Brann looked back at the area where carnage was taking place. ‘Is that absolutely necessary?’
The man frowned. ‘Of course. They saw me.’ He looked at Brann, and smiled his faint smile once more. ‘Oh, of course, you are thinking that you have seen me as well. Fear not, my companion. My siblings have assured me that you may know me and, in any case, it would be entirely counterproductive to devise and enact a plan to break you out of the palace dungeons if I were to kill you afterwards for knowing my appearance.’
‘Wait, wait, wait…’ Brann said. ‘Moving on for now from the identity and killing bit, are you saying that this is all to let me escape?’
The man was puzzled. ‘Why would I have myself incarcerated here only to break out again?’
Brann’s head was starting to spin. ‘So if it was for me, how did you know I would be here?’
‘When I heard that you were to approach the Emperor, regardless of the subject or content of your conversation, I knew that there would be only one outcome – Kalos is a highly predictable man, though obviously not in your eyes. Since I also knew that Happy was not immediately on hand to carry out the execution for them, they would have to imprison you, even for a short time. A surprisingly small bribe here and there was all that was needed to allow me access to play my part in the cell and ensure the correct man walked out of here when the rest did not. I told Happy that when he was summoned for your execution, he should instead bring me clothes,’ he patted a bundle on the desk beside him, ‘kill the jailer and open our door (it’s best to keep instructions fairly short and simple for him). And here we are.’
‘But why? I have never met you before. Who engaged you to rescue me?’
The man set down the half-eaten apple and started to swap his rags for the bundle of clothes on the desk. ‘No one. Well, no one directly, to be precise. But a common friend in the palace sent a message recently that our assistance might be needed by you at some point, and to ask us to be prepared to act if our particular brand of services were indeed required. On discovering this situation of yours, it could not have been clearer that help was necessary. If I had not acted now, then there would not have been another opportunity to assist.’ He looked at Brann with eyebrows raised pointedly. ‘There would not have been a you.’
Happy rejoining them with his axe dripping and an unconscious man slung over one shoulder like a sack merely served to emphasise the last point.
Brann shuddered. The image of his own execution was dispelled, however, by a thought that entered the head he was glad he still possessed. He stared at the young man casually finishing the apple as thoughts fell into place. Meticulous planning. Trusted siblings. High intellect. Criminal activity. Fiercely guarded anonymity. Gods, even the same red hair.
‘Abraxus,’ he said. ‘The Third Triplet.’
The eyes, a curious stillness about them, regarded him as if they could see into every corner of his mind. ‘Indeed. You are now one of a group of only five to know my identity, my appearance and even that I genuinely exist. Well, four, I suppose, since I know the first and the last but only my backwards reflection and not my true appearance. I would request that you keep all three of those elements known only to the current number of people, or the number will decrease by one.’
Brann nodded. On recent showing, he believed it would decrease extremely quickly.
Abraxas tossed the apple core onto the desk and walked to an outer door, opening it and turning his head to listen.
A bell rang distantly. Abraxas smiled. ‘Our cue, my friends. Let us take our leave.’
He led them with quiet assurance through corridors and up stairs, passing no one but the occasional servants who instantly dropped their eyes at the sight of the headsman.
A guard stopped them only once – at the great gate in the first of the concentric walls that they would pass through. Abraxus had his head down and walked with a stoop and a limp, and Brann tried in his own way to appear commonplace.
‘Apprentices,’ Happy said cheerily to the man.
The guard waved them through with a grunt. ‘Rather my job than yours, boys. Still, the job needs done and someone needs to do it. On your way.’
Brann was amazed the man didn’t notice the outrageous wink Happy threw their way.
‘Excellent, Happy,’ Abraxas said. ‘Very well done.’
The big man visibly swelled with pride.
A short distance after leaving the palace grounds completely, they turned down an alley. Abraxas found an old sack amongst a pile of broken crates and handed it to Brann.
