The Hekamon (43 page)

"Are you alright there, mister," a voice said,
startling him.

Decarius couldn't immediately tell where the voice had
come from, or to whom it belonged, until a figure stepped into the
glow of the lamplight ahead of him. As the man came closer, he spoke
again.

"Can I help you at all?"

When Decarius had woken, he'd wondered if he'd gone
blind, now he thought dumbness had struck him. However much he tried
to say, that he was fine and needed no help, only a incoherent
mumbling came forth. He tried waving the man away instead, but the
stranger was insistent.

"You're hurt man, you're bleeding. I thought you
might be the worse for drink but some mischief has befallen you old
fellow."

Now the man had stepped into the light, Decarius could
see him better. He was an older man, smartly dressed with well
groomed mustache. Again he tried to tell him he was fine but the
exertion of getting this far had drained whatever energy he had left.
He could feel his legs giving way beneath him and it took a
combination of his grip on the lamp post and the old man's help to
prevent him falling to the ground.

"Mister, I think we need to get you some help,
you're in no fit state."

Decarius mumbled something, but knew neither what he had
said or was trying to say. He tried saying thank you and heard
himself say something approximating to that.

"You're welcome. I know someone who will have you
back to your old self in no time."

And with that the two of them made their way up the
cobbled street, the old man taking most of his weight, while Decarius
just focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

Before long, the road leveled out and Decarius could see
movement to his right. He blinked, trying to be sure he was seeing
what he thought he was seeing. It was the main gate of the Demedelei
Fort, with at least two guards standing there, no more than thirty
feet away, staring at him. Was the man taking him to the fort? To
Tregarron? He tried to pull away and tell the man no, but he had no
strength to do either.

"Drunk?" He heard one of them shout. The
guards were right there, they were coming for him, he had to run.

"I don't think so," the old man said, gripping
him more tightly, before continuing, "he's bleeding from a head
wound and I don't smell drink. I'm taking him to Jervay."

Jervay? Decarius knew the name, but from where?

"Not another one," he heard the approaching
guard say, before stopping and walking away again.

He realized that the old man was not taking him to the
fort but to a priory, a place where they treated the sick and the
infirm. The old man was helping him.

"Thank you," he said, more coherently this
time.

"Quite alright."

As the two of them walked on, Decarius saw the guards converse out of the corner of his eye, before one
went through the gate and into the fort. With the danger averted, he
relaxed, and his drowsiness overtook him. With only
enough of him staying awake, so he could continue the journey to the priory.

The sound of footsteps echoed around the damp rock
corridor, as the captain and the bailiff moved between the cells of
the prison. The flickering light of the lanterns they carried
illuminated the rock around them, which glistened in the shimmering
glow. While the chill breeze that blew along the tunnel in the motte, came
through a grille covered opening that overlooked the dried out moat
below.

Tregarron was considering some of the details Tansley
had given him, when his chain of thought was broken by Cardell, whose
deep and rasping voice was given an even more baleful sound by the
acoustics of the tunnel.

"It's been a while since we had some Coralainians
in here, eh Captain," Cardell said, the relish in his voice
unmistakable. "Is it wrong to wish for them to be obstructing
and unhelpful?"

Tregarron could only bring himself to glance at
Cardell's expression. The man's toothless, sinister grin not
something he wanted to see. If it made him feel uncomfortable, how
must the prisoners feel? And how could someone with so few teeth have
such a carnivorous smile?

"Let's just find out what we need to, the easy way,
or the hard way," he said.

"Yes, Captain," Cardell said, his expression
returning to normal, which was only a slight improvement.

They reached the door of another cell and Cardell opened
the small, wooden hatch that gave a view inside. He held the lantern
to the viewing window and while shielding his eyes from the glare,
looked into the room.

"This one's awake."

"Good, let me in," Tregarron said, waiting for
the bailiff to unlock the door before entering the cell, "and
get this man some food, we don't want him passing out again."

