Interregnum

as he entered the marble enclosure his sergeants came to attention, though Sabian waved aside the discipline with a half-hearted salute.

“Sergeant,” he said, his face devoid of expression, “detail ten men for duty exhuming graves and have them get to the graveyard as fast as they can.” He continued as the sergeant nodded. “Have a runner sent down to the ship for his Lordship’s physician and have him sent to the same place. Then fall the rest out and relax for a while. I have the feeling it’ll be some time before you’ll get to relax again.”

The sergeant saluted and turned to the unit, bellowing orders. Leaving the logistics in the hands of his officers, Sabian jogged back through the archway and off to the graveyard. He had a horrible sinking feeling. He’d automatically trusted these people and assumed that everything was as it seemed. If Velutio doubted it, though…

A few minutes later, he slowed to a walk and came to stand beside his liege. Velutio was staring off into the distance across the sea while Crosus stood on his other side, glaring at Sabian. Velutio cleared his throat and addressed Sabian without a glance.

“The graves are likely empty commander,” he said with cold conviction. “If there is anyone in there, my physician will check them and I’m absolutely certain you will find that they are not who they are supposed to be.”

Sabian frowned.

“How can you be so sure sir?” he asked.

Velutio folded his arms and nodded toward the graves.

“You don’t know the histories of these people, commander” the older man said in a matter-of-fact manner,” but I know every single one. Apart from Quintillian, these three were Tomas Castus and Enarion Stavo. Castus was harbourmaster for the imperial island and Stavo was Quintus’ personal courier. I don’t know how they managed to find a way to get off this island without using the channel to Velutio. It’s theoretically impossible, but if anyone could do it, it would be those two.”

Sabian frowned and scanned the walls with frustration. At most places on the island the turf met the water and the walls were far enough down to afford a good view of the sea from the palaces, but here were cliffs and the walls were too high to see the water beyond.

“Sir,” he began, “I’ve spoken to people who used to sail the passage in the days when the Imperial engineers kept it safe; I’ve spoken to architects who’ve done studies of the palaces; I’ve read a number of books on the place since I took on this jailor’s job, and never anywhere have I found a sign that there is any other navigable route to Isera than through the narrow.”

Velutio turned once more towards the commander. He looked a little tired now.

“Sabian,” he sighed, “just because no one has ever documented a thing doesn’t mean it’s not there. Someone knows a way through the reefs; a safe channel. Never assume you know everything. If I’d thought for a minute that this island was completely secure, would I ever have assigned you to keep an eye on the place?”

He provided his own answer before Sabian could speak.

“No, commander. Though I don’t want you to think that I hold you in any way responsible for any of this. It had to happen eventually.”

Sabian blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him that blame might land with him anyway. He was guiltless. Gritting his teeth at the unpleasant smile Crosus was giving him from behind Velutio, he glanced back over his shoulder and saw the exhumation party and the doctor making their way to the graves.

Stepping back beneath the cherry trees, he leaned heavily against the bole of one of them while he watched his men digging. If they found nothing, he’d have to take charge of the situation pretty damn quick. Praying to fortune for all to be in order, he cleared his throat and addressed his Lordship again.

“Sir, unless you really need me right now, I ought to go and address my men. They’ll be draped around the Ibis courtyard waiting for orders.”

“Do that Sabian,” Velutio nodded and raised his hand, “but be back here in ten minutes and have some of your men bring the elders down here with you.”

“Yessir.”

Sabian trotted off once more toward the main palace and the Ibis courtyard. His two senior sergeants stood by the Arch of the Four Seasons, deep in conversation. They came to attention as Sabian jogged into the yard and slowed to a halt. He glanced around.

“Where are the men?” he asked. “I told you to fall them out for now.”

The sergeants nodded and the younger of the two addressed his commander in a clear, sure voice.

“Yes sir” he replied efficiently. “Four companies are fallen out and are relaxing on the grass outside the gate, two of mine and two of Cialo’s. The other two have been set on guard at strategic points as best as we can manage; none of us know the layout of the place very well sir.”

“Nice job lads,” Sabian smiled. “Now Cialo, go get your two resting companies and bring them back here.” He pointed to a set of windows high up on one side of the courtyard. “I’m going to fetch the elders.”

The sergeant saluted and ran off through the great gate toward the sloping lawn. Sabian sighed; he had a really bad feeling about today. Entering through a decorative archway, he pushed open a heavy oak door and slowly climbed the stairs. This had once been the Raven Palace; the administrative centre where the senior Imperial officials had lived and worked. Minister Sarios had spent most of his free life here, controlling the intricacies of Empire, and had continued in the same building for a further two decades of captivity. With a sense of foreboding, Sabian climbed the stairs, trying to gather his thoughts and formulating his words before he reached the huge wooden double doors to the dining hall and pushed them open.

“Good morning” he addressed the assembly. “His Lordship wants the elders to join us at the graveyard, so please gather yourselves and make your way down to the courtyard. The rest of you’ll have to wait here for the moment.”

He turned on his heel and started back through the doors to the stairs as the room behind him erupted with muttered conversation. He stopped at the head of the stairs and sighed. Without turning, he cut through the murmur with a loud clear voice.

“Now!” he shouted.

As he started down the beautifully crafted marble staircase, he heard the inhabitants shuffling toward the door in confusion. Pausing a second at the bottom with his hand resting on a slightly damaged ivory carving of an elephant, Sabian waited for the elders to catch up a little. He stepped to one side of the door, noting with satisfaction the companies forming in the Ibis Courtyard. Gesturing to the small crowd to continue on into the open, he made a mental count as they shuffled past. All the elders he could think of seemed to be present, as well as a few people he only vaguely recognised. Toward the rear of the group came Darius. For a moment Sabian considered hauling the lad out of the line and telling him to go back, but the realisation of the importance of the boy both in intrinsic terms and to this particular situation got the better of him. If he didn’t take Darius, he was fairly sure his Lordship would ask why he hadn’t. The group assembled in a small knot in front of the two companies of soldiers and Sabian took one last glance up the stairs before he ventured out into the sunlight.

The companies of men were at attention and the islanders stood silently, their intent eyes locked on the commander. Sabian gestured toward the arch with one arm and the courtyard began to empty. The commander fell in alongside the rear company of soldiers, side by side with the sergeant. He walked with his back straight and his arms by his sides, every inch the military commander on a mission. Within, however, he was still hoping that the graves would contain the bodies of those they declared and that the island could be left to its own devices while he went back to his house in Velutio. Hope, but not belief. He shaded his eyes and saw the small group standing around the graves. His Lordship turned and looked in their direction, his attention presumably drawn by the racket the companies of men and the group of muttering elders made.

He picked up a little speed and bypassed the group, coming to the front just as they arrived at the burial site. Sabian noted with some distaste the twisted forms of three bodies that lay on the grass, surrounded by fragments of burial gear and small piles of earth. They were not pleasant to look at, damaged as they had been by falling masonry and then eaten by worms for many months. He realised that while he had his hands clasped behind his back, his fingers were crossed. Shaking his head a little, he uncrossed them and addressed the men with him.

“Fall into formation, four deep!” he barked, turning back to Velutio. The Lord glanced around at Sabian while his physician continued to examine the bodies he knelt beside. He shook his head barely perceptibly and the