by Gav Thorpe
The two of them headed down the corridor, checking the doors and archways to either side. Most of them were empty storerooms, a few had mops, buckets, brushes, and other materials and equipment for the servants to clean the floors and walls. The sound of running petered out entirely and they looked back down the passageway. There was no sign of the blackcrests but they knew time was short.
"It has to be one of these," said Muuril, "I've seen it before, when we was in the palace in Askh. One of these has to be the baths. Gotta be on the ground floor for the lava to heat the water, right?"
Gelthius shrugged his ignorance. The next door they found was locked and the one after opened onto a stairway up to the next storey. With anxious looks back down the corridor, they continued along the passageway until they reached an archway on the right. With a sigh of relief, Gelthius caught the scent of bathing oils and felt heat from dissipating steam on his face. Stepping through the archway the two legionnaires came into a tiled space with shelves stacked with jars of unguents and powders. They cautiously passed through another archway at the far end of the narrow chamber, checking that the room beyond was empty first.
Wooden partitions separated out a dozen curtained spaces, each with its own small chair, low shelves and row of hooks, where bathers could hang their belongings. A quick search revealed that nobody was using the baths at the moment, which was not unusual for the middle of the day. It would likely be several hours before anybody would, and that gave Muuril and Gelthius the opening they needed.
Stripping off their armour and uniforms, the two men hung up their gear in the two partitions furthest from the entrance, leaving them in the tunics they had been wearing underneath their regulation clothes. Gelthius unravelled the slender hose he had wrapped around his waist beneath his armour and put them to one side while he removed his sandals. He pulled the hose on, the sensation odd after wearing his legion kilt for so long; he remembered when the kilt had felt new and strange too.
Searching through the cupboards opposite the partitions, Muuril found pairs of backless slippers used by bathers and tossed a pair to Gelthius. He pulled them on, to find they were a little big for his feet. He searched through the cupboards for something a bit smaller, but they all seemed to be of a similar size. He shuffled about in the slippers for a few moments to make sure he could walk in them, and then stowed his sandals with the rest of their uniforms. The two men went back out to the previous room and grabbed two jars of coloured salts each. With these under their arms, they moved into the main bathing chamber, where two pools were filled with water, separated by a narrow walkway. One pool steamed heavily, heated by a lava pit beneath the palace; the other was a cold plunge pool.
Cutting between the baths, they found another doorway to the private chambers; the servants' entrance. This arch led into another storeroom, filled with towels and tongs, empty braziers, scrapers and other cleansing tools. Nobody saw them emerging into the corridor beyond, and a quick scout around assured the two infiltrators that there were no blackcrests in the immediate vicinity.
Carrying their salt jars as if they were badges of office, Gelthius and Muuril set off in search of the governor's chambers.
III
Gelthius was not sure how one man and his family could use so many rooms. As well as the audience chambers, feasting halls and gardens where he met with citizens and officials, Asuhas had more than two dozen private rooms: lounges, dining areas, banqueting suites, a personal kitchen, seven bedchambers, wardrobes, a cold bath and an indoor garden filled with exotic plants sent up the Greenwater from nearMekha and Cosuan.
It was the middle of the day, and there were very few servants around. The majority of the governor's staff were attending to their master as he went about his official business in the public areas of the palace. The lack of activity in the apartments meant that Muuril and Gelthius were able to wander freely through them. They had abandoned their bath salt jars on the second storey when it became apparent that they would attract more attention with them than without.
Near to the stairwell on the fourth storey they came across a locked door, which Muuril reckoned to be a personal office of some kind.
"Should we break it open?" he asked, taking a step back, readying for a kick.
"No!" replied Gelthius, standing in front of the sergeant before he could put his foot to the door. "A busted door is a sure a way as any of saying that somebody has been sneaking around looking for things that they ain't meant to find. Beside, the noise might bring someone."
"Do you know how to pick locks?" asked Muuril, his face showing more hope than expectation. Gelthius shook his head.
"The only robbing I done was stealing goats and chickens, and they wasn't locked up."
"Let's have a shufty down here," suggested Muuril, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at a side corridor they had yet to explore.
Gelthius nodded, and the two of them sauntered under the archway and into the small passage. There was another arch at the far end, and Gelthius could see benches and cupboards. Entering, the two found themselves in a guard room, with holes in the wall overlooking the stairs so that defenders could see an attacking enemy and jab at them with spears or shoot arrows through the narrow gaps. Peering through the holes, Gelthius realised that they had been artfully fashioned; he had quite a view from the mid-storey landing but had noticed nothing of the murder holes when he had been coming up the stairs.
"Hey, these would be better than servants' gear," said Muuril. Gelthius turned and saw the sergeant standing next to the open door of a tall cupboard, a black shield in one hand, a black-crested helmet in the other. "There's five sets in here, bound to find some that fit."
"What if we run into other blackcrests?" said Gelthius. "They might not know all the faces of the servants, but sure they would think it odd not recognising one of their own?"
"We can walk around as free as birds in this gear," said Muuril. He tossed the shield to Gelthius, who caught it awkwardly, snatching at the rim before it cracked on the varnished wooden boards of the floor.
