The Mystery Deli
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When they arrived, the door was locked. The sign above it read “Closed until further notice.” A few of the shop’s windows had been smashed in. There were several small fires burning in a row along the street. It looked like someone had tried to burn the place down.
“They’ve been here,” Tavi said, his voice sounding thin and faint through his mask. He turned to Antillar. “Do you have any idea what that could mean?”
Antillar’s eyes narrowed. Then he grunted. “I suppose we’ll find out if the building collapses on us before I answer your question.”
Tavi nodded soberly, then pushed the door open as hard as he dared; it gave way with barely a sound, but Antillar took no chances. He slammed into the deli. The building was deserted inside. The front counter stood empty, the glass cases containing food items shattered or missing.
Behind them, a large section of one wall was missing—it had fallen inward, and half-burnt scraps of wood littered the floor beyond. The back room where Antillar stored the stock from his other businesses seemed untouched by fire, however; the shelves there were stacked with various foodstuffs.
There was also something else—something very odd that Tavi didn’t recognize until he saw its label: “Catsup for Crows.”
Something rustled behind a shelf.
Antillar drew his sword. Tavi unsheathed his sword, feeling the weight and the familiar feel of it against his hand. They moved cautiously toward the back room, weapons ready.
Behind another rack of canned goods, a man cowered, clutching a small sack. He had been dressed as one of the street urchins who sold newspapers, and wore only a pair of loose pants; his shirt hung open at the neck. His hair was black and disheveled, his beard long and scraggly.
And he had two swords strapped across his chest and shoulders; they were old steel blades, not unlike those Tavi himself carried, and both had been cleaned up so as to look like some sort of exotic decoration. But even more than the obvious weaponry, which was impressive in itself, there was something about the way this man crouched that made Tavi uneasy. Something about his posture…
“Don’t move,” Antillar growled, moving closer. “And don’t make a single sound.” He raised his sword, holding the blade before him. “You’re surrounded. If you come within my reach, you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
The man didn’t respond. His gaze darted to both sides of the room once again before focusing on Antillar. Then he slowly rose to his feet. When he spoke, it was in a low and guttural tone that suggested he had spent a great deal of time in taverns with equally deep voices.
“What are you doing here?” the man demanded. His voice was still ragged, and his expression was furious, but Tavi recognized it immediately from having seen it many times when he had watched his father train new recruits for the Canim legions.
It was the same expression Tavi had worn during his first week with the Canim, after having been taken away from his home and thrust into the midst of battle. The young man’s face reddened with anger; his hands tightened around his swords until the steel blades dug into the flesh of his palms, causing him to wince.
A chill went up Tavi’s spine and caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand erect. “That doesn’t concern you,” Antillar answered. He leaned closer to the man and lowered his voice. “You need to leave now,” he added. “Or I will kill you.”
The man stared at Antillar. For a moment, his eyes flickered uncertainly from side to side. Then he glanced toward Tavi and said, “He can hear you. He’s got to be able to hear you.”
Tavi frowned and cocked an eyebrow at the man. He shook his head slightly, then whispered, “I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about. What did you say your name is?”
The man hesitated. Then he said, “Rook.”
“Rook,” Antillar repeated quietly, looking thoughtful. “That’s a good name. You know, Rook, you might want to consider leaving. If you go right now, you just might get out of this alive.”
“No chance,” Rook answered. “It isn’t safe here.”
Tavi felt his heart skip a beat. He stepped forward and asked, “Why aren’t you wearing your armor? Aren’t you afraid someone would recognize you?”
“Not really.” Rook shrugged. “I’ve already done my part. Now all that’s left is for me to find somewhere to hole up for a while—someplace secure where I can rest easy until things start to calm down. No point in being a marked man until I have to be.”
There was a pause. Then, “Wait… Rook. Is that you?”
“I told you,” Antillar interrupted. “Now I ask again, why don’t we—”
The man who had spoken earlier moved toward them; he had come around the other end of the row of shelves. He held a short, curved weapon in his hand that Tavi had never seen before.
It looked almost like the blade of a short sword, but instead of being straight and narrow like any normal sword, its entire length was curved in a hook shape, with a heavy guard and hilt attached to the front. It looked like an elongated axe blade. The blade was stained black with blood.
