A Veteran Returns Home: Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

A sharp prick jolted him awake. Wrists bound. They found me. I’m back in that cell or worse, he thought. His eyelid slow to open. He shivered as the cold steel pressed against his skin.

‘Hold on, I’m almost finished,’ a voice said. Gentle. The same as before.

Before. He tried to remember. Memories slow to return. Mind clouded and his eye unwilling to see. What have they given me?I was climbing stairs. There was a light. And a voice. He remembered stumbling to the surface and passing out soon after. 

Nemo felt a sharp sting as a needle pierced his skin and passed through pulling a string behind it. The string caught on his skin, its dry edge scratching at the wrong side of his skin.

He winced and grimaced.

‘Done. You should get some rest. Don’t try to get up or think too hard.’

That accent. It isn’t Free Cities or the Republic. It’s… his mind spun and the thought slipped from him. Consciousness drained from him and a dreamless sleep grasped him.

‘Morning!’ 

Nemo sprung awake. He rose on his elbows. He moved his hands to support him but they refused to move. He opened his lone eye, the room dark. Thick curtains blocking the sunlight. He glanced around the room with a half open eye and saw a man in blue robes with sun baked skin. His eye settled on his wrists bound to a bed. He pulled at them with a fury.

‘Hold on. I’ll undo them,’ the man said placing a tray of food and water on a table. He rushed over to Nemo, ‘You wouldn’t lie still so we had to tie you down,’ he said undoing the buckles of the leather straps.

‘Where am I?’

‘In the bedroom of a small temple,’ the blue robed man said.

He leaned across Nemo to reach the hand nearest the wall. Nemo squinted at the man, ‘I recognise you.’ Hair shaven to the skin, even his eyebrows and lashes, Nemo remembered finding it odd on the road.

‘I am glad,’ the eastern man smiled. ‘We met on the road to Tanussi. My brother and I were heading the wrong way,’ he laughed as the buckle slipped free of Nemo’s wrist. ‘If it weren’t for you we would have arrived in the wrong city or maybe died on the road,’ he smiled.

How does he smile at such thoughts?

‘How am I here? I don’t understand,’ Nemo asked eyeing the jug of water sitting on a table too far from him to reach.

The blue robed man followed Nemo’s eye and said, ‘Ohh yes. You will be starving I imagine,’ he fetched the tray of water and food.

Nemo sat up in his bed and the man placed the tray on his lap. Nemo reached for the jug of water first and drank large gulps. It tasted how he imagined gold should taste. There was nothing greater. Coming up for air he wiped a trickle of water from his chin and inspected the food.

‘I am Zhuzi. I don’t know what the food is before you ask. The cook is from Tanussi and said it is a local dish. I have only been here a few days and have yet to sample much of the food here,’ he beamed from ear to ear. His eyes scrunched with the smile. A singularly odd look for a face without any hair.

‘Nemo. It seems I should thank you for more than just a bed,’ he started. He picked the bowl up and smelt the contents. ‘Spiced lamb stew,’ he said. ‘Very good,’ Nemo dove in with the spoon. A stack of thin flatbread sat on the tray too. Thinner than usual, better than usual.

‘Excellent!’ Zhuzi smiled again. ‘Well we saw you exit the… the…’ he clicked his fingers, ‘what was it?’

‘Tunnel?’

‘Tunnel, that will do. Well you came out of the tunnel and we had already said hello but you hadn’t heard and next moment you were on the floor with blood dribbling out of numerous wounds. Whoever stitched them before had done a reasonable job but had you up and active too soon.’

Nemo smirked while he chewed. That certain naivety to this man is a welcome change. To know the world and the people in it mean well at all times, not merely wishing it. ‘Would you like a try?’ He offered Zhuzi a spoon of the lamb stew.

Zhuzi gasped, ‘I shouldn’t you need your strength. But it does smell wonderful, he sniffed the steam that rose from a chunk of lamb glistening with fat and peppered with herbs and spice. I shall,’ he took the spoon and chewed the lamb with an inquisitive expression. He nodded. ‘Unusual but quite pleasant.’ 

Nemo teared into a flatbread, folded the half in two and dipped it into the stew picking up slices of vegetables on the way. ‘So you just helped me because I needed to be helped?’ He said between bites of flatbread.

‘Yes. We are monks and our lives are a service to others. To help others, to carry their burdens when they cannot, to mend and treat, to feed and clothe. All in service of the Son of Heaven who guides us all,’ Zhuzi said.

‘Son in Heaven?’ Nemo asked.

‘Son of Heaven. You would call him the Emperor of Dohanlu,’ Zhuzi nodded sagely.

‘Ahh. I know only of the Wall at the end of the Wastes. Nothing else,’ Nemo pleaded his ignorance.

‘Don’t worry, we are not here to prepare the way for soldiers. We are merely here to investigate and report on the happenings in this region. While also fulfilling our spiritual duties,’ Zhuzi fiddled with the beads on his bracelet. Rippled, pitted and dyed red.

‘Spying?’

‘Nothing so ominous. We write down the events and send them back. For instance the war between the Free Cities and Thesus. That is of interest to the Son of Heaven and his ministers. He wants to know if Thesus is a threat or a nuisance. That is all,’ he placed a hand on Nemo’s shoulders.

‘I don’t care for any of that,’ Nemo said wanting only to return home, to rescue Avaya. ‘Not anymore, but it caught me in its snare and I can’t seem to escape.’

The monk rose and went to sit on a low cushioned stool. His legs crossed beneath him. ‘Tell me. Why where you in the tunnel? Where have these injuries came from?’

Maybe not so naive as I thought, ‘I attempted to assassinate the Governor of Tanussi, Stipi, as I was promised safe passage out of the city if I did so. I failed, was captured, and have been their captive for a number of days, or weeks.’

‘Well you have been here for three days already,’ Zhuzi said. ‘Asleep for most of it. Which is good. You will need at least another weeks rest before you should leave.’

‘I can’t wait that long,’ Nemo said. His legs itched with restlessness.

‘You should,’ he said with a firm face and flat palm extended.

A pit of annoyance opened in Nemo’s stomach. Or was it hunger. Both, ‘May I have something more to eat,’ he showed the empty bowl to Zhuzi as he wiped it clean of juice and fat with a tear of bread.

‘Certainly. You need to eat and we have plenty of food for those who need it,’ the monk grinned and removed the tray from Nemo’s lap and headed out the door with a measured speed. Not hurried or lazy.

What do they want? Who are the others? Where in Tanussi is this place? The questions rose faster than he could think the words for them. The inaction tore at him. Anger, annoyance, and a feeling of uselessness. To lie in bed for weeks on end while Avaya is out there in chains, he slammed his fist into the wall. He grimaced and pulled a sliver of plaster that had stuck to his hand.

He threw the sheets off and leapt from the bed. His right leg buckled and he landed on the floor. Nemo pushed himself to one knee and tried to stand. Thigh muscle numb and itching under the bandage. Damn it. He hobbled to the wall and hopped to the far side of the room, one arm pressed against the wall for balance. He pulled the curtain back and the light dazzled him. A narrow road curved outside, side alleys shot off into the dense pack of homes, inns, taverns, and shops. Okay, still on the outskirts, near the city walls.

Nemo shuttered the curtains and glanced around the room for a chest, cupboard or anything where something could be stored. A pot or vase. Anything.

Without a sound the monk Zhuzi returned with a tray filled with two bowls of lamb stew a stack of flatbread and jugs of water. ‘You should not be up,’ the monk rushed to place down the tray of food. His tone one of care, ‘I understand. You are a man of action. I was once like you had to always be going, be doing,’ he placed a hand around Nemo’s waist and took his arm over his shoulder. Zhuzi guided Nemo back to his bed. ‘Your leg needs more time. Trust me. The muscle was torn to shreds and will not work as you remember it.’ He helped Nemo to sit on the edge of the bed and gestured with both hands for him to get in properly.

Nemo did so. Zhuzi placed the tray on the bed and claimed one of the bowls of stew for himself.

‘Where are my things?’

‘Your clothes and weapons? Just there,’ Zhuzi pointed with his spoon to a box near the window, the curtain draped over it concealing its contents.

Oh good. Nemo thought hoping to disappear at nightfall.

‘I will not stop you from leaving,’ Zhuzi said between mouthfuls of stew. ‘This is a temple. Not a prison. But you should stay and recover as long as you can.’

‘I was not fed nearly so well in prison,’ Nemo joked lifting his bowl to his mouth and finishing the contents. He teared a length of bread and worked it round the side of his bowl.

‘Ahh yes. Assassinating the Governor. Not a sensible avenue if you ask me but I am no expert. Merely an observer,’ Zhuzi’s face scrunched up again revealing the deep lines around his eyes. He smiled often it seemed.

