The Black Stone (28 page)

The bearded labourer seemed to see the change in his expression. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

‘Lord, forgive me.’

Simo heaved the stone at the man, who had no choice but to try and catch it. He got both hands on it but overbalanced and fell backwards, the stone landing on both stomach and groin.

‘Sorry!’ Simo looked down the long drive that led to the villa. At the bottom was the main gate, which was open. He set off at a jog, sandals splashing through muddy puddles.

Indavara checked the satchel was secure then sprinted away from the staircase. He touched the planks of the scaffolding only once – a driving step that launched him high into the air and over the alley.

A rust-coloured roof flashed towards him.

He spread his arms and legs but the impact shattered dozens of tiles and drove the breath from his lungs. His boots landed just above the edge of the roof and he instantly began to slide. His left foot slipped off. He pressed down with his hands but both were stinging. His right foot dropped over the edge, then both knees.

He heard tiles smashing on the ground. Spying an exposed wooden beam, he gripped it with his left hand and held himself against the roof-edge with his right arm. Legs hanging, he sucked in some air then looked down – surely there wasn’t far to drop.

But whoever owned the house was clearly keen on security. The wall directly below was topped with triangles of glass.

Two young children – a boy and a girl – had stopped in front of the house and were standing there, watching him.

‘What are you doing?’ asked the boy.

‘Indavara!’

He twisted his head the other way and saw Simo trotting along the street. The Gaul raised both hands in desperation. ‘How did you …’

Simo then looked back the way he’d come. The three labourers weren’t far behind.

‘Here,’ said Indavara, slipping the satchel from his shoulder and flinging it into the street. ‘Take it. Get to the villa.’

Simo picked it up. ‘What about you?’

‘I’ll work something out. Just go!’

As Simo fled, Indavara looked down again at the wall. He might just be able to swing forward and land inside it, but that would risk catching his back or head on the vicious edges of the glass.

‘Well, well.’

The labourers had arrived.

‘Got yourself in a bit of a mess there, haven’t you, mate?’

The leader was carrying a length of wood which he threw at Indavara, catching him on the side. Indavara stifled a cry as it clattered to the ground.

‘What fun this is going to be!’

The next thing that struck Indavara was smaller and harder; the labourers were now using the broken tiles. Another one caught him between the shoulders. His left arm was going numb.

‘Ha. Simpler than catching fish from a barrel!’

The men came up to the wall to make their task even easier. The moment they did so, Indavara realised he had a chance. His landing had damaged several columns of tiles but the adjacent columns were intact. He reached over to his right and pulled away the lowest tile on the nearest one. The tiles above all slid after it and rained down on the labourers, one smashing on the leader’s head.

‘Ow! You sneaky arsehole!’

Zaara-Kitar returned with her other four sons. She twisted a strand of hair around a finger. ‘It’s funny what a sense of anticipation will do. I do want my money but now I find I’m almost hoping they don’t make it. Your friends are certainly cutting it fine.’

‘Where are they?’ wailed Ulixes.

Cassius shrugged helplessly.

The moneylender picked up the hourglass. ‘Oh. I’m afraid time’s up.’

‘What?’ cried Ulixes. ‘No.’

She held it up to show him. Kushara and another brother took one arm each and lifted him off the couch.

‘Just give them a little more time,’ he pleaded.

‘Sorry. An hour is an hour.’

‘Crispian, do something!’

‘Oh, he’ll do something,’ said Zaara-Kitar. ‘He’ll watch.’

With one eye on the dog, Cassius stood. ‘If you hurt him, I won’t pay.’

Again, she seemed amused. ‘What makes you think you’re in a strong bargaining position? Hurry, boys, I have that appointment.’

One of the other brothers went to stand by the door that led to the garden. Next to it was a long cane and a pail with a slab of stone across the top. Zaara-Kitar gestured to the dog handler, who passed the leash to one of the sons. The beast growled as Ulixes was dragged past.

‘Please, no. Please!’

Cassius looked out at the courtyard but there was no sign of Indavara or Simo. Surely the villa wasn’t that far from the inn. What were they doing?

‘Not this,’ begged Ulixes. ‘Please, not this.’

‘So you’ve heard of the garden, then?’ enquired Zaara-Kitar, still twirling her hair.

‘Everyone has.’

‘It pleases me to know such measures have an effect. Afterwards I’ll have the boys dump you near the dice dens. Word will spread quickly, I should imagine.’

