Appius offered his guest a goblet of wine, and they sat in companionable silence. Appius had known the elderly surgeon for years. Ralis had accompanied him on three campaigns. His skills were solid, though without flair, and he had performed his duties well. Appius glanced at the man, remembering the scandal. Ralis had exiled himself to this desolate place following an affair with a young senator, whose wife had subsequently committed suicide. Her relatives had killed the senator, and sent assassins to despatch Ralis. But the surgeon had been warned, and had fled the city during the night. The scandal surrounding the affair had been talked of for years in Stone.
'The young man looks familiar,' said Ralis.
Appius nodded. 'He is the half-breed son of Banouin, the Ghost General.'
'Well, well,' said Ralis, 'Banouin, eh? Didn't he become a troubadour, or something?'
'A wandering merchant. He was killed in the Perdii campaign almost twenty years ago.'
'Men say he was as good a general as Jasaray.'
'No-one is as good as Jasaray, but he was skilled,' said Appius. 'He was a charismatic leader, worshipped by his men. But, more than that, he had an intuitive feel for battles.'
'Didn't he marry some slave, or such like?'
'A northern witch woman.'
'Baffling,' said Ralis. 'He could have been rich and powerful in Stone. Instead he took to the highlands and married a savage. I wonder why?'
'We'll never know. Do you miss the city?' asked Appius suddenly.
Ralis gave a rueful smile. 'Who would not? But we are doing our best here. This time next year the roads should be paved, and Macrios is raising funds to complete the bathhouse by the spring. Small beginnings, I know. But progress at least. Is Barus coming back this year?'
Appius shook his head. 'He has been given a command in the east. Lia and I will look after his house for a while, until we decide whether to settle here or go home.'
Their eyes met, and Ralis had the good grace to look away. No citizen came here through choice. Either their funds had vanished or they had made powerful enemies back home. 'How are things in Stone?' asked the surgeon.
'Lively,' answered Appius, and did not expand on it.
'Well, they are not so lively here, General. We have no Crimson Priests, and people feel they can speak freely, and live their lives according to the wishes of their hearts.'
'Sounds pleasant,' observed Appius. 'Though perhaps ill-advised.' He rose, signalling to his guest that the conversation was over.
Ralis bowed. 'It was good seeing you again, General. If there is any worsening of your guest's condition, please feel free to call upon my services.'
Appius shook the man's hand, walked him to the door, then returned to the balcony. In the garden below Lia was walking with Bane. She seemed happy and carefree. It mattered nothing to her that they were thousands of miles from home. The sound of her laughter hung on Appius like a lead weight.
There were no Crimson Priests in Accia.
Not yet.
It was just past midnight when the scream ripped through the silence of the night. Bane was the first to react. Coming awake he rolled from the bed and raced naked into the next room, where Banouin was sitting up in bed, pointing towards the far wall. He screamed again. Bane ran to him, grabbing his friend by the shoulders.
The walls are alive!' shouted Banouin. His face was drenched in sweat, and gleamed in the pale moonlight. 'And there is a demon hunting you, Bane. Ah! I see him. Talon and claw. He is coming for you.'
'If he is, I'll kill him,' said Bane. 'Don't fret. Lie back. Sleep.'
'Watch out for him, Bane. Watch the tail. It flicks just before the demon leaps!'
'I'll watch the tail. Now, do as you're told. Lie back.'
Banouin sagged against him, then let out a long sigh. He allowed Bane to lay him down. His eyes flickered. 'It was not a dream,' he said, his voice calm. 'It was a vision, Bane. You were walking through. . . through corridors, but the walls were alive and writhing. You were carrying a short sword, and there was a man with you, an older man. And a demon was stalking you.' He shuddered. 'A terrible beast of incredible speed and strength.'
'All in all,' said Bane softly, 'I would have preferred your first vision to have been of a beautiful young woman - maybe two beautiful young women - nursing me back to health after killing the beast. But no matter. Rest now.'
Banouin's blue eyes closed, and his breathing deepened. Bane rose and walked out into the torchlit corridor beyond. Appius was standing there, dressed in a pale grey nightrobe. Beyond him was Lia.
