The lord nodded contentedly. “Very well. I must go and deal with payments due, but I’ll leave you in Sabian’s hands and rest assured I’ll be down to visit you as soon as my schedule permits.”
With one last long look and an unpleasant smile, Velutio turned and walked away through the arch and into the gardens. Sabian squared his shoulders.
“Very well general. I apologise for the nature of your quarters, but the orders aren’t mine to give.” He gestured off towards a doorway.
Kiva smiled. “I know the way.”
As they walked, Kiva looked around at the palace for the first time since Quintus the Golden had been resident. Remarkably little had changed about the majority of it, with the exception of the removal and destruction of all the Imperial iconography. He turned his head in interest as Sabian began to talk, but not to him.
“So Quintillian, I’m glad to see you’re not badly wounded, though you’d have been better having never left the island.”
Quintillian nodded. “The world’s a big place though Commander, and the island’s so small. I’d still be a boy if I’d stayed. Now I’m a soldier.”
“Indeed,” Sabian replied. “I’d never have imagined seeing you so weather-beaten and military.” He smiled though his face betrayed his unhappiness. “You’d give Darius a run for his money now. They’re all quite worried about you on the island and I very much suspect with good reason. You do realise that his Lordship’s unlikely to ship you back off to the island now?”
Quintillian nodded. “As I said though Commander, the world’s a big place and possibilities are endless.”
Kiva broke in. “I heard talk of you Sabian, while I was north of Serfium. It seems you’ve a fair reputation. I suspected you might have been an officer from the Imperial days. I’m obviously wrong, but your men do remind me a great deal of the old times.”
Sabian smiled. “I try to do things the right way. The Imperial army worked and, as they say, if it’s not broken, don’t try to fix it.” He sighed. “I always regretted the fall when I was a boy. I have the suspicion I was born half a century too late.”
Kiva returned the smile. “It’s hopeful though.”
“What?” the commander questioned.
“To hear people your age talking like that. There are few people who speak fondly of the old ways these days. In other circumstances, I have the feeling we’d have fought together quite well.” Kiva’s mind raced on. If there was any kind of division between Sabian and Velutio, he needed to apply a crowbar and push them further apart. Any ally was worthwhile at this point.
Sabian nodded as they opened a door and walked down a set of dank steps toward the cellars and the infamous Dalertine prison. “Perhaps. Times have changed though, general. I used to read your campaign diaries avidly. They’re the foundation of all my tactical knowledge, but these days I only have the chance to field an army against a disorganised and inferior Lord or perhaps against rebels and dissidents. Nothing like the old glorious campaigns. There’s no one left who could stand against my army and the little wars we do have are becoming less frequent. Soon there may even be peace.”
Quintillian looked up into Sabian’s face and interrupted. “How are the others?”
Sabian sighed. “Good for the most part. Darius is coming on well; if he were a free man I’d have commissioned him by now.” He smiled. “Though you’re getting that way too now. Minister Sarios was wounded when he refused to tell his Lordship where you’d gone, but he’s having treatment at the moment and Favio thinks he may keep his eye. Minister Turus is still alive and well as far as I’m aware, though I was tempted to put an end to him at one point. All in all, things go well. There’s a small garrison based there at the moment under my best sergeant, but they’re getting on quite well with the islanders. They’re helping to repair and rebuild.”
Kiva raised an eyebrow. “Velutio approves of your men fraternising with prisoners?”
Sabian shook his head and smiled. “I doubt it, but we’ve reached a certain understanding since I became sole commander in the city. He leaves military matters to me now and in return I try to stop him doing dangerous or stupid things.”
Kiva nodded. “I’d heard something about you and the captain of his guard coming to blows. I take it he’s buried deep now then?”
“The guard captain was a devious, conniving power-hungry megalomaniac. He wasn’t a good commander and he wasn’t a good man and he coveted my job. He tried to bring me down, but with the help of a few friends I managed to turn the tables on him. You are remarkably well informed for someone who’d been so far out of everything, General.”