"Fine," said the third captain, placing the shield to one side. "Let's see what they've got."
It took a short while to find helmet and breastplate that was not outrageously large for Gelthius' small frame. Muuril, being considerably larger than most men, also had a hard time, but managed to squeeze into a set of armour too. Swapping leggings for kilts and slippers for sandals once more, Gelthius somehow felt properly dressed again, even though his new gear chafed a little as he moved.
"We'll split up and have a quick look around this floor, and then head up to the top, right?" said Gelthius. "No point spending too long, eh?"
Muuril nodded and headed out the door, Gelthius just behind him. Gelthius turned right at the main passage, while Muuril headed back cross the landing to the left. The apartments that the governor occupied were self-contained, linked by three guarded corridors – and it did not take Gelthius long to check the three rooms he found; another dining room next to a reception chamber with low couches and tables, and a wide-windowed sun room overlooking the palace grounds to hotwards. Returning to the stairs, he met Muuril, who shook his head.
"More bedrooms," said the sergeant. Gelthius sighed. It was beginning to look a lot like their risky adventure would prove to be pointless. There was nothing here except old tapestries, poorly polished silverware, unused crockery and mouldering furniture.
Moving to the uppermost storey, Gelthius and Muuril discovered a set of double doors that led to a large hall, the floor decoratively tiled, the walls covered with embroidered hangings showing the Askhan legions conquering the Ersuan kings' armies. The pair walked around the walls, looking at the detailed threadwork.
"That's got to be Salacis Pass," said Muuril, pointing to the next hanging. It depicted a legion in a narrow mountain valley, advancing into a storm of arrows and rocks unleashed by barbaric, bearded Ersuans on the slopes above. "That was a fight and a half."
"Looks like it," sa
id Gelthius. Muuril said something else but the third captain did not really hear it; he was sure he had heard a noise on the stairwell outside the main doors.
"Did you hear that?" said Gelthius, convinced he heard feet slapping on stone.
"I can't hear anything," said Muuril. He took a few steps towards the next tapestry and then stopped. "Hang on, yes I did."
The two of them jogged to the door and stopped. Gelthius held his breath as he listened, trying not to hear the thump of his heart in his chest.
There were definitely voices drifting up the stairwell. They were speaking quietly, and Gelthius could hear the slow slap of sandals on the steps. He darted a look at Muuril, who shrugged and took a step into the corridor before shrinking back. There were shadows on the stairway, at the bottom of the last flight.
Gelthius jabbed his thumb back into the room and the two of them stepped out of sight, as quietly as they could manage in the ill-fitting wargear. The voices were very close now and came straight towards the open doors.
The two legionnaires hurried to stand beside the nearest wall, about ten paces apart. Gelthius muttered a call to attention and the pair brought their spears down with a thump, keeping their gazes fixed ahead. Trying not to turn his head to look, Gelthius moved his gaze sideways towards the door as the conversation suddenly silenced and the sound of feet on stone became the thud of steps on the wooden floor of the great hall.
"We're running out of places to speak." Gelthius heard a reedy voice. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small, thin man pacing into the hall, wearing white robes of office: Asuhas. His hair was oiled back across a balding pate, and his top lip and chin were darkened by a wispy covering of hair. The man's fingers fidgeted constantly, playing with the creases in his robe and the rope of grey and green cords that served as a belt. "I don't know why they have to be here, the Brotherhood made their position very clear and I agreed with them."
"This lot are everywhere, don't pay them any heed," said the governor's companion.
Gelthius already knew the voice before a large man in a bright red shirt and checked Salphorian trousers strode into view. Gelthius choked back a gasp as he laid eyes on Anglhan Periusis. The former landship owner stuck his thumbs between his belt and his generous gut and turned towards the two legionnaires.
For a moment Gelthius was like a rabbit paralysed in front of the hunter's bow. He could not stop himself meeting Anglhan's gaze, and the two looked at each other straight on. Swallowing hard, Gelthius managed to look away, staring blankly ahead, though his hands were sweating profusely on his spear and shield grip. He heard Muuril shuffle his feet, obviously recognising the traitorous governor as well.
The third captain continued to feel Anglhan's stare on him for a few moments, as his heart started beating quickly, hammering against the inside of his breastplate. It was impossible that the former governor would not recognise him; Gelthius had spent nearly twenty years in the man's service.
"How odd," said Anglhan. The boards creaked under his heavy tread as he took several steps towards Gelthius. The legionnaire forced himself to relax the grip on his spear, ready to lunge forward and drive the tip into Anglhan's face. He noticed Muuril shifting his weight slightly out of the corner of his eye.
"What's odd?" asked the governor.
"This tapestry shows a legion being defeated," Anglhan said, pointing at the hanging behind Gelthius. "They're being massacred!"
"The Battle of Sulunnin. Out of the way, there," said Asuhas. He flapped a hand at Gelthius and Muuril, who moved aside. "Step out of the way so we can see properly. Yes, that was a rough one for the Sixteenth and Eighteenth. Early snows caught them by surprise, and they were ambushed by a tribal coalition in the foothills before they could build a proper winter fort."