He will write all this down in a report to the Emperor. Funny feeling having your actions scrutinised by a person who thinks themselves a demigod. Nemo wondered how much he should tell. He felt no ill will from the monk only a clinical attitude to his duty and a welcoming demeanour in everything else.

‘I would agree but it became sensible when all other options vanished,’ and now it is necessary. Anger bubbled within Nemo. Avaya’s tear streaked face flashed before him. In chains and living under the ground. Stipi would be able to tell him what happened and what was going to happen. But how would he ask Stipi these questions as a wanted man. I won’t be able to ask and he wouldn’t answer anyway. I need to force the answers from him, a twisted plan formed in his mind.

‘Are you sure it is the only option?’ Zhuzi leaned forward catching Nemo’s lone eye.

‘Yes,’ Nemo answered. First I need to leave here and find Vispa and the Resistance for my sword. Then. Then, it is back into the tunnels…

Zhuzi set his bowl down on the tray. He made a sound of satisfaction and stood from his cross legged position on the low stool. ‘I see your mind is made up. I cannot force you to do something, merely suggest. Stay and rest for at least a day. Have a few more good meals, as much you want, and then do as you will. You already know my recommendation as a physician.’

‘I will stay for a day longer,’ Nemo relented under the effects of good food. ‘Then we will see,’ he forced a smile that ached his right eye socket under the bandage.

‘I am glad,’ Zhuzi pressed his palms together and motioned them towards Nemo with a short bow. ‘Rest well for the next meal will be sooner than you think,’ the monk laughed and ordered his robe about him. Pulling fabric into place and tightening his belt. ‘I will leave you to rest. Thank you for the pleasant company with my daily meal,’ the monk bowed low.

Nemo returned a short bow from his bed feeling compulsion to copy an act of obvious respect. Zhuzi went to pick up the tray of bowls and plates. Nemo removed the plate of flatbread from the tray along with the jugs of water and set them on the floor by his bed. Zhuzi carried the tray out of the room shutting the door with a brisk pull of his sandalled foot.

Nemo drank from a jug of water. A weariness washing over him dulling the aches and pains of his body and softening the frustration in his mind. Sleep will help, he thought pushing himself deeper into bed. The well stuffed mattress welcoming him. He drifted as soon as reached the pillow.

White speckles danced over the surface of the water in the jug by his bed. Nemo flicked the rim of the jug with his fingernail. The ripples of white swimming with dark blue. The moon hung low in the night sky piercing the open curtains with as much ferocity as the evening sun.

Nemo removed a crust of sleep from the corner of his eye. His ribs ached. His thigh throbbed. The rest of his injuries had, mercifully, receded. The cuts and bruises, the fractured nose, the internal ruptures in his nostrils. Even his missing eye was settled. He assumed it to be missing as he could not move it nor feel it. Nor could he feel through the bandage so thickly wound.

He swung his legs out of the bed into the cold bite of dark. Nemo forced himself to walk with both legs even. His body tensed at the imagined pain. He made two steps towards the chest with his clothing in before he had to lean to his good side. Better than before. But I have no more time, Nemo hobbled to his clothes and weapons. Minus his scimitar. Need to find Vispa and her superiors first. At least for my sword, if nothing else. He wondered what Vispa was doing whether she had been searching for him or making another assassination attempt in his wake. Probably just running from one hideout to another as the soldiers of the Republic knock down every door in Tanussi.

Nemo rummaged through the lidless chest. Tossing bed linens and spare clothing out as he dug deeper. He found the hard leather rim of his boots and pulled them free. The leather shone. They’re cleaner than I remember. He found his leather jacket folded neat with not a speck of blood, mud, or sand on it. Underneath his jacket were his trousers and shirt, both cleaned and folded neat. Huh, good food and good service. Some inns should take note. He threw his clothing onto the bed and hobbled back to sit on the well stuffed mattress.

He dressed sitting down. Attached the knife to his belt and the small bow from Ramascus to his wrist. Nemo drank the jug of water by his bed. Yet still his mouth was dry. 

The floorboards of his room creaked under the weight of his boots. He padded towards the door as quiet as he could. Each joist creaking as he tread. The lock on the door turned with a stiff silence. The door opened towards him.

It was now that Nemo realised he had never seen out of his room. The corridor was dark and stretched left and right from him as far as he could see. The left turning into stairs that turned ninety degrees at the wall and carried on down. A faint light glowed from downstairs. Someone up? Do they have nightly prayers? Nemo stepped out, his hand on the hilt of his knife.

Nemo reached the top of the stairs and peered down into the orange glow of the ground floor. You’re in a temple, he released the grip on his knife. The stairs widened with each step down. Opening into an open curve at the base and overlooking a two tiered room. At one end an enormous bronze statue. The man of bronze sat cross legged, eyes closed, with one hand raised showing the flat of his palm, the other in a gentle fist at his waist. His hair bound atop his head with a pin not dissimilar to Governor Stipi’s. The bronze man was toned and slim, his chin narrow framed with a sharp jawline.

Nemo stepped off the stairs and onto to the higher of the two levels. The centre strip of the room was lower running from double doors to the statue. Around the statue burned hundreds of candles, each flame flickering to its own breeze, each catching a part of the bronze in luminescent glory.

‘Inspiring isn’t it,’ a voice said in accented Tanussian.

Nemo spun, his hand reaching for his blade.

‘No need for that,’ Zhuzi laughed sliding off the plinth he was sitting on.

Caught in the act.

‘That is the latest impression of the Son of Heaven,’ Zhuzi struggled to pull his eyes off his Emperor cast in bronze. ‘A true Emperor. Unlike his father and uncles.’

Questions bubbled on Nemo’s tongue.

‘You didn’t come here to talk of history. You are off to do what you think is right. Kill a governor, return home, and live the quiet life,’ Zhuzi hummed as if asking a question.

‘That would be ideal,’ Nemo admitted.

‘And I will not stop you. But if your injuries slow you down remember that Zhuzi,’ he pointed at Nemo, ‘recommended the patient stick to his bed,’ he frowned at Nemo. The finger was whisked away into his belt and the frown dissolved into a smile. ‘I do wish you all the best and I will pray for the right and honourable side to emerge victorious, whoever that may be.’

‘Thanks. I guess,’ Nemo said unsure if the wishing was for him or something else.

Zhuzi bowed before whispering behind his hand, ‘The other monks will be rising soon. You should go before they see you. You may be dragged into one too many conversations,’ he stifled a laugh.

‘Thank you for taking care of me. You likely saved my life,’ Nemo said emulating Zhuzi’s bow and then offering an outstretched hand.

‘Anyone would, or should, have done the same,’ Zhuzi grasped Nemo’s hand and they shook. ‘Do not be afraid to enter this temple, or others you may find in the Free Cities, we are as welcoming as any other temple, monastery, or holy place.’

Nemo bid his thanks and headed to the double doors opposite the Son of Heaven. He turned as he reached them. Zhuzi had disappeared but Nemo’s eye lingered on the demigod cast in bronze.

He stepped out into the night. The street was deserted save for the moonlight and the ripple of wind brushing the top sand away.

Where am I? He wandered to his left to catch a glimpse of the city walls. The towering sandstone crisp against the deep blue-black sky. A haze of firelight bobbed along the wall as a guard made his rounds. Two or three streets away. I know where I am. Now just to find that hideout, if it still is one. Nemo began hobbling to the ancient building the Resistance used as a nexus.

Nemo arrived to the old building. All the windows pitch black, the door closed, and not a sound broke the silence of the night.

He stretched his thigh muscle feeling at once better for the long walk, and towards the end it had been a walk rather than hobble, and in desperate need of a comfortable seat. He approached the carved double doors featuring the faces of joy and agony. He thought to knock, his hand clenched and ready. He stopped and reached for the handle. It turned and the door pushed open.

Nemo stepped inside to the gloom of a single candle attempting to light what seemed to be the entire building. Soft waves of moonlight fell into the room from the glass ceiling above. The crescent rim of a glass vase shone on the bar at the far end of the room. The building so quiet Nemo could hear his own pulse.

Has it been abandoned? He thought stepping into the centre of the room. Chairs sat upon tables, all wiped and cleaned. The bar was empty save for the few decorative elements a soldier could conjure.

A door squeaked open behind him. Nemo drew his knife before he had a chance to see what opened the door.

‘In here,’ a voice said. 

Nemo turned to his right failing to see the person standing in the open door. A reflex he would have to change with only one eye. He was in a half crouch, knife held in a defensive angle in front of him. He looked up and saw Vispa standing in the door way.

