Black Salt

Black Salt - Chapter 13

 He threw the report aside. "This wasn't worth the sheep you skinned to write it!"

The young guard officer swallowed, but he stood his ground. "Sir, the curfew has gutted street crime, and we've more than doubled our arrest rate. Alexandria has never been more secure." He wore a linen skirt, sandals, and a leather harness to carry his weapon. His chest was broad and his arms bulged with muscle. His shaven face looked handsome, if hard, and his brown eyes were a little close together. The odd thing about him was his hair; though young, he had grey hair. Seen from the corner of his eye, when they'd first met, Nikias had thought he was an old man.

Nikias sighed. He sank into his chair, and cast a scornful gaze around his office. Stacks of vellum and brittle papyrus littered his desk; reports from the last week. What the young officer said was true. They had cut common crime down to a third of the usual amount, and they had locked up every thug, pimp and whore who thought the curfew didn't apply to them. A few rotten guards had let the street types work for a bribe, but when Nikias had found out, he'd put them on canal duty. That meant fishing through the filthy depths of the city canals, dredging for the lost skull box, or Zalm's corpse.

They'd found neither.

"This isn't good enough," he said. "The curfew is costing the city money. The heads of every guild have complained to the king that we're breaking their trade. The night workers are talking riot. We need to break Black Salt."

"Sir, if Black Salt were really strong enough to challenge you... I mean the king... They wouldn't let a curfew stop them. What if the last one died when he jumped in the canal?"

"What if? That's the best you can do... Your name?"

"Kalliphas, sir." He held his breath.

"Kalliphas... Breathe man, I won't kill you."

Kalliphas tensed as if waiting for a blow. He squeezed his eyes almost shut. "Sir, even if they're still here, they're weak. Days have passed since the attacks, and nothing's changed. You, I mean he, the king, is still master of the city. Maybe they've given up."

"Given up? Given up!" He rose, swept a stack of papers aside, and leaned over his desk. "If a thief breaks into your house, steals your gold, and murders your grandfather, do you let him be just as soon as he takes a holiday?"

Kalliphas flinched. "Sir-"

"No more excuses! I don't want to hear a word from you, Kalliphas, or any other guard, until you bring me the heads of the circle of Black Salt."

"Sir, I-"

"Not a word." He sat, and looked at the reports once more.

Kalliphas bit his lip, his face pale as the moon. He stood to attention, and marched out. As soon as he'd left, the door banged open.

Nikias spoke without looking up. "I said I don't want to hear from you!"

"But I haven't said anything yet."

He looked up, and saw a man built like a potato. He had a lump of a body, and his odd, misshapen head stood out from his body without any visible neck. He wore a pristine white robe, and a gilded circlet on his sweaty brow, both of which would have suited a wealthy nobleman, but looked grotesque on this knobbly dwarf.

Nikias stared at him, and the dwarf twitched and rubbed his lumpy face.

"Well?" said Nikias.

"Nobias, sir. I work, worked, for master Kleon, sir." He rubbed his hands together. "There's been another death, sir."

They could have walked to the tower of Pharos, for the Heptastadium linked island of Pharos to the mainland. However, the bridge was seven furlongs across, and it would have meant twice that amount before they reached it, and twice again to cross the island. Nikias took a boat.