The Hekamon Read online

  "Mister, I think we need to get you some help, you're in no fit state."

  Decarius mumbled something, but knew neither what he had said or was trying to say. He tried saying thank you and heard himself say something approximating to that.

  "You're welcome. I know someone who will have you back to your old self in no time."

  And with that the two of them made their way up the cobbled street, the old man taking most of his weight, while Decarius just focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

  Before long, the road leveled out and Decarius could see movement to his right. He blinked, trying to be sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. It was the main gate of the Demedelei Fort, with at least two guards standing there, no more than thirty feet away, staring at him. Was the man taking him to the fort? To Tregarron? He tried to pull away and tell the man no, but he had no strength to do either.

  "Drunk?" He heard one of them shout. The guards were right there, they were coming for him, he had to run.

  "I don't think so," the old man said, gripping him more tightly, before continuing, "he's bleeding from a head wound and I don't smell drink. I'm taking him to Jervay."

  Jervay? Decarius knew the name, but from where?

  "Not another one," he heard the approaching guard say, before stopping and walking away again.

  He realized that the old man was not taking him to the fort but to a priory, a place where they treated the sick and the infirm. The old man was helping him.

  "Thank you," he said, more coherently this time.

  "Quite alright."

  As the two of them walked on, Decarius saw the guards converse out of the corner of his eye, before one went through the gate and into the fort. With the danger averted, he relaxed, and his drowsiness overtook him. With only enough of him staying awake, so he could continue the journey to the priory.

  85

  The sound of footsteps echoed around the damp rock corridor, as the captain and the bailiff moved between the cells of the prison. The flickering light of the lanterns they carried illuminated the rock around them, which glistened in the shimmering glow. While the chill breeze that blew along the tunnel in the motte, came through a grille covered opening that overlooked the dried out moat below.

  Tregarron was considering some of the details Tansley had given him, when his chain of thought was broken by Cardell, whose deep and rasping voice was given an even more baleful sound by the acoustics of the tunnel.

  "It's been a while since we had some Coralainians in here, eh Captain," Cardell said, the relish in his voice unmistakable. "Is it wrong to wish for them to be obstructing and unhelpful?"

  Tregarron could only bring himself to glance at Cardell's expression. The man's toothless, sinister grin not something he wanted to see. If it made him feel uncomfortable, how must the prisoners feel? And how could someone with so few teeth have such a carnivorous smile?

  "Let's just find out what we need to, the easy way, or the hard way," he said.

  "Yes, Captain," Cardell said, his expression returning to normal, which was only a slight improvement.

  They reached the door of another cell and Cardell opened the small, wooden hatch that gave a view inside. He held the lantern to the viewing window and while shielding his eyes from the glare, looked into the room.

  "This one's awake."

  "Good, let me in," Tregarron said, waiting for the bailiff to unlock the door before entering the cell, "and get this man some food, we don't want him passing out again."

  "A bowl of broth on its way," Cardell chuckled, closing the door.

  Tregarron knew how much the bailiff hated it when his charges lost consciousness, especially if it was for the avoidable and unrewarding reason of malnourishment.

  Entering the cell, Tregarron could see that the Coralainian had heard, although not entirely understood the exchange.

  "Thank you, sir, that's very kind of you," the young man said, sitting up straighter and attentively at his arrival.

  Tregarron hung the lantern on the hook, and as he did so, realized that it was only now, with prisoner awake and illuminated, that he knew who the young man was. Or at least, was as sure as he could be, given that the man in front of him had been five years younger and a boy in his early teens the last time he had set eyes on him.

  The place of their meeting had been the Halvyon Temple. He, along with Lord Jephson and a delegation of various Demedelei dignitaries; armorers, mine owners, land owners and the like, had been invited there by Andreas Greavus, the sacerdos of the temple and the most senior authority in Coralai.

  Andreas Greavus was an elderly man by that time, and the purpose of the meeting was to establish contact between them and the heir apparent to the temple, his daughter-in-law Cornelia and her son, Pandolin. The sacerdos's only son, Quintus Greavus, had been killed during the bewailing wars. So control of the Halvyon Temple would pass first to his widow Cornelia, who would be the saceress until their son, Pandolin, came of age.

  Tregarron stood looking at the prisoner. If the young man was who he thought he was, then he would need to tread carefully. There were matters of diplomacy to consider as well as his investigation, and the former would need to take precedence. Then there was the matter of the Aquassent Treaty.

  The treaty that ended the war had cemented relations between the Jephson and Greavus families. Ensuring each had unfettered control of their respective territories. In the immediate aftermath of hostilities, relations had become friendlier, but the situation had cooled somewhat. Andreas Greavus had wanted to ensure that the peaceful trade and diplomatic arrangements would continue after his death. This had been the purpose of the meeting that Greavus had arranged, and it had achieved its goals. The treaty had been reaffirmed.

  It had not been without some turbulence though.