Vispa ran towards him, ‘Where have you been?’ She threw her arms around him in embrace.

He stood rigid, knife in one hand, his other limp by his side. Every cut, gash, and scrape screamed in a wave over his body. He brought his free hand up and patted her on the back.

‘Where have you been?’ She repeated.

‘No where good.’

She looked up at him with a smile that soon dropped. She leapt back and covered her mouth, ‘What happened to you?’ She reached forward and touched at the bandage around his missing eye.

‘Perhaps we should wait for Humaya and Frya so I don’t have to repeat myself,’ Nemo said.

Vispa pulled herself free of the embrace, ‘Okay,’ she nodded unable to tear her eyes away from his bandage. ‘I’m sorry I tried to kiss you,’ Vispa tripped over her own words as she spoke.

‘Excuse me?’ Nemo had heard her garbled admission but it still hit him from behind. ‘Why is that coming to mind now?’

‘It’s been on my mind since it happened,’ Vispa said.

And how long has that been? Nemo wanted to ask. He would find out from Frya later. Nemo’s time underground still a blur of Stipi testing sharp implements on his body and guards rattling keys and delivering measly cups of water.

‘Why is that?’ Nemo asked pushing her towards some unspoken revelation.

‘I didn’t even want to do it I just wanted to win,’ she raised her voice.

Nemo shushed her and threw a glance over the balconies above.

‘Don’t worry, no one’s up there,’ Vispa assured.

‘How can you be sure?’

‘They were ordered to leave and take up another hideout deeper into the city. And before you ask, I was told to stay here to keep an eye on the place and pretend to be a beggar looking for a roof. Unfortunately I know that role well.’

Too many questions, Nemo thought, ‘Getting back to—.’

The door swung open with a fury. The laughing man carving flashing into the room, flakes of plaster burst from the wall as the door struck, handle first, and it bounced closed. In the meantime Frya and Humaya strolled in, faces covered with dark sand scarves, the hilts of concealed weapons poking through their cloaks.

‘Why have you lead them here?’ Frya snarled.

‘Who?’

‘The Thesusians. They will have followed you from wherever you have been hiding,’ she barked and stepped towards him.

‘I doubt that. I didn’t come straight here and no one followed me.’

‘We did,’ Frya lied.

‘No you didn’t your lookout on the roof opposite sent word,’ Nemo batted the accusation away. He both wished and dreaded her next falsehood.

‘I see one eye doesn’t slow you down,’ Frya quipped.

Nemo wondered what she meant and anger swiftly followed. He quelled the flames by accepting the compliment ignoring the undertones.

‘What happened?’ Humaya said bringing the conversation back to its purpose.

‘I was captured. They tortured me for information,’ he turned to Frya with a glare, ‘Which they didn’t get and this was my reward,’ he pointed to his bandaged eye. ‘And little else.’

‘Mmm,’ Frya narrowed her eyes, ‘How’d you get out? And from where?’

Vispa came closer to Nemo, her eyes watching Frya’s.

‘Oh here we go,’ not meaning to speak his thoughts out loud he added, ‘No, I wasn’t released. Yes, I escaped. I know it’s unlikely but you’ll just have to accept it.’

‘I don’t care, you returned,’ Humaya said opening the door to the room in which Nemo agreed to assassinate the governor.

Frya turned, ‘And that is enough for you?’

‘He wasn’t followed. The watchmen said so. Unless he is waiting a few days to betray us. Either way, tonight we are safe,’ Humaya turned and smiled with a shrug.

Frya eyed Nemo again, ‘I guess you’re right. At least for tonight.’

Vispa turned to Nemo and whispered, ‘We need to find that way out and fast. I don’t trust them,’ she headed to the room Humaya had opened before Nemo had a chance to respond.

The map room was much the same as before. Dark, dingy, with too few candles to light the haze of dark. The map of Tanussi remained on the table. Stipi hasn’t found this one then, at least not yet, Nemo thought feeling a sense of relief.

Humaya pulled the single lit candle out of its holder on the wall and circled the room lighting other candles as he found them. Soon the room was bathed in awash of dim orange. Shadows flickering this way and that.

‘So, what happened?’ Frya said taking her place on the far side of the map table. She rested her palms against the edge of it and leaned over the palace district.

Nemo lead the trio through the day of would-be assassination and his failing to make it so. He shared with them the details of his capture and interrogation and, finally, his escape through the tunnels and rescue by monks. He brushed over revealing anything to Zhuzi and the monks of the eastern temple. Nemo also left out the part of seeing Avaya, and others, in chains and being lashed. He feared what they would do with such information.

‘These tunnels, did you know they lead under the palace?’ Frya turned to Humaya.

‘No, we have only mapped what we have seen and chosen to ignore the myths and tales of where they run,’ Humaya said, ‘At least one of those tales is true then,’ he added.

The gaol is under the palace then. Which means one of those tunnels must lead inside, the idea of it fitting snug with the rest of Nemo’s plan. Nemo had suspected as much and was willing to take the risk either way but now he would at least reach the palace.

‘You were gone for over a week, nearing two actually,’ Frya turned back to Nemo. ‘I am sorry that you suffered for our plan,’ she said with nary an emotive flicker on her face.

‘I don’t care for your apologies or false sympathy. I only came here for my sword, my horse,’ he looked to Vispa standing by his side, ‘and to see Vispa,’ he placed a hand on her shoulder.

‘Of course,’ Frya’s lips thinned. She stepped to the side of the room, towards a shelf of stone standing out of the wall. She reached to the top shelf and pulled Nemo’s scimitar free.

‘And I expect to be shown a way out of the city,’ Nemo pushed further.

Humaya flinched more than Nemo had ever seen the man move. His mouth turned in disgust, ‘Not a chance. You failed. No safe passage.’

‘I thought you would say that,’ he accepted the sword from Frya and fastened the belt around his waist, attaching the long knife scabbard to his right side. ‘I am going to kill the governor. I expect you to be waiting with Vispa, Atars, and Simbar at this fabled exit from tomorrow midday onwards. I shouldn’t be more than a day.’

‘Excuse me? How are you ever going to accomplish that?’ Humaya spat, arms folded against his chest. He pulled the sand scarf from his head in a fury.

‘Quite easy really,’ Nemo started, ‘go back into the tunnels and find one that goes to the palace. I have an idea of which one does so I will start there.’

‘You’re insane. You’ll be killed on sight. Even if you arrive in the palace how are you going to get around, find Stipi or anything like that?’ Humaya bellowed, nose hooked and eyes ablaze.

‘Humaya,’ Frya touched the man’s arm, ‘If he wants to throw his life away for an eye. Let him.’

Nemo smiled at her ignorance.

Humaya looked to her hand then to her, ‘True. And it’s not as if he could be anymore well protected. Other opportunities will arise for us,’ he sighed tossing the balled up scarf onto the map. A scatter of sand and dust rattled along the table.

‘Where is this tunnel exit from the city?’ Nemo asked.

‘Along the north-eastern wall, look for the tiger heads. The Thesusian’s think it is collapsed from the siege, it isn’t we merely make it look like it is. It doesn’t link with the rest of the tunnel network so no chance of soldiers appearing. Not that this matter as you’ll be dead anyway,’ Frya said.

Such confidence, he pushed down on the hilt of his sword like a lever, ‘Well. I suppose that is as good as anything.’

‘It’s all I have. That passage out isn’t guarded because it isn’t connected to anything. It’s not valuable to the Thesusian army.’

‘See you there. You will be there with the horses, supplies, and Vispa,’ Nemo said walking out of the room.

‘We will be there,’ Frya said with a low tone.

Vispa grabbed his arm, ‘Don’t do it. You’ll die. There must be a hundred, two hundred, soldiers crawling over that place.’

‘I must,’ Nemo said. ‘They have my son,’ he whispered. Knuckles white on the hilt of his scimitar.

‘But you’ll die and they’ll still have him and I will have no-one,’ Vispa pulled on his jacket sleeve.

‘I will not die,’ he yanked his arm free. ‘Make sure they take you to the this way out. And bring food and water. Enough for three days travel at least,’ he opened the door into the still night.

‘Fine,’ he heard whispered behind him.

Nemo lost his way only once back to the entrance to the tunnels. Precious time lost, he thought watching the high moon beam in the night sky. It was still hours from dawn. Enough time to get into the palace before morning. Nemo hoped to catch the changing of the guard. A time where patrol routes altered and some passages remained empty for almost an hour. Or so he had heard from whispers in guard rooms. Before the invasion. Before the war.

