Ridiculous, I know. Despite recognising with absolute certainty that Cernus exists and having been face to face with the Great White Stag Lord twice, I’d still largely dismissed him. Not ‘dismissed’ as such, but shuffled him to the back of my mind, behind the stacks of things that appeared to be more urgent. I think that everything we did was informed in some way by the deep background understanding that Cernus had chosen us; had guided us in some way, but sometimes, in the heat of battle or under the pressure of events, we tended to forget that.
Salonius and I strode at some speed through the corridors of the palace. Although we were in a hurry to get to both Scortius and Sabian, Salonius wouldn’t let me run for fear it would cause my wounds to open and bleed further. In actual fact, as we tramped along the corridor, we were deep in some heated argument; I forget now what it was about, but it probably revolved around my declining state of health. I do know that we were so involved in our conversation that we were paying precious little attention to where we were going.
We rounded a corner; I remember that neither of us were paying attention. I was prodding Salonius in the chest with my index finger and shouting in his face, and Salonius was bright red, mouthing argumentative nothings at me.
We both stopped dead.
My finger slowly fell from Salonius’ chest and the words died in my mouth. We were at a junction in the corridor. I know my way round the palace at Vengen very well. Behind us lay the main entrance and the guest accommodations. To the left lay the administrative area, including Sabian’s office where we’d be heading later. To the right there were other areas, including the very heavily-guarded private quarters of the marshal and his family.
The corridor here was of beautiful marbles; a mixture of golden yellow stone from the harsh, dry quarries of the southern lands and powerful porphyry from the eastern provinces. The floor was a geometric pattern of beautiful shapes and colours. And in the centre of it stood a white stag.
I remember Salonius gripping me suddenly on the shoulder, just below my neck wound, so hard I almost passed out. We stopped and stared at the stag. Not only was the situation so astoundingly surreal, given where we were, but we were together. I learned from conversations with Salonius that Cernus sometimes makes his presence known to his favoured peoples by appearing before an entire tribal army prior to a battle but, barring that incredibly rare event, an encounter with the stag lord is an extremely private thing. And yet here we were; the two of us staring straight into those soulful and unbelievably deep, wise eyes.
I reached up and prised Salonius’ fingers from my shoulder and we stood, silent and motionless, staring at that strange forest God. For what seemed like hours, though in truth would have been brief moments, we stood there, and suddenly, without a sound or motion, the stag turned and trotted off down one of the corridors. I remember taking a step forward. I was intrigued as to where he would go. Would he just vanish a few steps further away? But Salonius grasped my shoulder again and pointed at the wall behind the spot where Cernus had stood.
I turned my gaze there, but all that was there was a dirty mark on the marble. I shrugged and enquired what was so interesting, and Salonius’ voice was quiet and a little shaky as he replied. He told me of the language the priests of the northern tribes use; the symbols they carve in their holy rocks; he told me of the symbol before us. What would look like a swirl of dirty marks on the wall to the layman bellowed a word in the secret tongue of the northerners, and that word was ‘Betrayer’.
I began to argue over what could just as easily be coincidence and actual dirt, but two things stopped me: logic and magic. This was one of the most frequented corridors in the palace of the marshal and there would be no dirty mark of that size here. And, in the presence of Cernus, in whom I now had no doubt, what would normally seem irrelevant or coincidental suddenly took on a new light.
Salonius and I walked slowly and thoughtfully, our argument forgotten.
Chapter Eleven
Varro and Salonius were deep in hushed conversation when they arrived in the corridor outside Catilina’s room. Two black-clad guardsmen stood at attention outside. Varro held his hand up to Salonius and their conversation halted for a moment as the captain addressed the guardsmen.
“Varro and Salonius of the Fourth to see the lady and her doctor.”
The man saluted. “Just a moment, sir.”
While the second guard watched the two of them carefully, the first knocked quietly.
“Yes?” Came a testy male voice from within.
The guard announced the two visitors, and Varro distinctly heard Scortius swearing and Catilina berating him for it. After a brief whispered conversation, the lady spoke clearly.
“Send them in!”
The guardsman opened the door and, stepping to one side, saluted smartly. Varro gave him a sloppy, half- hearted salute that he knew would irritate the man and sauntered in with Salonius hard on his heels. Catilina was sitting upright in her bed, fully clothed, as Scortius arranged what was clearly her medicine on the table close by.
“How are you?” the Captain asked with concern.
She smiled lightly and stretched her right arm out behind her. It swung back until it was out to the side, but as it passed straight and moved behind her, she bit her lip and Varro could clearly see the pain it was causing her.
“Oh, I’ll live, Varro. Actually it’s not really that bad.”
Varro glanced across at Scortius, who nodded absently. Without taking his eyes off the medicines before him, he muttered “Young lad did a good job.” Pushing the collection of small parcels towards Catilina, the doctor stood.
“I’ll get out of your way.”
Varro waved his hand.
“Actually, it was you I wanted to see first, Scortius.”
The doctor shook his head.
“Sorry, Varro. I’ve been researching every text I can find, and experimenting with everything I can think of, but I’ve found no solution so far.”
Varro waved this aside, but Scortius went on “Don’t give up, though. Mercurias is here… the Emperor’s chief physician, and he’s helping me research. He’s even brought some eastern works on the subject.”
Varro continued to wave at him.
“That’s not what I need to see you about. I’ve got a fresh damn wound!”
As Varro took a seat and removed his tunic, Scortius walked over to him with a look of interest. Catilina frowned.
“What happened?”
Varro growled and began to peel the fresh dressing from his neck.
“Cristus gets to us, even here.”
“What?” Catilina swung her legs over the side of the bed.
“Petrus.” Varro paused and sighed. “They got Petrus. A Pelasian assassin. Nearly got me too.”
Salonius leaned toward the doctor and said quietly “He’s just had some of your last-resort intense medicine. Thought you’d want to know before you give him anything else.”
Scortius nodded and Salonius returned his attention to Catilina, who was now on her feet, her exquisite face full of concern.
“Not a Pelasian, Varro.”
The captain shook his head and winced at the pain.
“I’m pretty sure he was a Pelasian. Dressed all in black, using a Pelasian weapon, quick and quiet, and gone