  Three years after that meeting, Pandolin had fallen into one of the mountain crevasses that ran under the Halvyon Templum Complex. With his death, the succession changed, and the daughter of the sacerdos, Volusia, took a greater role. She, and not Cornelia, would become saceress upon the death of her father, and her son Aegidius would be her heir. Six months later, Andreas Greavus died and Volusia became the saceress, the leader of Coralai.

  At the time of the Halvyon gathering, she and her son Aegidius were not considered to be the most senior members of the Greavus family, so they had not been the main focus of the meeting. But courtesy and the conviviality of the proceedings meant that he had spoken with Volusia, and briefly, her young son.

  Now, looking at the young man in the lantern light, Tregarron felt sure he was one and the same. The boyish looks not entirely gone, his short black hair and lightly tanned complexion giving him a fresh faced appearance. It could be said he had an handsome face, his mother Volusia was an attractive woman and Tregarron could see some resemblance.

  The longer he looked at the prisoner the more certain he became. He decided to establish that fact beyond doubt before he began his questioning. If he really was the son of the saceress, the situation would be considerably more complicated and would need to be handled delicately.

  "Do you recognize me?" Tregarron asked, in a calming tone of voice. It was not his normal style, not when interrogating prisoners suspected of violence, but it was an approach he would need to take for now.

  "Yes," the Coralainian replied nervously, "You're Captain Tregarron."

  "We've met before haven't we?"

  "Yes, at the banquet of the sixth seal."

  Tregarron recalled now that the Coralainians had given the event a great deal of formality and ceremony. There had been wine, exotic fruit, dancers and musicians. All set among the fountains and marble statues of the extensive Templum Complex. With the warm and sunnier climate on the southern side of the mountains, it had made for an impressive sight.

  "That's right, and if I'm not mistaken you are Aegidius, are you not?"

  "My name is Aegidius yes, but my cognomen is Aegis."

  "Do you
know how you came to be here, Aegis?" Tregarron said, sitting on the bed next to him.

  The young man looked away, collecting his thoughts, not immediately responding.

  "It's unusual for Coralainians to find themselves here, what's the purpose of your visit to Demedelei?" Tregarron said soothingly, Aegis had given his name readily so presumably was going to co-operate. Or maybe not.

  After a moments thought the prisoner took a more bullish attitude, "I didn't come to Demedelei, I was brought here, we had been on the Regis Highway outside of the town." A flash of anger in his eyes.

  "What were you doing there?"

  "I don't have to answer your questions, I'm the son of—" Aegis said defiantly, before trailing off.

  "The saceress?" Tregarron finished.

  "Yes. So let me go. I demand it."

  Tregarron stood again and started to pace the cell. He distractedly tapped the lantern that now hung from the hook on the ceiling. It swung to and fro, the shifting light throwing shadows around the cell. "What is the son of the saceress doing breaking into a trading post on the Regis Highway?" He was thinking aloud as much as he was asking Aegis.

  Whenever possible, Tregarron preferred to know the answer to his questions before he asked them. How they were answered could be as revealing as what was said. What might the prisoner admit to or what might they try to conceal could be revelatory. Of course, knowing the answer in advance wasn't always possible and this seemed to be one such occasion. This time he would need an answer.

  He stopped pacing and looked at the prisoner, who was giving no indication of offering an explanation. This was going to cheer Cardell up no end, but after several seconds the young man did speak, and chose his words carefully.

  "Something valuable was stolen from the vaults of the Halvyon Temple, and we believed the merchant on the highway to be involved," Aegis said calmly, either his anger subsiding or being well concealed.

  Tregarron suddenly realized he had been wrong. He'd assumed that he had no idea what the Coralainians had been up to, but he now knew that not to be the case. Tansley had told him the intruders were looking for some gauntlets. It simply had not occurred to him at the time that gauntlets in question could be those of General Plautius.

  He knew instantly, that not only could it be those, it had to be. There was no doubt in his mind, and it was an important revelation.

  If the saceress could not retain possession of the Eagle Standard, then it meant she was losing control of Coralai.

  86

  The Rhavenbrook Bridge creaked and groaned with each step, the old timbers sounding their age, as Kormak made his way across. He'd never noticed the noises the bridge made before, but then, he couldn't remember the last time he'd tried to cross it quietly.

  The bridge was his, or at least, that's how he felt about it. He could walk on it how he pleased and when he pleased. He could run, jump and stamp on it. Or hold the sides and shake the bridge as much as it would allow. He'd done all those things when he was younger, but today he was very nearly tiptoeing across, because he knew that two Demedelite guards were not far ahead. They had only just passed the bend in the road that cut through the forest and lead to the village of Tivitay.

  In practice, the guards were not only out of sight, but out of earshot, too. They wouldn't hear anything except for the loudest of noises. Even so, Kormak was using an abundance of caution. The only problem was, he hadn't told the bridge. It murmured and complained under every step, maybe it was trying to tell him something.

  What Kormak was telling himself, was that it was risky to cross at river with guards lurking. But what else could he do? Leave Alyssa to her fate? No. He would find her and he would show the man she was with what happens when someone mistreats his sister.

