The Crown of the Usurper (8 page)

  "More bedrooms," said the sergeant. Gelthius sighed. It was beginning to look a lot like their risky adventure would prove to be pointless. There was nothing here except old tapestries, poorly polished silverware, unused crockery and mouldering furniture.

  Moving to the uppermost storey, Gelthius and Muuril discovered a set of double doors that led to a large hall, the floor decoratively tiled, the walls covered with embroidered hangings showing the Askhan legions conquering the Ersuan kings' armies. The pair walked around the walls, looking at the detailed threadwork.

  "That's got to be Salacis Pass," said Muuril, pointing to the next hanging. It depicted a legion in a narrow mountain valley, advancing into a storm of arrows and rocks unleashed by barbaric, bearded Ersuans on the slopes above. "That was a fight and a half."

  "Looks like it," said Gelthius. Muuril said something else but the third captain did not really hear it; he was sure he had heard a noise on the stairwell outside the main doors.

  "Did you hear that?" said Gelthius, convinced he heard feet slapping on stone.

  "I can't hear anything," said Muuril. He took a few steps towards the next tapestry and then stopped. "Hang on, yes I did."

  The two of them jogged to the door and stopped. Gelthius held his breath as he listened, trying not to hear the thump of his heart in his chest.

  There were definitely voices drifting up the stairwell. They were speaking quietly, and Gelthius could hear the slow slap of sandals on the steps. He darted a look at Muuril, who shrugged and took a step into the corridor before shrinking back. There were shadows on the stairway, at the bottom of the last flight.

  Gelthius jabbed his thumb back into the room and the two of them stepped out of sight, as quietly as they could manage in the ill-fitting wargear. The voices were very close now and came straight towards the open doors.

  The two legionnaires hurried to stand beside the nearest wall, about ten paces apart. Gelthius muttered a call to attention and the pair brought their spears down with a thump, keeping their gazes fixed ahead. Trying not to turn his head to look, Gelthius moved his gaze sideways towards the door as the conversation suddenly silenced and the sound of feet on stone became the thud of steps on the wooden floor of the great hall.

  "We're running out of places to speak." Gelthius heard a reedy voice. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small, thin man pacing into the hall, wearing white robes of office: Asuhas. His hair was oiled back across a balding pate, and his top lip and chin were darkened by a wispy covering of hair. The man's fingers fidgeted constantly, playing with the creases in his robe and the rope of grey and green cords that served as a belt. "I don't know why they have to be here, the Brotherhood made their position very clear and I agreed with them."

  "This lot are everywhere, don't pay them any heed," said the governor's companion.

  Gelthius already knew the voice before a large man in a bright red shirt and checked Salphorian trousers strode into view. Gelthius choked back a gasp as he laid eyes on Anglhan Periusis. The former landship owner stuck his thumbs between his belt and his generous gut and turned towards the two legionnaires.

  For a moment Gelthius was like a rabbit paralysed in front of the hunter's bow. He could not stop himself meeting Anglhan's gaze, and the two looked at each other straight on. Swallowing hard, Gelthius managed to look away, staring blankly ahead, though his hands were sweating profusely on his spear and shield grip. He heard Muuril shuffle his feet, obviously recognising the traitorous governor as well.

  The third captain continued to feel Anglhan's stare on him for a few moments, as his heart started beating quickly, hammering against the inside of his breastplate. It was impossible that the former governor would not recognise him; Gelthius had spent nearly twenty years in the man's service.

  "How odd," said Anglhan. The boards creaked under his heavy tread as he took several steps towards Gelthius. The legionnaire forced himself to relax the grip on his spear, ready to lunge forward and drive the tip into Anglhan's face. He noticed Muuril shifting his weight slightly out of the corner of his eye.

  "What's odd?" asked the governor.

  "This tapestry shows a legion being defeated," Anglhan said, pointing at the hanging behind Gelthius. "They're being massacred!"

  "The Battle of Sulunnin. Out of the way, there," said Asuhas. He flapped a hand at Gelthius and Muuril, who moved aside. "Step out of the way so we can see properly. Yes, that was a rough one for the Sixteenth and Eighteenth. Early snows caught them by surprise, and they were ambushed by a tribal coalition in the foothills before they could build a proper winter fort."