He leant against the wall opposite the iron gated entrance to the tunnels. A low unsuspecting sandstone structure nestled between two buildings. The gate was closed but Nemo knew it wouldn’t be locked. He pushed off the wall with his boot and glanced up and down the street. Empty. He spied on the windows overlooking him. No light flickered behind closed curtains. 

The gate pulled open with a heavy groan and the cold, damp, air brushed his face. The darkness beckoned him closer. He shut the gate behind him and began the long dissent into the pitch black tunnel.

Nemo barrelled down the staircase reaching the floor of tunnel in a matter of minutes. Was that such a short climb last time? He wondered reaching out to feel for the walls around him. He turned out into the corridor with the ruined wall and cavernous room. 

Kicking a brick he tumbled and caught himself with his right leg. His thigh rippled from the pressure and a lance of pain gnawed at the bone. He reached out to catch the wall with his left hand only to find nothing. He looked and saw the hole in the wall but now there were no torches on the other side. No people. No one chained up or being lashed. Did I imagine seeing Avaya in chains with all those people? Were the woman’s screams really my own? He imagined himself back in his memory. No. They have been moved. Stipi will know where. He hurried along the corridor back to his gaol.

The twists and turns of the tunnels were shorter than he remembered. And brighter. Torches had been lit every few steps banishing the shadow that had been. He passed the recess he had hid in and saw a lit torch illuminating the crevasse. Listening to the stagnant air passing around him he heard only the crackle of burning wood.

Rounding back through the crossroad he hurried along the stretch to his old cell. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his heart drummed in his ears. Just a little further, he remained crouched and ran as best he could from one light to the next. Flames bowed as he passed by.

The turn at the far end of the tunnel blurred into sight. The way to the gaol. That was not his aim. He dashed into the turning before that. Candles set in brass fixtures burned along the wall. Heavy and thick wax candles large enough to bludgeon someone to death. Each fixture fitted with three all burning to ward away the ever present shadow. 

Nemo pressed his back against the wall as he crouched. He rocked his head back to feel the cool chill of the wall on his head. Or at least part, the bandage covering the other half. I need an eye-patch, he told himself. Not something I have seen for sale at Miounne’s in Beargarth but she may make one for me when I return home. Savouring the sweetness of the cool air he rested for a spell. Stretching his right leg, thigh muscle tense and sore, and calming his breathing as gulping down air sent rivers of pain through his ribs and torso. Don’t think I could fight like this, he thought squinting down the candle lit corridor tunnelling an empty hundred steps before vanishing.

A scratch of stone caused Nemo to jump to his feet. What was that? Hand on his sword he backed into the corridor straining to hear.

‘Your turn,’ a gruff voice said.

Another grunted in response and something scratched along the floor followed by sluggish footsteps.

Time to go, Nemo turned and rushed down the candle lit corridor as quiet as he could. The leather soles of his boots softening his footfalls. He ran on the balls of his feet and kept the wooden heel from touching the cobblestone floor.

The clap of boot heels echoed after him. Growing fainter and fainter as he delved into the tunnel. Nostrils stung as he snorted cold air. He slowed his pace as his ribs burned from the pressure of his lungs expanding too far. The turn of the corridor was a dozen paces away. The sconce lit corridor he had avoided in his escape. Relief welled inside him.

Nemo held a fingertip to the wall on his right feeling the rise and fall of each brick, stone, and clump of mortar as he went. He reached out to the edge of the wall stopping himself before reaching the ninety degree turn. Checking behind him was clear, it was, he leaned out and scanned ahead. 

Nothing. A short corridor leading to steps.

He stepped around the corner while looking behind for the guard starting his patrol. Where is the patrol route now? Nemo thought. He watched and waited but the guard never appeared. A minute or so passed and Nemo’s pulse quickened. Fear grew of someone venturing down the stairs towards him. Vispa was right. This is foolish, he thought beginning his ascent.

The stone steps were shallow and narrow, he climbed sideways to stay silent, his eye fixed on the purple haze of the waning night sky at the end of the rising tunnel. The shadow of a man’s shoulder and his halberd crested the right side of the tunnel’s exit. One guard, not too bad, Nemo thought climbing the steps with a slow and deliberate gait.

Faint whispers dripped down to his ears. Unable to separate the voices, and assuming it was the guard up ahead, he shifted to the right side wall. Pressing his back against it as he walked.

The whispers became voices. Two distinct voices. Nemo halted his ascent to eavesdrop on the two guards. He hoped one would move on with their patrol or better yet both. Torch fire burned ahead and behind him lighting the tunnel of stairs more than he wanted. If the guard turned he would be revealed.

‘Can you believe someone escaped from the gaol?’ One guard said.

‘I know. It seems impossible. How would they get out? Those tunnels don’t lead anywhere. Must have been wandering for hours before they found an exit.’

‘Or they died down there.’

You wish, Nemo thought with a smirk.

‘Yeah, probably that,’ the tip of the guard’s halberd nodded. 

‘But even still we have been given twice as many patrols and everyone lost their Governor’s Leave for the festivities,’ the other guard said.

Nemo assumed the other guard was standing next to the guard at the top of the stairs.

‘Yeah, well I seemed to have drew a good lot there,’ the guard Nemo could see laughed. His halberd rocking in the air.

‘Yes you did. Stand here for hours on end while I have to wander these grounds in a never ending loop. I should probably get on with it before I miss my next pass by the Commander’s Office.’

‘Be seeing you,’ the guard said.

‘In about an hour or two I suspect,’ the guard said his voice fading as he walked away.

And then there was one. I can deal with one if no one else is overlooking him, Nemo imagined slitting his throat and dumping his body down the steps. Or tying the man up and leaving him halfway down the steps. Either worked. Either method would be short lived once someone walked into, or out of, the tunnels.

He ascended a few more steps, the ridge of the last step lowering, the tiles of the roof opposite rising into view. No lookout yet, Nemo noticed.

He reached the top of the stairs. The guard stood within arms length. Nemo scanned the courtyard for others. Then the rooftops and the balconies. Nobody. Only this lone soldier guarding the entrance to the prison. Nemo remember what the other guard had said, that men had to be called back and that each patrol route was taking hours.

The guard leaned back against the wall, his head turned away from his charge. He sighed. Bored.

I would be too, Nemo drew his knife. I’ll make this quick, he promised the soldier. Nemo rose with a thrust of his knife sliding over the man’s neck. He pressed the guard against the wall and made sure the knife bit deep. Deep enough to sever the vocal cords. Last thing he wanted was a man screaming his arrival.

Warm blood gushed over Nemo’s hand as he held the man against the wall. The white’s of the man’s eyes cried in terror and fixated on Nemo. Nemo mouthed his apology for the necessary death of an unnecessary victim. The guard was unlucky, that was all. Nemo lowered the body to the ground, the guard’s head lolling before reaching a sitting position. He wiped the blood on the guard’s undershirt and pulled him into the pale lit tunnel.

The body slumped down the steps. Mouth hanging open, eyes staring into nothing. Nemo cleaned his blade on the man and sheathed it before returning to the courtyard. Where now? He thought searching for doorways and passages.

Either end of the courtyard, to Nemo’s left and right, where passage ways. In the corner to his right stood a spiral staircase to the balconies above. Closed and shaded windows lined the walls ahead and behind him. A plethora of options for a space he didn’t know. A wrong corridor and I’m dead. The wrong room and I’m dead. This is a nightmare compared to the open plains, he headed for the staircase.

The balconies were more open corridors than anything else. They looped above the courtyard and cut through the building at the ends opposite Nemo. As he walked the length of the open corridor above the tunnel he had emerged from a tower crested into view. Two stories higher than the rest of the palace, its stone walls a dark grey to the usual dusty sandstone. It rose to his right above the tiled roof ahead of him.

That would be where I would live if Governor. Surveying everything, Nemo crossed the balcony careful of his footing on the loose timber boards. He reached the corner of the balcony and corridor. The doors held open by latches attached to the inside walls. He crouched and stole a look inside. Empty, good, he stood and hurried through the corridor to the next corner.

Nemo balanced his breathing and listened for guards. Somewhere to his left he could hear footsteps and voices. Not together. He tilted his head towards the footsteps. The voices were behind him, down the corridor he wanted. The footsteps rescinded from him. Good, he looked down the corridor where he had heard the guard patrolling. Someone patrolling is easier to avoid than two standing around talking.

He turned his head and stepped as close to the edge of the wall as he dared. Pressing himself against it he leaned out a fingers width. He strained his left eye to see anything at all. At the periphery he caught the outline of a man standing with his back to him. He pulled back. Maybe the other one has his back turned too?

