Interregnum

The sergeant grinned.

“It’s something they make in the northlands” he laughed. “The captain introduced me to it many years ago. It tastes like someone scraping their boot on your tongue, but it grows on you and there’s nothing better for hiding the smell of fresh carnage and the taste of bile.”

Quintillian took a slight pull at the tip of the flask and the look of horror intensified. He made a hollow throaty noise, reminiscent of his earlier retching.

“That’s foul!”

“Isn’t it though?” Athas beamed. “Have more. It’ll do you good.”

The sergeant glanced down once more at the scene below the wall.

“Come on” he sighed. “Let’s get back to the house.”

The two of them wandered along the farmyard until they reached the front gate, where Athas collared Brendan.

“Can you take someone and dispose of the mess below the wall. I don’t think we want the kind of attention that brings. Let’s not leave a trail for anyone to follow.”

Brendan rubbed his shaved head unhappily, but nodded nonetheless.

“Aye” he said reluctantly. “S’right. We’ll sort it sarge.”

Kiva wandered back in through the gate as two of the soldiers left to deal with the mess. He eyed Athas and the boy thoughtfully.

“They were pretty good shots” he said to the boy. “Care to get up in one of those windows and keep watch for us? Four of Celio’s men were looking for our unit, so I’d bet there’ll be more out there.”

Quintillian looked up at Athas questioningly, and the sergeant nodded. The boy frowned.

“I don’t mind keeping watch sir, but I’m not sure I’m the right man for shooting people. I’ve never shot anything animate before other than rabbits and birds. I’m not really sure how I feel about what I’ve just done.”

Kiva narrowed his eyes.

“What you just did helped save the company” he replied, his voice firm but understanding. “Get used to it. There’ll be times in your life when you’ll need to be capable of acts of brutality.”

His frown deepened as his thoughts raced and the monologue continued inside his head ‘…and your family carry the most brutal of all madnesses.’

Instead, he forced a smile and slapped Athas on the shoulder.

“You’d best go with him and talk” he added. “You’re the sensitive sort. I just border on ‘don’t give a shit!’”

As Kiva wandered off to sit in the shade of an old haywain, Athas escorted the young man up the staircase to the top floor of the farmhouse. The wide balcony let in a great deal of light, though the window on the far wall stood shuttered, blocking the worst glare of the sun. Athas gestured to the balcony and the two chairs that sat there. The pair wandered over and made themselves comfortable, the sergeant with his feet up on the worryingly rickety balcony. He shifted his weight and dust and fragments of worm-eaten wood drifted down into the farmyard.

Quintillian glanced out of the corner of his eye at the now relaxed-looking sergeant. Athas rubbed his nose and then drew out his flask of brew. Taking a slug, he recorked it and returned it to its accustomed place on his belt.

The young man cleared his throat nervously and Athas realised another difficult question was looming over him.

“What now?”

Quintillian sat up straighter in the chair and turned to face the older man.

“Your flask” he said, “has some engraving on it, yes?”

“Mmm. So?”

“A wolf’s head and some writing?” pushed the boy.

Athas narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at lad?”

The boy shuffled uncomfortably.

“I saw the same markings on the captain’s flask. The wolf and the lettering. Does it have meaning for the Grey Company? The flask you issued me doesn’t have it on.”

Athas let out a long sigh.

“You’ve got to stop asking questions” he implored. “They make everyone feel uncomfortable. We’re a mercenary unit and that means that there isn’t a single man here that doesn’t have something to hide; usually something he’s ashamed of in his past.”

Quintillian smiled.

“Just one more, then.”

“What?” replied the sergeant.

“Was the captain ever married?” the boy asked, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

Athas growled and turned to face him.

“All right,” he answered, “but this is the last time you ever mention that subject, and I’m only telling you so you don’t make a mistake and ask him. Yes, he was. She died just after the collapse. It’s not a very nice or happy story and it’s one I never want to hear you ask the captain. Understood?”

Quintillian nodded and shuffled back to face the countryside over the balcony. The sun was glorious, lighting the green and gold fields as far as the eye could see.

“I’m just interested in what makes him what he is” the boy continued. “I’ve never met anyone who seems so bitter and yet I can’t get over the feeling that that’s not really him. D’you know what I mean?”

“Story closed. Ok?”

The two sat in silence for a long moment and finally the sergeant sighed.

“Tell me something for a change” he said, rounding on Quintillian. “You studied in that community. I find it hard to picture a scholarly community getting by these days. It was ok in the old days before the Emperor went m… Before the collapse. But now? There’s precious little room in the world for quiet thought and study. What kind of people are they?”

The lad smiled.

“So now you’ll interrogate me , yes?”

Athas merely raised an eyebrow and made a beckoning motion.

“Ok” the boy began. “Well, I suppose the most important person to me on the island is my best friend Darius. I suspect you’d like him. He’s about the same age as me, but a little more active. He doesn’t study as much as I do. Well he does, but only really history, war, geography and politics. He is good at sports; and at fighting. We used to be trained in all sorts of fighting, even unarmed, and the only thing I ever regularly beat him at was archery. I can usually trick him into things though.”

“So why wasn’t he sent out instead of you?” the sergeant queried, his eyebrows raised in genuine interest. “Sounds more like someone you want charging round the countryside with money, no offence intended.”

“None taken” the boy replied. “The honest answer is that I don’t actually know. He would be better in truth. And he would fit in much better with the Grey Company. Still, I’m here on the orders of the elders and he’s not.”

A shout from below drew their attention to the grassland before the farm. A figure was jogging down the hill at some pace. Athas had the bow at the ready but, after a moment he laughed, dropped the weapon and leaned over the balcony.

“Scauvus is back already” he grinned. “He looks happy and he’s waving something.”

He turned and smiled at Quintillian as he began to make for the stairs.

“Conversation’s now for another time. Gotta go. Coming?”

The lad returned the smile.

“I’ll follow on in just a moment” he replied.

Quintillian had always thought of himself as a lateral thinker; a planner. He hated having to lie to people, but he knew when he had to and he was good at it. He’d always been one step ahead of the game, his entire life. And yet no matter how much he tried to think it through he couldn’t figure out why they’d left. They’d put the rest of the community in danger and fled in the middle of the night to gather money for heaven knows what purpose. No matter what reasons the elders had given him, he was well aware of the island’s status