Caerdin, but may irreparably damage Darius. For both their sakes’ we have to keep the whole thing very secret.”
Sabian whistled. “Hell yes. It answers quite a few questions, though. I couldn’t help but wonder why his lordship was so determined to destroy all of you and any trace of the Imperial blood, but still wanted to adopt Darius. He must have actually cared for her, you know? I’ve never seen Velutio care for anything. It’s logic, whether good or bad, that decides his path, not emotion or values. Gods, I’ve got to get Darius to him after it’s all over. The lad deserves to inherit it all.”
The minister stopped as they reached the baths and raised his voice, pointing his finger at the commander. “
Sabian stood for a moment in silence. The minister’s face had taken on a high colour as they’d talked and for the first time in all his visits throughout the years, Sabian’d heard the man shout. It seemed wrong. The minister was the calmest, most stoic and moderate man the commander had ever met. He stood for a moment breathing as the minister glared at him and then turned and walked into the bath house. There was too much to absorb; too much importance here to dismiss it immediately. He’d have to think on it later. Gods damn Isera. Every time he came to the island, life became just a little bit more complicated. With an uncomfortable sigh, he entered the baths.
Brendan had never been the quietest or subtlest of the Wolves. He knew his strengths and his weaknesses and had never been the sort to scout, take point or be a runner. Front line in a fight was fine. And he’d much rather anyone else had been where he was at this time. Marco would have been able to do this so much easier, but there’d been no time to find him. He’d been at one of the ground floor rear windows of the palace when he’d seen the Captain that had arrived on the ship come out of the palace door and duck into the shadows. In a corner that was well hidden from the world in general, but clearly visible from that particular window, the captain had removed his helmet and cloak. He’d donned one of the long robes the elder scribes of the island wore before leaving the shadows again, looking to all intents and purposes like any other islander. With absolutely no time to think, Brendan had stepped out of the doorway and run as quietly as possible to the next tree. As quickly as he dared and not as quietly as he’d like, he moved from vantage point to vantage point, following the captain. Finally, as they’d rounded the ruined walls of the Golden House, he saw what the man was up to. The commander, Sabian, was walking and talking with minister Sarios. He’d no real love for Sabian. However much the others might laud him, to Brendan he was as yet an unknown quantity, still a servant of the enemy; but he did know Sarios for a good man and the two of them in private conversation would be nothing harmful to Darius or the Wolves. So by extension a man secretly following them had to be up to no good.
He’d seen the two men disappear into the doorway of the extramural bath house just as the disguised captain reached the bole of a particularly large tree. He himself skidded to an all-too-noisy halt behind a low bush, watching the captain through the upper tendrils. A moment passed as the captain waited for his quarry to move deeper inside the edifice and then he moved very quietly, but surprisingly fast to the entrance of the baths, taking up a stance by the doorway and leaning close enough to the door to hear the echoed conversation within. The man slowly pushed back the hood from the cloak to facilitate his spying and all his attention was riveted to the bath house.
Brendan smiled a smile of pure malice as he slowly moved to the huge tree the captain had last frequented, hoping his prey wouldn’t turn and notice the somewhat noisy pursuer. He paused at the huge trunk and pondered, suddenly well aware that he’d left both his sword and dagger back in his quarters. Hell, he’d only been out to answer a call of nature, otherwise he’d be safely hidden away and blissfully unaware of the events outside the walls. Grumbling quietly to himself about his lack of blades, he looked around desperately until his eyes lit on a large branch lying half buried beneath a wild, creeping bush. Crouching, he reached out and slowly teased the branch from beneath the fronds of the plant. Every time the bush shook or the branch caught on something, Brendan winced and snapped his head back to check on the captain, but each time the man was more intent on what was going on inside and his attention couldn’t be easily diverted.
Finally the bulky mercenary had the branch, which seemed to have been stripped down of its twigs and leaves almost as though designed for the very purpose, and wielded it as a club. He hefted it and spun it a couple of times to test the reach and the weight before grinning. With one more look at the captain, he checked out the lie of the land between the two of them. There was precious little cover. That hadn’t bothered the captain as
Keeping as low as he dared without overbalancing, he ducked from the tree to the first of the small bushes. For a moment he considered halting and moving slowly to the next one, but his momentum was too good. Before he’d decided what he actually wanted to do about it, he’d run the length of the row of bushes and burst out into the open. Still the captain hadn’t turned. As he ran, Brendan raised the branch to shoulder height, gripping the narrowest end as tightly as he could. At the last moment the captain turned, perhaps out of some sixth sense or perhaps Brendan was making more noise than he thought. In any case, there was nothing else for it now. As he covered the last six yards he let out a roar of anger and defiance and, pulling the branch back behind him, swung it with all his might.
It is often in anticipation that the veteran shows his skill over a green recruit. The captain was of rank and considered himself a good officer. He’d been involved in a few small engagements; enough to have achieved the level he had, but had fought as an officer, not on the front line of a unit. He smiled as he turned, watching the large, shaven-headed man closing on him, branch raised and coming for a swing at head height. In response and perfectly timed, the captain dropped to one knee, reaching into his tunic to withdraw his dagger. At the last moment however, the angle of Brendan’s branch changed and the heavy chunk of wood came forward and down at forty five degrees. The captain wasn’t even paying attention, struggling with his knife as he was, when the branch connected with the top of his skull. There was an unpleasant cracking sound and a spray of blood across the grass.
To the captain’s credit, despite the obvious agony and confusion he was suffering, he staggered back upright, his head rolling and a short blade clutched shakily in his hand. Brendan exhaled gently. The man was slowly shaking his head, coming out of the daze. The bulky mercenary pulled back his club once more and took another swing. This time he didn’t attempt to adjust the swing and just let it go at head height, allowing the widest arc he could. The end of the branch slammed into the captain’s temple and the crunch this time sounded distinctly final. The captain’s eyes rolled up into their sockets and the dagger fell from the suddenly loose fingers. Perhaps in confusion and pain, or perhaps already dead, the captain staggered and twisted twice before collapsing like an old, crumbling column. Brendan watched the legs kick once and then leaned down and pressed his fingers against the man’s neck. Nothing.
With a sigh, he stood again and wondered what to do, but never got the chance to decide as Minister Sarios and Commander Sabian both appeared in the doorway of the baths. The commander had his sword out in a threatening manner. He stared at Brendan and then at the body on the floor.
“What in the name of seven hells is going on here?”
Brendan coughed nervously. “I’m Borus the fisherman…” he began a little uncertainly.
“Absolute shit” replied the commander, sheathing his sword. “You’re one of the Wolves. I don’t know which one, but you’re one of them. What are you doing smashing the brains out of my second in command?”
There was a thoughtful look on Sarios’ face as Brendan looked helplessly between the two. A thought suddenly occurred to him.
“Sabian” he addressed the commander. “You don’t seem right bothered? Why’s that, eh?” Since the commander made no reply, the mercenary grinned. “Think I jus’ saved y’a job, eh? Yer do know ‘e was spyin’ on yer, dontcha?”
Sabian sighed and turned to face away. For a moment Brendan considered taking his branch to the back of the commander’s head, but decided against it. Sabian stood for a moment and then turned back with another, deeper sigh.
“All Cialo’s hard work.” He crouched and picked up one of the captain’s arms. Dragging the body toward the