‘Apologies, my good fellow, but it is enough that you know my appearance. I cannot stretch it to knowledge of the route to my current abode. I would be grateful if you would cover your head.’
Brann pulled the sack over his head, trying to ignore the pungent smell of onions, and found himself lifted to Happy’s free shoulder as if he were no more than a toddler. The axe must still have been in the man’s hand, for the blade came to rest disconcertingly across the top of Brann’s back and the back of his head, but he ignored that also as he tried to gauge direction and time, failing completely at both.
An all-too-long period of jostling and bouncing, in which he left behind comfort and dignity and gained a feeling of nausea, ended when he was gently placed on his feet and the sack was pulled from his head, the busy chatter of what sounded like an inn drifting from below.
‘Brother. Sister.’ Abraxas’s voice came from behind him and he turned to see him standing with two others, of similar build and with the same hair, red like the hidden embers that hold the heat of the fire. Now that he saw them alongside each other, he chided himself at not spotting the resemblance – the identical resemblance – between his former cellmate and the two he had met previously, although the time had been long since the last meeting and he had not been in the best of humour then. They were dressed as before: the woman in black with grey detail and the man in the same hues, reversed, while Abraxas had changed into all black, like the shadows he embraced.
The woman nodded with a smile at Abraxas while the man embraced his brother, though Brann noticed that he held himself clear of any areas still caked in dirt. Abraxas noticed also.
‘If you will all excuse me, now that I am no longer a prisoner I must scrub away the veneer of one. Happy, I would be grateful if you would be so kind as to find a hovel for your luggage and leave a note with him that he can resume his previous activities to sharpen his skills but that he works for me now, and will be contacted in due course.’ As Happy walked across the room, the eyes turned on Brann. ‘And please remember the secret that the five conscious people in this room hold, and the consequences of a future lack of discretion.’ His ghost of a smile returned Brann’s nod and he turned to a separate room. ‘Please make yourself at home and enjoy the hospitality of my humble abode,’ he called over his shoulder.
Brann felt the woman’s eyes studying him. ‘Brann of the Arena,’ she said, her voice even more cool than that of Abraxas. ‘Welcome once more.’
Her brother gave a deep and sweeping bow. ‘Though not confined to the Arena, but more worldly-wise now, we hear.’
Brann nodded to each. ‘Dareia, Phrixos. Yes, I have travelled a bit.’ He looked around the sparsely filled room. ‘Your brother lives simply.’
‘All that is of value to him, he carries in his head,’ Dareia said. ‘He needs little else, for his thoughts occupy his time.’
‘I can imagine,’ Brann said, ‘but I was more referring to the lack of armed protection surrounding you.’
Phrixos shrugged, flinging himself into one of the few chairs in the room. ‘Our motives may be different but the paths to them run parallel, as we have seen with some success in the past, so what would you have to gain by harming us? And we you?’
Brann nodded at the sounds of splashing water from the next room. ‘And it is not deemed a risk that I see the inside of the home of the most secretive man in Sagia?’
Dareia frowned sligh
tly. ‘Of course not. If you did mean ill towards him, it would matter not that you have seen this. It would take you more time than you want to spend looking for this place and for no benefit to you. And by the time you did find it, you would meet different inhabitants. This will not be his home by tomorrow. Abraxas prefers to move home with frequency. His nature is indeed a highly private one.’
Brann indicated the floor, from where the hubbub had not abated. ‘And yet he chooses rooms above a busy inn?’
‘Dear boy,’ said Phrixos, leaning back and stretching extravagantly, ‘it is far easier to be invisible in a crowd than an empty room or deserted street.’
‘So,’ Brann said, ‘you freed me from the dungeons as part of a working relationship with the man we both know, I understand that. But why the meeting? I could have easily been taken back to my companions.’
‘Trade, of course,’ Phrixos said. ‘We have already given you something, and could give more. In exchange, we would know of the land from which you are recently returned. Most specifically about the passage of their mineral commodities to this city.’