'He had a vision,' said Bane.
'Yes, yes, we'll talk about it in the morning,' said Appius sharply, moving to stand between the naked Bane and his daughter.
'Are you all right, Appius?' asked Bane. 'As I said, it was only a vision. And it didn't concern you at all.'
'Lia! Go to your room,' snapped Appius, without turning to look back at her. Bane moved to the right.
'Sleep well,' he said. Lia laughed aloud, shook her head and moved from sight.
'You are naked,' said Appius sternly.
'So are you beneath that robe,' observed Bane.
'Exactly! Beneath the robe. In civilized societies it is considered . . . offensive to parade naked.'
'What is a parade?' asked Bane.
'To appear naked in public.'
'And why would that be?'
'Why? Because ... it just is. I don't know why these customs appear. But it is especially offensive for a man to appear naked before a young virgin.'
Bane grinned. 'Are you mocking me, Appius?'
The older man sighed. 'No, I am not mocking you. If you appeared naked on the streets of Stone you would be arrested and flogged. And if you appeared so before a young woman of good family you would be either hanged or thrown into the arena to fight for your life. Now go to your room, take the robe that is hanging on your door and put it on. I feel the need of a goblet of wine. Then you can tell me about this . . . vision.'
Moments later, garbed in a fine robe of white, ankle-length cotton, Bane entered the main room. Appius handed him a silver goblet and the two men sat on the balcony, overlooking the town of Accia, and the star-dappled sea beyond.
'Why are you going to Stone?' asked the old general.
Bane shrugged. 'I promised Vorna I would see Banouin safe. He is not a fighter, but he draws trouble like flies to cow shit.'
'That's another thing you might want to consider,' said Appius. 'Your language. You speak Turgon well, and seem to have picked up some . . . interesting phrases. In polite company you should avoid using words associated with bodily functions or the nature of human intimacy. A citizen of Stone, for example, doesn't rise from the dinner table, as you did this evening, in order to "piss". He excuses himself and says he will rejoin the company presently. He doesn't open his leggings in order to scratch his privates.'
'Privates?' queried Bane.
'Balls!' snapped Appius.
'Ah. When is he allowed to scratch them?'
'In private. Hence "privates". You see?'
Bane nodded sagely, then drank his wine. 'You are a very strange people,' he said. 'You think nothing of enslaving tribes, butchering men, and bringing war and destruction to all the lands around you. Yet you find the sight of a penis offensive, and you don't talk about pissing. That is civilization, is it? War, murder and butchery are respectable, but a man without clothes risks a flogging?'
Appius laughed. 'I have not heard it argued quite so simplistically before, but yes, perhaps that is the essence of our civilization: personal privacy, national expansion. However, the rights and wrongs of it are meaningless. The fact is that these laws apply. You must walk and speak warily in Stone, Bane. It will be different for Banouin. He is the son of a prominent citizen, and will be carrying papers I shall give him, signifying his position. He will be accepted. You, however, will be watched carefully for any sign of barbarous behaviour.'
'You think me barbarous?'
'I am
an old soldier, boy. I have seen men like you. Warriors, a little in love with death. Life without risk is nothing to you. A waste. If you find a chasm you must stand on the very tip, and dare the void to drag you in. If you see a horse no man can ride you must tame it. And if you see a man no-one can beat you must challenge him.'
'You see a lot, General.'
'More than you think. What is Connavar thinking of to send his son into Stone?'
'You know Connavar?' asked Bane warily.
'I fought alongside him in the Perdii wars, and against him at Cogden Field. Aye, I know him well enough to see him in you - even without the strange eyes. Tell no-one of your blood line, Bane. Or you will be dragged before Jasaray himself and used against your father.'
'I shall bear that in mind,' said Bane coolly. 'The gods know how much I love Connavar.'
Appius looked at him sharply, but said no more on the matter.
Bane stood and stretched, then asked the general a direct question. Appius laughed aloud.
