Interregnum (22 page)

Stepping to either side of the door, the two took up defensive positions as Sabian reached out and, gently lifting the catch, thrust the door open and peered round the edge. Since he didn’t flinch or pull back, Darius leaned forward and peered round to survey the room. Much like the corridor, the room with thick with dust. Old ramshackle furniture stood around the walls collecting dust and bird droppings. The ornate window had seen better days, much of its plaster moulding having fallen away both outside and in and the walls were shedding plaster in places, beautifully painted chunks lying on the floor in the dust and leaving just the bare bones of the walls. The only articles in the room that did not show a sense of neglect and decay were a small wooden table and chair before the window and as Darius had noted in his brief earlier visit, a signalling lamp standing on the table next to a flickering candle that had almost burned out. It took long moments for his gaze to pick out the other oddity in the room and, as he did, he joined the commander and they walked into the room, their swords still ready.

Not far from the table in the dust on the floor was a heap that Darius had at first assumed to be old drapes or wall hangings. In fact, with the low flickering candlelight, its nature became clear as they made their way closer: it was a body. Darius stopped suddenly and turned, his blade flashing in the dim light as he squinted to check the corners of the room. Sabian shook his head.

“No one here,” he said, “apart from him.” He gestured at the body and then turned to the young man. “Step careful. There are tracks in here we don’t want to disturb.”

As the commander stepped lightly toward the body, Darius remained where he was, watching the doorway. Sabian reached the heap and crouched.

“His name’s Ursus” he confirmed. “One of Iasus’ men.” He sighed and, standing again, added “we need more light.”

As Darius nodded the commander scratched his head. “I’ve sent word for his Lordship’s physician to find me. No one else should be around for best part of an hour; it’s dinner time.” He gestured to Darius. “Are you alright guarding this room while I get some lanterns and find the doctor?”

Darius nodded again. “Don’t be too long.”

Stepping carefully to avoid scuffing the footprints in the dust, Sabian left the room and Darius heard him jogging along the corridor to the stairs. As the hob-nailed boot noises faded away into the distance Darius placed his sword on the table, hilt facing him for easy retrieval should it become necessary. Crouching he examined the footprints in the dust. He hadn’t examined the ones in the corridor, but they were fairly clear tracks. Here there were at least two sets of prints crossing each other many times, one military boot and one light flat shoe. Darius frowned and crossed to the body. The man was probably in his late twenties; perhaps ten years older than he and powerfully built. A big man with a lantern jaw and a shaved head and wearing the full kit of a soldier. The young man considered examining the body himself but thought better of it. These things were best left to men of science.

Standing once more he walked past the table and peered out over the water. Velutio was visible in the distance as myriad twinkling lights in the shroud of darkness. How anyone signalling would know what to look for was beyond him, as it would be near impossible to distinguish between the lights.

He hadn’t realised just how long he’d sat there, staring out at a world beyond his reach, but it must have been some time for he was shaken from his dreamy state by footsteps in the corridor. Retrieving his sword he came to his feet in a sweeping motion to face the door as Sabian and the doctor appeared in the open, framed in the doorway by the light of the lanterns they each carried. The lad relaxed, his shoulders dropping back and the sword coming to rest by his side. Sabian entered, stepping to one side to avoid the footprints and advising the doctor to do the same. Without a word, the physician reached out with his lantern and held it in front of Darius, expecting the young man to relieve him of his burden. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Darius grasped the lantern and placed it on the table. Looking around, Sabian found a high wooden cupboard still in a reasonably sturdy state and placed his own lantern on the top. As the room was bathed in the glow of the two oil lamps, the commander wandered across and shut the door, sealing them in the room before he addressed the doctor.

“Alright. Tell me everything you can about him.”

The doctor was crouched beside the body and with some effort rolled Ursus back and forth. “No visible wounds on the torso or limbs.” He lifted the head gently and it rolled around threatening to become detached. Darius frowned as the doctor continued: “looks like someone broke his neck. I would suggest that the culprit you’re looking for was not a natural fighter, as there are a great number of marks on the neck and the upper arms. It seems to have been quite a struggle.” He cleared his throat as he gently lowered the head back to the floor. “Also, judging by the size of the victim I would suspect you’re looking for a large or at least surprisingly strong assailant.” The doctor stood, dusting his hands and with a distrustful glance at Darius, faced the commander.

“I would say you can rule out your men as they would have made a much neater job of it I’m sure. Is there anything else?”

Sabian shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ll let you know if we need any more.”

Nodding curtly, the physician made for the door, turning as he reached it.

“I think you are making a mistake commander,” he declared, “in respect of the minister. This procedure that’s planned could easily kill him and his Lordship will not be happy with that.”

Sabian glowered at the doctor. “That’s my concern, not yours.”

With a shrug, the doctor left and Darius and the commander stood beside the corpse of the soldier silently. After a pregnant pause, Darius cleared his throat and threw a quick glance at the doorway before speaking.

“I don’t trust that man.”

Sabian sighed. “That’s only natural really, but he does know what he’s talking about. I need you to do me a favour Darius. Can you run and find my two sergeants? You know Cialo and Iasus?”