“Stop!” the man said. He wore plain clothes, and his face was clean-shaven, though there were dark circles under his eyes and a thin line of white at the corner of each mouth. “Leave him alone! We have nothing to do with what’s going on. Just leave us alone and we’ll go.”
“Oh?” Antillar said. The man was still advancing, and he seemed to realize this as his eyes flashed over Tavi and focused on the youth in a quick glance as if trying to place him. He slowed for a moment and glanced toward Tavi again, his expression changing.
He looked surprised and puzzled, then said something softly to the man beside him. The other nodded. The two began to move away from the door.
Antillar grunted and shook his head. “I don’t believe you.” He lifted his sword. “Get ready,” he warned. “Here I come.”
As soon as the words were spoken, Antillar swung his sword downward, and the blade sliced cleanly through Rook’s chest, cleaving open his body from groin to sternum.
The young man didn’t even scream. He jerked once, twice, thrice, and collapsed to his knees. Blood sprayed onto the floor, and he sagged forward with a sigh.
Antillar paused, one hand hovering in the air between Rook and the man standing next to him. Then he turned aside and shouted, “Gaius! Gaius! Help me!”
Several seconds passed before anyone appeared. A second later, Tavi heard a heavy thud and several more shouts coming from another part of the room. There was a loud crashing sound, a shout, and the distinctive roar of someone trying to stop a flood by slamming shut the lid of a coffin. Tavi blinked. His vision blurred. He could not quite keep all of it together in his mind. Something else happened. The last thing he remembered was feeling cold fingers grip his arms and pull him toward the door, but then everything went dark.
***
They woke up together. They had been bound, blindfolded, and gagged, and they were still in their bedclothes—a fact that Aleran custom dictated should be immediately evident to both men. Both were also very sore in places most people only thought about when they had time to spare.
For one brief, painful instant, Tavi tried to tell himself that it was all some horrible nightmare. That he was lying in his own bed back at home, or in some inn in Aquitaine, or any number of other locales he knew well enough that he would have recognized if he’d dreamed of them.
But then he heard voices coming from outside and felt movement against his leg, and he knew that it wasn’t a dream after all. And when he opened his eyes, it all came rushing back.
He looked at Kitai for a long moment, then let her see him looking into hers, and she gave him a single nod as if confirming that it really was so.
Then Tavi rolled off the edge of his mattress and lurched across the room, pulling free of the bindings. He found his boots and his shirt in a heap nearby and pulled those on first, then stood slowly. He took a deep breath, trying not to wince as his joints creaked painfully and his muscles stretched.
He reached down beside his pillow and picked up a dagger he had stolen from one of the guards, and then stepped out of his chamber and into the hall beyond.
Kitai followed. She was still wearing the nightshirt and trousers that she’d slept in, but she hadn’t bothered with the hood; it hung limply from her neck now. She carried no weapons. Her hair was tangled and matted.
Tavi saw no sign of Valiar Marcus anywhere, nor any of the other Marat slaves. “Where did they take us?” Tavi asked.
“A house in a different district,” Kitai said. “They were very thorough about moving us so that it looks like we’ve been gone a couple of days, rather than hours.” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”
Tavi shook his head and started walking. “Don’t be sorry.”
“No,” she said. “Sorry for you.”
“We’re alive,” Tavi pointed out quietly. “That has to count for something.”
She hesitated for a few moments, her face troubled, then she said, “There is nothing to be done about what has already happened. If they hurt you—” She bit her lip, hard enough that tears formed in her eyes.
Tavi put his arm around her and drew her close. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he whispered in her ear. “Nothing you can ever say or think or feel makes it your fault. Not for that, any more than it made it my fault when they killed my friends.”
Kitai nodded, and there was an expression on her lips—not fear, exactly, but a kind of grim determination. “If we are not dead yet, I will find us a way to help you.”
“Thank you,” Tavi murmured. “But right now, all I want to know is where Gaius Veradis is.”
She glanced aside at him sharply and said, “What?”
Tavi stared at her for a second or two longer before he realized she was asking why he had used the old name for Gaius’s son instead of using the title Gaius had given him, First Lord. It seemed obvious enough to Tavi that Gaius might well have kept calling him Gaius after he became the First Lord.
And Tavi didn’t much care that she’d figured it out anyway. “He’s our friend,” he said simply. “Our former friend.”
“Ah,” Kitai said, nodding slightly, and then fell silent again. Then: “Is this going to mean something? This ‘friendship’ with Gaius and Cursor Rook?”
