The Hekamon Read online

  The Coralainian was struggling again now, his body seemed to shake involuntary, before his limbs relaxed.

  It was only then that they pulled him out and onto the bank, before dragging him back up and onto the road next to the bridge.

  "What should we do?" Kormak asked, turning to Tolle.

  "I should talk with the voight see what he says."

  The others nodded and Kormak thought it the right course of action, too, but it would almost certainly mean waiting until morning.

  He looked at the Coralainian on the ground and kicked him in the ribs a few times, partly out of frustration, and partly to see if he was still alive.

  As unlikely as it seemed, he appeared to have kicked some life into the wretched figure in the dirt. The coughing and wheezing that followed, indicating that the man was alive, if only just.

  It was probably for the best. There might be more information they could get out of him. They would take him back to the stockade and interrogate him some more.

  Just then Loccsleah grabbed him, "Company," she said.

  They all turned and looked in the direction Loccsleah was indicating. There they saw, on the other side of the river and stepping onto the bridge, two Demedelite guards.

  81

  Raising the wooden spoon to his lips, Tansley took another sip of the broth. A guard had brought it him a few minutes earlier, along with the blanket which he had since draped over his shoulders. The gritty, tasteless gruel was barely edible. But it was warm and quenched his dry throat if nothing else.

  He was sitting on a straw mattress atop a simple wooden bed, hunched over the wooden bowl. And having woken up shaking with cold and nausea, Tansley found that the warmth of the vessel helped, even if the taste of its contents did not. He took a few more sips and looked around the prison cell.

  There was nothing else apart from the bed. The room was almost cave like in appearance and it didn't seem to be a natural hollow in the rock. Pick marks on the walls suggested it had been carved out that way.

  The cell door to his left, was set into a stone wall, which had turned the cave into a enclosed room. While to his right there were two openings leading outside, both barred. One was about two feet square and eight feet off the ground and reached almost to the ceiling.

  If he were to move the bed over and stand on it, he might be able pull himself up and look out. But even from where he was sitting he could tell the outer wall was thick, at least four feet maybe more. The view would be very limited, almost like looking through a tunnel. Even so, he resolved to try later when it was light so he could get his bearings.

  From what he knew of the fort's layout, he guessed the cell faced north or north east and the conditions seemed to bear that out. Very little light was coming through, but a cold draft was chilling him to the bone. The blanket and warm bowl of broth was helping but his hand was shaking and he needed to steady it each time he brought the spoon to his lips.

  The lower of the two openings was at floor level and was set into a gutter. It was much smaller than the window and its purpose was for an obvious and undignified arrangement.

  The darkness of the cell, the cold, the damp exposed rock of the walls, was all part of the retribution. The prison was originally a place to hold the convict while they awaited their punishment, before it was deemed a sufficiently punishing experience in itself, for lesser crimes anyway.

  How long would he be kept here? And for that matter, why was he here? His memory was hazy. If not for the guard, he wouldn't have known for sure he was in the Demedelei Fort Prison. Cardell's uniform was recognizable but so too was his face. He didn't know the man well but knew of him. He was the bailiff and one of Tregarron's henchmen. He was rumored to be particularly sadistic when it came to the treatment of prisoners, and as a result, Demedelei had a low re-offending rate.

  Travelers would purposely avoided the town because of the bailiff's reputation. Keeping to the Regis Highway and the merchants there instead. So Tansley had not minded Cardell, welcoming his presence even, for sending more trade his way. Now he was far less appreciative of the torturer's existence.

  While he was trying to collect his thoughts, there came the sound of footsteps from beyond the door. He could hear voices too, though the wall and door were too solid for him to determine anything being said. Tansley didn't immediately react to the noises.

  In the time he'd been awake he had heard movement in the corridor outside, so didn't think much of it, but this time the sound of a key in the lock caused him to tense with apprehension.

  The door opened and the cell was filled with the glow of a lantern, with the light obscuring the face of the guard carrying it. The man opened the door wider and as he did, he could see it was Cardell again. It wasn't a face he particularly wanted to see. Yet despite Cardell's reputation of cruelty, Tansley might have preferred him to the man he could now see standing behind him in the doorway. He too was carrying a lantern.

  "Visitor," Cardell said, stepping back so the other man could enter the room, and Captain Tregarron walked in.

  "I can take it from here, Cardell."

  "Yes, sir." The guard said, closing the door and leaving the two of them alone.

  Tansley watched as Tregarron reached for a hook that hung down from a chain on the ceiling and placed the lantern on it. The chain rattled and filled the cell with sharp metallic sounds that set his teeth on edge. Tansley hadn't noticed it until now and it seemed far sturdier an arrangement than was necessary for holding a lantern. He stopped his mind from wandering to the other ways it might be put to use.

  Tregarron caught his eye, and, reading his thoughts, looked up at the hook again.

  "It has many uses," the captain said, smiling, "Let's not try them all out though, what do you say?" The smile vanished.

  "A lantern holder is fine by me," Tansley croaked, his voice weak and throat dry, despite the broth. If he looked as bad as he sounded, then he was in a bad way.

