Kiva shrugged. “Probably. I don’t really care too much about me any more, but I’ve got to keep going until all this is over. Got to see it through. See, I brought the Empire down and I thought that was the end of it, but we found Quintus’ nephew in the early summer and… well, everything’s come tumbling back down on me. My lack of foresight got the young man killed and, though I’m going to hell anyway, I’ve got to put it right. It’s all my fault and I’ve got to put it right.”
Balo nodded. So the Imperial line’s properly gone then? I always assumed it had anyway. So where did this Darius lad turn up from?”
“He was brought up with Quintillian on Isera; taught everything by Sarios and his people. I gather he was the son of the training officer from Munda. It took me a while to realise a new Emperor didn’t have to be the same family as the old one. Sarios hammered it into me in the end.” As they reached the door leading out to the wide square, he caught sight of Darius handing out instructions to the guard officers. “He’ll make a good Emperor though; of that I’m damned sure.”
“I suppose,” said Balo as they strode out into the sun, “my next question is: how the hell do you plan to actually beat Velutio?”
Kiva shrugged. “Everyone here thinks I’ll come up with some miraculous genius plan to turn everything around and, well, I’ve had ideas; a few plans in their earliest stages, but nothing I’d pin the hopes of an Empire on. They all feel wrong. There’s something that I’ve missed this far though; something that escapes me; something almost in reach, but I can’t quite grasp it.”
He grinned at Balo. “But I’ll bet you’re part of it. You can’t go, even if you won’t join us. I have a feeling I’ve a part for you to play yet.”
Balo nodded. “If you say so, General. You know I won’t back out and leave you all in the shit. I just don’t want to be in a position of command.”
The two of them wandered out, catching up with the others at the gatehouse. Darius was standing around with the other officers and the gates stood wide open. The Emperor smiled as Kiva approached. “Sorry to cut your reunion short, general, but Velutio’s group’s almost here and I thought we’d best all be present, eh?”
Caerdin nodded soberly. “Indeed. They’ll no doubt want to speak to you, but I would suggest that I act as your intermediary to start with. To give them immediate access to the Emperor will look idiotic, and I’m still not sure how far we can trust them, even under a flag of truce.”
Darius nodded. “Agreed. I’ll stay at the back with my guards and be very imperial until you need me.” He smiled. “Or until I need to say anything of course.”
They watched for a short while as nine men on horseback toiled slowly and openly up the slope toward the gate, the dust from their hooves creating thin clouds that drifted across the valley as they travelled. Finally they approached the gate. The lead soldier made a quick study of the defences, noting with interest and approval the narrow approach to Hadrus and its strong walls. Guards manned several huge bolt-throwers on the top of the gate, which were aimed directly at the approaching riders, though the gates themselves remained open and surprisingly welcoming.
Kiva took a couple of steps forward, Athas and Tythias at his side.
“State your business” he called.
A smaller man rode out around the side of the lead soldier and dropped the travel-worn and dusty cloak from his head and the scarf from his face. He was clearly Pelasian; one of Ashar’s. “General Caerdin… I believe you will know at least some of these men. Sergeant Cialo if no others?”
Kiva nodded. “Cialo. I’m surprised Velutio would send you rather than one of his politicians or spies.”
Cialo saluted; a traditional Imperial salute. Sliding from his saddle he motioned his men to follow suit. The Pelasian remained seated as he looked across the others at the general. “If you will excuse me general, my Prince must know of this?”
Without waiting for Kiva’s absent wave of a hand and nod of assent, the man wheeled his horse and began to ride as fast as safety would allow down the narrow path. Cialo, with his seven other men at heel stepped slowly forward, their hands staying well clear of the sword hilts at their waists. The sergeant smiled at them. “General Caerdin, it’s a pleasure. I can assure you that it was Commander Sabian that chose who delivered the message, not his lordship.”
Kiva nodded. “I realise that you’re here under a flag of truce and have no real reason to trust me, but the Emperor is here and I must ask you to surrender your weapons for the time being.” He clicked his fingers and a number of the guard stepped forward to receive the items.
Cialo nodded. “Of course, general. I understand completely. Darius must not be harmed.” He turned and made beckoning gestures to his men. “Crispin? Collect the weapons.”
As the Imperial party stood waiting, the sergeant turned, drawing his sword from its sheath. The men of Hadrus around them were already fully alert with their weapons trained on the visitors, clustering defensively around the commanders and watching every move the sergeant and his men made. Cialo spun round, whipping out his short-sword and jammed it with a smooth blow into the neck of the soldier behind him just below the chin, who was busy relinquishing his weapon fully sheathed. The man gasped and gurgled in panic and surprise as the sergeant put all his strength behind the weapon and drove it home to the hilt, the tip emerging from the man’s spine red and dripping. Behind that and to one side, Crispin received a blade from one of the other soldiers and in a swift move drew the blade and cut across the man’s throat, deep and hard before pushing him away.. Kiva watched with surprise as the party of eight dropped to six and the two limp bodies collapsed to the ground with sprays of blood.
“Interesting, sergeant. And why may I ask?”
“These are not my men.” Cialo said loudly. “I chose my men personally. These two were sent along with us at his Lordship’s request. I expect I needn’t explain that to you?”
The general raised an eyebrow but said nothing, so Cialo shrugged, wiping his blade on the hem of a fallen soldier’s cloak. Standing once more, he reversed his blade and placed it over his other arm, offering the hilt to Kiva. The general merely stood his ground, brow still raised.
“If I must spell it out, general, I offer you my sword and my loyalty, as well as that of my men. These two assassins spoke and boasted far too much after a jug of ale during the nights on the journey. I’m surprised your little Pelasian didn’t deal with them. He must have known. But then perhaps he feared reprisal from the rest of us.”
Kiva smiled. “I think you underestimate Ashar’s men.” He pointed behind Cialo and the sergeant turned his head to see the small Pelasian, still on horseback some distance away but with a bow trained on the group and an arrow nocked. “I don’t think he had any intention of letting these two get away.”
Cialo nodded. “Nevertheless, I surrender my arms and that of my men to you and formally seek sanctuary with you.”
Caerdin shook his head, his eyes narrowing.
“Not you, Cialo. I can’t believe that. You’re old school and I can’t see you betraying Sabian. This is some sort of a trick.”
Cialo shook his head in return. “No trick I assure you. You will find that these terms are dishonourable and unacceptable. My Commander is an honourable man, but his lord is not. I cannot take an oath to put a man on the throne who takes advantage of a truce to send assassins. I have no wish to betray my commander, but the fault must lie with him. He should have walked away from Velutio a long time ago.”
Mercurias appeared from one side and leaned close to Kiva. “If you want to be sure whether he’s telling the truth or not, give Favio and me half an hour with him. I’ve got compounds that’ll make him sing the truth like he’s talking to his mother.”
Kiva smiled. “And if that doesn’t work, ten minutes with Brendan and a hammer should do it.” He turned back to Cialo. “It is not I that can grant mercy here.”