That was the easy part, Nemo told himself. Now it was a simple matter of walking passed the guards. Without catching a loose floorboard or moving too fast, or too slow. Simple. Vispa was right, he rubbed his temples. A headache threatened behind his missing eye. Jolts of pain laced under the bandage hiding the wound. He pressed a palm into the eyebrow under the bandage and blinked hard. No time to rest. My son can’t rescue himself. 

Nemo stepped out into the middle of the corridor keeping his eye on where the voices where coming from. The duo weren’t speaking in anything local and Nemo only knew enough words in the northern tongue to buy food from a passing merchant. Even then it was often unnecessary when travelling merchants seemed to know a dozen tongues. He halted once the two guards blurred into the limit of his vision. Both had their backs turned to him standing in the middle of the corridor, swords on their hips and halberds in their hands.

Now just to get there, Nemo looked to a point five, maybe six, steps away from him. He stepped out into the open avoiding what appeared to be a loose nail in the floor. The conversation lulled. An unexpected quiet growing in the hallways. Too quiet to move. Stuck halfway between and in full sight Nemo hoped for a laugh, a cough, anything to cover the noise of his boots.

One guard lifted his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. A guttural growl from something unpleasant. Nemo dashed two more steps and slid towards the wall and out of sight. He didn’t wait to see if he was heard or seen and instead crept to the end of the corridor. 

A board creaked. Nemo froze and looked down at his feet. Stepping forward with a painful slowness but neither board moved. He looked up and heard the clang of a metal tipped pole striking the floor and catching a nail.

He shifted to the other wall as the soft pad of footsteps reached through his focus and was all of a sudden near. Hand on sword he watched for a halberd, a boot, anything to tell him when the soldier was close enough.

The halberd pole flashed into view and tapped a floorboard as a boot walked into view. Weak spot under the cuirass or at the armpit, Nemo reminded himself from army training.

Sword whistling from its sheath Nemo stepped forward and drove the curved point of his blade under the halberdiers cuirass. Cutting through soft torso with ease and picking at the muscle behind the mans ribs. The sword grated on the rim of the iron armour as blood and gore poured over Nemo’s hand. A stench rose from loosened bowels and a coil of intestine slipped out of the man’s skin.

The soldier rasped and spluttered blood. A quiet scream broke from his lips muffled by blood and lack of air. The halberd fell to the floor with a crash, the head rattling and bouncing louder than a bell. 

Damn it all, Nemo thought ripping his blade free of the man. Guts and slivers of lung came free, a chip of bone too, and bulged under the cuirass. Footsteps rang out from behind him. He looked back, no one there yet but close. He darted towards his left, towards the tower.

The grey stone brickwork loomed large to the right. Each stone looked sharp and rough to the touch. Openings studded the wall at every level. Small slits for covert bowmen and large windows for the inhabitants. The tower itself stood apart from the corridor, turned balcony, Nemo shot down. The corridor had led to another courtyard with the tower erected in the centre and unconnected to the balconies surrounding it.

The rush of marching feet boomed behind him. A guard shouted to the dying man in the foreign tongue. Nemo panted as he judged the distance from the balcony to the opening in the jagged wall of the tower.

He sprinted to the edge of the balcony, sheathing his bloody scimitar as he went, and clambered over the wooden rail. Balanced on the edge of the platform with his heels, he bent his knees. Ready. About two arm lengths. Not far, he told himself as he sprung from the balcony to the tower. He reached with his left arm to the coarse stonework.

Sharp stone bit deep and blood welled from his fingers as they dragged down the brick. His shoulder twisted in its socket as he spun and banged against the wall. Each chisel and hammer mark jabbing his back and side. Nemo reached up with his other hand and felt the skin of his fingers peel back as he lifted himself up. His arms bulged from the weight. They really didn’t feed me right down below, he thought feeling weak.

Lifting his elbow up onto the window sill he huffed his way up the wall. Legs flailed at the stone begging for purchase on the lips and crags of stone not smoothed. He caught on with his toe and pushed for it to break away beneath the pressure and he slipped. Teeth rattled as his chin caught the sill and blood soaked into his beard.

‘Gods help me,’ he cursed snarling as he looped one hand to the inside of the tower hoping no one was inside this room. That he wouldn’t look up and see the snide remark of some Thesusian invader ready to gut him. That this whole venture wasn’t some fools risk against insurmountable odds. Better to die here than in a cell, or bed, wondering of what might have been, he told himself as he clambered up the side.

‘What’s that?’ He heard shouted behind him. He fell into the room. His head striking the floor and his legs tumbling over him. His missing eye throbbed as blood rushed to his head.

‘What’s what?’ A second guard shouted.

‘There was…,’ the first said.

‘Nothing?’ Replied the second.

‘Guess so.’

Nemo lay on the floor in silence. ‘Thank you,’ he breathed to Kethus as the blood drained from his head and the throbbing eased.

Nemo squinted against the faint room. Dawn bled in from the sole window but no torches or candles burned inside. Wind struck the tower with faint howls of force interrupted by stretches of peace. The guards returned to the dead body and the killer safe inside the tower of the governor. At least Nemo hoped or he was trapped with more crimes to answer for. The tower was silent. Guards did not prowls its hallways and staircases. Fires did not crackle and flicker. And Governor Stipi, if present, slept soundly. Somewhere. 

The room emerged from the darkness and was fitted with bed, table, couch, wash basin, and chests. Clean and spotless. With curtains drawn back. Unused, Nemo noted the empty bed.

He crawled from underneath the window and towards the bed standing up as he went. He walked clear of the window wary of anyone onlooking from the balcony he leapt from. Wiping the blood from his hands on the bedsheets as he passed. He removed a chip of stone from his palm and a bead of blood appeared. He licked the blood and a watery vein of blood crept over the lines of his palm.

He pulled an unlit candle from the stand on the chest near the door but had no way to light it. This is madness. How am I going to find a way out of here. His hand hovered over the door handle. A piece of solid wood. If anyone was on the other side they would have heard him and be waiting to skewer him through the stomach. Or they were on the open corridor with arrows waiting to pepper him with feathered shafts. Neither sounded like the way he wished to die. In bed, asleep, dreaming of better days. No tale of fame or glory. But here he was acting out a bard’s tale. Though, some part of him lived for the struggle. He felt the ring around his neck, pulled it free of his shirt and kissed it. All of this for them, he reminded himself.

Jamming the candle under his belt he drew his bloodied sword. He grimaced as he drew it. That will be a nightmare to clean, he flicked the scabbard. Sword held ready to thrust he pulled the door towards him and hopped out of the way expecting a halberd edge to fly passed him.

There was no halberd. No sound at all. Or light. Merely an open door and a cold spiral staircase.

A governor should not be so lightly guarded, Nemo thought creeping into the dark of the tower staircase. Torches flickered a turn or two above him. He craned his neck out from underneath the doorframe to investigate. His sword leading the way.

Shadows arched the wall and shifted in sinister curls. Nemo retreated back into the room. Was that someone? He wondered. Only the shadow you fool, his heart pounded behind his throat and up into his ears. He swallowed his hesitation and delved out of the room.

The stairs rose to his left and turned into the heights above. Nothing else to it, he thought and began to climb. The scrape of boots on stone echoed above and below him. As light as he stepped still a burst of sound seemed to fill the tower. There was no rush of feet storming up from below, nor above, as Nemo continued his climb into partially lit heights. Mustn’t be anyone in here then, he hoped and planned to secret himself away in a grand room at the top of the tower. If that was what he found. Perhaps this is a decoy tower and I have trapped myself. Not much else I can do if that’s the case, Nemo felt his heart slow a little. With choices removed action became easier.

Nemo crept passed two closed doors on his way to the top. Lighting the candle on a torch in the wall at the first door and holding it up above him at the second. There he could see a flat ceiling. The end of the stairs was a mere dozen steps away. He swapped sword for knife and proceeded higher.

He was sick of the dark. Tired of creeping through dark, dank, tunnels. Exhausted from the constant action. His body ached in a wave with each part taking its place in a grand song of pain and agony. Oh to be at home and sitting outside underneath the Lone Tree with nothing but the sunset. He shifted his grip on his sword as he moved up one more step. The ripples and craters of the stone wall glowed ahead of him. A line between light and dark split the spiral staircase. He waited in the dark anticipating those waiting in the light.

Nemo craned to see up and round. A pair of iron clad boots greeted him. The scratch of an unsheathed sword and the angry grunt of a guard needing to do their job swiftly followed. He placed the candle on the step and drew his sword. 

Nemo jumped to the side. His shoulder collided with the wall of the tower and burst into pain. His knife hand struck out and parried the on coming blade. The guard followed the blade a step and his foot slipped near the centre of the step where it was most narrow. Nemo drove his sword forward, aiming for the torso.