The image of the ambition-driven Rodrigo flashed into Brann’s mind. ‘I might be able to put you into touch with just the man who will soon know the inner workings of that very operation. Though you would have to promise not to touch the cargo on his ship.’
‘Do we lecture you on how to best a man with a sword?’ Dareia said. ‘We may have to touch his goods now and again to maintain the semblance that he is not favoured by us for any reason, but the touch will be lighter than on others.’
It made sense. Brann was satisfied. ‘So, I can make the introduction and tell you what I know of the organisation of the transport before it reaches the foreign port. But you mentioned you could help me further?’
The man uncoiled from his chair and moved to a window, placing one foot on the sill to move the drawn curtain just enough to let him see the street below. ‘We believe you seek the Source of Information.’ He smiled. ‘Your abrupt increase in interest confirms my words and his importance to you. Should you meet him and only you walk away, it would not be harmful to our enterprises.’
‘And?’ Brann said.
Dareia walked across and steered her brother away from the window. ‘And there is news of substantial activity approaching the city of Irtanbat.’
It meant nothing to Brann. ‘Irtanbat? And what sort of activity?’
‘Activity,’ said the man, ‘much like an army. Apparently, a smaller force landed from the sea and met with the main army that had gathered in the low hills between the desert and the coast.’
‘And Irtanbat, for your information,’ his sister added, ‘is a city four days’ ride east of here, capital of the kingdom of Kurkina. It is a sprawling city that grew around a collection of oases, hence its name, which means Twenty Springs, although I suspect there were fewer than that but Twenty was felt to be a nicer number for a name. Its size makes it a valuable trading partner for Sagia; its underground water makes it feasible for a population of its size, and its less than planned or organised growth over the centuries means that it is easy for an army to take but hard to hold.
‘And, significantly, it lies directly between the coast and ul-Detina, the City of Ghosts that the agents of a certain Taraloku-Bana’s have been asking about across this city.’
‘Now you certainly have my interest,’ Brann said. ‘But how would you know all this?’
‘Because I felt some time ago that it would be a sound business move to expand from our own export and import interests with that city to establish a foothold of our own there, and have been building this with care ever since.’ Abraxas had emerged from the other room, freshly dressed and meticulously cleaned, and stood towelling his hair. The resemblance to Phrixos was almost perfect but for Abraxas’s slightly smaller stature and slighter build. ‘Information needs to be full and frequent for that to be successful.’
Brann looked at him, his own mind moving, planning, considering. ‘Can you get us there?’
‘Of course.’
A thought jumped into his head. ‘I suspect we will need more knowledge of armies than any in our group possess, even if we are just to infiltrate one. Can you find someone for me?’
Abraxas frowned. ‘Why would you need my help to find the compound of Cassian?’
‘I love Cassian dearly,’ Brann said. ‘But I also know the strengths and… limitations of his mind. I need the same knowledge but from one more direct and, shall I say, straightforward, in stating what needs to be said. It is his brother I have in mind, if he is in the city and willing to accompany us.’
Abraxas’s faint smile drifted across his lips. ‘I am sure I can find him. And I know that my siblings can persuade him.’
‘You are not going to threaten him, are you? Or hurt him?’ Brann’s shock was compounded by the fact that he was constantly unnerved by a man who dealt death so casually, as a simple means of anonymity. Death happened to all, as he was acutely aware, at the hands of man, chance, or Nature, but for it to be seen as such a minor matter was unsettling.
Abraxas folded the towel precisely and placed it on a shelf. ‘Now, now, my friend, not everything must be achieved with brutality. Sometimes it is a far better course just to offer a compelling argument as to the good reasons for making a choice. And, I suspect, given what is asked and for what reason, he will not require a great deal of persuading in any case.’ His pale eyebrows drew slightly closer. ‘You really should try to curb your violent tendencies.’