  Reaching the far side, he moved off the bridge and into the forest, walking parallel to the road. Staying close enough to see if the guards, or anyone else for that matter, was walking there. While at the same time keeping option of dropping back into cover should the need arise.

  He stayed alert. If there was one thing Kormak knew, it was that he needed to be careful. His status as a Ferguth complicated matters. It afforded him certain powers when in Fennelbek but weakened him this side of the river. It marked him out as an enforcer of the marshes, a justice of the peace, a guardian of the land. Just not this land.

  It was for this very reason that he'd brought Alyssa into his plans in the first place.

  His idea had been to allow his sister to become more familiar with the area south of the river. That way she could conduct their business here in Demedelei. She was not a ferguth, she was just a girl. Harmless, anonymous and would be ignored.

  Once their trade with the merchant on the highway was generating some revenue, his sister would come in useful. Once they had some some legal tender, some hard currency, she could be dispatched to buy things that they were not able to make for themselves.

  That had been his plan.

  Well if her first trip was anything to go by, she was going to be more liability than asset. He would have to decide whether he would ever take her with him again, once he'd got her home form this journey that is. His search for her would begin at Tivitay and he was getting close.

  As he neared, the distant sounds of the mine workings and workshops of Serfacre became louder, and a few hundred paces later, the buildings that made up the village appeared through the trees. This view was one that would normally indicate that he'd strayed too far west, but since Tivitay was his destination, he stopped, and planned how he would get closer still.

  Could he simply walk the length of the street and see if he could see any sign of her? Maybe talk with some of the vendors, ask if they had seen anyone matching her description? It wasn't a bad idea. The shopkeepers might not like Fennreans but they would tolerate him for a short time, providing he didn't create a disturbance. They would answer his questions for the sake of moving him on without fuss if nothing else. The shopkeepers shouldn't be a problem but any guards he encountered would be a different matter.

  Walking through the trees, he approached from the east.

  The village might be small but Kormak could see that it had some impressive buildings, by Fennelbek's standards anyway. At Ochre Hill they mostly had single story wooden huts but here there were four story buildings with slate roofs and large windows. In some of the houses the windows glimmered seductively with lamp and candle light. There were more being lit as the last of the daylight vanished. These homes looked warm, sheltered and comfortable.

  As Kormak was deciding his next move, a thought came to mind. The two guards that he'd followed this way, had seen him and the rest of the Egret Patrol apprehending the Coralainian and doing so in a forceful manner. Kormak wondered what they might do if they saw him. Would they use it as a pretext to stop and search him? Or even worse, take him to the fort for questioning? It was not something he was willing to risk.

  He wouldn't be much help to Alyssa in her current predicament, if he was carted to the Demedelei prison like a common thief. No, he would have to reconnoiter cautiously and see what he could find out. A encounter with the guards was something to be avoided at all costs.

  Kormak decided the rear of the buildings would be a good place to start his search.

  He moved onto a strip of land separated the village from the forest. Leaving the cover of the trees, he became visible to anyone who might be nearby.

  He moved cautiously, his head turning quickly as he walked toward the first building. Once there, he backed himself up against the wall and breathed easier. He was confident he had not been seen, and his search could now begin in earnest.

  He moved to the corner of the house, or shop, or whatever it was, and peered down the alleyway there. Nothing. Nobody in the alley, or on the small stretch of the street the alley opened out onto. He moved across the gap to the next building.

  He noticed that there were no windows here that he could peer into, at least, not at ground level. The buildi
ngs of the village set their backs firmly against the forest. Walled up, bolted tight, shuttered and closed off. Visitors from the direction of the forest were not welcomed, that much was clear.

  He reached the next alleyway. Nothing again, neither to see or hear. With only the faint smell of ale arousing his senses. He waited to see if there was any movement visible on Tivitay Street and saw that there was not. He moved to the next building, which had some crates of rotting vegetables stacked up behind it, while the building further along was larger and much more substantial.

  He noticed the cobblestones swept around the side and back here. The hard and uneven feeling underfoot. His soft boots made very little sound but he made extra effort to pad quietly. His search was uncovering very few clues, but if nothing else, he was ruling out the possibility that Alyssa was here, or at least, not in the village. Could she be inside a building? That would present a whole new set of problems.

  He would search the surroundings first and decide what to do later. After all, the Coralainian had said he'd seen her near Tivitay. She was not necessarily in the village itself. There was still the question of how truthful the man been, but for now it was all he had to go on. He continued along the rear of the large house.

  Halfway along, Kormak noticed something. His own quiet footsteps seemed to be growing louder, then louder still. The noise increased until it sounded like he was wearing sturdy boots and walking heavily on the cobblestones. He was doing no such thing.

  He stopped in his tracks but the sound of the footsteps continued and were now very loud. A few yards ahead of him, Kormak could see the entrance to the next alleyway. It separated the building he was next to from the one beyond. Instinctively he threw himself against the wall. His green and brown outfit doing little to conceal him against the white, limewashed building beside him. Only the back door of the abode was giving him any help, with its frame extruding a few inches from the wall, obscuring him just enough to be inconspicuous, though not completely hidden.