Kiva smiled. “I like to keep abreast of things.”
They reached the lower floor and walked between the cellar doorways until they reached the prison, known in the days when Basianus had been incarcerated here by his own priests as ‘the pit’. A bare room carved from the rock with no windows and no decoration. Two flat wooden pallets lay on the floor to serve as beds and a bundle of straw in the corner for warmth. No toilet and no front wall, just bars an inch thick and three inches apart that would require a team of horses to bend. A soldier sat on a stool at the opposite wall and came to his feet at attention as they entered before leaping forward to open the prison door.
Sabian sighed. “First time this has been used since I’ve been in command. Hopefully the last time too.” Reaching to his belt, he withdrew a dagger and, leaning forward, cut the bonds on their wrists one by one. Ushering the four into the cell, the soldier closed the grill door and turned the keys in the two heavy locks before coming back to attention.
“I can leave a guard here if you wish” the commander said “though it’s quite unnecessary from our point of view. Just in case you need anything?”
Kiva shook his head. “I think we’d value the privacy if it’s in your power to grant that.”
Sabian nodded and gestured up the stairs. The guard marched off.
“Sergeant Iasus will be down here shortly with food and drink and a doctor. I will stop by once in a while.”
And with that the commander saluted them and then stalked off toward the stairs.
“A good man, commander Sabian” noted Quintillian.
“Yes,” Kiva replied. “I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. At least bad men can be bought or bargained. Good men have the tendency to be incorruptible and to carry out their orders regardless.”
He shuffled over to one of the pallets and sank onto it, opening and closing his hand. The blood was beginning to clot now. With a frown, he withdrew the coin from his pocket; around an inch across with one edge sharpened to razor point, the coin displayed the flying horse of Pelasia on one side and an image of the eastern Moon Goddess on the other. His frown deepened as he rubbed his finger across the coin, smearing the blood. Standing once more, he moved over to the bars of the cell and smiled ironically.
“What is it?” Alessus asked as he lowered Julian to the pallet and then sank to the floor himself.
“A pointless note from a friend.” He smiled again. “Ashar’s man dropped it to me from the city gate. There are marks on it, but they’re in the linear script of Pelasia and I haven’t the faintest idea what they mean.”
Quintillian limped across the room and grasped the coin from the captain’s hand.
“Careful, it’s sharp.”
Quintillian brushed the concern aside. “I studied several languages on Isera. This is fairly simple, much like the languages the eastern provinces used to speak before they were brought into the Empire.” He grinned. “It’s amazing how much text you can fit into such a small space with this kind of language.”
Kiva tutted. “All very fascinating. What does it say?”
Quintillian turned the coin in the extremely low light.
“Four assassins. Twenty five archers. No chance. Wait for better timing.”
“Ha!” exclaimed the captain. “So they’ve waited until we’re in a cell. Very helpful.”
He slammed his fist on the cell’s bars in annoyance, but he knew the words were right. Ashar probably didn’t even know they’d been captured yet. These would just be four Pelasians he’d sent to the city to gather information, and they stood precious little chance against Phythian or the army of Velutio. It would be down to him after all.
Quintillian handed the coin back to him. “What do you think’s going to happen, sir?”
Kiva shrugged. “Death” he said with a cold certainty. “I’m surprised we made it past the courtyard to be honest; it’s most unlike him. Perhaps he’s having trouble deciding how gruesome to make it?”
The lad shuddered. “Then it’s time we start making some plans. Shame Darius isn’t here. All the best plans we ever put into action were made by the two of us together.”
Kiva yawned. “There really isn’t anything to plan. There’s no way to get out of here. Nobody’s coming to the rescue, and any time we actually get to leave the cell, we’ll be in the middle of a palace guarded by an army in a hostile city.”
“So there’s no hope at all?” Quintillian asked, his voice incredulous. ”That’s not you. You always find a way round things. You’re a survivor, captain.”
