Interregnum (50 page)

“The secret,” the Pelasian doctor murmured, “is to get the proportions exactly correct. Too little and we merely spice their meal. Too much and they will all be dead within two hours.”

Mercurias, busy taking the kernels out of a large basket of peaches, looked up speculatively at minister Sarios, standing at the other side of the table. “I presume you still want us to merely drug them?”

Sarios nodded. “I do not like poison on principle, but if it can be used correctly to merely incapacitate, then we must do it.”

Favio, the third doctor in the room, leaned over from his place with a heavy-headed mallet where he was crushing the kernels into rubble. “Minister, there are any number of fascinating drugs we could use that would work with a great deal more control than cyanide, but we don’t have an awful lot of time and there are not many sources on the island. Cyanide is the only really feasible option. After all, there are orchards all over the island and so many peaches in storage we could probably poison the entire population of the city if we so wished.”

He scooped up the latest pile of peach rubble and, dropping it in a bowl, passed it to the Pelasian, who Darius had since discovered was named Ahmesh. Ahmesh dropped the contents into a large bowl of strong shrimp and onion broth the cooks had been making for an hour, and stirred it thoroughly.

“I would say another ten kernels and ten more minutes of warming through and then we can strain the pieces out along with the remains of the onions.” He looked up at the minister. “I
am
hoping we’ve judged this correctly, minister, but even in my deepest, darkest days of creating cyanide compounds for my Prince, I have never tried to create a cyanide-based sleeping draught for over a hundred men. The quantities to be used are simply too unpredictable.
No-one
has ever tried such a thing, you understand.”

The minister once more looked sceptical and unhappy, but Darius leaned across from his position near the door and said quietly “if the quantities are wrong we can pay for it in the next life, minister. These men don’t deserve your sympathy or care and you know it.”

Sarios glanced back at his young friend. Since the attack on the girl this morning, Darius had become gradually bleaker and darker throughout the day and right at this moment, the minister had never seen him display more of a similarity to his father. Darius, for all his upbringing here, was a Caerdin through and through and the way he’d just spoken had clinched it. The young man had never spoken to Sarios like that. Never on a level like that. The minister began to wonder if involving Darius in today’s events would perhaps irreparably damage the young man’s soul.

“Just do your best gentlemen. When will it be ready?”

Favio looked across at the head cook, who nodded.

“Twenty minutes should be enough. Dinner will be ready right on time and should be nice and spicy.”

The minister turned again to Darius. “You’d best go and get the Wolves into position now.”

The young man nodded and turned to pull on the door handle just as it opened and he was almost crushed up against the wall by the heavy oak of the door. A guardsman in full kit with his helm under his arm burst in onto the raised platform around the edge of the kitchens. He glared down at the various people working and recognised the minister.

“You! You’re not busy and I’m just going on duty so I won’t get dinner. Make me something quick!”

The minister looked up at the guard in confusion and then his eyes widened as Darius pushed hard and sharp against the door. The heavy oak swung back on its hinge and this time slammed hard into the angry guardsman’s shoulder, hurling him from the raised platform and down onto a table covered in condiments. The guard floundered around in shock but before he could pull himself together, Darius was on him, jumping from the higher level and landing on top of the guard with his knees. There was an audible crunch as at least one rib broke and Darius rolled off with the momentum and onto the floor before springing lightly back to his feet.

The guard groaned in pain but was tougher than Darius had given him credit for. He hauled himself off the table and reached down, twitching at the pain in his ribs, to draw his sword from the sheath. A low growl escaped from the young man’s throat as he reached across to another table and withdrew a serrated knife from a block of wood.

“You can’t treat people like this you piece of shit!” he snapped as he stepped forward. He was vaguely aware of cooks rushing to either help or hinder him and the minister shouting at him to stop but, ignoring all the other commotion, he reached out and grasped the guard’s wrist, jamming the blade back into its scabbard. The guard’s eyes widened as the tip of the serrated knife brushed his broken ribs. He was a guard, not a combat veteran and here was a young boy with exceptional strength threatening his life. He fought his incredulity and tried to free his hand and sword.

“You people are like parasites” Darius continued, firmly holding the sword down. “You just take and don’t care. Sabian was right about you. Not one of you is fit to clean out his piss pot!”

The guardsman struggled again and opened his mouth to speak but, as he did, Darius drove the blade deep between his ribs and into his organs. The man was dead before the second blow. By the fifth and sixth he flopped around against the table, fountaining blood from the many wounds as Darius took out his hatred of the guards on one unlucky man. He was still carving the man when Mercurias and Favio pulled him off and the knife dropped.

The grizzled medic looked at the minister as he picked up the viscera-covered knife and Favio supported the now-glazed Darius. “Better tend to dinner. It looks like we’ve begun.”

Chapter XXIII.
           

Darius stopped at the entrance to the small clearing, his hands dropping to his knees as he leaned over and fought for breath. The group of rebels among the tangled roots gathered up their weapons and Kiva stepped unsteadily forward, his face weighed down with concern. The young man looked exhausted but that was to be expected; he’d run from the palace most of the way across the island, ducking in and out of shadows wherever he passed close to a patrol route or guard post. What the general hadn’t been expecting was the blood. Darius’ arms were stained to the elbows with almost dry blood, giving the impression that he wore red gloves or gauntlets. Equally, there were stains all over his chest and face. Clearly something unexpected had already occurred.

