K. Parker: The Proof House

The Son of Heaven leaned back in his chair. ‘Just out of curiosity,’ he asked, ‘what was in the jar?’

‘Victory,’ Bardas replied, smiling weakly. ‘At least, something that achieved the same result as victory. You might say it was a kind of secret weapon.’

‘I see.’ The Son of Heaven raised an eyebrow. ‘Like the incendiary liquid you used during the siege of Perimadeia, something like that?’

‘Not quite,’ Bardas said, ‘though of course that came in a jar too. Excuse me, please, I’m starting to say the first thing that comes into my head.’ He stroked his chin, as if thinking something over. ‘So, when do I leave?’ he asked.

‘As soon as your relief arrives; later today or early tomorrow. You’re to report to him as soon as he gets here – Colonel Ilshel. Still quite young, but a certain degree of promise; we have high hopes for him. He’ll supervise the enemy evacuation, escort them as far as the mountains. It should be a perfectly straightforward job.’

‘Very good,’ Bardas replied, without apparent feeling (and his face didn’t move, as if it was already dead and pickled).

‘You been on the post before, then?’ the courier asked.

Bardas nodded. ‘A couple of times,’ he replied.

The courier seemed impressed. ‘You must be important, then,’ he said. ‘What was your name again?’

‘Bardas Loredan.’

‘Bardas – hang on, that rings a bell. Ap’ Escatoy. You’re the hero.’

Bardas nodded. ‘That’s right,’ he said.

‘Bugger me,’ the courier said. ‘It’s not every day I get a hero on the round. So, what was it really like?’

‘Boring, mostly. With occasional interludes of extreme terror.’

The courier laughed. ‘Oh, they all say that,’ he said, ‘when you ask ’em about what they did in the war. You’re not allowed to talk about it, I get the picture. So, where are you off to now? Or is that hush-hush as well?’

‘Some place called Hommyra,’ Bardas told him, ‘wherever that is. Do you know where it is?’

‘Hommyra.’ The courier frowned. ‘Well, if it’s where I think it is, it’s right on the other side of the Empire, out east. I never even knew they were having a war there, though of course that doesn’t mean anything.’

‘They told me it’d take me six weeks to get there,’ Bardas said, ‘on the post. So I guess that sounds about right.’

‘Promotion?’

‘They’re making me up to full captain.’

‘You don’t say. That’s pretty good going for an outlander. ’

‘Thank you.’

Bardas had changed coaches in Ap’ Escatoy. It had disturbed him to discover that the camp and the temporary city there felt something like home, that he’d almost experienced a sense of belonging. He’d tried not to dwell on that thought; just as he’d avoided going under the gate over which, someone told him, they’d hung the heads of three notorious rebels responsible for the recent disaffection on the Island. Once he knew what they were he hadn’t looked up, for fear of recognising them or catching sight of the labels pinned to them, detailing the offenders’ names and crimes.

‘This business with the plainspeople, now,’ the courier was saying, ‘of course it could have been handled a bit smarter, but in the end it all worked out; we’ve got rid of them, their king’s dead and we picked up a fleet of ships along the way. All this talk you hear about a blow to Imperial prestige and stuff, that’s just sour grapes. It’s only the score at the end that matters, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘Absolutely,’ Bardas replied.

‘Just a minute.’ The courier looked round at him. ‘You were in that lot, weren’t you? I’m sure I heard that somewhere, the Ap’ Escatoy bloke was joining the plains war. Is that right?’

‘I was in on the tail end of it,’ Bardas said.

‘Hey! See any action?’

‘A little.’

‘Would you credit it?’ The courier grinned. ‘They’re saying it was the artillery did the donkey work, though the cavalry had a good war. Is that right?’

‘More or less.’

‘They’re always the unsung heroes, the artillery,’ the courier stated gravely. ‘Bloody pikemen give themselves airs, say they’re the ones who actually get the job done – and fair play to them, they’re good, very good. But for sieges and stuff like that, you can’t beat the corps of engineers. Well, look at you, for instance.’

‘Me?’

‘Sure. You’re an engineer, after all.’

Bardas shrugged. ‘I suppose I am,’ he said.

‘No suppose about it,’ replied the courier firmly. ‘My dad, he was an engineer. Fifteen years on roads and bridges, then he got his transfer to the artillery, worked his way up to bombardier-sergeant; not a sapper like you, of course, though one of my uncles…’

‘Is that the sea over there?’

‘That’s right,’ the courier said. ‘Just over the hills there, about two miles. We follow the coast right down as far as Ap’ Molian, then we head inland for a couple of days to Rhyzalia, and that’s as far as I go. I expect you’ll be catching the Torrene coach – one of the couriers on that’s my brother-in-law, so ask him if he happens to know a bloke called-’

He didn’t get as far as the name; he stopped, sat bolt upright and fell off the box. Not again , Bardas thought and grabbed for the reins, but they were still wrapped round the courier’s wrists. He was dragged along by them as the coach gradually slowed down. Somewhere on the rack behind him was a crossbow, service issue for post guards, but it wasn’t where it was meant to be. His scimitar was with the rest of the luggage, somewhere in the back. No point trying to fight, then; which left him with one option, retreat. He shuffled along the box seat and reached out for the reins, overbalanced and fell. The last thing he was aware of was the front offside wheel, rushing toward him -

Bardas?

‘Anax?’ he said.

Alexius. I just stopped off to say goodbye.

‘Oh,’ Bardas replied. ‘You’re leaving, then.’

At long last. Now she’s dead, it sort of rounds things off.

‘Who’s dead? You mean Iseutz, my niece?’

No. Someone else; I don’t know, you may not remember her. Vetriz Auzeil. She was involved, peripherally.

There was no way of knowing where this place was; it was dark, without noises or smells. ‘I seem to remember you telling me about her,’ he said. ‘And I met her and her brother a few times. They were friends of Athli Zeuxis.’ He was about to say something else, but didn’t.

Well, I know you’re a sceptic, so I won’t go into details. I believe she was a natural of sorts, but to what extent she played any significant part – although obviously she did have some bearing, or else her death wouldn’t be rounding off the chapter, so to speak. Anyway, that seems to be that.

‘Well, then.’ Bardas decided to ask after all. ‘Do you happen to know – what did become of Athli, in the end?’

In the end, I’m not sure. She had some part to play in the last defence of Shastel, but whether she escaped or not I never found out. There’s a passing reference to her in one of the discussions of the Colleon war, but it’s inconclusive; it could be either the First Colleon War, which was before the fall of Shastel -

‘So it wasn’t her,’ Bardas said, ‘above the gateway?’

Not the gateway in Ap’ Escatoy; I assume that’s the one you mean. No, the third head was someone called Eseutz Mesatges, and that was a case of mistaken identity – they confused her with your niece Iseutz, you see. And to be fair, it’s an unusual name.

‘Not someone I’ve heard of,’ Bardas replied. ‘Thank you. I feel a bit better for knowing Athli got away.’