The guard dropped his wrist and steel met steel. The Thesusian caught the centre pillar of the staircase with his free hand and found his footing.

Nemo climbed a step higher and thrust into the guard’s foot with his sword. Blood spurted into the air and a scream erupted with spittle from his enemy’s mouth. Blood cascaded and the scream stammered as Nemo slit the man’s throat with his knife in one swift movement.

The body faltered and collapsed down the spiral staircase. A clatter of body and steel echoed through the building as it rolled down the steps and became lodged in a doorframe.

Nemo hurried up the remaining few steps expecting the sealed door to burst open with more armed men and a fleeing governor. Instead he found the door ajar and candles flickering within. One guard and an unlocked door?

He sheathed his knife and pushed the door open further. Sword ready to strike at whoever was behind it. The creak of the hinges pierced the quiet dawn. Muslin curtains waved in the breeze of the new day. Incense burned in thin roots of smoke arising from ornate open top jars around the room, on tables, on shelves, on the door. Where there was space incense chips burned with a heady concoction of northern oak.

Nemo pushed the creaking door with his shoulder as he stepped into the room. He surveyed from right corner to left behind the door. Plates of unfinished cheese, bread, fruit, cured meats sat on rugs lay over the stone floor. Goblets of wine and something else clustered on a low table. Nemo picked up a clear looking liquid and sniffed. The smell stung his eye and his nose curled crooked. Too strong, who would drink that, he wondered returning the goblet.

High pitched giggles drifted from the next room across. A closed door separating him and them. Interrupted by a gruff sound of pleasure and surprise. The sound of tearing followed by a fleshy slap and a low sound of shock.

Rumpled clothes draped the headrest of a long couch along the wall of the room. Nemo picked at the garment of silk. It slipped onto the couch revealing itself to be of little use at covering the body. Nemo stood straight and wiped his sword clean on the silk before sheathing it. He sighed confident who was in the other room would be incapable of defending themselves. Drink and arousal rarely made someone into a good sparing partner.

Nemo marched to the door and barged through it. The door slammed against a dresser. A concave glass mirror wobbled and tipped from the dresser shattering into hundreds of pieces with a banshee’s screech as it hit the floor. A purse lay atop the dresser.

Screams erupted from those in the room. A woman slipped passed Nemo with a bedsheet held to her front. The ends of the loose covering drifted behind her failing to cover her long legs and generous rear.

‘What is this outrage!” A man growled from in between two plump pillows. He lay on his back atop a bed thicker than Nemo had ever seen.

I doubt that is filled with straw, Nemo thought as he stepped into the room. The man’s prodigious gut obstructed his face but nothing else. Nemo looked away to the two women kneeling beside the governor. One held a pillow to her torso while the other made do with her arms.

Nemo nodded towards the door and both hopped off the bed with an eager leap. One grabbed for a robe as she dashed out of the door her long dark hair curling down her back and front. The other squealed as her bare foot landed in shards of glass. She winced and limped passed Nemo collecting a maroon coin purse from the dresser. Shame, he thought hoping they would have forgotten. The good ones never forget.

‘Where are you going?’ Stipi yelled as he propped himself up on one elbow. ‘I am paying good money for—.’

‘We meet again,’ Nemo said as Stipi’s eyes locked on his in recognition. The governor’s lips parted in a circle, his hair limp over his shoulders, parted in the centre, framing his round face.

He clambered over his bed crawling on all fours to a table at the far end. He reached for something.

Nemo pulled his knife from his belt and threw it. The knife sliced along the top of Stipi’s hand and lodged itself in the mortar of the wall.

The governor screamed and dropped the sword in his hand. He grasped his bleeding hand and held it close to his chest. ‘Sama!’ Stipi shouted, ‘Get in here,’ he scrunched his eyes and rocked as blood dripped down his chest and stomach matting his hair.

‘No one is coming to help you,’ Nemo said hoping he was right. He caught and pulled Stipi’s ankle towards him and in one yank the governor dropped to the floor.

Stipi grunted as he struck the floor. He gasped to return the breath he had lost from the impact. Scrambling away from Nemo and clawing at the floor.

‘Not today,’ Nemo held Stipi in place with a firm boot to his lower back. To his left, hanging from a hook in the wall, Nemo found a length of rope. ‘Convenient,’ he said looping the rope around the governor’s ankles before he could realise what was happening. He pulled the rope tight and wound it a few more times before cutting off the excess with his sword. 

‘Oh come on. That’s not necessary. We can talk this out. What do you want? Money? Titles? Land?’ I have it all and I have influence in the capital,’ Stipi said.

‘I don’t think so,’ Nemo replied catching the man’s bleeding hand as he struggled to crawl away.

Stipi pulled and tugged away.

Nemo punched him across the jaw feeling the ridges of his bones and teeth against his knuckles. Blood welled along Stipi’s gums. His arms slacking by his sides for a few moments. Nemo spun rope around the naked man’s wrists in three quick loops. Stipi tried to pull away as he regained composure huffing the whole time. His forehead and cheeks lined with sweat. 

‘Now sit still and listen,’ Nemo instructed the governor.

‘How dare you tell me what to do,’ Stipi snarled.

Nemo slapped him with the back of his hand. A line of blood flew from Stipi’s mouth. Nemo’s knuckles came away glistening with sweat. ‘I said listen,’ he repeated.

‘I want to know what you have done with the prisoners you were holding underground? Where are they? Where did you get them? What is going to happen to them?’

Stipi cocked his head to one side. His eyes drooped, unfocussed, and a thin trail of blood ran from the corner of his lips. ‘And why would I tell you that?’

‘Think of it as a trade for what you inflicted on me. A revenge. Of sorts,’ Nemo said.

‘So instead of my life you want my information.’

Nemo remained silent and expressionless.

Stipi narrowed his eyes as he shifted into sitting with his back against the ample leg of the bed. He sat with his legs straight out, like a child, his gut resting on his thighs and his bound wrists covering himself not that anything could be seen under his stomach.

‘Fine, what is it you want to know?’

‘There were prisoners being held down one of the tunnels near the gaol I was held in. Where have they gone?’

‘Prisoners? We don’t use the tunnels to hold captives, only criminals,’ Stipi’s eyes blazed as he spoke through gritted teeth.

‘Then why was there around thirty people in irons down below surrounded by your troops?’ Nemo crouched so he was eye to eyes with the governor. He picked up a shard of glass and used it to pick at dirt under his thumbnail.

Stipi laughed, ‘They aren’t my troops. Sure they follow my orders but only because they have been ordered to do so. I’m a governor not a general. Civic and military power has long been separated in Thesus, why do you think there has never been a fracturing of the Republic?’

‘I don’t want a history lesson.’

‘One might do you and yours some good,’ Stipi lashed.

Nemo struck fast. The glass biting through skin like silk. Blood welled in a perfect line from Stipi’s leg. The skin parting with eagerness.

The governor hissed his pain. Holding his knee in both hands and failing to reach the wound.

‘That wasn’t even that deep,’ Nemo peeled the skin back with the tip of the shard of glass.

Stipi stammered in pain, ‘Stop. Stop. Fine, no history lesson,’ he said.

‘Honestly I expected you to be crying by now,’ Nemo said.

‘Thought the fat man was too pampered to know pain and hardship?’ Stipi showed his teeth. ‘I wasn’t always a governor, or so fond of wine and cheese. But success brings more than you expect. The troops are following orders of General Arridaios, outside the city walls. He is cleaning up the last of the resisting towns and villages that your,’ he sighed, ‘Free Citiers have claimed. Such a ridiculous name,’ he said in a breath.

Nemo frowned at the obvious tangent. Holding the mirror shard up right between thumb and forefinger. Stipi could see it plain as day but showed no sign of noticing.

‘So he is capturing these people and having his soldiers bring them here without you knowing?’

‘I know he is doing it. They are assessed for labour, skills documented, age, health, everything recorded so they can fetch the best price at the markets. Some will be set free, some won’t have been taken, we don’t want to rule over a barren land,’ Stipi began to laugh. ‘I forget how simple you southerners are.’

Nemo sliced at the other leg, cutting along the calf deeper than last time. ‘Rude,’ he said.

Stipi yelped, ‘Stop doing that.’

‘You aren’t in a position to give orders,’ Nemo tapped the bonds around his captives ankles.

‘Someone will be here eventually. Those whores had only arrived a few hours ago. The soldiers know I don’t finish until after sun up.’

Nemo swallowed his desire to vomit and tried to ignore the smell of sweat lingering in the room.

Stipi broke into hysterics, ‘Oh come on. You thought one guard on the door was normal. No they draw lots and the loser has to stand guard hearing everything while the others are outside in the courtyard. You obviously didn’t come in the front door, so to speak, as there is not nearly enough blood on you,’ his expression changed. His eyebrows lowering and a ridge forming between them. Laughter stopped and his lips wrinkled with pressure.

