mine? The Mejadym are no one's. And if they watch you and you still live, then they are helping you."
"Helping me? They have been watching us since we entered the country, as you no doubt know. But, I must tell you, I shed them easily, and I find it of little concern whether they wish me to live or not as I will live despite their wishes, one way or another. What I am concerned about, Prince, is fulfilling my mission and exiting your country safely. The people you have sent to assist us so far… Well, I find them distressingly unimpressive." He might have had a different opinion if they were all like Kerraunus. He found his calm demeanor troubling, and he found himself disbelieving every word the prince spoke, however inconsequential. Kerraunus was a large, well-built man. If he chose to put up a struggle, Xanthippus knew he would have a tussle on his hands. Yet he chose not to and instead stood there with a blade at his back as calm as a sculpted cobra, spitting poison as easily as he drew breaths.
"You have passports, do you not?" Kerraunus asked. "The one Sotheb gave you will take you to Alaun. There you board a ship for Gyriece. Was this not made clear?"
"The cursed ape may have said something about that. The cursed man did not."
Kerraunus gave a little chuckle. "And my man in Reeking Town?"
"A highwayman. I chose to treat with the Mejadym instead."
Kerraunus laughed full out now. Unafraid, he turned and faced Xanthippus. His black eyes flashed with good humor. He was the picture of amiability. "That was Ramsut, the best highwayman I've got!" He laughed again. Xanthippus felt only confusion. He let his dagger hand fall to his side. "Look here, Prathian. We are all on the same side. The Mejadym want Hurrus dead as much as anyone. And it's not just them and it's not just me. No one man kills a prince of Tygetia, my friend. Not you or me or anyone. We serve at the pleasure of those who dare such a deed."
"I serve at no man's pleasure..."
Kerraunus regarded his face closely. "No, I believe you do not," he said. "You know, I could use a man like you--"
"I have no doubt you would, too," Xanthippus cut him off. "For what man is not forever looking to use some other? Oh, no, I will fulfill my mission, Prince, and go back where I came from. I've had enough of ill-use..."
"Of course you have." Kerraunus slapped him on the back. "I have plenty of men giving me troubles already. Come along over here. I will show you where you need to go." He led Xanthippus to a small writing desk. He lit a lamp and took up a quill pen and began drawing a map on a parchment. It was the way to Hurrus' house. "Can I get you anything. Food, drink? I have girls, too, if you wish. Whatever you want."
Xanthippus took the parchment, folded it and put it in a pocket sewn inside his tunic. "My man waits for me outside," he said. "I have a feeling the Mejadym will show up soon. I'd rather not be here when they arrive."
Kerraunus cocked an eyebrow.
"I abused one of their members," Xanthippus explained.
"It's about time someone did," Kerraunus said with a smile.
Outside, Xanthippus detached the hook and tossed the rope over the side of the balcony. He climbed over the balustrade, hung for a moment, and then dropped to the ground. He packed the rope into a saddle bag and mounted his horse.
"What did you find out?" Nydeon asked as they began to ride away.
"I found out that we have stepped into a nest of vipers," Xanthippus said.
Chapter 6
Nadia was light as a feather, so frail Hurrus could scarcely feel her. Draped over his arm, her stick-thin legs pitched uselessly as he carried her across the balcony, feeling as though he should tiptoe. A too heavy footfall might crack her like an egg. When he sat her in a chair, it was with a feeling of relief. He had delivered her whole.
"Push me closer," Nadia said. She craned her neck to see over the marble balustrade. The sounds of combat rose from the grounds below, the clacking of wood on wood, angry oaths and laughter. Hurrus pushed her closer so she could see into the yard. "Ah, they are Xarhux's men!" she cooed with pleasure.
"No, Mama," Hurrus said, coaxing her back to reality. With Demetrius' hired blades hunting them, Nadia had spirited the infant Hurrus out of Epiria. She was the only mother he had ever known. Now she had fallen ill and when the air was fresh and warm Hurrus brought her out on the balcony so she could watch the men train. "These are the sons of Xarhux's men. That is Xandros, son of Kelios. You remember Kelios." He pointed down at a grinning bear of a man. He wielded a wooden training sword and carried a big round bronze-faced leather shield. The blade was an exact copy of the sopiks in wood. It bore the same weight and shape as the actual curved cavalry sword. The men were horsemen, but they trained on foot today.
"Ah, it is Kelios," she said.
"And that man facing off against him is--" Hurrus winced, and a bark of laughter and a chorus of swearing rose from the men below. "And that man with the great throbbing knob on his forehead is Deon, son of -- Oh, damn it all! I don't remember who he is the son of. And I'll lay he might not remember who he is either, just now. Or where he is, for that matter." Hurrus stood and leaned on the rail. His golden locks fell about his shoulders, framing his face and shading his eyes from the morning sun. "Do not destroy my companion body, Xandros! Save some for the real thing!"
The big man stopped his fighting and looked up. Recognizing his friend the prince, he flashed a grin, his close-cropped tawny beard spreading over his face.
"Prince Hurrus is in attendance!" he shouted to the twenty assembled in the yard. "Off your ass, Heron! All hail the Eagle Man!"
"All hail!" the men responded happily, striking their bronze breastplates with their fists. Some responded perhaps less happily than others, Hurrus noted. There were yet skulkers. He had not finished forming his companion body. He could tell at a glance where the deficiencies lay. Xandros, Deon, even lazy-ass Heron, and all the Gyriecian sons of Xarhux's men were a good start. Even some of the half-breeds. But the body was far f
rom complete. He had not even started on the Eagle Corps. There were long days ahead.
"Not so fast, Xandros," Hurrus called down. "I do not yet wear the crown."
"Soon enough for us," Xandros shot back.
Indeed, by the time they rested their heads that night, they would all be Eagle Men. The ceremony would take place later that day, when the current Eagle Man would relinquish his crown to the new. Hurrus only awaited his escort to the parade grounds.
Xandros' shield bore the painted image of an eight-tentacled, spiral-horned octolusk with a grinning face. Hurrus thought it looked comical, but he supposed, at a time of savage bloodletting the very incongruity of the creature's toothy grin would be fearsome to behold, a beaming eater of men. He reflected fondly that the design was a remnant of Gyriece. No Tygetian had ever seen one alive.
Hurrus acknowledged him with a wave. "You can go back to killing one another now," he called. "Deon! You might want to wear your helmet from now on!"
The men burst out laughing. All but Deon, that is, who rubbed his head and scowled. Hurrus sat down next to Nadia as the clacking of the training swords resumed.
"They are your men now," Nadia said reflectively, still watching them. "Oh, I don't like the looks of that one," she added. "No, no, he will not do at all…"
"I am to be crowned today," Hurrus interrupted her ruminations. "The blue war crown of the Eagle Man, the hand of Zarcen--"
"Tygetian mumbo-jumbo!" the old woman snapped. "What you need are fine, strong men who fight as the Gyriecians fight, and not a barnyard full of fanciful beasts suitable only for frightening children in their dreams."
She turned from the men in the yard. Her piercing gray eyes saw clearly now and he knew what she gazed upon. Not so when they clouded over and fixed upon some distant dimension where stood Kelios in place of his son. At those times, he felt she was already half-a-foot into the realm of the dead. He feared the moment, knowing it would come soon.
"These you see in the yard, Mama, are sons of the men of Xarhux. The ones who remained in Tygetia, that is. Xarhux made them lords and now their sons wear sculpted breastplates and the finest helms and arms money can buy. Their animals and horsemanship would be the envy of any cavalry ever fielded by the Conqueror himself."
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