“What the hell happened to you?”

Catching his breath, the young man straightened. “I evened the odds by one. They’re already serving dinner. Time you all got into position, yes?”

Kiva stared at him again for a long moment and then nodded gently. “They all know where they’re going. Are you staying with me or going back to help the minister?”

Darius laughed. “No. I’m going to find that sergeant and cut him into pieces you could slide under a door.”

Kiva looked long and hard at the lad, tempted to order him to stand down or at least to argue with him, but there was a touch of hysteria about that laugh and nothing the general said right now would change his mind.

“Ok” Kiva agreed. “Your sword’s in the pile over by that big rock. You’ll need it.”

As the lad ran off toward the makeshift armoury, the general hobbled over to Athas. The burly sergeant patted his sword belt in satisfaction and looked across at his commander.

“Yes sir?”

“Keep an eye on that boy. He’s got murder in his eyes and I don’t think he much cares about anything else right now. Tythias can do your part and his together; he can handle it. You go with Darius and find this sergeant he hates so much, ok?”

Athas nodded and, with a quick glance over to the pile where the lad was untangling his sword belt, squared his shoulders. “Won’t their sergeant be in the dining hall with the rest?”

Kiva shook his head slightly. “I doubt it. He seems like a bit of a megalomaniac. If I had to suggest a place to look, it would be the old Imperial apartment on the top floor of the Peacock Palace. It’s luxurious and recently renovated and I would imagine he’s revelling in the power of command right now.”

Athas nodded and turned to watch Darius wandering back towards him with a curved, northern sword slung at his side. Everyone else was now armed and ready and the group came to a halt before the general. The only figure that strayed from the small unit was Sathina who gave Tythias one quick hug and then trotted around the edge to join the general. She and Kiva would be the only two to remain by the shore tonight, though one of the Pelasians had given her a small hand-held crossbow and three bolts as a last defence in case things went wrong and they needed it. Kiva smiled at the gathering.

“You all know where you’re going. Now go and be lucky.”

As the group filed out of the clearing and started to jog quietly across the turf, Kiva caught Tythias by the elbow as he moved. “Change of plan: Athas is looking after Darius, so you get to cover everything on the western side from the Water Gate to the Gorgon Gate. If you get to the Gorgon Gate and Jorun and Brendan haven’t got there yet, you’ll have to start picking anyone off from the high place until the others arrive, ok?”

Tythias frowned. “I thought we were giving them the chance to surrender?”

“They outnumber us at least eight or nine to one at the moment. I’d rather they died meaninglessly than we risked everything. Understand?”

With a simple nod, Tythias passed the general and disappeared off into the night. Sathina looked down at the small crossbow in her hand and then up at Kiva. “Will they be alright?”

Caerdin shrugged lightly and groaned; the motion still hurt. “If it all goes as planned, we’ll all be fine. If not, then your guess is as good as mine. A lot of this relies on the doctors brewing something up that’ll even the odds. If they can take out all the guard that are off-duty, we’ll be in a much better position.”

They both turned to look up toward the walls and the Water Gate, where the last of several quiet, dark figures flitted across the moon-dappled landscape.

Tythias watched from behind the tree as the guard on the tower of the Water Gate finished urinating over the battlements and disappeared from sight once more. With a quick glance over to the other side of the gate, he smiled. A bush at roughly the same distance from the other flanking tower did very little to conceal the bulky shapes of Brendan and Jorun. Tythias knew full well why Caerdin had split the men as he had. The Pelasians and Marco would be able to move quietly among the buildings of the island, picking off individual guards without being detected. Athas, Brendan, Jorun and Tythias himself were not genetically designed for sneaking. They’d been split into two pairs and sent to the Water Gate. When the first signal came they were to take the gate, subduing the guards any way they could, then they would head off in different directions around the perimeter of the palaces, clearing the walls as they went and meeting up again at the Gorgon Gate, where they would have the best vantage position on the island.

Again he grinned. If it weren’t so important, he’d have laughed. Although it’d be inaudible up on the gate in the night breeze and with their crackling brazier, the low susurration of Jorun and Brendan arguing drifted across the grass to where Tythias stood. They were like children at times.

For a few moments more he watched them and then turned his attention to the trees behind them, down towards the water’s edge. There was something eerie about the island tonight. A stiff but warm breeze blew, making the torches on the walls gutter where they burned, and causing whispers among the trees and shrubs that filled the night with imagined conversation. He watched.

And then only a minute or so later, there was a single flash from the top of one of the trees. It could easily have been mistaken for the twinkle of a star or possibly even a distant night fisherman’s boat from the walls, but Tythias knew it for a signal. That would be his little Sathina with her lantern, high in a tree under the watchful eye of his ally and long friend general Caerdin. He smiled. Along time ago he’d served as a Prefect under Marshal Covis and had been on temporary assignment under Caerdin several times. It’d been said that when Avitus became old and moved into politics, Tythias was one of the names that would be considered as the next Marshal, but the Empire plunged into chaos too soon and that time never came. And here he was now, Kiva and he both Mercenary captains with more than two decades passed since they served together, but it was astounding how naturally it came trusting to the man’s leadership and taking orders from him. With a sigh of genuine satisfaction, he glanced over at the other two crouching in the bushes. They were so busy arguing they hadn’t seen the signal. With a grin Tythias picked up a small pebble and took aim.