“It will mean whatever I choose it to,” Tavi replied quietly. “And what I decide, Kitai, is that Gaius and I need to talk to each other. As soon as possible.”
She blinked twice rapidly, once, and said, “Yes,” without further comment. After a long pause, she added, “I think you’re making a mistake.”
He snorted a laugh. “Didn’t you hear the part about how we’re both alive and not dead?” He paused and studied her for a moment. “Do you think the First Lord has the same opinion?”
“Perhaps,” Kitai said quietly, and there was a hint of bitterness to her voice. “Or perhaps they just haven’t gotten around to killing us yet. Or maybe they’ll kill us both together—after all, we were friends with the man who brought them power.”
“Maybe,” Tavi said softly. “If so, they probably won’t get much time to enjoy it.”
Kitai nodded and they walked silently down the hallway for several minutes. Then she asked, “How did you come by those clothes?”
“They were the property of a certain centurion,” Tavi replied. “One of the ones who came after us.”
The expression on Kitai’s face turned bitter. “I thought it was only the Cursors.” She shook her head and said, “That doesn’t matter anymore.”
Tavi felt an odd mixture of relief and concern. He supposed that he shouldn’t really have cared about whether or not the rest of the Legions had found them, but…
“It should,” he told her firmly. “It means something to me that they haven’t killed you, and that they haven’t sent men back to do it either.”
Kitai looked up at him for a second or two. “I will remember that, Captain.” Her voice held some irony there.
Then, without speaking, she stopped outside a heavy wooden door set in the wall and twisted one of its massive hinges free. Tavi eyed the lock for a moment, but Kitai waved it away and pulled open the door.
“What is this place?” Tavi demanded. The room inside was large but appeared to consist entirely of a single chamber. No windows; no furniture save a narrow stone bench along one wall, covered with a plain grey blanket.
The walls and ceiling had been coated in white paint, but it had begun to flake off in places. There was a single low-hanging tapestry hanging on the opposite side from where the door opened.
Kitai stepped into the room, then turned back toward him. “A guardroom,” she replied. “There are many others, throughout the city.”
Tavi frowned and glanced around, noting several doors set in the walls, their hinges dangling loose. One of those led out onto a short stairway, which disappeared upward somewhere. Others led farther inward, toward the heart of the building.
And at the very center, against the far wall, between a pair of iron bars, hung a simple cage. It was made of wood, painted blue and red and gold, and the metal door had a simple bolt across it.
“Are there any other ways out besides the stairs?” Tavi asked.
Kitai glanced at the door. “Not that I saw.” She shrugged and said, “If I knew how to open it…”
Tavi shook his head and knelt beside the prisoner, staring at him intently.
The prisoner was tall, but he had a leanness to him that suggested years of hard labor. He was clad in rags; there wasn’t a stitch of clothing more elaborate than a tunic left on him. His hair was cut short and greasy, and there was a thick layer of mud caked on his face and hands. A single eye stared sightlessly at Tavi.
The Legion soldier’s mouth moved soundlessly, though Tavi could see the words moving over the lips. But nothing that would make sense.
“He isn’t speaking Standard,” Kitai said quietly. “Nor Canish. What language is that?”
“I don’t know,” Tavi answered.
But it didn’t seem to bother the man, who merely glared at Tavi with hatred and fear.
“I suppose we can talk later,” Tavi said quietly. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder and rose to his feet. “This way, Kitai.”
“Wait,” she said abruptly, stopping him. “Why is there a prisoner here? Why aren’t the prisoners kept in a different place?”
“I don’t know,” Tavi repeated. “But let’s get him out of here.” He nodded at the door. “We’ll take care of this later.” He strode forward and swung the door open, stepping through into the hall beyond. Kitai followed him, frowning, and shut the door behind her.
“Captain?” Kitai said.
Tavi nodded and pointed at one of the doors leading further inward in the building. “Let’s find our friend and take him out of here before anyone else finds him.”
Kitai nodded curtly and led the way. The corridor continued downward for some time; Tavi could hear the sound of running water coming from somewhere ahead. Eventually, they emerged into a wide, well-lit courtyard, paved with stone and bounded by three sides of the building.
At its center, at least fifty paces off to one side were the fountain. Water flowed continuously from its basin to form the pool at the base of a great statue at the far end. Tavi stared at it curiously for a few seconds, then realized what the fountain represented.