Kiva rounded on the boy angrily. “If you think I’m that clever, why are we here? Do you think I can conjure an escape tunnel out of my pocket?”
He turned away. “Ahhh shit. We’ll be lucky to see another dawn. I hope Athas and the others have been sensible enough to lose themselves somewhere. Our only faint glimmer of hope now is that we can drive a wedge between this Sabian and his Lord. It looks suspiciously like they’re already on the way.”
Alessus stood and walked over to join them. “Are there any escape routes from the palace? Plenty of Emperors have been paranoid.”
Kiva shook his head. “I’ve heard rumours, but you can guarantee that Velutio’s had every inch of this place checked and sealed. I wouldn’t hold much hope out for that.”
“What about the gardens? They’re out in the open.”
Kiva shook his head. “Almost one hundred and fifty feet of sheer rock face with jagged rocks and reefs at the bottom. Then there’s his guards patrolling the edge and his men in boats patrolling the bay. And that’s only if we could get out into the gardens. I think that’s reaching. If we find ourselves out in the open at any point it’s going to be a matter of taking any opportunity we see, rather than planning in advance.”
Alessus opened his mouth to speak again, but Kiva cut him off. “Not worth asking. I’ve been through everything I can think of, but there’s no way out without outside help. We’ll have to bide our time and try and work on people we come in contact with.”
His head jerked up.
“Now’s not the time anyway. Someone’s coming.”
The three standing men retreated to the rear of the cell and took their seats on the wooden pallets as hob-nailed footsteps echoed down the stairs and along the corridor. After a few moments, the sergeant they’d seen in the courtyard appeared with a guard, two of the palace servants and a man in a white tunic with a leather case.
At a gesture from the sergeant, the guard unfastened the door and stepped back. The two servants entered the cell nervously, each with a covered tray and a jug. They placed them on the floor by the bars and then left in a hurry. The sergeant laughed at them as they ran up the stairs.
“Idiots” he sneered. “Did they really think you would attack them here?”
Kiva smiled at the sergeant with no real humour. “It’s not all that farfetched.”
The doctor entered and made his way into the dark. “This is totally unacceptable” he declared.” I need light.”
Without waiting, the sergeant picked up one of the oil burners from a shelf near the guard’s chair and gave it to the soldier with the keys. “Light it and give them it.”
The soldier did as he was bade and the flickering light was carried into the cell, though it did precious little to push back the oppressive darkness of this place. As the doctor began to examine Quintillian’s leg by the guttering light, the sergeant straightened. “I’ll leave you with him.” As he spoke the soldier locked the door and stepped back to the seat. “When you’ve finished, doctor, tell him and he’ll bring you back out.”
The doctor nodded, unable to speak as he had some miscellaneous implement held between his teeth while he prodded at the flesh round the bolt with both hands. Kiva stood. “Thank you sergeant.”
With a nod, Iasus left and climbed the stairs back to the surface world.
The doctor was mumbling and grumbling to himself as Kiva sat down among the others once more.
“What’s wrong?” the captain asked.
The doctor took the tool from between his teeth and pointed at the bolt with it. “It’s done considerable damage to the muscle, but it’s also chipped the bone as the head went through. I’m going to have to break off the flights and draw the bolt through by the head and it’s going to be extremely painful.” He produced a strip of leather. “Bite on this young man.”
As Quintillian bit down, the doctor snapped the flight end off next to the skin. For the first time in days blood welled up thick around the wood. Accompanied by muffled howls the man gripped the head of the bolt and in one slow, agonising move pulled the shaft through, accompanied by a gush of blood.
“There’s some infection here too. It may heal or it may not. If not, it’ll become a very painful problem. In the meantime, I’ll stitch the wound up.”
As the doctor worked, Quintillian looked up at the captain, a frightened look. Kiva smiled back as comfortingly as he could. “Of all our worries right now, I’d not panic over-much about infections.”