  Tregarron sat down next to him on the mattress, and watched while he attempted another sip of what he would tell himself was soup, while closing his eyes to eat it. The lantern light had revealed its murky gray color, making it taste even worse, if that were possible. He decided to give up on it for now and just held the bowl close for warmth instead.

  "So, Tansley, how are we today," Tregarron asked, in a mockingly cheerful voice.

  "I've been better, Captain."

  "I'm sure you have," Tregarron said, changing his tone to one that Tansley found to be even more irritating, formal and officious. "Now, can you can tell me what you remember?"

  It was only now that the captain put the question to him, that he realized he couldn't remember very much at all, and that would be a problem.

  "I don't seem able to recall anything, sir," he said, reaching up and rubbing the back of his head where a large bruise had formed and some flakes of dried blood had matted his hair.

  "You know, the Coralainians have a word for truth that is the same as their word for remember," Tregarron said.

  Tansley knew this all too well. He tried to avoid the captain of the guard wherever possible and very rarely spoke to him, yet he had probably heard this line pass his lips a dozen times or more. He didn't even know if it was true. It was Tregarron's way of saying that to forget is to lie, and lying to him was something he considered a personal insult of a most serious nature. Forgetfulness was ill advised here.

  "Perhaps if you asked me something specific, it might jog my memory," he said, reasonably, not least because he would like to start recalling things, too, like, what had happened to him.

  "Very well," the captain said, seeming to find this approach acceptable, "You delivered a package to Mr. Croneygee's workshop this morning. What was it?"

  Tansley had visited Mr. Croneygee, and he had taken a bundle of items, but it was as if the captain's words were illuminating what was buried in his memory. He couldn't bring to the fore any recollections himself, he would have to guess at some details.<
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  "I think I was taking some items to be repaired but I can't be certain, you understand," carefully moving his hand over his sore head.

  "Which items?"

  "My mind is a little clouded."

  "Your mind will be very clouded in a minute," Tregarron shouted, suddenly becoming aggressive.

  Tansley stared at the captain. The man's thick, black hair and dark, deep set eyes bored into him. This did trigger a memory, someone not dissimilar to Tregarron. Someone tall, with dark hair and features, why could he only see their eyes? Because they were masked. They had attacked him in his hut. They had been looking for something.

  "Captain, I've been attacked," he stated emphatically, looking away from his questioner, the realization hitting him. Something had been stolen, he was sure of it, but what? "I think I've been robbed."

  Tregarron studied him for a moment, "Who attacked you and what do you think was stolen?"

  "They were— Coralainian I think, yes. I had made my way home, stopped for an ale, reached my store and realized there were intruders," some of the details now coming back to him, "They were looking for some gauntlets but I didn't have them, they got angry, I tried to escape," he paused for several seconds, some images came to mind that he found hard to make sense of. "That's all I remember."

  "Gauntlets? Don't you stock plenty?"

  "They were looking for a particular pair and I didn't have them, that much I'm sure of."

  "Any other visitors lately, maybe selling has much as buying?" Tregarron said fixing him with a glare that suggested he knew, or at least suspected, something.

  Tansley tried to buy himself some thinking time, with an account of a seemingly innocuous recent visitor to his shop.

  "There was a man, a southerner, he traded in a dagger for a coat and some boots."

  "Is he of any relevance to the matter at hand?"

  "Well, I don't know—" He started to say before he was cut off.

  "Perhaps this might help," unbuttoning his coat, the captain took out a small fur bag. He untied it to reveal the contents, a row of ochre colored clay pots, covered in gauze and with a distinctive mix of aromas already noticeable. "Have you seen this before?"

  Tansley was sure he had. But in some recess of his mind he knew it was not something he could admit to, or at least, it was not something to claim ownership of, not to the captain of the guard anyway. It was a bad thing, harmful, illegal.

  "I've never seen that before, what is it?"

  "You know what it is, Tansley," Tregarron said, folding the pouch and returning it to an inside pocket of his blue guardsman's coat.

  "Where did you get it? Why do you think I would know about it?"

  "I took it from a man who we found with you in your hut."

  "Then you should ask him about it," he was starting to piece a few things together now.

  "I'll ask him in good time, for now I'm asking you."

  It was only now Tansley that came to relay events to Tregarron, that he realized he may have had a lucky escape. He had been in serious trouble, that feeling returned to him now. Cardell wasn't the only one capable of cruel and inhuman practices. He had been facing a torturer before his arrival at the fort, and yet somehow had avoided the worst of it, but how? How was it he came to be in the Demedelei Fort Prison? Normally a place he would avoid at all costs, but there were worse situations he could find himself in.

  "I'm helping as much as I can Captain, I think I'm the victim here."

  "I'm sure you can give more details if you put your mind to it. Think man, or you will be spending a lot more time here than is necessary. In that event, you will not think you are the victim, you will know it."

  Tansley was recalling events as best he could, to answer some questions of his own, as well as the captain's. There was one vivid image that came to mind. It seemed important but he couldn't make sense of it. Two eyes peering out of the darkness. Sharp, clear, glinting eyes. Wild eyes, not savage like a wolf but powerful and all seeing, like those of an eagle.

