Dark Legion (11 page)

 

When I woke, it was to the sound of waves lapping against a sandy beach and a cool freshwater breeze. Not the torture chamber then, not Castralavi, and certainly no lions. When I opened my eyes, I found the room still dark. I sometimes wished that I could sleep in, especially after a busy night. But, my body would have none of that, so I lay in bed with my eyes closed, enjoying the comfort of a good bed and a life to call my own. Such simple things, but they made all the difference. I could not help but smile to myself.

I heard a rattling at the door, and lifted my head to see. It was still too dark to make out any detail in the room, even for me. I heard another rattle, and saw the door slowly swinging open. A faint light shone into the room from further down, and I saw a hooded figure in a dark robe sneaking in. It looked like it was carrying something with care. The figure took another step, and I could make out that the robe was… red. Dark Legion! I sat up, backed into the corner and screamed.

“Gods!” the man screamed in return, dropping the object he was carrying. It shattered on the floor.

I was breathing heavily, and looked for a weapon.

“Calm down Saul. By the Gods, if I shat in this robe, you're cleaning it,” Marcus said. “What in the names of the Gods is wrong with you?” He walked to a small table by the door and lit a lamp.

He was wearing an embroidered red robe. It might have been a lady's. I leaned my head against the wall, and breathed deeply to calm my nerves.

“You scared me half way around the hells,” I said. “A man sees someone in a red robe sneaking into his room…”

“Gods!”

A fist banged against the wall. “If you're gonna fuck each other, do it quietly!” Neysa yelled from the other side.

“You thought I was an Inquisitor?” Marcus whispered.

“I was half asleep,” I said, looking at the ground. The pieces of a coffee cup and its contents lay spilled across the floor.

“I was bringing you a coffee. We have a lot to plan today.”

“I'm sorry, that's nice of you,” I said. “Where in the hells did you get that robe?”

He shrugged. “I had a bath. There's a whole pile of them in there.”

“Well, it's very pretty,” I said. “We do have a lot of planning to do. And all good plans start with coffee. Let me make you some in the Ubraian fashion.” I sat up, and saw the kid lying in the corner, mostly hidden. I pointed at him.

Marcus turned, then screamed. Neysa banged on our wall again.

“Calm down, man,” I said. Marcus sat down on his bed, then looked at me for an explanation. “It's that slave kid. The one the princess —”

“I can see that,” Marcus said. He looked at me for a long moment. “And what are you going to do with him?”

“Haven't a clue,” I said. “I couldn't just leave him there.”

Marcus nodded. “When did you do this anyway?”

“Last night while you slept.”

“You went out just to get the boy?” Marcus asked.

“I needed to get out for a bit,” I lied. I did not want to tell Marcus about the centurion. I knew he would take it badly. I got up, pulled on a shirt, and then walked to the boy. I gently shook him, but the boy only moaned. Holding a hand to his forehead, I felt his skin cool to the touch. I retrieved the smelling salts contained in a small bag from my satchel.

“What's that?” Marcus asked.

“An aromatic spirit of ammonia,” I said. Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Smelling salts.” I held it close to the boy's nose. His breathing quickened, and he started to move. His eyes opened a crack, no more. They were still swollen, but from what I could see through the slit in the bandages, it looked as though the swelling was subsiding. The boy's eyes settled on me. His body jerked, and he went to scream. I gently laid a hand over his mouth, and shushed him. When the boy calmed down somewhat, I pulled the bandage covering his mouth down. I spoke to him in Ubraian, but the boy did not respond. I sighed.

“Are you okay?” I asked again, this time in common.

“Who are you?” The boy rasped.

“My name is Saul, and this is Marcus.”

“Where am I?”

“In our room. In Sagemont. I brought you here, you were lying in the street. The princess did something to you when you tried to escape.”

“Why?” The boy asked.

“Because you tried to escape?” I said.

“Why did you save me? You should have left me to die. It's what I wanted.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Did you? Or did you want to be free of that life?”

“Same thing,” the boy said.

“Not at all.”

“What life is there for me?” The boy asked. “You don't understand, I am a slave. I have no life.”

I bent over the kid, and pointed at the scar on my forehead. “Look carefully?”

The boy peered through the crack of his eyes, his brow rising in recognition. “You cut your brand…”

“I did,” I said. “I didn't do a particularly good job of it, but it is what it is. What's your name?”

The boy slowly shook his head. “I am nameless.” When you were taken as a slave, you were stripped of your name. Of the core of your being.

“What were you called before you were taken as a slave?” I asked.

“I have always been a slave,” the boy said. “I was born a slave. My mother lived in Prylea when she was taken. I do not know who my father was.”

I shook my head. “Well, how about you choose a name for yourself?”

“I only know slave names,” the boy said. “Worm, maggot, shit. Or that of slavers. Can you give me one? One with honor and strength?”

I thought on it a moment. “How about Kaleb?”

The boy thought it over. “Not one I know, where did it come from?”

“It was my father's name,” I said. “He was king of Ubrain.”

“Your father was the king?” The boy asked. “Then you are…”

“I
was
a prince,” I said.

The room was filled with silence for a long minute, everyone thinking to themselves. “Kaleb… I could be Kaleb,” the boy said. I found myself smiling. “Where would I go?” the kid, now Kaleb asked.

“Once you recover, you can go to the Great Oasis at the north of Ubrain. I don't suppose you know where it is?” Kaleb shook his head. “Well, the locals could point you there I am sure. I freed some slaves yesterday, that is where they will go. You should join with them.”

Kaleb thought it through, and it looked as though he came to a decision. He looked at Marcus. “Why is he wearing a dress?” Kaleb asked.

I smiled and looked over my shoulder at Marcus.