‘In that case I better hurry this up,’ Nemo pulled the knife from his belt. Crystals of blood gathered at the top of the hilt and around the blade. ‘I saw children amongst those taken, why?’

‘Children can be good slaves too. In fact they can be the best because they can be easily trained to what the owner wants. They are more likely to be loyal and often receive greater affections from their owners. And anyway it is very rare for someone to be held in that position for life, only the basest criminals and most indebted suffer that fate.’

‘Okay. Where are those slaves now?’

‘They aren’t slaves yet. If they don’t sell then we will release them. Useless to others, probably useless to themselves,’ Stipi shrugged. 

Nemo pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, ‘Just answer the question,’ he was tired and believed Stipi when he said guards would be coming. The governor was too calm to think otherwise. His toenails are painted, Nemo noticed as he looked down for a moment.

‘Arridaios’ men don’t hold the prospectives here long, maybe two days at most. The assessment is done here, in the palace grounds. You’ll never get there. When did you see them?’

‘A few days ago. Maybe a week.’

‘Long gone,’ Stipi gestured with both his hands as if flicking away a fly.

‘Gone? Gone where?’

‘North. To the markets. You can’t just set up a slave market anywhere. There are rules. Arridaios will follow those to the letter in the shortest amount of time to maximise our profits. He’s very good like that,’ Stipi said.

‘So they’re gone?’ Nemo said struggling to hold composure.

‘Most definitely. In fact I imagine he will be packing camp and moving on towards the coast for the next batch of towns and villages. Far more populated on the coast, and fishers are quite prized in Thesus at the moment. Should be a profitable venture,’ Stipi stared into the distance. Nemo could practically see the denarii spinning in his eyes already.

‘Is that why no one can leave Tanussi? So you can assess them beforehand?’ Nemo asked the question to avoid the obvious. Avaya was in a cage cart heading north. Deep north by the sounds of it. Too far to find him.

‘We need a census that is true but not for market. That is for citizenship and other rights. That is dull and not profitable. Mere levers of state I’m afraid.’

‘So the wealthy remain free and the farmers are enslaved?’

‘Not at all. Farmers are better free and can do more with slaves. The wealthy… that all depends on skills too. Wealthy socialites are about as useful as a one-armed beggar,’ Stipi burst into laughter, ‘too think those with means would waste them on pure hedonism rather than for the betterment of their fellow man.’

Nemo ignored the irony. Stipi thought himself as paying his due or paying part of it still regardless of wine and whores.

‘I can’t imagine living this way when I was young. I was campaigning in what was then far flung lands and now core parts of the Republic. I carried on my father’s and his father’s tradition of twenty years of warfare followed with twenty years of civic altruism. This governorship is my retirement. I may not look it but I am well into my sixties,’ Stipi winked revealing a plethora of lines like a river delta.

‘You aged well then,’ Nemo said following the route from Tanussi to Beargarth in his mind. Where he could shorten the journey, where he couldn’t. How fast he could travel from Beargarth north along the roads to Regas, the first Republic city.

‘Thank you. But you seem distracted. Thinking of someone you may have lost perhaps?’ Stipi smiled. ‘Don’t worry you won’t feel that grief for long. You’ll be crucified at midday before the palace gates as an example. I’m sure the rebels will bow then. Or a few more at least. Most have lost the stomach for blood already. Pity. Tanussi could have been a prime recruiting city in a few years. But now, a generation at least,’ he hummed and shook his head in disappointment.

‘Don’t you ever shut up?’ Nemo barked as he stood. Glass shard in one hand, knife in the other.

Shouting erupted from outside.

‘Oh here they come. Took them a little longer but maybe they thought it was a game I was playing at first,’ Stipi bit into a sheet hanging down from the bed. He pulled it down and covered himself with it. His bound hands resting on top.

‘Why didn’t you do that before?’ Nemo muttered to himself.

‘I wanted you to think you had the upper hand and plenty of time. When one person is naked and the other not it… destabilises the balance between them,’ Stipi said.

‘Enough,’ Nemo said hearing the boots race up the spiral staircase, ‘Which road does this general use to get north?’ Nemo leaned over Stipi, knife angled towards the man’s neck.

Stipi craned his neck to see, ‘I suppose it won’t hurt. What is one man going to do against a hundred. He uses the road out of the north east gate, goes through some town with a well that used to be favourable with merchants, then onto Regas.’

Beargarth. Arridaios is going through Beargarth. Excellent, Nemo felt elation mixing with anger. A sudden burst of energy and a need to ride.

‘You’ll never get out of here alive. And if you did you are no match for Arridaios’ crack soldiers. A decade of experience, all of them. Whoever it is you are chasing you would be better of forgetting about,’ Stipi said with a wave of his tied hands.

Nemo felt his jaw stiffen and his hand jolted forward.

Stipi’s eyes bulged, his mouth opened and blood and gore erupted from his neck and bubbled between his teeth. The governor mouthed something and his eyes locked on Nemo.

He panted and pulled his knife free. Stipi slouched over himself. His head cracking against the stone floor. Nemo listened to the voices shouting, ‘Sama.’ The guard I killed.

Nemo darted through the door into the first room and slammed into the open window. He looked down to the courtyard below. Empty. The roof opposite was empty too and only a short few metres away. That’s insane. He turned to the door and the rush of men grew overwhelming.

Nemo hopped onto the window ledge and leaned out. His legs tense and ready. He looked out over to the roof. It was lower than he was and angled towards him. A slip of the foot and he was dead or crippled and then dead.

The door to the room burst open and the wood splintered against the wall.

‘Stop!’ The soldier shouted and charged towards Nemo.

Nemo launched himself from the window. He heard the man hit the window ledge. His armour rattling against the stone.

Nemo hung in the air for what felt like years.

The world stopped. The guard shouted after him his words spreading across eons.

The veins and tendons of his right hand bulged. His fingers ached as muscles pulled bone to extremes.

Then roof tiles were hurtling towards him and the sound of ribs cracking on the terracotta tiles sickened him. He gasped for air and flailed at the tiles. He was sliding. He kicked out for a foothold, a ledge, a loose tile, a nail, anything at all. His finger nail cracked as it carved into a tile leaving behind a white gorge in the red-brown tile.

He lurched right towards a flicker of shadow. Hand latching behind a tile, his shoulder jolted and strained in its socket. He cursed. Feet dangling over the edge of the roof desperate for the ground below.

The point of the roof was only a few steps away but that may as well have been a mile. The tile creaked and scratched against its neighbours. Nemo pulled himself up and propped his knee on the tiles. A thin fracture appeared in the tile near his forefinger. His knuckles whiter than chalk.

His stomach turned. Any minute now they’ll be an arrow in your back. Climb.

He struggled to his knees and crawled a short distance up never once letting go of the tile that saved him. Hand moulded to the tile he unhooked it to find his palm bloody and insides of his fingers scraped. Shoots of pain ran through his fingers as he flattened his hand against the tiles, bones uncertain of moving.

Shuffling upwards he could hear the soldiers shouting and marching down the tower and through the courtyard behind. Any minute now that arrow will knock you down. His hand grasped the cap tile and he allowed himself to breath. At least he wouldn’t fall to his death. He straddled the cap tiles, and remained kneeling. The roof was less angled than he thought, or felt.

Standing, his feet were only a little twisted outwards. Walking a few steps was difficult but doable. Running was out of the question. Now to get down, he thought. 

The palace complex was a serious of courtyards, gardens, and guard towers, all surrounded by a ten foot wall. At the front, facing into one of the main city streets, was a gate of gleaming gold wide enough for three carriages. Splendour was as important as defence. 

From the vantage atop the roof Nemo could see the city sprawling in every direction but to the east it seemed to touch the horizon. The world ended where Tanussi’s wall stood. Streets wound and twisted between between the long straight main roads. Filling any available land with a building no matter how small and quaint. The rising sun bloomed over the city wall casting the metropolis in orange robes. The ends of the wall joined with the horizon and the blue of the sky glowed in a thin line above. 

True beauty, Nemo gasped forgetting for a split second of where he was, what he had done, and, even, who he was trying to save.

The splinter of wood raked him from his aesthetic trance. A split arrow lay caught on the roof.

Nemo ran to the east. Regret followed as he was certain if he stopped he would fall and careen to the edge and down to whatever fresh hell brewed in the courtyard. What is the punishment for killing a governor? Crucifixion surely. After a few long years in a pit being tortured for information I don’t have, Nemo ran as fast as he dared.