Brann didn’t know what to say. ‘This from a man who… But I didn’t mean… I thought…’ He sighed. ‘Good. Thank you.’
The party reined in their horses at Grakk’s signal ahead, waiting as the tribesman led his mount down the rock-studded slope ahead before he could ride back to them. Einarr stopped his horse on one side of Brann, the Northern lord happier on a horse than Brann had seen him for a long time – although he had noticed the man’s determination had seen the crutch become almost a part of his body, giving him an adeptness of movement that was scarcely believable – and Ossavian on the other, his eyes blazing strength and purpose as they had done since the first moment he had joined them. Both men sat with patience and without a word, and Brann followed suit.
Grakk galloped up to them. ‘Baggage train, supplies for Loku’s force. More guards than us, far more.’
Brann nodded. ‘We wait and pass behind once they are out of sight. No option.’
‘Agreed,’ Einarr said.
Ossavian stared at the hilltop. ‘Actually, there is another option.’
Brann looked at him and felt Einarr doing likewise. ‘As a young officer I fought in the East. Some of the tribes there had their own way of doing battle.’
‘What way?’ Brann’s interest was aroused. Necessity had intervened to stop his lessons with Grakk in recent times and he missed them.
‘They had not the numbers to confront the millens in battle, so they did what they could. And what they could was to attack when least expected, where least expected, with the intention of disrupting, demoralising and depleting rather than defeating. They would attack fast and melt away fast, over and again. It was the hardest campaign I ever fought in. Our soldiers were not trained to combat it, and it was only their discipline and adapted tactics that eventually allowed our numbers to tell.’
‘And these,’ mused Einarr, ‘are not trained at all and unlikely to be disciplined.’
‘And so…’ Ossavian prompted, staring at Brann with eyebrows raised.
Brann frowned, looking from one man to the other. ‘Why are you looking at me? One of you is a lord and heir, schooled in military matters since he could walk and having fought around the world, and the other… well, for pity’s sake, the other is a general who led armies of the Empire and served in campaigns before I was born. What in the god’s names are you looking at me for?’
The two men exchanged a glance, and Einarr sighed. ‘Brann, would you take a look at us all, and
at yourself? Your actions since you first came onto my ship and your desire to come to this city we are now trying to reach are what have brought every person in this group to this point. We are all here because you are. You appear wholly incapable of seeing it for yourself, but we are following you, which makes you our leader.’
Brann looked at him, talking such nonsense. He frowned. ‘We are all good at what we do – that is why we tend to stay alive. Gerens and Marlo, and maybe Hakon, and Philippe, and perhaps one or two of the others, all for different reasons. But you taught me, instructed me… And Grakk knows so much, and is capable of more than we will possibly ever know. Breta and Mongoose are too much their own people. And Cannick – how could I possibly…?’ He snorted. ‘And Konall. Seriously… Konall?’
With the exception of Marlo who recuperated in their safe house – protected by the same men from Einarr’s former crew who already watched over their revered soothsayer Aldis – he looked around the faces as he mentioned their names. And with each one, he received a nod, some with a small smile, some solemn, Hakon with a grin and Breta with a wink. Emotion and fear surged within him in equal measure, torpefying his thoughts.
Cannick’s low voice broke through to him. ‘We are all at your back, lad.’ He nodded ahead. ‘But that means you are in front, leading.’
Brann sucked in a deep, sharp breath. If that was the case, they deserved more than a deer paralysed by the sight of a lynx about to pounce. He quickly drew his thoughts together, and turned to Grakk. ‘How many wagons? And where are the guards?’
‘Thirty wagons, some with canvas canopies, single file, unevenly spaced. Most of the guards are at the front and the rear, around a score in each group and from the fact that those at the front – who were all that were close enough to see in detail at that point – were more interested in chatter and jokes than vigilance and that some of the wagon drivers were close to snoozing, I would hazard a guess that no trouble is expected.’
Hero Risen (Seeds of Destiny, Book 3) Page 40