Athas shrugged. “That means nothing; you have no small power yourself. You should be able to take the throne back without too much effort.”
Kiva turned and wagged his finger at the sergeant. “Not that simple though,” he turned back the prince, “is it? You could take it back, but you couldn’t hold it. Not now that the Satraps have seen how possible it is to remove a King. It’s not easy to kill a divine power, believe me, but once you do everyone gets ideas.”
The captain patted Quintillian on the shoulder. “That’s why he needs you. Got to put the Empire back together so that he can have Imperial support when he retakes the throne. No Satrap would stand against him then. Otherwise he’ll stay on the run out here.”
Quintillian frowned. “I still don’t understand. Velutio’s close to becoming an Emperor himself now and I’m the perfect bargaining chip, yes? From the prince’s point of view, giving me to Velutio would get him the support he needs anyway.”
Ashar grinned. “Don’t believe for a minute that I didn’t consider it either.”
Kiva shook his head. “Velutio would never ally with a Parishid ruler. They were close to the Imperial family; they even share the blood. No; Velutio wouldn’t stand for Parishid interference.”
Mercurias piped up once more. “This is getting us nowhere. The fact remains that he wants Quintillian and he can’t have him…” he turned and gazed questioningly at Kiva “can he?”
The captain sighed. “I’m afraid not, your highness. I appreciate the fact that you’re the first person we’ve come across that wants to support him and not to kill him, but I’m not actually ready to let go of him just yet. We might be able to come to some arrangement though, if you tell me your plans for him.”
Ashar frowned. “I’m not in the habit of revealing my strategies before they’re carried out, Kiva. You know that, for you were ever the same.”
The captain smiled back at his opposite number. “Just for once, it sounds like we’re working to the same end. Let’s not spoil it.”
“Very well” the prince replied. “For all your harsh assessment of my people, you are correct that we have the finest assassins in the world, and I intend to use them against your old nemesis. Velutio has the most powerful army in your empire, but that won’t help him if his head wakes one morning next to his body.”
Kiva shook his head. “That’s bad planning, Ashar, and you know it. You’re more desperate than you let on, otherwise you’d have thought this through further.”
“Explain.” A simple demand from the Pelasian.
“If you kill Velutio,” sighed Kiva, “all you do is take away the incentive for the lesser lords to behave themselves. If Velutio dies, the chaos will increase, not decrease.”
The prince nodded. “I realise that that is a possibility, but it would be easier to put down the smaller lords than the master himself. Besides, what other choice is there?”
It was Athas who picked up the conversation now. “Did you ever play ‘towers’ when you stayed in the capital? It’s a very good strategy game that the captain and I used to play regularly. The objective is to destroy enough of the opposition’s towers that the remaining ones are too far apart to support each other. I was never all that good, though the captain was better… but Quintus was the best player I ever saw.”
The prince narrowed his eyes. “I believe I see where you are going with this, but do go on.”
Athas smiled. “He’s the only player I ever saw completely demolish the opposition. He left not a tower standing. The game was nice and evenly balanced one minute and then he pulled a trick I’d never even thought of and in only three moves I had no pieces left. It was unbelievable.”
Ashar nodded. “But this is no game and we have no Quintus. We have Quintillian and the towers are real and filled with armies and hungry lords. A nice story, but how does it apply?”
Athas coughed. “I’m not actually sure yet. The captain and I have discussed the future a few times though and it always comes back to the game. All the towers have to go at once, as we only have a couple of pieces ourselves.” He glanced across at Kiva. “There’s only one man here with the kind of tactical genius that Quintus had, so we’ll have to wait until the captain here has a flash of inspiration.”
The prince nodded. “It’s up to you then Caerdin. If you have plans for the boy, I will not interfere. Perhaps we will work together when the time comes? I will wait upon your magnificent brain and when you think the time is right and your plans become clear, call my name. I will never be very far away.” He smiled at the boy. “And we’ll drink to the health of your future ruler and my future ally.”
Raising his glass the prince stood, saluted Quintillian, and drained the amber liquid. Dropping the glass back to the table, he reached into his surcoat and spun around. A chisel-tipped throwing knife whistled through the air with an accuracy that surprised even Kiva and entered the innkeeper’s throat just below the chin. Turning back to the table, the prince refilled his glass and smiled. “I told him price would not be a problem” he joked as behind him the innkeeper slithered down the wall leaving a trail of red.
Quintillian blinked. “Why him?”
Kiva patted him on the shoulder again. “If his highness hadn’t have done it, I would have. Within a day Velutio would know you’ve been here and the barman would be able to retire a wealthy man.”
The prince laughed loudly. “Unless you’ve undergone some miraculous training in the last two decades, you’d not even have hit the wall, let alone the barkeep!” Taking a sip of his drink and replacing the glass, he wandered over to the bar to retrieve his knife. Returning and wiping the blood on a bar cloth before sheathing the blade, Ashar raised an eyebrow and regarded Kiva as he sat. “What are you planning to do then until your miracle comes to pass? Remain on the move? In hiding?”
This was of course a question Kiva was ill-prepared to answer, having only the loosest idea himself. He watched the prince suspiciously. Still, the Pelasian would know what he was doing as he did it if not before and had as much at stake here as anyone. Sometimes the least trustworthy of people became the ones you had to rely on.
“We head for Serfium. I’ve friends there from the old days who’ll keep us out of the way of Velutio’s hunters. Quintillian wants to return to Isera though I’m loathe to walk into the bastard’s hands like that.”
Ashar nodded. “Foolish indeed. Perhaps some of my information will be useful to you, at least in preventing such insanity.”
Kiva pricked up an ear. “You know about what’s going on in the capital then? Anything you can tell us might help. I’m stuck at an impasse at the moment.”
The prince laughed loud. “When was I ever in the dark about current events, Caerdin?” The smile faded and with another sip of wine he placed his hands on the table. “Very well. Velutio is well aware of how the three fugitives escaped Isera. He now has a chart showing the old Imperial escape route as his commander spent a week on the island with everyone there. I believe some harm came to the minister, though no report yet has suggested that he has passed away, so I presume he still runs the island. There was some altercation between the commander of Velutio’s army and the captain of his personal guard and I believe a man called Sabianus is commanding both units. Other than that events on Isera are a bit of a mystery. It was hard enough gathering intelligence on the island before Velutio’s troops landed there and my source on the island stopped signalling once Sabianus landed. All the information I have now has been gleaned from sources in the city.”
As Ashar took a breath before continuing, Kiva held up his hand. “What kind of man is this Sabianus? Do you know anything about him?”
The prince shrugged. “Only a little. He has a good reputation as a commander and very highly paid. He’s been sent to deal with insurrections by some petty lord to the south at the moment. Velutio’s left a small garrison on the island and it really would be ridiculous to go there. Now that he knows about the escape route, you can be sure there’s no secret way in any more.”