Interregnum (49 page)

“You should be with your parents wherever they are. If we catch you out here again, you’ll get a beating. You hear me?”

The girl’s mouth stayed shut as she looked up at the other man, down at her broken toy, and then stamped as hard as she could on the guard’s foot. Rather than the heavy marching boots, the man was wearing dress shoes of soft leather and he let out a grunt of pain as the small boot crunched down on his toes. The guard reached down and grasped her wrist, hauling her up into the air by it with the audible click of a dislocating shoulder and slung her like a rag doll over his back.

Again Darius started forward and again the minister’s grip tightened. He glanced up at the old man, but as he did so the grip was released and Sarios strode out across the courtyard.

“Put my granddaughter down you evil brute!” he barked. Darius was surprised at the vicious quality of his voice and the power which such an old and frail man mustered as he marched forward. The guards both turned in surprise and one said something to the other that went unheard due to the screaming and wailing emanating from the young girl. The other lowered the girl to the floor again and turned to face the approaching minister.

“This is yours?” he asked, his jaw set and teeth gritted. As the minister drew up to his full height in front of the guard he nodded. The man growled. “Then you’d do well to keep her where she belongs. We’re not going to stand for that kind of thing. Give her a good beating and be grateful we’re not doing the same for you.”

As Sarios glowered at them and reached out to take the distraught girl’s elbow, the two guards marched off toward the Ibis Courtyard, muttering to each other.

Darius wandered over to where the minister was crouched with the girl and talking to her. “That was very brave of you, but don’t do it again. Now run along and find doctor Favio. Your shoulder will need dealing with.”

The girl sniffed and smiled weakly at the island’s leader before nodding and tottering off toward the nearest door, holding her arm. Darius sighed.

“Today is not going to be an easy day, minister.”

The old man nodded sadly and led them across the Great Courtyard and through a side door into the Peacock Palace. The place was generally considered off-limits now to the islanders, being the place the guard had chosen for their quarters. Following on the heels of the departing veterans, they had selected rooms solely on the top two floors. Down in the servants’ level things remained untouched and would do until the full search was made. Moreover, Darius thought, as they turned a corner and unlocked a door, it was the perfect place at the moment to hide anything, where the guards lived and the islanders were not allowed.

The door opened with only a faint creak and the two of them stepped back as Athas stepped forward into the light with his blade poised. As he recognised them, he smiled and sheathed the weapon.

“We thought you weren’t coming. It’s been hours.”

Sarios nodded. “The commander’s only just left and the guard felt the need to exercise their cruelty muscle a couple of times before we were left alone.” He cleared his throat and stepped back out of the way. “And now we have to get moving. They’ll be searching the island before lunchtime and I’m sure they’ll be very thorough.”

Athas nodded and stepped out into the corridor. Behind him, Brendan and Marco helped general Caerdin out of the cramped dark corridor, followed by the rest of the rebels. The minister smiled and walked back to the corner of the corridor. “Follow me; quietly and quickly.”

With Athas and the rebels behind, Darius followed the minister through a number of corridors that he half recognised from childhood exploration of the palaces’ more obscure regions. Part way along, as they descended into areas where the light wells no longer shone, the minister stopped and collected four small terracotta oil lamps from a shelf, lighting one and giving the others to Athas. Finally they arrived in an old chapel that had serviced the slave community that once worked in the kitchens and washrooms of the building. The place had remained largely untouched for decades and cobwebs and dust filled the place, giving it an ancient, undisturbed feel. Images of the divine triad decked a small stone altar at the far end and the two statues of the temple guardians flanked the entrance. In the centre of the room were a number of low wooden benches, some of which were rotten beyond help and all covered with years of grime. Along the walls on either side stood tall wooden screens bearing images of divine tales, most of which were cracked, peeled and faded beyond recognition.

It is to one such screen that Sarios turned. With a gesture to Athas, he stepped to one side of it and began to heave the heavy oak screen away from the wall. The burly black warrior stepped up to the other side and easily edged the thing away from the stonework. Twice the wooden edifice almost fell over or broke where the woodworm had been at work, but with half a minute’s work, the heavy item stood two feet out from the wall. Behind, a door stood, dusty and rusted and very much hidden. Reaching into a pocket, the minister withdrew a small ring of keys and selected one.

The door creaked open and an eye-watering smell of musty air and ammonia washed out into the chapel. With a nod toward the minister, Athas removed a small oil lamp from his pack and lit it. The flickering light joined the minister’s in illuminating the room before he turned and held the light in the entrance to the passageway. The flame of the lamp took on a sickly yellow-green colour and gave the passage an eerie aspect.

“You’re staying here?” the big man enquired.

The minister nodded. “With Darius’ help I’ll get the screen back and cover the tracks. You know where you’re going, yes?”

“To the end and turn right” the sergeant repeated from memory, counting off on his fingers. “Follow the main sewer tunnel downhill all the way except where there’s a small collecting tank, where we take a left-hand fork slightly uphill and then back down. When we reach the small round room that’s a dead end, look for iron rungs in the wall around five feet up. Climb them and move the wooden cover and we’ll be out near the shore.”

“And then?”

Brendan leaned over from where he supported Kiva and grinned. “I’ll take ‘em from there ter where we sat yesterday. We’ll meet yer there.”