The roof turned left encircling a garden of flora he had never seen. Flowers with regal purple petals and orange tendrils poking from them. Trees bearing fruit in peculiar shapes, with long straight leaves. He skittered around the corner slipping on sliding roof tiles. He stopped himself from falling as the roof tile exploded on the ground below. 

He hurtled over the roof, out of the range of the archers in the courtyard behind. No one traversed the garden at this hour. No guards were posted on the doors to it. Nemo ducked under the branch of a tree towering above the roof. Passed it he could see the wall of the palace complex nearing. 

Just over that is one step closer to getting out of here, he hoped Vispa would be waiting with Atars in the tunnels beneath Tanussi. She had to be or it was all for nought. Not even Nemo would attempt to cross the land on foot. The road between Tanussi and Beargarth had been swept by the ever-growing eastern desert.

The roof carried on for a few metres more and then stopped. There were no more buildings to climb on. No more places to hide. Thirty seconds and Nemo would have to make a decision. Jump or turn. Stop was another option but that only prolonged the inevitable.

The palace complex wall cut across from the right in an arrow straight line, disappearing behind the building Nemo ran across. He was headed towards it. A good chance the ten foot high wall was wide enough to land on. He could jump somewhere. Or miss and never walk again. If I miss I’m dead and if I wait I’m dead. That leaves jumping, he imagined sitting under that tree back home and watching Avaya and Delara playing in the evening sun. Just a jump away.

The edge of the tiles loomed and his muscles bunched tighter than cord. His heart stopped the madness of his action late to his mind. One foot struck the edge of the roof and launched him into the air. The sky rolled with an azure blue and stripes of orange. The flat sand plains stretched out to the horizon. Not a soul could be seen, nothing of life save for dying grass and dead trees. His grandparents, long dead, had spoken of a time, when they were children, where the land was green and fruit grew innumerable upon the bushes and trees at the side of the road. A time when water was abundant and rivers, now lost, crisscrossed from the mountains to the sea. All Nemo had known was yellow grass and the miracle of a well in Beargarth. Between his home and the city where three bridges that arched over long ditches in the earth. Or at least two did, the third was never used and the used path now skirted around it, the stream long gone.

All that escaped his view as the city wall grew upwards. His target was taller than he originally thought. A blessing and a curse as the corner of the brick punched him in the stomach. He wheezed in a cloud of dust and sand, his hands hanging over the edge of the wall outside the palace, his legs the other. 

Get up you fool, he told himself. He swung his right leg up and hooked his boot over the top of the wall. His thigh was warm and wet. A stabbing pain plagued his left side with every breath no matter how shallow. He rolled on to the top of the wall and lay on his front. He coughed and felt a tickle of spit on his lips. He ran his tongue along his lips. Blood. Get up.

A door opened and two guards charged out of it. Halberds held up high ready to slice down on him and rake him from his perch. Now!, his mind screamed. He struggled to his feet. His stomach up in his ribcage and his lungs on fire. The drop to his right was twice his height. He turned and stepped off the edge. 

The soldiers yelled commands in their foreign tongue as he crunched to the ground. He knees buckled and he fell into a roll. He crashed into a cart and grain rained down over his head as he lay sprawled against the wheel and woodblock stop.

He shook off the grain in his hair only for it to be replaced by more. Speckles of blood showed where he fell. Right trouser leg was damp and sticking to his skin. He groaned and got up. Ruffling his hair of grain and dusting himself off he hurried through the winding streets of the one floor buildings that gathered around the palace. Expensive, small, and limited in quantity but there was never a crime reported and the noise and smell of the markets didn’t spread that far.

He hurried around corners keeping the city wall to his left or ahead with each turn. The further into the warren of houses the better. The city guard and Tanussian soldiers would take days to search them all. Nemo hoped it would take them hours just to pass his likeness around the guard houses. He wondered why they hadn’t rang the bells yet. But with no likeness how would anyone else know it was him? He had the advantage now he was on the right side of the palace complex wall.

Where was that blasted tunnel? Along the wall near the north? Or east? Behind the one leading underneath the palace. That’s the other side of the city, Nemo ignored the pain on his left side every time he breathed and continued running. His thigh burned with agony and a pulse of blood escaped each step. He cursed Zhuzi for being right.

The buildings grew taller the further from the palace he went. Curtains and doors were being thrown open to welcome in the new day. Nemo stopped and leant against the wall to catch his breath. Blood dripped from his leg and lips with a pounding that put a miner to shame. He swigged water from the small skin on his belt and swilled his mouth clean. He spat the pinked water into the sand and hoped that would be the end. The metallic taste returned from the back of his throat instantly.

Nemo growled and wiped blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He watched it dribble down the wrinkles around his thumb wondering what it was and why it was there. He prodded his gums and teeth and felt a rush of pain near the back of his mouth and an upper tooth rocking in its perch. At least it’s not internal, Nemo thought pushing off from the wall with his shoulder.

He followed the road along the inner side of the city walls of Tanussi and around the corner to the east facing wall. Along here, he had been promised, would be the entrance to the tunnels leading to freedom. Along this wall was an abandoned staircase, marked with two tigers, and covered with a ruin of a building lying forgotten and leading under the wall to a slim portcullis at the base of the wall in the north east quadrant. Nemo almost believed it and wished it where true.

It will be guarded. Surely. A few more guards to despatch isn’t going to stop me now, he thought mindful of leaving a trail of blood. There was not much running down his leg but a single drop left uncovered was one too many. He kicked the sand of the road over another bead of red. The drop soaked into the sand with a petal pattern. Each red grain luminous within the light brown and yellow of the road. Nemo brushed over the sand with his foot at least making it seem older than it was. He was not worried about footprints as the road was covered in thousands of them from the daily use. Some so deep the wind seemed to blow the road into the pattern of footprints.

Nemo was sure the road turned away from the wall. The low buildings propped up against the wall widening outward. He stopped and peered down the road and sure enough up ahead the road curved back towards the wall. Nemo walked passed the three buildings that stuck out into the road. Without a side path between them Nemo knew he would have to go through one of them. That’s sure to cause a problem, he thought pushing on the doors one by one. Each refused him with sturdy rattles inside. Locked, all of them.

He pushed on a window shutter expecting the same rigid refusal. The shutter squeaked and budged inward. He pushed again and the window flew open. Catching the wood before it had chance to crash against the wall. Nemo crawled inside the building. All he wanted was to pass through to the other side or reach the back wall and leave. With or without finding a tunnel. 

Nemo stumbled through the dark interior of the building pawing with his hands out in front and expecting tables and chairs, cabinets and chests, to block him at every turn. Instead he kicked a chair, the wooden leg scraping like thunder against the stone floor, and ran his hand along a tabletop. He passed by the table, high with high backed chairs, probably brought from the north by some soldier’s family choosing to live where he was stationed. 

So it is guarded. Whether Frya and Humaya realise it or not, he padded towards the back of the building. Thin lines of light bled around an ill-fitting shutter dead ahead of Nemo. He hurried across the room as fast as he dared. His boot thudded against a chest underneath the window and he hurried to pull the bolt lock free. The bolt dropped and made no sound as it dangled in the air at the end of a string.

He flung the shutters open and clambered out into a small, neglected, square. No wider than the three buildings and barely six steps deep. Filled with broken furniture and rotting waste. Rusted tools and smashed glass. Such a waste, Nemo thought at the metal that, once clean, could be melted down and remade and the lengths of wood still good for other uses. Wealth brought waste and Tanussi was nothing if not wealthy. Even following occupation it seemed. 

Nemo pushed through the debris and waste that gathered in piles at the base of the wall. All clustered and hiding some construct. Wooden beams leant against a plastered building. A little taller than Nemo and wide enough for a single door, or gate. He slunk his way through the refuse and within four steps stood in front of a gate. He never once had to move anything. The wall towered over him reaching higher than the sky. Dizziness passed over him as he stared up to the top of the wall. Above the gate were two tigers. Chipped and aged but tigers all the same.

The gate stood, open, with one hinge rusted beyond repair. Flaking metal peeled back and cried as Nemo yanked the gate open a little further. The stench hit him like a fist. Human waste and rotting meat. Is that what they use it for? Nemo thought of the households backing onto the yard. Prime passage for smuggling and unsavoury types and they use it for rubbish, he thought like one of his bounty targets.

Nothing for it then, he thought wincing at the stench and taking the first step down under the walls of Tanussi. He slipped on the wet stone step slick with piss and old stew. Perfect, he thought grimacing at the dark tunnel. He hesitated to put a hand on the wall for balance. Nemo’s second step slipped as well his hand pressing into jagged stone for support. This better be right, he cursed Frya and Humaya. 

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