S. Turney - Interregnum

Kiva’s face took on an equally serious expression. “Your father must have been a good man. Standard bearers were honoured above many of the officers. Important job, that.”

Sathina nodded. “He was a good man. But that’s not my point. You were a general, in command of a quarter of the world’s army. Tythias here was a commander of a thousand on his own. I guess Athas, Brendan and Marco were all senior officers; Jorun’s the son of a chieftain in the north, and Mercurias was a chief medic. Then there’s the Pelasians: their leader’s a prince . And on top of that I’ve been trying to help save the last man with Imperial blood by sneaking around dangerous places and going up against the powerfulest lord in the Empire.”

She sat back and folded her arms. “And there’s me: a serving girl from an inn.” Her face had taken on a little colour during her diatribe. “I don’t care who you are, you’re not going to tell me I’ve left home, risked my life and helped save yours just so you can all run off with your tail between your legs. No. Not happening!”

Kiva blinked as she leaned forward once more and shook her finger in front of his nose. “The Emperor may be dead, but there’s something else we can do and you bloody well think of it. Everyone says you’re real clever, so show me!”

Tythias leaned forward and whispered something in her ear and she sat back quietly, though still glaring intently into Kiva’s face. He was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable beneath that gaze. He turned to face his second in command, trying to ignore the eyes burning into his temple.

“Athas, we need to discuss this, but when there are fewer people around. I’m finding it kind of hard to think straight with everyone in here at once.”

The burly dark man nodded and stood. “Everyone out. You can all come back later, but now the general needs his rest and I need to talk to him in private.”

With a great deal of grumbling and mumbling, like schoolchildren being punished, the rest stood and headed for the door. Brendan stopped as the rest were leaving and leaned down toward the general.

“Darius sent yer this sir.” He handed over a plain flask of bronze. As Kiva frowned curiously, the big shaven-headed man grinned. “Said ‘e couldn’t get yer flask, but ‘is own doctor ‘ad some anyway. Don’t tell Mercurias I gave y’it. He’d put laxatives in me dinner for months.”

With a last grin, he headed for the door, only to see Tythias coming back the other way. He and Athas stood to one side as the one-eyed captain appeared in the door.

“There’s a ship full of troops coming in. Should be here in about half an hour.”

Kiva almost leapt out of bed, but remembered as he swung his legs out and slowed down when the horrendous pain came flooding back. He stopped, wincing for a moment and then reached for the sticks, looking up at Tythias.

“Who are they?”

Tythias shrugged. “It was Darius who saw ‘em.”

Kiva grunted. “Get more information; I need to know who they are. And get everyone hidden away somewhere safe.”

As Tythias nodded and he and Brendan made to leave, the tall figure of Darius appeared in the doorway. “Minister Sarios wants me out of the way” he declared as he entered and crossed the room to where the chairs had been gathered.

Kiva whistled to Tythias and made a closing motion as the other captain left the room. The scarred mercenary shut the door tight, disappearing as Athas, his face full of concern came over to the general to help him move with his sticks. Just in time the burly sergeant gripped Kiva’s elbow as the general put all his weight onto the sticks and tottered dangerously. Without a moment’s thought, Darius rushed over and took the other elbow.

Kiva looked sidelong at the boy. He was maybe in his early twenties; not really a boy at all, but Kiva was used to grizzled old veterans and that perhaps coloured his perceptions at times. The young man was almost a foot taller than Kiva, who was no midget himself. He cleared his throat. “Darius, who’s on the ship?”

The three of them moved slowly and painfully toward the window that looked down over the Ibis courtyard. Darius shrugged. “I couldn’t see him, but I’ll give you good odds it’s Commander Sabian. It may be Velutio as well. The men on the deck were wearing white, and they had black cloaks and black and white crests.”

Kiva nodded sourly. “Velutio’s personal guard. Not proper soldiers, these ones, Darius. They’re thugs; overpaid, overdressed and over-loyal thugs. Not good if Velutio’s bringing them here. Isn’t Sabian supposed to be in command of them now?”

Darius nodded. “Oh yes. I saw him skewer their old commander personally. I can’t imagine he takes any crap from them now.”

They reached the window sill and Kiva leaned on it, his legs still shaking with the effort of standing. The general looked down into the courtyard. “What’s Sabian up to?” he mused. “He walked out on Velutio when the man had us crucified, then he warned Sarios of his lord’s plans. Then he wants to speak to his sergeant in secret by signal lamp and now he’s coming to the island with Velutio’s personal guard. I can’t for the life of me figure out what his fucking game is.”

Darius smiled. “Sabian’s a good man, but he works for the wrong type. He’s trying to keep all us ‘innocents’ safe while he guides his master to the throne in the least harmful way possible.”

“Then Sarios was right,” the general remarked. “He is playing a dangerous game. Maybe Velutio’s told him to bolster the garrison here.”

Kiva regarded Darius with another long, appraising glance. The lad was precocious, there was no doubt about that. He’d told Sarios that the boy was sure of himself, but perhaps it went further than that. It’d taken Kiva years working up through the ranks before he’d had either the insight or the confidence to voice it that this young man had now. Others would never achieve it in a lifetime of service. Maybe the boy had a right to be sure of himself; he certainly seemed to be yards ahead of most people in his thinking and planning. The general smiled at Darius.

“You admire Sabian?” Not really a question.

“Of course,” Darius replied. “He’s not an awful lot older than me, but he’s very like you and all your men: kind of old-fashioned.” He laughed. “Not meant in an insulting way; he’s got the old values, I mean. I like that and I think you do too, don’t you?”

Again the lad’s insight. “As a matter of fact he’s got traditional values in spades. Yes I like him, but I won’t let that get in the way if the time comes I have to deal with him. You seem to be very aware of what’s going on around you. You’re tactical and clever,” he smiled, “and you wear a sword. Not what I expected from the island at all. When we found Quintillian, he looked like a downtrodden servant and wasn’t very confident.”

Darius nodded. “Quintillian was always a thinker. I’m more of a doer, if you know what I mean. He knew his histories, his poets and ethics and all that crap. I only ever studied political history, strategy and the sword. I know, for instance, every campaign you’ve ever written about and every one that’s been written about you and you only seem to have ever made one mistake.”

Kiva’s eyebrow rose again. “Oh?”

The young man nodded. “At the battle of Regina, you knew full well the enemy had heavily armoured cavalry that could break your infantry, and yet you let them take your men without warning. You could’ve deployed your men better to resist their charge and then you wouldn’t have lost your infantry.”

Kiva grinned. A subject he knew well at last. “Ah, but why’d I do it then?”