'The correct way to ask that is: "And where can a man find a relaxing spot, with pleasant female company?" And my answer is: I have not been here long enough to find out, young man. When I do I shall let you know. Perhaps tomorrow you should take a walk down to the docks. I don't doubt some publicly minded citizen will approach you and guide you to what you seek.'
'Baffling,' said Bane. Rising he left the room. As he did so he heard Lia's door click shut. He looked in on Banouin, who was now sleeping deeply, then returned to his bed.
As he lay down he found himself thinking of Lia. When first he had seen her at the river he thought her a pretty girl, nothing more. But earlier, when he had walked with her in the garden, he found himself noticing the tilt of her head as she laughed, the slender perfection of her neck, the fullness of her lips. And when they sat upon the bench, beneath the canvas canopy, he had caught the scent of her hair.
You've been without a woman too long, he told himself. And he fell asleep thinking of the dark-haired girl, and picturing himself walking with her on the slopes of the Druagh mountains, with the morning sun clearing the peaks, and the mist seeping from the Wishing Tree woods.
Oranus, the Captain of the Watch, was tired, his stomach full of cheap red wine, his head pounding. Midweek was usually quiet in Accia, and he had brought the flagon of wine to the small office fronting the cells. It would, he hoped, help give him a good night's sleep. Instead it had left his mood as sour as his belly.
He glared balefully at the small group of angry people crowding around his desk. They were all talking at once, their discordant voices matching the angry pounding behind his eyes. The woman he knew well, a whore who operated in the eastern dock area. The man beside her, sporting a broken nose and a swollen eye, was her pimp, Nestar. He was also the owner of a waterside tavern renowned for foul practices, including robbery, extortion, and the fleecing of customers. Two of his men stood close by. All bore signs of recent violent activity. The captain would have liked nothing better than to close Nestar's tavern, but the pimp had many friends in high places, including the merchant Macrios and the councillor Banyon. At forty-four - only eight months from retirement and a free parcel of land -Oranus had no desire to incur the wrath of powerful men.
Oranus rubbed his eyes and transferred his gaze to the thin man standing by the door. He did not recognize him. The man's face was dotted with spots of blood, and there were wooden splinters in the skin of his forehead. Just for a moment the sheer incongruity of the man's injuries lightened his headache. But only for a moment.
The morning had been quiet until the barbarian had been brought in. He glanced back at the chained tribesman, sitting glowering in the cell. He was young, and powerfully built, with long blond hair, a single braid hanging from the temple. He wore no tribal cloak, but Oranus felt sure he was not Genii. There was something untamed about him, which suggested he had not endured the yoke of Stone. Perhaps Norvii or Rigante, he thought. Oranus filled a cup with water and drained it. Then he turned his attention back to the angry group.
'Silence!' he bellowed, as hammers of fire thudded at his temples. He pointed at the red-headed whore. 'You, Roxy. You speak first. The rest of you keep your mouths shut.'
'The bastard assaulted me, sir. Robbed me of my life's savings. Kicked in my door, he did, when I was with a friend. Hurled the friend through the window.'
That's me,' said the man at the back, with the splinters in his forehead. 'We were talking when the savage burst in. I tried to remonstrate, but he grabbed me and sent me flying into the shutters. I went straight through. Luckily there was a canopy under the window, which broke my fall.' He sighed. 'Bet he didn't know about the canopy,' he said. 'Strong canvas, luckily. Well made. Didn't even tear.'
'It is not even remotely possible that I could care less about the canopy,' said Oranus, leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose. 'Did you know the tribesman?' he asked the whore.
'He enjoyed my company some time earlier,' she said coyly.
'Which is when she stole my pouch of gold,' said the prisoner, in passably good Turgon.
'What a liar he is,' said the woman, her voice full of outrage. 'Has it come to this, that a businesswoman can be maligned in the office of the Law?' She smiled sweetly at Oranus. 'I could help you with that headache, sir.'
'That's just what I need,' snapped Oranus. 'A headache - and a dose of pox. You!' He pointed to the pimp, Nestar, a thickset man, with short, greasy black hair. His nose was swollen and bloody, his right eye almost closed. 'How did you come into this?'
