David Wishart - The Lydian Baker

Dinner. Perilla.

I groaned. Bugger! She wouldn't know where I was! Or where I'd been, anyway: I'd just told Bathyllus I was going out with Dida. Well, there wasn't anything I could do about that now. The lady would just have to worry.

The pain in my head had settled down to a steady throbbing, but I tried to ignore it. Okay. Melanthus wanted me alive. So why? It wasn't as if I had information he needed, like Argaius or Smaragdus. Sure, if I'd known where the Baker was stashed it might've been different, but…

I stopped as the obvious answer hit me. Oh, Jupiter! Jupiter Best and Greatest!

Melanthus thought I knew! Or at least he was covering the possibility. Whether he honestly thought I was in on the secret or not was immaterial: as far as he was concerned I was the only game left in town.

The problem was, this particular game was about as viable as a cat in a winepress. I remembered Argaius's smashed-up corpse at Watch headquarters.

Somewhere above me a door opened, spilling in lamplight. I looked up, squinting.

'So you're back with us, Corvinus?' said the guy with the lamp at the top of the stairs. 'That's good. Now we can start.'

I couldn't see the face but I recognised the voice. Sure I did. The guy was Prince Charming. If this was trouble, then it was trouble in spades. I swallowed. My throat felt like a sand-tray.

'Fair enough, pal,' I said. 'But you think I could have some water first?' A cup of neat Setinian would've been better, but that was pushing it. And whatever he had in mind it wasn't a drinks party.

'Maybe later.' He came down the steps. 'If you co-operate.'

'Co-operation's my middle name. Especially when I'm tied up in a cellar with a lump on my head and a homicidal maniac swinging a crowbar.'

'You noticed?' He laid it against the wall and set the lamp down beside it.

I hadn't: it'd been a joke. But I did now. Trouble in spades was right; this could be bye-bye Corvinus.

'That what did for Argaius?' I said.

'Sure. The throat-cutting was an extra.' He was grinning. 'The boss gave me a free hand.'

'Speaking of free hands…' I shifted and brought mine out as far as I could from behind my back.

He shook his head slowly. 'No chance. None at all. You stay as you are.'

Yeah, well. It'd been worth a try. Not that I could've taken him anyway, the condition I was in. 'So killing him wasn't altogether your boss's idea?' I said.

He was quiet for a long time. Then he said softly: 'No. No, it wasn't. The boss doesn't like needless deaths, or even needless violence. Me, I'm different.'

'What about Smaragdus? You kill him too?'

'He fell and broke his own neck. I would've done, sure, once I'd got the truth out of him, one way or another. Like that fancy-boy of his at the docks.'

Oh, hell. 'You killed Harpalus?'

'Yeah.' A chuckle. 'Surprised? Don't be. You were followed all the way from the City Gate. Easy as shelling eggs. He didn't know nothing about nothing, mind, you can be sure of that if you weren't before. He would've told me if he did. Believe me.'

'I believe you.' I felt cold. Well, I'd tried my best for the poor sucker. It just hadn't been good enough, that was all.

'Good.' He leaned his shoulder comfortably against the wall. 'Believe me some more. The boss wants to know where Smaragdus hid the Baker. Very badly indeed. So how about telling me? Maybe I'll get a crisis of conscience and let you live.'

Yeah. And pigs might fly. Still, I'd been right: Eutyches did think I might know where the statue was. Maybe I could use that. 'Melanthus won't want me dead,' I said carefully. 'Don't push your luck, friend.'

Another pause. A long one.

'How did you work that out?' he said at last.

'That Eutyches is Melanthus? Easy. There's this thing called a brain, pal. You use it to think with.'

His hand smashed suddenly across my face. Pain exploded through my skull as my head hit the wall.

'Don't get smart, Roman!' he said.

'That's just it.' My tongue probed a molar. Loosened, but at least it was still there. 'Roman. I'm a Roman citizen. The purple-striper variety, what's more. You know what that means?'

'Sure.' I'd rattled him, though. Thinking obviously wasn't Prince Charming's strong point.

'I'll spell it out anyway. Kill me and they'll track you down and nail you to a couple of planks. There isn't a hole deep enough or a ship fast enough for you to escape that. And your boss knows it. He also knows that unless he's a Roman citizen himself — which he isn't — he'll be right up there on a cross of his own beside you. Understand?'

'They'll have to find your body first.'

'You think that would matter? If I've disappeared that would be enough. You're dead meat, friend. This time you believe me.'

He passed a hand over his mouth. I'd got to him, sure I had.

'Okay,' he said. 'So maybe I won't kill you after all. Maybe. If you lead us to the Baker.'

I let out my breath slowly and hoped he hadn't noticed. 'Get me some water and we'll talk.'

He straightened up and moved towards the stairs. I hoped he'd leave the lamp and give me the chance to burn through the ropes, but even Prince Charming wasn't that stupid. He took the crowbar as well. 'Don't move, right?'

'I'm not going anywhere.'

'Fucking right you're not.' Another chuckle; well, at least the bastard had a sense of humour. He went back up the steps and closed the door, leaving me in darkness.

So. Melanthus was Eutyches, that was definite. Not that I could use the information now. And I wasn't conning myself: I may've bought a bit of time, but that was all. When Melanthus realised I didn't know where the Baker was I was cooked, purple-striper or not. The guy was mad, that was plain, and I doubted that even the threat of crucifixion would stop him killing me.

I sat back and tried to hold down the panic. There wasn't much else I could do: this looked about as bad as it could get, and optimism doesn't go a long way when you're tied up in the dark without a bargaining chip to your name. I was finished, and I knew it.

What seemed hours later, Prince Charming came back with the lamp. He was carrying a water jug.

'You still thirsty, Roman?' he said, holding it up.

'Sure.' He didn't move. 'You want to help me, maybe, or should I just look and dream?'

He grinned, put the lip of the jug to my mouth and tilted. Water flowed down my chest and I gulped. Nectar! All it needed was a couple of pints of Setinian in it to make it perfect.

'Okay.' He took the jug away. 'That's it. All the niceness you get. Now where's the Baker?'

'You think I'd tell that to you?' I coughed. 'Tell your boss to come himself.'

That fazed him. His eyes shifted. 'Look. Stop fucking around, Corvinus. We had a deal. Tell me where the Baker is and you go free. Once we've got it, naturally. You have my word.'

'Yeah? Oh, whoopee.'

I thought he'd hit me again, but he didn't. 'We've got no quarrel with you. Once we have the statue I'll drop the word to your pals where to find you.'

'No deals, friend. Or not with you. Fetch Melanthus.'

He sat back on his heels, thinking. Or doing what passed for thinking.

'Okay,' he said at last. 'You've got it. But whatever the boss says if you're lying what happened to Argaius will seem like a picnic. Crucifixion or no crucifixion.'

I swallowed. Well, maybe while he was gone I could hump myself up to the top of the stairs and do a Smaragdus off the top. There was a clear drop of ten feet on to the flags, I could see that. Better than what he'd have in mind, certainly. Unless I could get my hands free somehow, of course…

Dream on, Corvinus! 'Just do it. I want to see Melanthus,' I said.

He reached forward suddenly, gripped the front of my tunic, and pulled me on to my face. I gasped with the pain.