The minister nodded. “Once things are in place and we’re ready to make a move, I’ll send Darius here to find you. You have the rest planned?”

This time Kiva hauled himself with a grunt and a great deal of pain from Brendan’s shoulder and growled. “I’ve planned it all for them. Who goes where and when. Just wish I could be involved, but I’m not even any use with a bow. Guess I’ll just be sitting by the shore waiting for everyone.”

Marco patted the general on the back gently. “You need to rest sir. You’re going to need to be on fighting form soon enough.”

Caerdin nodded impatiently and sighed as Athas took a last deep breath of good, clean air and stepped into the passageway. Darius and the minister watched nervously as Athas lit the other two lamps and handed them out and then disappeared down the tunnel. Behind him, Brendan and Marco helped Kiva into the reeking passage, followed by Prince Ashar and his six men and finally Tythias, his arm around the young lady Sathina, tied a scarf around her lower face and entered with Jorun bringing up the rear. As the group gradually faded from sight, only the echoes of their footsteps coming back up to the chapel, Darius frowned.

“There don’t seem to be as many as I remember.”

The minister smiled. “We do have the two doctors still in the palace, masquerading as two of the missing islanders, remember.”

“Yes,” Darius nodded, “I know, but I’m sure there were more Pelasians.”

“Prince Ashar assured me he would deal with his men, so I assume they are secured away somewhere. Whatever the case, we’ve done what we can now. Help me get this screen back, then we must fan the dust around so that it settles again.”

The sun burned down from on high in the Great Courtyard. The entire population of the island stood in ordered rows, lined up for inspection by the uncaring guards who surrounded the entire square. There were forty or so guards here, the rest preparing their quarters or in position on the walls or various vantage points.

“Cristus?” yelled out a guard and, as a hand shot up among the crowd, he ticked the name dutifully of the list.

“Savic?”

Another hand raised and another name ticked off. With a squaring of his shoulders, the guard slapped the list down on the table beside him and the sergeant leaned over to examine it.

“Four!” he growled and then, turning to the gathered islanders, he raised his voice.

“Four prisoners unaccounted for. That’s not good enough.”

He strode forward with two of the guard at his shoulders and pointed at a random man in the front row. The guards dragged him out of the line into the open space and then dropped him to the floor. He was not a young man but far from feeble, a farmer with some muscle. He floundered on the floor for only a moment before he made to stand. The guard kicked him heavily in the gut and he fell back to the grass with a groan. The sergeant leaned over him.

“Where are these four prisoners?” he asked quietly.

The farmer shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Straightening, the sergeant nodded once at the two guards, who proceeded to pulverise the poor man with repeated kicks to the head and torso. After a solid minute they stopped. Darius strained from his position in the fourth row to see, but the man was still breathing, though unconscious. He was battered beyond recognition and Darius found his hate for the sergeant growing ever stronger, aware that this ‘lesson’ was having the same effect on everyone else. The sergeant was trying to make them fear the guard, but his actions were merely fostering hate and desire for vengeance.

The two guardsmen stepped away from their prone victim and the sergeant moved forward again.

“Where are the missing four?”

Silence greeted him and he glowered at the crowd.

“Very well, I will assume that these four islanders are hiding of their own accord. They will present themselves at the roll-call in the morning and will be duly punished. If they do
not
present themselves tomorrow I, personally, will break all their knees to make sure they cannot hide again. You would do well to pass this on to them when you see them and to remember it yourselves.”

He stepped back behind the table and cleared his throat.

“Very well, one by one approach the table from your lines and give your details for duties to the guard. Anyone under the age of ten need not approach; nor should anyone over the age of sixty. Those of you who fall into these categories will be restricted to the Ibis Courtyard, the Great Courtyard and the various buildings directly surrounding them. In due course, a perimeter will be set up around the set areas to prevent straying, but I’ll have to rely on everyone’s good sense in the meantime.”

As the lines filed slowly past the table, with the old and the young being directed to one side under the watchful eyes of the guard, Darius sighed. It was a damned good job they
were
going tonight. If he’d had to go through another day of this, either he or the sergeant would be dead. Perhaps the brute was trying to find fault wherever he could because he’d failed to find the quantity of contraband that he’d expected. If he’d seen the contents of the olive grower’s shed, he would have had apoplexy. For a moment a smile crept across Darius’ face, but he quickly forced it back down. To be seen smiling at a time like this would be to attract unwanted attention. Ahead of him in the queue he watched Mercurias, the Wolves’ medic giving a false name and his career as cook. The guard didn’t even blink at him and the grizzled soldier went on in the line to stand where he was told. Five minutes later, as he himself was closing on the desk, Darius watched the Pelasian doctor, whose name escaped him, giving another false name and the title of kitchen skivvy. Again they barely noticed the unusually dark man. A prisoner who worked in the lowly places was all but invisible to these people but then that was exactly what they’d wanted. Finally Darius himself stepped up. He’d no job but a short conversation with both Sarios and Athas last night had left him classified as a smith. Athas had told him a few of the most basic principals in case he was quizzed but, watching the way the guards were dealing with people, he doubted they would care enough to enquire. Sure enough, as his name was ticked off once more, and ‘smith’ written beside it, he was shuffled off to join the others. He couldn’t help feeling this was all too easy.