It was an enormous fish.
The creature was as wide at the shoulders as a horse, with a thick tail, a flat, triangular head, and powerful jaws filled with jagged teeth. It was not quite so tall as an Aleran, perhaps seven feet tall. But when Tavi studied the details, it seemed larger again.
Because the scales on the back of the fish were formed in intricate patterns like those found in a sculpture of ancient Egypt—the god Horus, Tavi recalled. He’d seen the statues at Haven, too. This was no natural formation.
That, and because the entire structure was carved directly from living rock.
At that moment, one of the guards on duty in the guardroom came out, blinking at them both. Tavi waved him away and said, “Come on, Kitai.” Then he strode toward the fountain, Kitai hurrying after him.
She gasped and stopped, staring at the statue at the far end of the fountain.
An Aleran warrior stood before the fish. His armor was plain, though it gleamed clean and bright under the sunlight pouring down upon the courtyard from the open roof above. His sword and shield leaned against a nearby pillar, as though he’d stepped from beneath an awning. A laurel wreath decorated his brow.
“Who is that?” Kitai breathed.
“A legionnaire,” Tavi said and turned to go on without answering her question. He heard her follow him, but neither spoke until they reached the edge of the fountain. The statue was carved out of stone, standing nearly twenty paces high, and it loomed over even the tallest Legionnaire.
They looked up to regard their friend. And the Legion sentry’s eyes widened in astonishment and horror.
“It couldn’t be,” the sentry murmured softly. “No…no…”
Tavi stared at the sentry for a long time. Kitai, apparently equally awed, remained silent while her eyes traveled slowly from the head of the sentry to his feet. She shook herself, then turned around, walking away briskly and leaving Tavi standing alone at the fountain’s base.
Then he took up his staff and headed back through the courtyard. He passed two more sentries along the way, who both watched him curiously but did not move to stop him. They had all noticed that he walked without using either hand to hold himself steady, or using his cane in any obvious fashion.
And they were all too shocked and horrified to do anything more than stare, unable to think of anything useful or constructive to do.
When he reached the stairwell and went inside, he paused just inside the door and turned to stare at the sentries still guarding the stairway.
Both of them stood frozen, staring at Tavi.
His fury rose within him, and his face tightened until the muscles strained his skin taut. For a brief instant, the blood rushed so fast to his cheeks that he was almost purple with it. Then his anger died down and the color returned to his skin, and he lifted his chin slightly and said, “Don’t look at me like I’m an enemy.”
There was silence for several seconds, then a soft murmur began among them.
“What’s going on?” another voice asked, sounding nervous and confused. “We don’t have any enemies. Not now.”
Tavi frowned. The sentry had been right. No one had attacked this place, and yet the soldiers of the First Aleran had come to its defense in full armor and weapons. Why?
He shook off the sudden worry that had struck him and went on into the stairwell, following Kitai down to the lowest level of the fortress.
Kitai paused, then followed behind him. When she reached the bottom landing, she turned and regarded him curiously. “Did you know he was here?”
“No,” Tavi replied. “But there are some things we need to find out about each other, Kitai. Can you tell me what happened in the past hour?”
Her lips pursed together in thought for a moment. Then she said, “Yes.” She looked around the room. “I think,” she said quietly, “that I will sit down.” She sat down on a low divan and leaned forward onto her knees. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
“Because if you do, it would only make matters worse,” Tavi answered. “My people would take your death as a challenge, and my people don’t understand that you aren’t really trying to harm me.”
“Your people,” Kitai said, nodding in acknowledgment. “You are different now.”
Tavi nodded. “And I’m still not exactly sure how or why. But I’ve got enough of an idea now that I can explain some things.”
“Such as?”
“As I told you when we first met, I am a Princeps. It is part of our responsibilities as such that we are charged with defending the safety of every member of the Realm from whatever threat may threaten us. This includes your people as well as mine.
There has been a significant change in the situation, and it is clear that someone or something is trying to drive you out of these lands. My job as a Princeps is to defend your people against that threat, and prevent anyone else from doing so.”
Kitai lifted her head abruptly, then said, “That’s nonsense!”
Tavi smiled. “Is it? I mean—did you feel threatened by my presence here? Did you think someone else might be after you?”
She frowned at him. Then she said, “Well, no…but—”
“But you didn’t know that for certain?” Tavi prompted. “Or that you could trust me? Because I’d never try to hurt you?”