  "But why celebrate a defeat in this way?" said Anglhan. Gelthius was not sure, but he thought for a moment that the old landship captain actually winked at him as he walked past.

  "It is a memorial, not a celebration," said Asuhas. "We Askhans learn from our mistakes as well as our successes. Something you Salphors are not so good at."

  "You are referring to the unfortunate loss of my city?" Anglhan spoke lightly of the massacre of thousands of Magilnadans, as if he had played no part in its downfall. "As you see, I have returned and I am better placed than ever."

  "I don't see why the Brotherhood would tolerate you at all, Periusis, much less make you the king's prime agent in Ersua."

  The two men wondered down the hall, their voices growing fainter, but Gelthius could still hear what was being said. Muuril shook his head, obviously displeased by what he was hearing.

  "Stay calm," whispered Gelthius.

  "Fat goatfucker should be dead," growled Muuril. Gelthius could see the sergeant's knuckles turning white from the tight grip on his spear.

  "Not now," said Gelthius. "Ssh, listen!"

  Muuril said nothing though he glared at Anglhan's broad back as the conversation between the traitor and the governor drifted down the hall, carried by a slight echo.

  "I can confirm that he hasn't been seen coldwards of Thedraan or dawnwards of Caprion," Anglhan was saying.

  "So he is definitely not coming to Marradan? You are sure of that fact?"

  "He has not come any closer, so he has to have headed hotwards, or turned back into Salphoria ," Anglhan assured the governor. Gelthius decided that the two men had to be talking about King Ullsaard. Either news travelled far more swiftly than the king had anticipated, or Asuhas and Anglhan had been keeping an eye or ear out for the return of the king. "It makes no sense for him to go back into Salphoria, so it has to be hotwards. I can't think that he'd return to near-Mekha, so what else is down that way?"

  "He has an old villa, at Menesun on Lake Temerin," said Asuhas. "Why he would go there, I don't know; nothing but hills and goats and peasants."

  "Exactly," said Anglhan, slapping a hand to a wobbling thigh. "If you wanted to lie low, where would be better?"

  "So, are we going to tell Leraates? That he's in Menesun, I mean. It's your responsibility really, not mine."

  "I don't think Leraates needs to know just yet, does he?" said Anglhan. He chuckled as he clasped his hands to his belly. "Certainly from my position I have no desire to make myself dispensable. If I were you, I would think long and hard before saying anything."

  "I see what you mean." The two had reached the furthest extent of the hall and turned back towards Gelthius and Muuril. The governor raised his voice. "You two, leave us."

  "Aye, governor," said Gelthius, lifting his spear in salute. Muuril followed suit and the two of them tramped from the hall.

  "We could go back in there and gut both of those traitorous cunts," snarled Muuril, stopping at the top of the stairway. "We'd be doing the king a favour and no mistake. Those treacherous sons of a pig's arse!"

  "Not now, not yet," said Gelthius, ushering Muuril down the first few steps. "First priority is to tell the king what we heard. We'll let him decide."

  Gongs and bells sounded the third hour of High Watch as the two men of the Thirteenth descended to the ground floor. They reached the main corridor where they had entered and almost walked straight into a group of ten blackcrests turning towards the stairwell.

  "Where have you two been?" barked the sergeant. "Haven't you heard? We've got intruders."

  Gelthius met the man's stare with eyes wide with surprise. The sergeant's eyes narrowed.

  "Hold on," said the sergeant, reaching out with his shield to stop Gelthius as he tried to step past. "Do I know you?"

  Muuril answered for Gelthius, ramming his black enamelled shield into the side of the sergeant's helmet. Gelthius was already sprinting into the corridor when the sergeant's unconscious body hit the ground with a clatter. He tossed aside his shield and spear and pumped his arms, darting a look back to see Muuril jabbing the butt of his spear into the throat of another blackcrest.

  A shout of alarm echoed down the passageway as Muuril followed Gelthius, the blackcrests only a few paces behind. Gelthius ran and ran, passing through archway after archway as he headed towards the main entrance of the palace. He ripped off his helmet and let it drop from his fingers as he skidded on a rug laid across the smooth floor. Muuril had caught up with him and the two almost fell down in a tangled heap, the sergeant hurdling Gelthius' skidding body at the last moment.

