He extended his arm in a gesture reminiscent of a traditional Imperial salute and picked up his bag from where it lay by a shattered column before turning to leave through one of the other exits. Sabian stepped quickly across the room and followed him, catching up easily as the lad navigated the obstacles of fallen masonry in the passage. He fell in beside him, hands clasped behind his back. Darius looked sidelong at the commander with a quirky smile and raised an eyebrow.
“You’d be better to keep your hands free here,” he offered; “you never know when you might fall through the floor tiles.”
The commander unfolded his arms, keeping step with difficulty due to the obstacles. He glanced at the young man.
“Mind if I tag along?” he said. “I’ve nothing urgent on until I meet with the elders tonight.”
Darius merely shrugged and kept walking. After a few minutes, they left the ruinous palace by a rarely used exit, clambering round the bole of a large cedar tree and onto a deserted section of lawn. The young man made straight for a small door in what Sabian recognised as the student dormitory, shared by everyone from the age of five to twenty and once the slaves’ quarters serving the main palace. A brisk walk across the lawn and they entered the building. Darius made his way down the corridor within and opened a side door. Sabian followed with interest and peered through the doorway. The lad crossed the room and, removing the sheathed sword, leaned it against a cupboard. Reaching up to a glazed weapon cabinet, he tapped the wooden frame with the side of his hand and the cabinet came away from the wall a little. Supporting its weight with one hand, he lifted the sword with the other and slipped it round the frame into its allotted space before pushing the whole assembly back against the wall.
The commander grinned as Darius turned to leave. “I see you’ve developed the art of theft in recent years” he laughed.
The young man shrugged again.
“Is it thievery if it’s yours anyway?”
Without waiting for an answer, he edged past the commander and continued on down the corridor. Sabian followed once again, taking in the flaking plaster and peeling paint in the passage and stairway as he glanced around. This building could do with a little work. Stairs led up from the storage area to the dormitory proper and the two made their way to the end of the dorm vestibule where a large window looked out over the manicured lawns. Darius turned the handle of the last door on the left and swung it open before turning to the commander.
“I probably ought to get on with my studies,” he said uncertainly, “but I’ve a bottle of elderflower wine if you want to join me. I don’t get many visitors. Except those who want to teach me rubbish or have jobs for me” he added as an afterthought.
Sabian thought for only a moment.
“I’d be happy to” he smiled. “I was hoping to get in some social time before I started all the assessments.” He followed the young man inside and sat on one of the chairs at the desk beneath the window. “I’m quite impressed with the progress you’ve made since last time I saw you. There are trainee officers in my army that couldn’t hold their own against you.”
The mechanical shrug again.
“I practice a lot” he replied absently. “In fact, it’s most of what I do when I’m awake; that or reading treatises on war or combat. Or maybe politics.”
The commander nodded and picked up a textbook, examining it briefly and speaking as he flicked through the pages with little interest in the content.
“I can understand that,” he said. “I could never be bothered with all this drama crap myself. It’s all a bit of a shame really, as I’ve the feeling you’d make a good officer.”
Darius’ face darkened.
“All I’ll ever manage though is to end up like one of the elders here, running the island for the younger generation.” He held up a dismissive hand. “Don’t try and sweeten it all for me commander, I know what I am; what we all are. We’re prisoners and with no hope of release. I’m not aware of why most of us are here. Some of us were even born here.”
Sabian sighed. This was never a duty he’d have chosen; he was a soldier, not a jailor, and the lad was absolutely right and knew it.
“Darius,” he began, “I know it’s not a perfect world, but it’s no better out there…”
He gestured at the door. Darius’ eyes followed the motion and then returned to the floor. “I’m not a child, commander. I know a pointless platitude when I hear one, but bear this in mind: empires and princedoms come and go all the time. Nothing lasts forever; not even Velutio. One day your precious master’s little empire will fall like all the others before him and we’ll find our way off the island. I might not live to see it, but it’ll happen.”
Sabian stood, placing the book back on the desk, and made for the door.
“Very well, Darius” the commander said coldly. “I think perhaps we should end this discussion for the moment and I think I’ll turn down that wine after all.”
Darius looked up at him. “It might make you uncomfortable, but you know it’s true. Velutio’s by far the strongest of the Lords, but that just makes him a juicier target for the rest of them. Not listening to me talk about it won’t make it go away.”
Sabian’s brows creased into a frown.
“Darius, we’ll talk about this again, but when I’ve done the job I came to do. Maybe tomorrow. For now I’d best go and meet with the elders. Where’s young Quintillian by the way? You two are usually together.”
Darius’ face darkened and he lowered his eyes.
“Quint’s gone, commander” he said bleakly.
“Gone?” Sabian straightened, his hand falling automatically to the pommel of his sword. He’d no real idea who many of these people were himself, but his Lordship had always impressed on his jailor the importance of these boys. Darius had been so matter-of-fact. “Gone how? When? … Where?”
The young man looked up and Sabian noted the tear crawling down his cheek.
“Dead, commander” he replied sharply. “Dead along with two of the better teachers. They were doing some restoration work when the Fortune Fountain collapsed on them. They’re all buried in the cemetery by the orchard, ok? Now I think I’ve said all I really want to about that. I think you’d best go.”
Sabian realised that he’d back-stepped slightly again and was now in the corridor. While he was trying to formulate a reply, Darius shut the door in his face. He stepped back again and sank down onto the chest beneath the large window. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see across the well tended lawn and to the orchard and the cemetery beyond. This changed things. He’d have liked to have got the tasks done first, but now he’d best get a message to Velutio. His Lordship would want to know about this immediately. Standing once again, he jogged down the corridor and descended the stairs. If he got to the dock fast, the ship might have time to get back to the city before it got too dark and dangerous. His sergeant’d have to deliver the message while he stayed here.
Formulating his plans he picked up speed, gathering surprised looks as he ran, gleaming and clanking through the corridors and courtyards of the palace and down to the dock.
Darius’ chest heaved from the effort of running as he pushed open the door of Sarios’ chamber, gasping for breath. The old man sat with a scroll of parchment and a quill and looked up in surprise at the unexpected interruption.
“Darius” he reprimanded the boy. “Do you not know how to knock?”
The young man gasped.
“S… sir. I had to tell Sabian they were dead. He… he’s gone to the boat.”
Sarios moved his left hand and the scroll contracted into a coil, the still wet ink running and blurring. He took a deep breath.
“Then I hope you’ve been studying your drama, Darius” the old man said with deep feeling. “We’re going to need to play this very convincingly and if he’s sent for Velutio, we’ll have a most attentive audience.”