  "I would like to stay here for a while, Captain, if that's possible," he said quietly, almost inaudibly. This brought a look from Tregarron that he had never seen before, one of astonishment.

  "Maybe your injuries are worse than I realized, I'll give you more time," Tregarron's expression turned to one of pity. "Let's see if a good night's sleep helps, I'll tell Cardell to bring you more blankets."

  "Thank you, sir. That's very kind."

  Tregarron stood, took down the lantern, and was about to leave.

  "Before I go. Did you give anything to Croneygee, or his apprentice, something different from your usual wares. If you did, It's important that you tell me."

  Once again the captain's words brought a memory to the fore. He had met with Galvyn and he could see his face. Something had passed between them but he couldn't recall what it was. His senses had recovered enough for him to know that he should be careful what he said.

  "Some items for repair, Captain, but what, I don't know."

  The captain looked at him for a moment, Tansley thought he saw a faint smile cross the man's lips, but with Tregarron he could never be sure. It seem though that his request to stay in the prison for his own safety had been understood.

  "If it makes you feel any better. The men I believe assaulted you are here and in my custody. You are safe as long as you co-operate."

  Tansley was surprised by this, his mind raced to make sense of how. Among the talk of his hut, the intruders and the armorer's apprentice, the image of a broken chain came to mind. He couldn't be sure why, but he knew it held some relevance. Something powerful had been unleashed by a seemingly innocuous chain. In his groggy state of mind he was finding it difficult to think straight, or at least, rationally or logically. He was relying on the deep and subconscious part of his mind, his intuition.

  Maybe it was the rock surrounding him, or the fiery glow of the lamp and the shadows it cast. Maybe it was the piercing stare of Tregarron's eyes or the taste of his own blood. Something had brought out a primeval feeling, one of survival and acute aversion to danger. Something wild and hard to tame had been released and would be harder still to contain.

  "An injustice has been done," Tansley said. He felt sure of it, but didn't know what it was, or how he knew. He did feel some culpability, though, and that worried him.

  "Correcting injustices is why I'm here. Your memory will have returned by morning, I'll talk with you again then."

  82

  The half-dead man coughed and writhed on the ground, until it seemed he'd brought up enough of the river water that he could start breathing again. Then, after a few more coughs and groans, the man settled and stopped moving, with his face in the dirt. As he lay there, each breath kicked up a small cloud of the black, dried silty dust that formed the surface of the Fennelbek Way.

  Kormak looked at the man, whose retching had been the only sounds to break the silence, his struggles the only movement. It was a sight that had certainly got the attention of the guards watching from the other side of the bridge. They, like the ferguths, stood their ground, with neither side speaking or intimating they might leave.

  Kormak thought it might be incumbent on them to do the explaining.

  Although they controlled this side of the bridge by rule of the Aquassent Treaty, it also said that safe passage for travelers should be maintained and, if possible, guaranteed during the hours of daylight. The man before them had journeyed from the Demedelei side, was wearing some clothing that identified him as potentially one of theirs and it was still daylight, if only just.

  "I think they are waiting for an explanation," he said to Tolle.

  His patrol leader must have agreed with him, because he walked forwards onto the bridge and called across to the guards on the other side.

  "This Coralainian has been apprehended for crimes we know he has committed and for others he is suspected of," Tolle shouted across, loudly and with authority.

  Kormak watched as the two guar
ds conferred with one another.

  "What crimes?" One of the guards asked, equally loudly, so as to make himself heard.

  "Theft. He is also suspected of assault," Tolle hesitated and glanced at him, before continuing, "and possibly more serious crimes."

  "What evidence do you have?"

  "Items were found on his person and he has confessed."

  Tolle gave some emphasis to the last word which, combined with his need to shout, made it sound strained. Perhaps it was because Kormak knew it was an exaggeration that he picked up on it. While the guards conferred again, he took the chance to have a quiet word with Tolle, and walked forward and joined his friend on the bridge.

  "If Alyssa doesn't return, or we can't find her, we might need their co-operation."

  No sooner had he finished speaking, than the guards ended their discussion and the seemingly more senior one spoke again.

  "The man you have there might be wanted for questioning in relation to some crimes that have been committed in Demedelei."

  He and Tolle looked at each other.

  "It's as we feared," Tolle said, before considering a response.

  "We will interrogate him further. If we find out anything that is of relevance, it will brought to your attention."

  "Was the man traveling alone or was he with someone? He may have an accomplice."

  "He was alone," Tolle called back.

  This seemed to satisfy the guards who, after a brief exchange, signaled that the meeting held across the length of the bridge, was concluded. The two guards turned and started back along Tivitay Street.

  Tolle let out a breath, Kormak also. They had seen guards before, numerous times, but only from a distance and they had never spoken to them. On the few occasions matters were discussed, Voight Vondern took it up with Lord Jephson in person. Those men had been two of the three signatories to the treaty and seemed to have an understanding, but even that was a rare occurrence.

  It was rarer still for guards and ferguths to converse directly. Each had their own territory, their own dominion. They kept themselves to themselves and preferred it that way.