Interregnum (9 page)

Quintillian’s voice dropped to the same level.

“Kiva Tregaron, Captain of the Grey Company” he said. “Kiva Caerdin, General of the Empire and Commander of the Wolves. It’s not a great leap to work it out. It may be all nice and good and sentimental for you all to carry your old regimental flasks, but it really is a gaping hole in any kind of cover you’re all trying to achieve.”

Mercurias frowned and slugged down a little of the spirit before he spoke.

“Ok. You’re bright. I knew that. Question is: how bright are you? Time for you to tell me what
you
know about
us
.”

 
“Not all that much” Quintillian shrugged. “I know that he
is
the General. No one could make that mistake given the evidence. You’re all so tight-lipped about it, I can only assume that what constitutes the grey company are, in fact, the members of the Wolves from before the fall, you included, yes?”

“Not all of us,” the medic conceded, “but most, yes.”

Quintillian nodded.

“The rest of what I have is questions.”

The medic frowned.

“Alright” he said, taking a deep breath. “I have just one question for you and I want you to answer it truthfully. There are dozens of ways to tell if a man’s lying and I know a lot of them.”

He glared at Quintillian until the boy nodded, hovering between nervousness and excitement. At the nod, Mercurias leaned forward and spoke in a low voice.

“Why us? Were you actually looking for us?”

The boy shook his head.

“I know it seems odd,” he said, “but I assure you it’s entirely coincidental. I’m just grateful to get the chance to travel with heroes; legends even. That’s worth a hundred corona alone. I’ve read about the Wolves since I was first able to pick up a book.”

Mercurias narrowed his eyes and his voice dropped even lower, barely audible among the sounds of the bar.

“One more thing then” he murmured. “You
do
know about your family, don’t you? You’re too clever not to have made the connection, even if no one’s ever told you. Your books would tell you. And the Captain tells me that your head-man on the island’s a priest called Sarios. I’m assuming that’s Minister Sarios. In the old days, he controlled all varieties of medical practice in the Empire. Hell, I took my oath in front of the man!”

Quintillian smiled.

“Yes” he replied, “but as the ‘captain’ keeps telling me, such connections are things best kept secret. Until I know more about him, he need not know more about me. I think that’s fair.”

Mercurias opened his mouth to rebuke the lad, but whatever he said went unheard as a loud voice from the other side of the bar cut through the general hubbub.

“I don’t like darkies!”

The medic’s head whipped round and he half rose from his seat. Quintillian craned his neck to see past the older man. A large brute with a shaved scalp and dark leather armour all but eclipsed the door to the street. He looked angry. Craning the other way, the lad could see Athas standing by the bar close to Kiva. He didn’t even glance elsewhere to find the ‘darkie’. It occurred to Quintillian that black-skinned warriors weren’t all that common these days and were still considered ‘exotic’ and yet he’d barely registered the colour of the sergeant’s skin. Perhaps his standing as a sergeant of the Wolves had overshadowed his mere physical presence. Athas stood away from the bar. In the fluid motion of a natural tide, the occupants of the main room drifted to the periphery, leaving a clear passage between the sergeant and the new arrival.

Athas folded his arms and glared at the man in the doorway.

“I don’t like mindless assholes,” he replied evenly, “but I notice they let
them
in here.”

The medic sat back down and turned, fleetingly, to look at the lad.

“This should be good.”

Kiva hadn’t moved from the bar; merely took a calm drink and smiled a frightening smile.

The bulky visitor stepped inside the bar, away from the door lintel and unhooked a heavy mace from one side of his waist and a long-bladed sword from the other. Behind him several other men entered, but stood by the doorway. Quintillian tapped the medic on the shoulder.

“If there’s going to be trouble, shouldn’t we be ready?” he asked.

Mercurias shrugged.

“Trouble?”

The second man to enter was a great deal smaller than the first. He wore armour very similar to the Kiva’s and a bear skin over his shoulders. One of his eyes was permanently closed by the scar of an old blade wound. The man grinned and Quintillian shivered at the sight. ‘Bear skin’ stepped forward a pace and spoke to his bulky friend loud enough to be heard across the bar.

“Jorun, I don’t think you want to mess with this ‘darkie’!”

His words went unheeded as the large man continued forward, his two weapons ready and swinging as he moved. Athas stood still, arms remaining folded. Quintillian tugged on the medic’s arm.

“This isn’t good” he said urgently. “Why isn’t the captain helping?”

Mercurias grinned back at him.

“He doesn’t need any help. Can’t you see that?”

The large man finally broke his slow advance and ran at Athas, the mace high and ready to drop and the sword jutting forwards at chest height. Athas continued to stand until the last moment, when he shifted his weight slightly to the left, stepped forward inside the reach of the blade and, unfolding his arms, jammed the fork he’d been holding into the man’s throat. The momentum carried the two forward a couple more paces, the fork tearing skin as the movement jarred them both. As they stopped, the big man stared down in shock and the weapons toppled from his hands. He reached both arms toward Athas, who merely waggled the fork, still buried in the man’s neck. His other finger waved in front of the enemy as though scolding a naughty child.