Chapter XVII
Danis was a small town that had grown from a tiny village due solely to the old Imperial courier post there. These days, of course, the post served only as a tavern with a few rooms for rent. The serving girl dreamed of moving to the bigger cities where she could push the limits of her ability and perhaps become a dancer or a musician in one of the great Inns. She’d always had some talent in both and carrying trays of food and drink around tables and rooms to lecherous perverts was not how she’d seen her future. Take this group, she thought as she reached the top of the stairs and approached the door. The young one was nice in an exotic sort of way, but the others were just ugly, hairy and smelly. They must be brigands or something. She swallowed nervously as she reached out to knock on the door, but stayed her hand as she heard the words being spoken within.
“He’s a fucking Emperor” the muffled conversation declared. “We can’t just leave him to rot!”
Her eyes wide, Sathina placed the tray as quietly as she could on the table on the landing and leaned closer to the door, holding her breath.
“I appreciate your feelings, really I do and I would like nothing better than to be able to spirit them all away to safety, but you’re talking about the biggest city in the world and the largest army in the Empire. Even with all of us, there are perhaps fifty or sixty men. Given time we could perhaps drum up a hundred more, but by then they’ll be long dead. How long do you think Velutio will let them live. I would be very surprised if they’re not dead already.”
Velutio? Emperor? Sathina wondered whether to go and see the boss. She reached down to collect the tray and at that moment the door slammed open and a hand the size of a side of beef grasped her wrist and pulled her inside. The door slammed shut behind her before she had time to gasp and the big brute holding her gestured at the door. “Agkhh! Akh!” There was something wrong with his throat. She’d wondered earlier why he wore the scarf pulled up to his chin like that.
She glanced round in a panic. Four men sat at the table as well as the big man by her side. The young one was eastern, a swarthy dark handsome face and a graceful body clad in black. To his side sat a man in ill-matched armour with an ugly scar closing one eye. To the other side a large dark-skinned man sat next to an older one. Neither looked very savoury.
“Jorun, put her down.”
The big man let go of her arm and Sathina turned for the door, but he reached out and held it shut.
The grizzled old one smiled at her. “I’m sorry my dear, but unfortunately we can’t let you go right now.”
“I didn’t hear nothing” she blurted out. “Honestly!”
The smile stayed. “I’m sure, but you see we have to be very careful at the moment.” He stood and crossed the room, fumbling in a pouch at his belt. She panicked and tried to back away, but the big one called Jorun wouldn’t let her. She flailed as best she could with her arms to keep the old pervert at bay. His smile widened. “You really don’t need to worry. I’m not about to rape you and I don’t want to hurt you. In fact, I’m a doctor” he said, holding out something the size of a cherry tomato wrapped in dark leaved. “This will just help you sleep for a while.”
She continued to flail and the smile fell from his face. “I’m running out of patience, woman. Either swallow this or Jorun will have to do it the hard way.”
She stopped flailing, but her eyes held the same panic. Jorun held her arms and Mercurias popped the pill into her mouth and held it and her nose shut. Her eyes bulged in terror but, restrained and short of breath she swallowed involuntarily and the pill disappeared. Mercurias grinned. “Just like trying to get you lot to take medicine, Athas.”
Jorun continued to hold her for a minute until it became obvious to him that her body was going limp. Gently he picked her up and placed her on one of the room’s twin beds before opening the door again and retrieving the tray of food.
Taking his seat, Mercurias frowned. “Highness, your men are renowned for their subtlety. Surely there’s something you can do? “
Ashar shook his head. Not at this time. I’ve been in contact with my men in the city. They tell me that two of them are wounded: the young one and Quintillian. They’re unarmed and have been imprisoned in the bowels of the palace. If my men thought it was at all possible they would have said so. Gods, apart from Jorun, we’ve all been in that palace and we all know what we’re up against. Our only hope is that they bring them out into the open. Do you think Velutio will want them humiliated publicly?”
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