 

We left Kaleb to recover and made our way downstairs to raid Elijah's kitchen. I soon had coffee boiling on the fireplace stove in the common room. “It should be another hour or two before the guests start stirring,” I said.

“Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines. So… this Ubraian coffee of yours, you made it sound more sophisticated than boiling a cart load of coffee and sugar together. I didn't see any go in, but there might even be half a cup of water in that mix. Revolutionary. You might need a shovel to get that mixture out though.”

“You wait my friend,” I said. “We'll see what you say when your hair stands on end, and your eyes open wide. This is the stuff ideas are made of.” As it came to a boil, I moved the pot to the side, and stirred gently to keep the mixture from burning. I had fond memories of my family drinking coffee together in the morning. Mother made fantastic coffee, and I wished she was still alive to taste the quality of what I was using.

I used a ladle to fill two small cups with the strong coffee, and we sat down facing each other. “So… ideas,” I said, blowing into my cup. “How do we break into that warehouse?”

“Can I assume that we are working on a plan that doesn't involve killing everyone in our way?” Marcus asked.

“Yep, that's the plan,” I said.

“Good,” Marcus said taking a sip. “Wow… that's some potent stuff. I see now why you need all the sugar.”

I took a sip, burning my tongue. I did a good job with the coffee, but Mother was better. “Maybe we can dress up as legionnaires. Just walk in the door,” I said jokingly .

“I like the simplicity of that plan,” Marcus said with a smile. “And in a bigger town, that might even work. But in this tiny place, I bet everyone knows each other.”

Silence stretched for a while, the fireplace ticking.

“Well, I've got nothing,” Marcus said, finishing his cup. He pushed his finger into the coffee grains at the bottom of his cup, and drew spiral shapes as he thought. He laughed, “I just remembered something from my youth,” he said. He removed his finger from the cup, and rubbed the coffee grit between his finger and thumb. “The king had a delegation staying at the palace once. I can't recall where from, but one of the southern islands off the coast of Durrim. Now, the king had a lot of people coming and going from the palace, and I rarely paid any attention to them. One of these fellows, though, he was dumb enough to bring his daughter along. I was in love with the girl as soon as I saw her. Maybe not love, but definitely lust. Anyway, this girl had a fascination with reading tea leaves. Also did coffee grains, though I don't suppose there is much of a difference. Got right insulted if you didn't let her read your cup. She even taught me how. She taught me a lot of things, that girl. Reading tea leaves was probably the most boring of the lot. Want me to tell you what she showed me? You won't believe how many fans I have made using those tricks,” he said with a wicked grin.

“No, thanks. It's quite all right,” I said.

“Suit yourself. She was my first, but I definitely wasn't hers.”

“That's nice,” I said, finishing my coffee. “Want to read my cup?”

“Seriously? You do know it's a bunch of nonsense, right?” I nodded but handed over the cup. “Okay, then. It's been a long time.” He turned himself so that the cup faced toward me. “Let's see then,” he said peering in. “Well, that's not very good. I see a raven, which represents failure, disappointment, and death. Let's try finding something better.” He rotated the cup in his hand, peering into it. “I see… a horn. No, two… three horns. What was that again?”

“I am guessing nothing uplifting,” I said dryly.

“I think you're right, I believe a horn symbolizes that you have a powerful enemy. This coffee has it in for you, Saul. Tell you what, press your thumb into the grains and rotate it clockwise three times,” Marcus said, handing back the cup.

I frowned at Marcus, but took the cup, pressed my thumb into the cooling grains, and rotated the cup three times. I removed my thumb and looked for a cloth to wipe it on. Not finding one, I handed the cup over and sat with my thumb sticking out, black with coffee.

Marcus smiled at me. “Alright, let's see. Okay, now we are talking. I see a wagon's wheel, symbolizing good fortune. I also see a jackal, or a fox, meaning trickery. I'll take that as a positive.” He turned the cup, shaking it. “I see a dress. Or a cloak, something like that. Don't know if that has a meaning, but let's say you'll look pretty to all the boys. There you go, a good reading,” Marcus said, handing the cup back. “I should do some readings in the market,” he said, laughing. “Just ignore all the bad stuff. People don't like paying for that.”

I shook my head and got up to get another cup of coffee. As I poured, an idea occurred to me. I looked over my shoulder and said, “Actually, that reading of yours might be of some—ouch!” I put my overflowing cup down and shook my hand. I leaned over to take a sip from the cup, picked it up, and sat back down. “The second reading, of course. The first one was clearly nonsense.” I leaned back in my chair, looking at the ceiling. It was funny how things just clicked into place sometimes. I looked at Marcus, and smiled. “I think it might just work. We'll need some wheels, preferably attached to a coach, and we'll need someone to drive it. That's the tricky part.”

 

Back in our room, I went through my morning ritual of consuming lethal doses of poison. It had scared the hells out of Marcus the first time he'd seen me do so. I'd explained that I was immune to most poisons and that I only kept that immunity by consuming them each day. Or each week at the very least. It was a habit instilled by the assassin's guild, the Sons of Svyn, who had taught me the ways of poison. Too many poisoners died by their own poisons. I would not be one of them.

We had a tremendous breakfast, and I took some food up to our room for Kaleb. He ate a lot, even for a teenage kid. Considering the food he would have had up to that point, I should not have been surprised.

After breakfast, we left the Shady Oak to look for a potential driver. I was not particularly optimistic about finding the right type of person, though—someone who would keep their mouth shut about what was to happen that night. If all else failed, I did have my naming to fall back on. There was a possibility that I could shut their mouths that way. It was very much an “if all else fails” scenario though, as I had no confidence in my ability. That, and I hated putting people under my power.