“Ah Ah. Play nice” he said sweetly.

The big man’s hands dropped slowly to his sides. Athas smiled at him.

“I’m now going to remove the fork” he said slowly and clearly. “You’re going to have to reach up very quickly and grasp your throat to prevent too much blood loss. After that you’re going to leave. We have a medic in the corner, but I doubt he’ll feel inclined to help you.”

Mercurias laughed as Athas continued. “I noticed an apothecary on the way into town. If you can get there without too much blood loss, you’ll be alright, but it’ll cost you a packet and you may never speak again, coz I think I touched your voice box. Be happy. I could have stuck your windpipe. Ready?”

The big man, a stunned and stupefied look on his face, nodded, causing him to wince as a fresh gout of blood pumped out around the fork.

“Go!”

Athas removed the utensil with a bold, sweeping stroke and a great quantity of dark blood splashed onto the floor. A fraction of a second later, Jorun was out of the tavern, one hand clutching his throat very tight. The sergeant bent down and gingerly, trying to avoid the bulk of the blood, picked the two weapons up from where they lay. He tossed the mace onto the bar.

“Sell it to pay for the cleaning” he said loudly.

As Mercurias continued to grin and Quintillian sat dumbfounded, the sergeant stepped to their table and placed the sword on it.

“Clean it up lad” he said. “It’s reasonable quality and it’ll do you better than the two knives.”

The other men by the door hadn’t moved except to step inside. Now Athas turned to them. Quintillian gritted his teeth waiting and watched with bated breath as the large sergeant reached the group. Athas stopped in front of ‘bear skin’.

“Captain Tythias” he smiled. “It’s been just far too long.”

He reached out a hand and the scarred warrior took it warmly.

“Athas?” he replied. “Nice fork. Yours, or just handy at the time?”

The entire band of warriors now entered the bar and Quintillian realised he hadn’t released his breath for too long. As he gratefully exhaled, he looked up in wonder. He was remarkably surprised to find someone that didn’t actually want to kill them all. The group wandered around the bar and settled themselves among the men of the Grey Company who were already here. Captain Tythias reached the bar and leaned next to Captain Tregaron.

“Kiva” he greeted the leader of the Grey Company warmly. “Sorry about that. Should hire soldiers not gorillas, I suppose. Still, he’ll not do that again and at least he’ll shut up now.”

Kiva smiled a rare genuine smile.

“Tythias” he replied equally warmly. “Nice to see you. Thought you were out east somewhere.”

The scarred captain nodded.

“We were,” he said “but the only lords with enough power and cash to pay my extortionate rates are round the gulf here, so we came back. I was actually on my way to see Lord Bergama. I gather he’s in need of good men and he’s one of the least dislikeable employers at the moment.”

Kiva scowled.

“Was” he spat. “
Was
one of them. We’ve just left his lands and I think we were the only ones who did. Lord Celio’s in residence now and he
is
a bastard. Bergama’s probably been broken in the streets by now. Shame you weren’t here a couple of days ago. The Grey Company and the Lion Riders would have stood a better chance together. It’s been a long time since we’ve worked in concert.”

Tythias slammed his fist on the bar.

“Damn!” he cursed. “Who the hell else is going to be willing to pay us? I’m not working for that vomit-bag Celio and the only others worth joining are halfway round the gulf or more. Don’t forget, I charge more than you.”

Kiva shrugged.

“Depends whether you’re picky” he replied. “Velutio’s hiring and he pays best of all. I know he hates me, but I’m not aware of anything he’s got against you.”

Tythias made a ‘so-so’ motion with his hand.

“I’m not entirely sure I want to be ‘enslaved’ to that man, but I suppose we could sign a short contract and then move on. Where are you headed next?”

Once more Kiva shrugged.

“Think we might go north and see how much the tribes are paying for training. We could do with a little time off and I’ve got a new recruit to train too.”

Kiva pointed at Quintillian and he and Tythias crossed the bar, drinks in hand, and approached the table where Mercurias and the boy were sitting in silence, cleaning the blood off the fine new blade with a bar cloth.

“You know Mercurias of course” Kiva smiled.

Tythias grinned and rolled his good eye.

“Dear Gods yes” he said as he leaned forward. “How are you, you miserable excuse for a human being?”

Mercurias returned the smile.

“Not too bad you smelly, hairy old goat!” the medic replied.

Tythias then turned to the table’s other occupant.

“And this is?”

Kiva gestured expansively at the lad.

“This is our newest recruit” he announced loudly enough for all around to hear. “Septimus. He’s a bit of a bookworm, but good with a bow.”

Tythias laughed.

“As if you’d know” he snorted. “You missed me last year at Parthis and I was standing perfectly still and not far away from you! What the hell are you doing here, lad? No offence of course.”

Quintillian forced a smile. If the captain were going to the extent of giving him a pseudonym, he’d have to come up with a half-decent story.