Cassius’s thoughts had turned from his subordinates to his superior; how exactly would he explain allowing Ulixes to be killed an hour after meeting him?

‘All right, how much more?’ he asked. ‘How much more to keep him out of there?’

Zaara-Kitar came closer and looked up at him. ‘I suggest you stay quiet from now on, Master Crispian. This worm has escaped the consequences of his actions for long enough.’ She gave a nod.

In the middle of the door was a small window. The dog handler looked through it, then unbolted and opened the door. The brothers dragged Ulixes forward then shoved him into the garden. As the door was locked behind him, Ulixes turned and examined his surroundings.

‘Come,’ Zaara-Kitar told Cassius, walking over to a long, grilled window. ‘This should be rather entertaining.’

The handler reclaimed his dog and positioned himself close by as Cassius stood behind the moneylender and her sons.

The garden didn’t contain any trees or flowers. The square space was about twenty feet across, enclosed on all sides, with the door the only way in or out. In the middle was a smaller square – a shallow pit of sand, half of which was covered with low bushes. Cassius also noticed two water bowls.

‘We’ve used a few different animals over the years,’ said Zaara-Kitar, as if she were describing her choice of paint or rug. ‘Hyakinthos isn’t just a dog handler, he knows how to keep all manner of creatures. We’ve had scorpions, spiders, all sorts. But you know, Master Crispian – people really do hate snakes. Oh, there’s one now.’

The reptile’s rear half was hidden in a bush. It was thick in the body, its scales varying shades of brown and white. The rounded head came up off the ground and bobbed from side to side, thin black tongue licking the air.

‘Southern Arabian adder,’ continued Zaara-Kitar. ‘There are, what, six now? These were all born in captivity but Hyakinthos says they can’t really be tamed. He feeds them rats – just enough to keep them alive. They have no real reason to attack humans, yet they do. Hyakinthos says it’s because they’re territorial. Personally, I think they just enjoy it.’

Ulixes moved away from the snake, sliding along the wall up to the window. He turned to the onlookers, face pale and clammy. ‘Please let me out. I’ll get you double. By the end of the day. I swear on my mother. On the gods.’

‘Watch yourself,’ advised Kushara.

The snake slithered off the sand and onto the stone.

‘Their teeth can go through leather,’ added Zaara-Kitar as Ulixes moved away. ‘In fact, the bite is often enough to kill smaller prey. A mercy really. But of course it’s the venom we humans have to worry about. It’s strange, we never seem to see the same results twice. Sometimes the skin swells, sometimes it bleeds; some are paralysed, some can still move; some vomit and collapse immediately; others seem fine at first but after a few hours their skin turns black and green. One man lost all the fingers on both hands. There’s only one consistent factor – the pain. You do have a good chance of surviving one bite, but once you’re down on the ground, the others usually join in.’

The snake was no more than three feet long. Its head came up, and it let out a long, malevolent hiss.

‘Oh my gods,’ breathed Ulixes. ‘Please let me out. I beg you, I beg you!’

Kushara and his brothers laughed.

Cassius felt an icy tingle across his shoulders and spine.

‘Master Crispian.’ Zaara-Kitar turned from the window and showed him the silver snake on her arm. ‘Do you see? I had it changed to look like the adders. Do you see?’

Simo thought he was about to expire. As if running to the inn and back hadn’t been enough, he was now on the steepest part of the slope, the satchel banging against his side as he ran. The journey up the drive had never seemed this long in the cart. He wiped his face and ploughed on, sandals slapping on the road. He was so exhausted he’d even forgotten to pray.

Indavara’s left arm was no longer numb. In fact, numb was starting to sound pretty bloody attractive. The pulsing ache stretched from his elbow to his fingers and his grip was weakening by the moment.

The labourers were continuing their onslaught so he stretched out his right arm and pulled off the bottom tile of the next column, forcing the trio into evasive action. With more of the roof frame now exposed, he could reach up and grab another of the vertical beams with his right hand. As a tile struck his backside, he hauled himself up and wedged a knee on the roof-edge. With one last effort, he was able to climb up, turn and lie back against the beam.

His assailants didn’t look too happy about it and continued to throw their missiles. Indavara could have done with a minute to recover but the temptation was too great. He dodged a couple of tiles, then plucked more off the roof beside him and launched his own attack. His volleys were both harder and more accurate. The labourers were soon retreating.

Then he heard a door open below and a woman’s voice. ‘What’s all this noise? What’s going on?’

Indavara clambered up the frame towards the peak of the roof.