'I was downstairs and I heard Roxy cry out. I took up my cudgel and ran up the stairs. When I stepped into the doorway he came at me, and butted me. I fell back down the stairs. That's when he robbed Roxy of our savings,' he said, casting a murderous glance at the whore. 'He came down the stairs and I yelled out to my men to stop him. I say "my men", but they're not any more, sir. A more useless pair would be hard to find. He swatted them like they were flies and walked out into the street. I mean, to look at them you'd think they were tough. Big hands, strapping shoulders. Fooled me, though. He treated them like the farm boys they are.'
'That's not fair,' said one of the men. 'He took us by surprise.'
'You're paid not to be surprised, donkey-brain!'
Oranus slammed the flat of his hand on to the table, the noise making them jump. He lifted his hand, holding his index finger a hair's breadth from his thumb. 'I am this close to locking you all in for the rest of the day and for tonight,' he said. 'Now will you continue with your story, and hopefully finish it before year's end?'
Nestar nodded. 'I'm sorry, sir. Anyway, after swatting these imbeciles he ran out into the street, where happily several soldiers of the Watch were on hand. They grabbed him. I think you'll find he lashed out at them, too, sir. That's what comes of allowing these barbarians into a civilized township, if you don't mind me saying.'
'I do mind you saying,' said Oranus. He rose from his chair and swung to the prisoner, who was sitting on a cot bed within the cell. Oranus looked into the man's eyes, and felt suddenly cold. Memories of the past almost overwhelmed him, and his hands began to tremble. Fighting for control he took a deep breath. 'What have you to say?' he asked the prisoner. The man stood and stared through the wooden bars at the assembled group.
'The woman says I stole her money. Then I ran from the building and was grabbed by your soldiers. Is this correct?'
'That would seem to be their evidence,' said Oranus. 'Your point is . . . ?'
'Ask her how much was in the pouch.'
'You heard him,' said Oranus. 'How much was there?'
'Oh, around twenty-five gold coins,' she said. 'Maybe thirty. I don't recall exactly.'
'There are thirty-two gold coins, three half silvers and five copper,' said the prisoner coolly. 'And doesn't it seem remarkable that I had time to count them all, while running down the stairs and into the street?'
'Aye, remarkable,' said Oranus, turning a cold stare to the w
hore. 'So you stole his pouch. That's a flogging offence, Roxy. Fifty lashes.'
'You going to take his word over that of a tax-paying businesswoman?' she shouted, her eyes fearful.
'Not his word, whore! His arithmetic.'
'I knew nothing about any theft,' said Nestar, holding up his hands. 'As you know, I run a lawful establishment.'
'I know what you run,' said Oranus, his gaze holding to the frightened eyes of the red-headed woman.
'I can't take another flogging,' she whimpered, backing away towards the door. 'It'll kill me.'
'Perhaps you should have thought of that before robbing him,' said Oranus.
'I don't want to see her flogged,' said the prisoner. 'Do I have a say in this?'
Oranus felt a wave of relief, and a lessening of his headache. If the barbarian wished to bring no charges the whole matter could be forgotten, and his office would be quiet again, peaceful. There would be no papers to fill in, no further enquiries to make. He could remove his breastplate, step into the cell, lie down on the cot bed, and close his eyes. Keeping his expression stern he looked at the whore, then back at the prisoner. 'It is your pouch,' he said at last. 'The crime was against you, not against town property. If you are happy to see the matter forgotten then there is little I can do.' He tried to sound regretful, and gave the whore a withering look.
'What about me?' asked the man with the splinters in his brow. 'He threw me through the window!'
Oranus gave a bleak smile. 'You are quite right,' he said. 'There should be a public trial. You can appear and explain how you were in a whore's room when one of her other customers broke in and assaulted you. Let's see,' he said, opening a ledger on his desk. 'Court will be in session tomorrow at noon.'
'I don't want to go to court,' mumbled the man.
'And what about you, Nestar?' asked Oranus. 'Do you want to go to court?'
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