"A bowl of broth on its way," Cardell
chuckled, closing the door.

Tregarron knew how much the bailiff hated it when his
charges lost consciousness, especially if it was for the avoidable
and unrewarding reason of malnourishment.

Entering the cell, Tregarron could see that the
Coralainian had heard, although not entirely understood the exchange.

"Thank you, sir, that's very kind of you," the
young man said, sitting up straighter and attentively at his arrival.

Tregarron hung the lantern on the hook, and as he did
so, realized that it was only now, with prisoner awake and
illuminated, that he knew who the young man was. Or at least, was as
sure as he could be, given that the man in front of him had been five
years younger and a boy in his early teens the last time he had set
eyes on him.

The place of their meeting had been the Halvyon Temple.
He, along with Lord Jephson and a delegation of various Demedelei
dignitaries; armorers, mine owners, land owners and the like, had
been invited there by Andreas Greavus, the sacerdos of the temple and
the most senior authority in Coralai.

Andreas Greavus was an elderly man by that time, and the
purpose of the meeting was to establish contact between them and the
heir apparent to the temple, his daughter-in-law Cornelia and her
son, Pandolin. The sacerdos's only son, Quintus Greavus, had been
killed during the bewailing wars. So control of the Halvyon Temple
would pass first to his widow Cornelia, who would be the saceress
until their son, Pandolin, came of age.

Tregarron stood looking at the prisoner. If the young
man was who he thought he was, then he would need to tread carefully.
There were matters of diplomacy to consider as well as his
investigation, and the former would need to take precedence. Then
there was the matter of the Aquassent Treaty.

The treaty that ended the war had cemented relations
between the Jephson and Greavus families. Ensuring each had
unfettered control of their respective territories. In the immediate
aftermath of hostilities, relations had become friendlier, but the
situation had cooled somewhat. Andreas Greavus had wanted to ensure
that the peaceful trade and diplomatic arrangements would continue
after his death. This had been the purpose of the meeting that
Greavus had arranged, and it had achieved its goals. The treaty had
been reaffirmed.

It had not been without some turbulence though.

Three
years after that meeting, Pandolin had fallen into one of the
mountain crevasses that ran under
the Halvyon Templum Complex. With his death, the succession changed,
and the daughter
of the sacerdos, Volusia, took a greater role. She, and not Cornelia,
would become saceress upon the death of her father, and her son
Aegidius would be her heir. Six months later, Andreas Greavus died
and Volusia became the saceress, the leader of Coralai.

At the time of the Halvyon gathering, she and her son
Aegidius were not considered to be the most senior members of the
Greavus family, so they had not been the main focus of the meeting.
But courtesy and the conviviality of the proceedings meant that he
had spoken with Volusia, and briefly, her young son.

Now, looking at the young man in the lantern light,
Tregarron felt sure he was one and the same. The boyish looks not
entirely gone, his short black hair and lightly tanned complexion
giving him a fresh faced appearance. It could be said he had an
handsome face, his mother Volusia was an attractive woman and
Tregarron could see some resemblance.

The longer he looked at the
prisoner the more certain he became. He decided to establish that
fact beyond doubt before he began his questioning. If he really was
the son of the saceress, the situation would be considerably more
complicated and would need to be handled delicately.

"Do you recognize me?" Tregarron asked, in a
calming tone of voice. It was not his normal style, not when
interrogating prisoners suspected of violence, but it was an approach
he would need to take for now.

"Yes," the Coralainian replied nervously,
"You're Captain Tregarron."

"We've met before haven't we?"

"Yes, at the banquet of the sixth seal."

Tregarron recalled now that the Coralainians had given
the event a great deal of formality and ceremony. There had been
wine, exotic fruit, dancers and musicians. All set among the
fountains and marble statues of the extensive Templum Complex. With
the warm and sunnier climate on the southern side of the mountains,
it had made for an impressive sight.

"That's right, and if I'm not mistaken you are
Aegidius, are you not?"