  Barging through a door to their left, they burst into a small garden between the wing and the main palace. There were four legionnaires in the green-and-grey of the Twenty-first guarding an open gate on the far side of a pond. Gelthius and Muuril splashed through the water and reached the legionnaires, panting heavily.

  "Fucking blackhead cunts want for us," gasped Muuril as he pushed between the bemused legionnaires. "Do the captain and me a favour, eh?"

  Gelthius did not wait to hear agreement as he pushed on through the tunnelway beyond the gate. At the far end an archway led into the main palace and his sandals slapped on the marble of the grand foyer. He had never seen marble before he had gone to Magilnada, and when he had first set foot inside Asuhas' palace he had been astounded to see an entire greeting hall made out of green-veined stone. Now he didn't pay it a second look as he hurtled through the crowds of petitioners and functionaries milling between two curving sets of steps leading up to the main audience hall.

  He aimed for the sunlight streaming through the row of open doors and reached the threshold as sounds of shouting and fighting erupted behind. Crashing into one of the doors he looked back, expecting to see Muuril in the altercation, but the sergeant was hot on the captain's heels. Beyond him, soldiers from the Twenty-first and the blackcrests fell brawling into the foyer. The legionnaires stationed at the entrance heard the ruckus and piled across the entrance hall to help their comrades.

  "Let's ditch this weight," panted Muuril, pulling open a buckle that kept his breastplate in place. The two quickly shed the bronze armour while a crowd of amazed onlookers gathered around; nobody tried to interfere.

  Thus lightened, Muuril and Gelthius ran out onto the broad steps that led down to the city square. The clamour from inside faded as they sprinted down the steps, taking them three at a time. The square was thronged with the noble's market; stalls with expensive jewellery, clothes, pets and all manner of luxuries were laid out in rows; the high born and aspiring rich of the city and their entourages glided slowly between the stalls and soon Muuril and Gelthius were lost in the throng.

 

Anglhan stood looking at the tapestries while Asuhas received a report from the captain of the Brotherhood guards. The governor of Ersua had been less than pleased to become an acquaintance of Anglhan but was too afraid of Leraates and the Brotherhood to do more than complain about the situation. Asuhas' weakness had made it easy for Anglhan to present himself as an ally, a conspirator that would help Asuhas loosen the grip of the Brotherhood on his office. The former governor was reminded of the boast Asuhas had made earlier: "We Askhans learn from our mistakes as well as our successes. Something you Salphors are not so good at."

  Perhaps Anglhan did not think like a Salphor, and had never thought like a Salphor. He was not about to repeat his previous mistakes. Some men might give up on lofty goals after a disaster like Magilnada, but to Anglhan it was just another lesson in life to be heeded and built upon. A man not as driven as Anglhan might have concluded that he had become greedy and should have been content with the governorship of an Imperial city rather than manoeuvring to become ruler of his own kingdom. Anglhan pitied this theoretical man, for it had not been greed that had overthrown Magilnada, nor had it been ambition that had been the cause of Anglhan's downfall. The only mistake Anglhan had made in his attempt to become his own man was that he had been too obvious in his approach.

  As he watched the governor of Ersua arguing with the blackcrest officer, Anglhan was certain that this time he had made the right choices. When he had been approached by Leraates, Anglhan had been offered overt power: agents and legions, money and an army of Brothers to do his bidding. It had been a foolish move on the part of Urikh – or whoever was acting on Urikh's behalf – because it showed Anglhan how necessary he was.

  This other, fictitious Anglhan, might also have been swayed by the desire for revenge against Ullsaard, for upsetting his earlier plans. The real Anglhan sneered at the sentimentality of revenge. If Ullsaard was to be killed, that was one thing and a pleasurable step on the road back to a superior fate, but Anglhan would not allow such sentiment to drive him. Of course, he had not let Leraates know that; the Brother was convinced that Anglhan hungered for Ullsaard's blood as a hound hungers for a bone. It was convenient to let Leraates think that Anglhan would stop at nothing to see Ullsaard slain, and to also think that in Anglhan he had found the perfect man to blame when news of the treachery against the king finally came to the surface. Anglhan knew perfectly well what Urikh had in mind. The new king wanted his hands clean of any involvement in Ullsaard's killing, and to be able to claim that he had acted in good faith on the news of his father's death, which would be revealed at a later time to be the machinations of the faithless, treacherous Anglhan Periusis.