"But why celebrate a defeat in this way?" said Anglhan. Gelthius was not sure, but he thought for a moment that the old landship captain actually winked at him as he walked past.
"It is a memorial, not a celebration," said Asuhas. "We Askhans learn from our mistakes as well as our successes. Something you Salphors are not so good at."
"You are referring to the unfortunate loss of my city?" Anglhan spoke lightly of the massacre of thousands of Magilnadans, as if he had played no part in its downfall. "As you see, I have returned and I am better placed than ever."
"I don't see why the Brotherhood would tolerate you at all, Periusis, much less make you the king's prime agent in Ersua."
The two men wondered down the hall, their voices growing fainter, but Gelthius could still hear what was being said. Muuril shook his head, obviously displeased by what he was hearing.
"Stay calm," whispered Gelthius.
"Fat goatfucker should be dead," growled Muuril. Gelthius could see the sergeant's knuckles turning white from the tight grip on his spear.
"Not now," said Gelthius. "Ssh, listen!"
Muuril said nothing though he glared at Anglhan's broad back as the conversation between the traitor and the governor drifted down the hall, carried by a slight echo.
"I can confirm that he hasn't been seen coldwards of Thedraan or dawnwards of Caprion," Anglhan was saying.
"So he is definitely not coming to Marradan? You are sure of that fact?"
"He has not come any closer, so he has to have headed hotwards, or turned back into Salphoria ," Anglhan assured the governor. Gelthius decided that the two men had to be talking about King Ullsaard. Either news travelled far more swiftly than the king had anticipated, or Asuhas and Anglhan had been keeping an eye or ear out for the return of the king. "It makes no sense for him to go back into Salphoria, so it has to be hotwards. I can't think that he'd return to near-Mekha, so what else is down that way?"
"He has an old villa, at Menesun on Lake Temerin," said Asuhas. "Why he would go there, I don't know; nothing but hills and goats and peasants."
"Exactly," said Anglhan, slapping a hand to a wobbling thigh. "If you wanted to lie low, where would be better?"
"So, are we going to tell Leraates? That he's in Menesun, I mean. It's your responsibility really, not mine."
"I don't think Leraates needs to know just yet, does he?" said Anglhan. He chuckled as he clasped his hands to his belly. "Certainly from my position I have no desire to make myself dispensable. If I were you, I would think long and hard before saying anything."
"I see what you mean." The two had reached the furthest extent of the hall and turned back towards Gelthius and Muuril. The governor raised his voice. "You two, leave us."
"Aye, governor," said Gelthius, lifting his spear in salute. Muuril followed suit and the two of them tramped from the hall.
"We could go back in there and gut both of those traitorous cunts," snarled Muuril, stopping at the top of the stairway. "We'd be doing the king a favour and no mistake. Those treacherous sons of a pig's arse!"
"Not now, not yet," said Gelthius, ushering Muuril down the first few steps. "First priority is to tell the king what we heard. We'll let him decide."
Gongs and bells sounded the third hour of High Watch as the two men of the Thirteenth descended to the ground floor. They reached the main corridor where they had entered and almost walked straight into a group of ten blackcrests turning towards the stairwell.
"Where have you two been?" barked the sergeant. "Haven't you heard? We've got intruders."
Gelthius met the man's stare with eyes wide with surprise. The sergeant's eyes narrowed.
"Hold on," said the sergeant, reaching out with his shield to stop Gelthius as he tried to step past. "Do I know you?"
Muuril answered for Gelthius, ramming his black enamelled shield into the side of the sergeant's helmet. Gelthius was already sprinting into the corridor when the sergeant's unconscious body hit the ground with a clatter. He tossed aside his shield and spear and pumped his arms, darting a look back to see Muuril jabbing the butt of his spear into the throat of another blackcrest.
A shout of alarm echoed down the passageway as Muuril followed Gelthius, the
blackcrests only a few paces behind. Gelthius ran and ran, passing through archway after archway as he headed towards the main entrance of the palace. He ripped off his helmet and let it drop from his fingers as he skidded on a rug laid across the smooth floor. Muuril had caught up with him and the two almost fell down in a tangled heap, the sergeant hurdling Gelthius' skidding body at the last moment.
Barging through a door to their left, they burst into a small garden between the wing and the main palace. There were four legionnaires in the green-and-grey of the Twenty-first guarding an open gate on the far side of a pond. Gelthius and Muuril splashed through the water and reached the legionnaires, panting heavily.
"Fucking blackhead cunts want for us," gasped Muuril as he pushed between the bemused legionnaires. "Do the captain and me a favour, eh?"
Gelthius did not wait to hear agreement as he pushed on through the tunnelway beyond the gate. At the far end an archway led into the main palace and his sandals slapped on the marble of the grand foyer. He had never seen marble before he had gone to Magilnada, and when he had first set foot inside Asuhas' palace he had been astounded to see an entire greeting hall made out of green-veined stone. Now he didn't pay it a second look as he hurtled through the crowds of petitioners and functionaries milling between two curving sets of steps leading up to the main audience hall.
