will survive your succession my lord?”
Velutio nodded. “It has to be so. As long as they remain they are a reminder of a past regime and can be used in plots and coups against anything we do. It is not enough then to imprison or exile them. We must start with a clean sheet.”
Sabian frowned. “We?”
“Of course ‘we’. I shall need a commander for the Imperial army. As such, you will be one of the closest advisors I can have. You’ve been instrumental in bringing us to this stage and it shall be greatly your doing when we achieve our goal.”
Velutio gazed out of the window. “There can only be one heir as far as I can see. Only one real candidate.”
Sabian sat straight again. “This is why you’ve made sure no harm comes to Darius?” The commander slapped his forehead in irritation. “Of course! You’ve been planning this for twenty years. That’s the only reason you kept them all on the island this long isn’t it?”
Velutio nodded. “Indeed. I needed Darius trained by the best people in every aspect of Imperial life. On Isera he’s been tutored in the military arts, numerous fine arts, but also in politics, economics, geography, history, trade… everything a boy could need to take control of an Empire. He’s probably been better trained than any Imperial heir in history.” He smiled, and the effect made Sabian shudder. “But now things are almost ready. I have the monopoly and the world is bowing to me. When we have the last lords beneath us, I can bring Darius back from Isera and his education will be complete. At that point the rest of the island become dispensable and Isera can revert back to its palatial status.”
Sabian tried his best not to let his feelings show in his face. Darius would make a good candidate for Emperor, but there were so many problems his lordship hadn’t accounted for. Darius carried the blood of both the parties Velutio was planning to wipe out and he couldn’t surely believe that Darius would accept the adoption at the cost of the deaths of everyone he knew. The goal of a new Empire was sensible and reasonable and Velutio was the only man who stood a chance of actually doing this, but his methods spoke of paranoia. So many deaths of innocent and useful people were entirely unnecessary. Of course, there was no way to tell his lordship all this. Instead he forced a smile.
“What of all those across the Empire with leanings toward the old Imperialism?”
Velutio nodded. “Most of those are soldiers; mercenaries even. Mercenaries will become unnecessary once we have a united Empire again with one army. Mercenary units will be outlawed and those who do not resist can be split up and shuffled into our army. Those who do will have to be removed. In any case, the majority of the people of whom you speak are middle aged at least. By the time I have passed on and Darius is in control, there will be few alive who can remember the old dynasty.”
His lordship smiled. “I do not really care whether I am remembered fondly or with bitterness, but I
Sabian shuffled again. His discomfort was increasing with every sentence.
“I’m still not sure why you’re telling me all this right now, my lord.”
“Because,” Velutio replied, “you will be my instrument in much of this and I need you to be primed for everything as it comes to pass and to think in advance of any stumbling blocks for which I have not already accounted.”
Sabian leaned back again. “There’s a lot to think on.”
“Yes. Perhaps you’d best go and think on it. I want to meet again in a few days and go over anything you can come up with. I intend to be fully prepared for every eventuality.”
Sabian nodded and stood. With a salute, he turned and left the room. As he trod the corridors of the palace on his way back down his mind reeled. There really was a lot to think on and very little of it was good. One thing was certain: he couldn’t let Velutio execute so many innocent people out of simple paranoia. That was never a good way to start a new regime. It would be as likely to
Leaving the palace proper, he walked out into the Imperial gardens. His men patrolled the low wall at the edge in pairs and he strolled out among them, returning their salutes and he passed flowerbeds and the few large old trees that dotted the lawns. Reaching the wall, he stood on the gravel path, with his arms folded and his elbows leaning on the stonework, gazing out over the sea. Across the bay, with the constant white froth of waves breaking on the reefs, he could see Isera like an emerald set in a sapphire sea. How could he let so many people die for nothing, so that the island they had worked to turn into a home could be used by a new dynasty of Emperors responsible for their death?
He straightened, a new sense of purpose flowing through his blood. He had to betray Velutio to save the man from himself, but then that was why his lordship placed such faith in him. He stared out across the water, trying to pick out the individual buildings there but with little success. There was nothing he could do about the four in the palace prison, but the islanders he could save.
* * *
Night flooded the corridors of the Imperial palace as the commander climbed the stairs. He’d passed no guards on his route. He knew the routine of his men well and which passages and rooms he could use to remain undetected. The small oil lamp in his hand illuminated just enough to see where he was going, but that was all. Reaching the top of the stairs, he turned and followed a long, dark corridor until he reached a small nondescript door on the left at the end. Reaching down to his belt he withdrew his set of master keys and unlocked the door after some struggling to find the appropriate key. Beyond, another stairway led up, but there was no portal at the end of this one. A cool night breeze washed his face as he began to climb.
Moments later he was on the uppermost roof of the palace, forty feet above the highest patrolled walk. Carefully making his way to the low wall at the edge, he leaned over and recoiled at the precipitous drop to the gardens below. Heights had always sent a shiver up his spine and he was now at the very highest spot in the city.
Reaching down to his belt again, he unhooked the lantern he’d brought and placed it on the wide surface of the wall. Carefully, he judged how far back the lantern would need to be to become invisible from the palace gardens below and, satisfied with his calculation, he lit the wick within. There was no way he could take ship for Isera without drawing far too much suspicion, so he must be subtle and find other ways. Well, playing the court games against so many good opponents in his time at Velutio, he’d become quite adept at subterfuge himself and, though he always hated having to be underhand at anything, there were times when it was required for the good of all concerned. He dredged his memory to recall the standard signalling codes and then flicked the shutter open and closed a number of times.
A tense wait for five minutes and he repeated the gesture. Someone must be there.
After almost an hour of signalling with no reply, he was tiring and wondering whether anyone bothered to use the lamps on the island since he’d discovered them when suddenly a flashing light on the island brought him to his senses once more. Cursing himself for his lack of alertness in realising too late to translate the message, he flicked the shutter again asking them to repeat.
The signal came once more. He raised an eyebrow. ‘My prince?’ What prince? He clucked in irritation. Why did everything that involved these islanders create more and more mysteries?
Working away madly at translating into the code, he sent ‘No. Commander Sabian. I don’t care who you are. Find Darius and bring him to the lamp.’
He leaned back and exhaled deeply. This was it. He’d crossed the bridge and then burned it down.
Chapter XVIII
Tythias slammed his fist on the table.
“There must be something we can do?”
The leader of the Pelasian spies in the city shook his head. “We have no access to the palace proper. We don’t know for sure where they’re being held, but it seems likely to be the Dalertine prison. If that’s the case there