A faint flush crept up Kitai’s cheeks and she averted her gaze. “No,” she whispered.
“If someone does want to hurt you, Kitai, they can only do it if you let them,” Tavi said gently. “If I was here to hurt you, it wouldn’t take much effort.”
Kitai glanced sharply around the room, but there was no one present save them. A moment later, she looked back at Tavi. Her expression had softened somewhat and her voice was softer when she said, “So you’re trying to stop someone else from attacking your people?”
“I am trying to help them,” Tavi said firmly. “The High Lord has ordered my people away from here, Kitai. We’ve come because there’s trouble in the north, and we’re looking for those responsible.”
“How could you possibly find out who wants to attack us?” Kitai asked quietly. “Who could even suspect it? You have no proof—”
Tavi shook his head. “No, we don’t. And we won’t unless we go into your country to see for ourselves what’s happening. Someone might be trying to drive you out of your land, and they would have no way of knowing it wasn’t me.” He took a deep breath. “Look, Kitai. I’ll admit that I’m not certain that’s really my task as Princeps.
I’ve heard some odd things regarding the situation in the north—rumors from some of my people. That’s all. I’ve done nothing to investigate any of it myself. But if someone else is behind this—and you say it looks like someone is—then I must find them, regardless of where they happen to hide.”
“Then you intend to send a legion of First Alerans into the lands of my people,” Kitai said, her tone cool.
Tavi shook his head. “Not directly. We’re going to go there by a different route, using the old roads instead of the new ones. But once I’ve determined that there’s someone else involved, we’ll follow them to their source. We won’t go into your lands, and we won’t start any fights. But we will seek out and confront whoever is causing the trouble in your lands.”
“What about the rest of my people?” Kitai demanded. “Do you plan on killing every last one of them?”
Tavi blinked. “Killing them? What kind of talk is that? No, Kitai, not until we determine that they are in fact responsible for the troubles in your lands.”
“You can’t possibly be serious.”
Tavi’s mouth is quirked. “I’m serious.”
“And that’s why you’ve sent word ahead of your coming?”
He nodded. “There are some who might object to our presence in your lands.”
Kitai’s eyes narrowed and she said, “You can’t know that for sure.”
Tavi shrugged again, a little stiffly. “I’d rather take precautions, than suffer harm while trying to avoid it.”
“But…” Kitai started to say.
Then suddenly Tavi found himself facing another man. Or rather, three men. They were identical twins, dressed in the same clothes-black tunics belted with a silver cord and leather vests, black trousers tucked into tall boots—with the same pale skin and dark hair.
One bore a sword in her hand; the other two each carried a heavy crossbow. All three wore helmets fashioned of metal strips bent together and covered with cloth. The twin at Kitai’s side moved to block her escape with a pair of broad, muscular arms, and the other drew the bowstrings taut and aimed it squarely at Tavi.
“We are not afraid of your tricks, boy!” the one nearest Kitai said sharply. She shifted slightly and leaned back, putting more distance between herself and the two of them. “Nor is Lady Antillus! Your people are not permitted to pass through our borders or approach within ten miles of any village!”
Tavi stared at him for a long moment, then bowed respectfully. “My apologies, sirs. My name is Tavi, and I am here at the personal request of Princeps Valiar Marcus. As he instructed me to bring an armed escort to the border crossing to ensure the safety of Lady Antillar, I did so. But since Lady Antillar is here and under our protection—”
“You are not permitted to pass into these lands!” the twin who had blocked Kitai shouted.
“That is true,” Tavi said, nodding. “Lady Antillar is under my protection, and I do not wish to offend anyone. I will wait at the border crossing.”
“It is against protocol to allow someone who isn’t officially authorized passage into our lands,” the second twin said. “Your princeps may send you off to do whatever he wishes, but we will not permit him to bring a foreign legion through the lands of House Antillus.”
“Princeps Marcus has no such intention,” Tavi said. “In fact, he has given strict orders that we are to use the old road—the very one you are standing on—and proceed directly to the city of Canosia.”
The three of them looked at each other, and the twin in front said, “Alerans.”
“Yes,” Tavi said. “And as your Princeps commands, I shall obey.” He inclined his head formally toward the twins, then turned back to Kitai, bowing politely. “Shall we go, Lady Antillus?”
She nodded. “Let us.”
The End