Cassius finds his brother, and the kidnapper.

Length: 3000-7000 words, POV: Cassius, Rating: R
Start from the beginning || Previous post || Next post
Part of: 007 Darkness, Contents

The west entrance to the catacombs was through a small stone building in a solemn courtyard, overgrown and surrounded by high walls. It was into this garden that Cassius hauled the informant. Four companies of Imperial Guards stood ready to accompany them into the catacombs. They were just waiting for one of the guides to come and unlock the gate.

As he chafed at the delay and tried simultaneously to watch and ignore the informant, a guard captain hurried up to the prefect and whispered something. The prefect nodded and looked over the captain’s shoulder, waving two guards and a chained prisoner forward.

“Lord Cassius,” said the prefect. “These men believe they have found the kidnapper.”

Cassius examined the prisoner, then turned to the informant, raising his eyebrows. The informant nodded. “That’s him, Lord Cassius. Wearing the same clothes and everything.”

One of the guards holding the prisoner clicked his heels. When Cassius nodded his permission, the man said, “We picked him up at the docks asking about for short-handed longships in harbour. His story didn’t check out, so the harbourmaster detained him.”

“Who is he?”

The prisoner had his gaze fixed on the ground. At this, he looked up, but didn’t speak. He was filthy, and the guards had obviously roughed him up.

“Orban. Formerly of the Imperial Navy,” said the guard.

Cassius opened his mouth to say something, but the prefect stepped forward and said, “Commander, the guide has opened the gate.”

“Take him back to the palace and put him in a cell. I will question him once we find my brother.”

Cassius skittered down the path, focused on the guard in front of him, who had appeared form the shadows and shouted that they had found his brother. Slowly the darkness lifted, became the light of several torches, all clustered together. The guards looked up as Cassius approached and his guide said, “There.”

Valentin lay on the path, smeared with dust and blood. He seemed very pale in the torchlight, almost the colour of the skulls stacked in their tidy rows against the wall. Guards crouched around him, parting as Cassius knelt at his brother’s head. “Does he live?”

“Yes, Lord Cassius. He has been drugged and beaten.”

Cassius pushed tangled hair off Valentin’s face. His skin was clammy, but underneath it, warm. Valentin’s lips were cracked, and his breath was shallow.

“How far have you come?” said Cassius to the captain.

“We judge it to be about thirty minutes from the eastern entrance, my lord.”

“We are…” Cassius looked at the prefect. How could anybody know the time down here?

“Twenty minutes from the west entrance.”

Only twenty minutes. “We take him back that way. Have you a waterskin?”

When one was provided, Cassius dipped his handkerchief in the water and dribbled it on Valentin’s lips. He felt carefully along Valentin’s limbs, starting with his neck, feeling for swelling. Valentin winced but didn’t wake when Cassius pressed his ribs, and again on his right shoulder.

He stood. “Carry him gently; he is injured.”

The dungeons were as dark as the catacombs, though not as deep below ground. Cassius came down here as rarely as possible, but this time he revelled in it. Orban was dragged out of a cell into the torchlight of the inquiry room, blinking and shielding his eyes. A chain around his foot was fastened to a bolt in the floor, a few feet in front of where Cassius stood. Two guards took up posts by the door, and the prefect came to stand beside Cassius.

“Now, I warn you, there is very little I need from you. Your accomplice has informed on you, and your fate is set. Out of courtesy, I am giving you a chance to defend yourself.”

Orban, still blinking, curled his lip. “Your brother is a bastard.”

Cassius had stepped forward and backhanded him before he even really thought about it. “He is a Sylvanus, and you are jetty scum. I suggest you try a different tack.”

Circling his jaw around, Orban put his hand up to rub his chin and found the chains linking his wrists with his ankles were too short to allow it. “He—had my papers. I was captain of a ship which took him to Baetica, and he had my commission over a misunderstanding with a dockside whore.”

“Oh really.”

“The whore and I had an argument over payment. When it got back to Lord Valentin, he took exception to the force with which I had expressed my views.”

“I see,” said Cassius.

“I just needed somewhere to hide him while I made arrangements.” He paused, wet his lips. “I was going to put him onto a warship as bonded labour. Let him get a taste of what he did to me.”

“How did you plan to counter the fact that as soon as he woke, he would have revealed his identity?”

“I—” Orban visibly braced himself for a blow, “—intended to make sure he couldn’t.”

Right. Cassius clenched his fists, forcing himself to concentrate.

Orban continued hastily, “See, I didn’t plan to let him die in the catacombs. I wasn’t quite ready, but the Sapphire was too good an opportunity to miss.”

Because I wasn’t there. “You are aware that we found him some distance from where you dumped him. You may not have intended him to die, but he very nearly did.”

“The drugs shouldn’t have worn off that fast.” Orban shrugged, and Cassius lost the very tenuous grip he had on his temper. He backhanded Orban again, hard enough to throw him off balance and onto the floor.

A guard appeared at the door. One look at his face told Cassius everything. He started for the door, then stopped, and flicked a contemptuous glance at the prisoner. “Take him back to the catacombs and leave him somewhere,” he said to the guards, feeling rage vibrating through him. “Tie him up and make sure he can’t follow you out.”

“Commander—” said the prefect.

“Do it.”

“But—Lord Cassius—” This time it was Orban, struggling awkwardly to his feet.

Cassius turned a ferocious scowl on Orban. “Let’s see if you’re so nonchalant when it’s you lost among the bones, dying for water.”

It was a long way from the dungeon to the family apartments. Cassius jogged along hallways, up stairs, across the atrium, and finally arrived, slightly winded, at Valentin’s suite. He pushed open the door, releasing a miasma of healing smoke, and coughed.

“Valentin?”

Sitting up in bed, Valentin raised his eyebrows. He was very pale, and his eyes were heavy and red-rimmed. “There you are,” he said. His voice was croaky.

Cassius hurried over and sat on a stool by the bed. Dismissing the physician with a flick of his hand, Valentin said, “That must have been some heavily fortified wine I drank last night,” he said. “For I could swear I woke up in the catacombs.” He looked down at his hands. “See, there is grave dust under my fingernails.”

“Yes,” said Cassius around a lump in his throat. “I’m afraid your precious Baetican wine was fortified with something more than poppy sap this time. An old friend of yours who had been saving up a bit of revenge. A navy captain you had decommissioned for beating a prostitute.”

Closing his eyes, Valentin nodded. “I think I remember that. Name started with O? I assume you dealt with it.”

“Orban, and yes. I had him dropped back in the catacombs. We’ll see how he enjoys it.”

Valentin cracked open one eye. “Now who’s being vengeful?”

“He said that he took the opportunity of my not being there to take you.” He sighed. “Should I tell Adrienne?”

A small, crooked smile edged onto Valentin’s bruised cheek. “How long can a man survive without food or water?”

Cassius considered. “Perhaps three days, down there.”

“Tell her in two days, then.”