Interregnum

“Go!”

Athas removed the utensil with a bold, sweeping stroke and a great quantity of dark blood splashed onto the floor. A fraction of a second later, Jorun was out of the tavern, one hand clutching his throat very tight. The sergeant bent down and gingerly, trying to avoid the bulk of the blood, picked the two weapons up from where they lay. He tossed the mace onto the bar.

“Sell it to pay for the cleaning” he said loudly.

As Mercurias continued to grin and Quintillian sat dumbfounded, the sergeant stepped to their table and placed the sword on it.

“Clean it up lad” he said. “It’s reasonable quality and it’ll do you better than the two knives.”

The other men by the door hadn’t moved except to step inside. Now Athas turned to them. Quintillian gritted his teeth waiting and watched with bated breath as the large sergeant reached the group. Athas stopped in front of ‘bear skin’.

“Captain Tythias” he smiled. “It’s been just far too long.”

He reached out a hand and the scarred warrior took it warmly.

“Athas?” he replied. “Nice fork. Yours, or just handy at the time?”

The entire band of warriors now entered the bar and Quintillian realised he hadn’t released his breath for too long. As he gratefully exhaled, he looked up in wonder. He was remarkably surprised to find someone that didn’t actually want to kill them all. The group wandered around the bar and settled themselves among the men of the Grey Company who were already here. Captain Tythias reached the bar and leaned next to Captain Tregaron.

“Kiva” he greeted the leader of the Grey Company warmly. “Sorry about that. Should hire soldiers not gorillas, I suppose. Still, he’ll not do that again and at least he’ll shut up now.”

Kiva smiled a rare genuine smile.

“Tythias” he replied equally warmly. “Nice to see you. Thought you were out east somewhere.”

The scarred captain nodded.

“We were,” he said “but the only lords with enough power and cash to pay my extortionate rates are round the gulf here, so we came back. I was actually on my way to see Lord Bergama. I gather he’s in need of good men and he’s one of the least dislikeable employers at the moment.”

Kiva scowled.

“Was” he spat. “ Was one of them. We’ve just left his lands and I think we were the only ones who did. Lord Celio’s in residence now and he is a bastard. Bergama’s probably been broken in the streets by now. Shame you weren’t here a couple of days ago. The Grey Company and the Lion Riders would have stood a better chance together. It’s been a long time since we’ve worked in concert.”

Tythias slammed his fist on the bar.

“Damn!” he cursed. “Who the hell else is going to be willing to pay us? I’m not working for that vomit-bag Celio and the only others worth joining are halfway round the gulf or more. Don’t forget, I charge more than you.”

Kiva shrugged.

“Depends whether you’re picky” he replied. “Velutio’s hiring and he pays best of all. I know he hates me, but I’m not aware of anything he’s got against you.”

Tythias made a ‘so-so’ motion with his hand.

“I’m not entirely sure I want to be ‘enslaved’ to that man, but I suppose we could sign a short contract and then move on. Where are you headed next?”

Once more Kiva shrugged.

“Think we might go north and see how much the tribes are paying for training. We could do with a little time off and I’ve got a new recruit to train too.”

Kiva pointed at Quintillian and he and Tythias crossed the bar, drinks in hand, and approached the table where Mercurias and the boy were sitting in silence, cleaning the blood off the fine new blade with a bar cloth.

“You know Mercurias of course” Kiva smiled.

Tythias grinned and rolled his good eye.

“Dear Gods yes” he said as he leaned forward. “How are you, you miserable excuse for a human being?”

Mercurias returned the smile.

“Not too bad you smelly, hairy old goat!” the medic replied.

Tythias then turned to the table’s other occupant.

“And this is?”

Kiva gestured expansively at the lad.

“This is our newest recruit” he announced loudly enough for all around to hear. “Septimus. He’s a bit of a bookworm, but good with a bow.”

Tythias laughed.

“As if you’d know” he snorted. “You missed me last year at Parthis and I was standing perfectly still and not far away from you! What the hell are you doing here, lad? No offence of course.”

Quintillian forced a smile. If the captain were going to the extent of giving him a pseudonym, he’d have to come up with a half-decent story.

“My father wants me to learn how to protect our lands,” he lied, “rather than just reading about them. He’s signed me over to the captain for a year to train me. Paid him quite well I thought.”

“Ha!” Tythias laughed. “Should’ve come to a real unit instead of these jokers.”

Kiva smiled.

“He’s not particularly a natural,” he admitted blandly, “but we’ll make a mean-spirited killer of him yet. Why d’you think we leave him in the company of this miserable old bastard” he added, gesturing at the medic.

Mercurias reached up and tugged on Tythias’ sleeve. As the two of them entered into a deep conversation filled with insults, Quintillian took the chance to stand and move close enough to Kiva to be heard quietly.

“Captain,” he said in a low whisper. “I need to talk to you privately.”

Kiva shook his head and slugged down the rest of his mug of drink before leaning forward and returning the whisper.

“No time tonight. Not with Tythias’ lot here. We’ll have to grab your armour from the smith and head out early tomorrow as well. We’ve got to change our route now, cos Tythias’ll be heading that way and I don’t want him to get in the way. I was never all that happy about going through Velutio anyway. Too much trouble there. If you really need to talk, it’ll have to be when we’re away from here.”

Quintillian nodded and returned to his seat, deep in thought. How was the captain intending to get them onto the island without going through Velutio? Tomas was the only one who knew the way through the reefs and he was dead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kiva stop on the way to the bar, wincing and leaning on a table with his mug in one hand. The captain looked around to make sure his moment of weakness had gone unnoticed and spotted only Quintillian watching. Straightening, he pulled out the flask of Mare’s mead and took a large pull on the thing before he reached the bar and bought another drink.

Something in Quintillian’s considerable memory clicked into place for just a moment and the lad made his excuses to Mercurias and Tythias, neither of whom were paying him any attention anyway, and approached the bar. The innkeeper, having just served Kiva his drink, wandered down the serving table and reached Quintillian.

“Yes?”

“Do you have a back room that I could use to read in?” the lad enquired. “A storeroom would be fine if there’s light.”

The barman looked him up and down.

“Septimus of the grey company, yes?” Without waiting for confirmation, the innkeeper pointed to a doorway. “You’ve all got accommodation upstairs. Any one of the first four rooms. Help yourself.”

Quintillian smiled gratefully and, turning, pounded up the stairs to the room. As he disappeared into the next floor, Mercurias cast a glance up the stairs after him and frowned. The first door opened into a comfortable room with three beds warmed by a brazier and lit by candles. The boy approached the small table near the window and gathered several candles together to light the table’s surface, upon which he laid Carso’s history. So Carso wrote crap did he?