David Gemmel - Midnight Falcon

'Privates?' queried Bane.

'Balls!' snapped Appius.

'Ah. When is he allowed to scratch them?'

'In private. Hence "privates". You see?'

Bane nodded sagely, then drank his wine. 'You are a very strange people,' he said. 'You think nothing of enslaving tribes, butchering men, and bringing war and destruction to all the lands around you. Yet you find the sight of a penis offensive, and you don't talk about pissing. That is civilization, is it? War, murder and butchery are respectable, but a man without clothes risks a flogging?'

Appius laughed. 'I have not heard it argued quite so simplistically before, but yes, perhaps that is the essence of our civilization: personal privacy, national expansion. However, the rights and wrongs of it are meaningless. The fact is that these laws apply. You must walk and speak warily in Stone, Bane. It will be different for Banouin. He is the son of a prominent citizen, and will be carrying papers I shall give him, signifying his position. He will be accepted. You, however, will be watched carefully for any sign of barbarous behaviour.'

'You think me barbarous?'

'I am an old soldier, boy. I have seen men like you. Warriors, a little in love with death. Life without risk is nothing to you. A waste. If you find a chasm you must stand on the very tip, and dare the void to drag you in. If you see a horse no man can ride you must tame it. And if you see a man no-one can beat you must challenge him.'

'You see a lot, General.'

'More than you think. What is Connavar thinking of to send his son into Stone?'

'You know Connavar?' asked Bane warily.

'I fought alongside him in the Perdii wars, and against him at Cogden Field. Aye, I know him well enough to see him in you – even without the strange eyes. Tell no-one of your blood line, Bane. Or you will be dragged before Jasaray himself and used against your father.'

'I shall bear that in mind,' said Bane coolly. 'The gods know how much I love Connavar.'

Appius looked at him sharply, but said no more on the matter.

Bane stood and stretched, then asked the general a direct question. Appius laughed aloud.

'The correct way to ask that is: "And where can a man find a relaxing spot, with pleasant female company?" And my answer is: I have not been here long enough to find out, young man. When I do I shall let you know. Perhaps tomorrow you should take a walk down to the docks. I don't doubt some publicly minded citizen will approach you and guide you to what you seek.'

'Baffling,' said Bane. Rising he left the room. As he did so he heard Lia's door click shut. He looked in on Banouin, who was now sleeping deeply, then returned to his bed.

As he lay down he found himself thinking of Lia. When first he had seen her at the river he thought her a pretty girl, nothing more. But earlier, when he had walked with her in the garden, he found himself noticing the tilt of her head as she laughed, the slender perfection of her neck, the fullness of her lips. And when they sat upon the bench, beneath the canvas canopy, he had caught the scent of her hair.

You've been without a woman too long, he told himself. And he fell asleep thinking of the dark-haired girl, and picturing himself walking with her on the slopes of the Druagh mountains, with the morning sun clearing the peaks, and the mist seeping from the Wishing Tree woods.

Oranus, the Captain of the Watch, was tired, his stomach full of cheap red wine, his head pounding. Midweek was usually quiet in Accia, and he had brought the flagon of wine to the small office fronting the cells. It would, he hoped, help give him a good night's sleep. Instead it had left his mood as sour as his belly.

He glared balefully at the small group of angry people crowding around his desk. They were all talking at once, their discordant voices matching the angry pounding behind his eyes. The woman he knew well, a whore who operated in the eastern dock area. The man beside her, sporting a broken nose and a swollen eye, was her pimp, Nestar. He was also the owner of a waterside tavern renowned for foul practices, including robbery, extortion, and the fleecing of customers. Two of his men stood close by. All bore signs of recent violent activity. The captain would have liked nothing better than to close Nestar's tavern, but the pimp had many friends in high places, including the merchant Macrios and the councillor Banyon. At forty-four – only eight months from retirement and a free parcel of land – Oranus had no desire to incur the wrath of powerful men.

Oranus rubbed his eyes and transferred his gaze to the thin man standing by the door. He did not recognize him. The man's face was dotted with spots of blood, and there were wooden splinters in the skin of his forehead. Just for a moment the sheer incongruity of the man's injuries lightened his headache. But only for a moment.

The morning had been quiet until the barbarian had been brought in. He glanced back at the chained tribesman, sitting glowering in the cell. He was young, and powerfully built, with long blond hair, a single braid hanging from the temple. He wore no tribal cloak, but Oranus felt sure he was not Cenii. There was something untamed about him, which suggested he had not endured the yoke of Stone. Perhaps Norvii or Rigante, he thought. Oranus filled a cup with water and drained it. Then he turned his attention back to the angry group.

'Silence!' he bellowed, as hammers of fire thudded at his temples. He pointed at the red-headed whore. 'You, Roxy. You speak first. The rest of you keep your mouths shut.'

'The bastard assaulted me, sir. Robbed me of my life's savings. Kicked in my door, he did, when I was with a friend. Hurled the friend through the window.'

That's me,' said the man at the back, with the splinters in his forehead. 'We were talking when the savage burst in. I tried to remonstrate, but he grabbed me and sent me flying into the shutters. I went straight through. Luckily there was a canopy under the window, which broke my fall.' He sighed. 'Bet he didn't know about the canopy,' he said. 'Strong canvas, luckily. Well made. Didn't even tear.'

'It is not even remotely possible that I could care less about the canopy,' said Oranus, leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose. 'Did you know the tribesman?' he asked the whore.

'He enjoyed my company some time earlier,' she said coyly.

'Which is when she stole my pouch of gold,' said the prisoner, in passably good Turgon.

'What a liar he is,' said the woman, her voice full of outrage. 'Has it come to this, that a businesswoman can be maligned in the office of the Law?' She smiled sweetly at Oranus. 'I could help you with that headache, sir.'

'That's just what I need,' snapped Oranus. 'A headache – and a dose of pox. You!' He pointed to the pimp, Nestar, a thickset man, with short, greasy black hair. His nose was swollen and bloody, his right eye almost closed. 'How did you come into this?'

'I was downstairs and I heard Roxy cry out. I took up my cudgel and ran up the stairs. When I stepped into the doorway he came at me, and butted me. I fell back down the stairs. That's when he robbed Roxy of our savings,' he said, casting a murderous glance at the whore. 'He came down the stairs and I yelled out to my men to stop him. I say "my men", but they're not any more, sir. A more useless pair would be hard to find. He swatted them like they were flies and walked out into the street. I mean, to look at them you'd think they were tough. Big hands, strapping shoulders. Fooled me, though. He treated them like the farm boys they are.'

'That's not fair,' said one of the men. 'He took us by surprise.'

'You're paid not to be surprised, donkey-brain!'

Oranus slammed the flat of his hand on to the table, the noise making them jump. He lifted his hand, holding his index finger a hair's breadth from his thumb. 'I am this close to locking you all in for the rest of the day and for tonight,' he said. 'Now will you continue with your story, and hopefully finish it before year's end?'