Without comment, Darius sheathed his sword and slipped out of the room. Sabian was starting to get that itch he always got back in the city when he knew something was going on. Oh, in the city there was always
something
going on. An assassination here, a plot foiled there, rivalry and vying for power and prestige. The commander had learned to live with it and to navigate his way through the dangerous currents of life in the biggest city of the Empire, but he’d never liked it. He was a soldier, not a politician, as he kept having to remind people including himself. He liked things clear cut and out in the open and to have come to this virtual banishment while games were played behind his back in the city did not sit well with him. To have orders to clamp down on the freedoms of a bunch of people who, as far as he could see, hadn’t done anything wrong irked him just as much. And now, as an added burden he’d displeased Velutio and put himself in danger and to add to all his irritations and worries there was something going on here of all places. And no one seemed trustworthy. In fact, most of the people he had any inclination to rely on were prisoners like Darius and the minister. Apparently not even his own men!

“Shit!”

Sabian kicked a piece of fallen plaster in irritation and it ricocheted off the wall, causing further cracks to appear. He glared out of the window at the city twinkling in the distance and a bad taste filled his mouth. He’d always known he would be a soldier and he’d been damn good at it. After only a few years serving one of the petty lords further around the coast he’d become a commander and with only eight years service under his belt his record was good enough that Velutio had sought him out. Velutio’s army was the closest thing in the world to the great army the Empire had once had and Sabian had leapt at the chance for a proper commission. These days he was starting to wonder whether it was worth it. Once the hazy view of exuberant youth had faded he’d realised that, despite Velutio’s army being the largest and most organised of all the lords, it still bore no resemblance to the glorious military of imperial days. And with it came treachery and deceit. Perhaps when this was all over he’d resign his commission and sign on as a mercenary captain. At least they weren’t beholden. If they found out they’d signed on to lunatics they could just walk away.

He sighed again and, pulling out the uncomfortable wooden chair, collapsed into it while he waited for the lad. He found himself once more musing on Darius and his background. If the boy really was Caerdin’s son and had even a fraction of his father’s wit and talent, which he appeared to do, he was truly wasted locked away on this island. Hell, had things been different, another ten years would probably have seen Sabian serving under
him
. Smiling at that last thought he drummed his fingers on the table and stopped for a moment. One thing he hadn’t noticed before was the mark on the table. Something else had been standing on the table very recently, as there was a small circular patch among the dust. He shrugged; probably just a mug or glass.

He sat staring at the table for a few more minutes until the sound of several footsteps appeared in the corridor and Cialo and Iasus entered the room, coming to attention and saluting the moment they were inside. Sabian nodded and beckoned them forward, surprised to see behind them not only Darius but Favio, the island’s doctor. He glared at Darius and raised on eyebrow. The young man just shrugged.

“He was looking for you anyway.”

With a squaring of the shoulders, Sabian stood up.

“Well as long as you’re here Favio,” he addressed the doctor, “you might as well have a look at the body and tell me what you think. But,” he added “what we say goes no further than the walls of this room.” As Darius and the doctor wandered over to the body, Sabian examined the sergeants. Since they’d been here there was a notable change in his men. Cialo’s only concession now to his uniform were the tunic and belt and he looked every inch the engineer. A stylus rested behind his ear and a wax tablet stuck out of his belt. He was covered in dust and spattered plaster which matted his hair in places. It was hard to look at the ageing sergeant and not smile. Iasus on the other hand was still in his armour and had polished it every night by the look of it. One might think he hadn’t changed, but to those who knew him… He had a few days growth of facial hair and, despite beards being quite fashionable these days, Sabian had never seen him other than clean shaven. His helmet was tucked under his arm, but instead of the traditional skull cap beneath, a bandanna of crimson silk was wrapped around his forehead. And most of all, he smiled occasionally. That had never happened much. For a moment Sabian wondered what changes the others saw in their commander, but pulled himself together and tried to ignore the tutting and muttering of the island’s doctor as he spoke.

“Ursus was one of your men Iasus, yes?”

“Sir” Iasus nodded confirmation.

“But he was working as an engineer under you, yes Cialo?”

The older sergeant nodded.

“What was he doing here?” the commander queried. “You’ve only been working for a couple of hours.”

Cialo dropped from attention and addressed Sabian. “He was supposed to be hunting around for old damaged plaster sir.”

Sabian frowned. “Damaged plaster?”

“Yessir,” the sergeant went on. “Old plaster can be used as part of a base for mortar. He and a couple of the others are bringing me sack loads of old plaster from all over the island. Anywhere things have fallen down. We’ll be using it in the mortar mix for the repairs to the baths.”

Sabian nodded. “That explains him being here, but not what happened. I don’t like this at all. You see this lamp…” he began but his voice trailed off as the muttering of Doctor Favio intensified and distracted him.

“Doctor, could you kindly keep your voice down.”

Favio grumbled and beckoned to the commander with a finger. Biting his tongue to stop himself shouting at the insolent man, Sabian leaned down toward them.

“What is it, Favio?”

Favio shook his head. “What did your
doctor
tell you?” he enquired, heaping sarcasm on the word.

“That he was attacked by someone untrained in martial combat, there was a fair struggle and finally someone managed to break his neck. I can see the marks and the broken neck for myself.”

Favio continued to shake his head. “Begging your pardon commander, but that’s a whole heap of horse shit and unless your man was trained by a blind beggar with the mental capability of a sewer turd he knows it.”