"My name is Aegidius yes, but my cognomen is
Aegis."

"Do you know how you came to be here, Aegis?"
Tregarron said, sitting on the bed next to him.

The young man looked away, collecting his thoughts, not
immediately responding.

"It's unusual for Coralainians to find themselves
here, what's the purpose of your visit to Demedelei?" Tregarron
said soothingly, Aegis had given his name readily so presumably was
going to co-operate. Or maybe not.

After a moments thought the prisoner took a more bullish
attitude, "I didn't come to Demedelei, I was brought here, we
had been on the Regis Highway outside of the town." A flash of
anger in his eyes.

"What were you doing there?"

"I don't have to answer your questions, I'm the son
of—" Aegis said defiantly, before trailing off.

"The saceress?" Tregarron finished.

"Yes. So let me go. I demand it."

Tregarron stood again and started to pace the cell. He
distractedly tapped the lantern that now hung from the hook on the
ceiling. It swung to and fro, the shifting light throwing shadows
around the cell. "What is the son of the saceress doing breaking
into a trading post on the Regis Highway?" He was thinking aloud
as much as he was asking Aegis.

Whenever possible, Tregarron preferred to know the
answer to his questions before he asked them. How they were answered
could be as revealing as what was said. What might the prisoner admit
to or what might they try to conceal could be revelatory. Of course,
knowing the answer in advance wasn't always possible and this seemed
to be one such occasion. This time he would need an answer.

He stopped pacing and looked at the prisoner, who was
giving no indication of offering an explanation. This was going to
cheer Cardell up no end, but after several seconds the young man did
speak, and chose his words carefully.

"Something valuable was stolen from the vaults of
the Halvyon Temple, and we believed the merchant on the highway to be
involved," Aegis said calmly, either his anger subsiding or
being well concealed.

Tregarron suddenly realized he had been wrong. He'd
assumed that he had no idea what the Coralainians had been up to, but
he now knew that not to be the case. Tansley had told him the
intruders were looking for some gauntlets. It simply had not occurred
to him at the time that gauntlets in question could be those of
General Plautius.

He knew instantly, that not only could it be those,
it had to be. There was no doubt in his mind, and it was an important
revelation.

If the saceress could not retain possession of the Eagle
Standard, then it meant she was losing control of Coralai.

The Rhavenbrook Bridge creaked and groaned with each
step, the old timbers sounding their age, as Kormak made his way
across. He'd never noticed the noises the bridge made before, but
then, he couldn't remember the last time he'd tried to cross it
quietly.

The bridge was his, or at least, that's how he felt
about it. He could walk on it how he pleased and when he pleased. He
could run, jump and stamp on it. Or hold the sides and shake the
bridge as much as it would allow. He'd done all those things when he
was younger, but today he was very nearly tiptoeing across, because
he knew that two Demedelite guards were not far ahead. They had only
just passed the bend in the road that cut through the forest and lead
to the village of Tivitay.

In
practice, the guards were not only out of sight, but out of earshot,
too. They wouldn't hear anything except for the loudest of noises.
Even so, Kormak was using an abundance of caution. The only problem
was, he hadn't told the bridge. It murmured and complained under
every step, maybe it was trying to tell
him
something.

What Kormak was telling himself, was that it was risky
to cross at river with guards lurking. But what else could he do?
Leave Alyssa to her fate? No. He would find her and he would show the
man she was with what happens when someone mistreats his sister.

Reaching the far side, he moved off the bridge and into
the forest, walking parallel to the road. Staying close enough to see
if the guards, or anyone else for that matter, was walking there.
While at the same time keeping option of dropping back into cover
should the need arise.

He stayed alert. If there was one thing Kormak knew, it
was that he needed to be careful. His status as a Ferguth complicated
matters. It afforded him certain powers when in Fennelbek but
weakened him this side of the river. It marked him out as an enforcer
of the marshes, a justice of the peace, a guardian of the land. Just
not this land.