Black Salt

Black Salt - Chapter 16

 He shot out of the kitchen, the papyrus tucked in the money pouch at his belt. "Come on," he said to Kalliphas.

Kalliphas had his hands full with the falcon. His hands dripped red where the bird had gashed him. "Already?"

"No time to play. Bring that bird!"

He led Kalliphas to the small temple of Poseidon on the western tip of the island, where the sailors flocked for a blessing before they went fishing. No one wanted to carry a couple of king's men, but he told Kalliphas to offer gold, and they soon found a ride. He sat up at the prow for the whole journey, unable to enjoy the warm sun, or the brilliant view of the city. Not long after, they came to the royal harbour. The harbour guards cursed at the fisherman, but they all but threw themselves on their faces when they say Nikias leap out of the boat.

He raced from the royal harbour to the barracks, Kalliphas struggling to keep up, swearing one moment at his swollen ankle, and the next at the bloodthirsty falcon. His hobbling gait, coupled with his odd grey hair made him look even more like an old man.

"Take me to the prisoner," said Nikias to the surprised old clerk in the barracks office.

"Prisoner? We have no prisoners," said the clerk, a shaky greybeard.

"What? No pri- Ah!" He slapped his forehead, and rounded on Kalliphas. "You take me... Take me to our guest."

"Can't we drop this vicious harpy off at the kitchen first? And I'd really love to see a doctor."

"Are you made of soft lead? Is your iron getting rusty?"

Kalliphas grunted in frustration, then he stood to attention, stamping his feet by reflex. He gasped with pain, but he managed to suck it up, and lead Nikias away.

Minutes later they came to the dark cellars under the barracks house. Cold, dim, and damp, they often made Nikias think of old stories of king Minos and the Minotaur. Today his mind was too full to ponder ancient tales, and he soon pushed Kalliphas aside, taking the lead as they went deeper into the cellars. He knew them better than any young officer, and soon they stood outside the cell where the men had taken Sapog.

"Any trouble?" said Kalliphas.

The guard outside the cell rubbed his arm. "He struggled a bit; he didn't want to go in there."

Nikias moved to the door, but Kalliphas held him back. "Dangerous?"

"No," the guard shook his head. "He's so fat that Morpho strained his back from shoving. He went to the doctor. I hurt my arm, but it's okay."

"Come on," said Nikias, and he stabbed his finger at the bar that held the door shut.

The guard snapped to attention, and he lifted the bar.

Nikias threw the door open and pushed past Kalliphas and the guard, both of whom tried to get in first to make sure it was safe. His eyes struggled to make anything out of the shadows in the dingy little cell. One high, barred window let in a trickle of light, but all it revealed was a man's shadow. The air tasted bad, like sweat and filth. The guard got a lamp and held it over his shoulder, throwing a light on the room's occupant. Nikias felt a pain in the centre of his chest, like a punch in the solar plexus.

Sapog bent towards him, kneeling as if making obeisance to a king. His hands rested on his great paunch, and his head was bowed. Stretched behind him, reaching up to the bars in the high window, his silk scarf shone red in the light, all the way down to his neck.

He'd strangled himself.

Nikias whirled around, his hands squeezed into tight fists. He saw the guard's eyes open so wide they seemed to be all white, and his face went first pale and then green. Kalliphas leaned around the guard, craning his neck to see into the cell. When he realised what had happened, he shoved the guard aside, grabbed the lamp, and pushed forwards to bend over the corpse.

"I swear, sir," said the guard. "I didn't hear a thing. He didn't cry out. He didn't even squeal."

"No wonder," said Kalliphas. "He stuffed this rag in his own mouth."

Nikias still couldn't speak. All his hope, his excitement at having got closer to Black Salt, had drained away, replaced by sick, helpless fury. He wanted to grab the guard and shake him. He wanted to beat the life back into Sapog. He'd worked so hard to get this far. How could the man steal it like this? How could he dare?

"You're relieved," said Kalliphas, and the guard almost ran from the cell.

Nikias rounded on the young officer. "When did you get a promotion?"

"I had to send him away."

"When I woke up this morning, I was the king's battle lord, not Kalliphas. That rock headed monkey needs to be punished."

Kalliphas raised his hands in a calming, soothing gesture, as if he thought he could treat Nikias like a recalcitrant horse. "I thought the Hellenic word was strategos."

Nikias sighed. The stab wound on his arm hurt, and he tried to rub it through the bracer, but the leather proved too thick.

"That man is already in Hades, sir. You saw his face. Iakos, that's his name, he let us both down, and if you punish him you'll just make him think he's useless."

"He is useless!"

"Give him another chance. Show him there's still hope, that you still trust him. I promise you, he'll never make this mistake again."

Insubordination!

Nikias wanted to lock Kalliphas in the cell until he learned to obey. Then his eyes slipped to the corpse, still hanging from the long silk scarf, and he realised how stupid this was. He couldn't afford to battle his men, he couldn't let his frustration at failing to hunt down Black Salt make him turn on them and make them enemies.

He had enough enemies.

The anger flowed out, and he felt tired. He drew his dagger. Kalliphas froze, which made him laugh. "Peace, young grey pate. I am done with our argument." He grabbed the scarf, and cut it. Sapog keeled onto his face.

"There were so many things I wanted to ask you," he said to the corpse. "What is Black Salt? Why did you try to kill the king, and Kleon, and... Me?"

"I thought Kleon told you about that," said Kalliphas.

"He told me what he knew," said Nikias. "Or what he suspected. But why here, and why now... And where they are!"

He kicked the body, and then felt guilty.

"You found something at his house, sir."

He had. He'd forgotten about that. "A scrap of papyrus, with Egyptian writing. I wanted him to tell me what it meant."

Kalliphas frowned. "Can you read Egyptian?"

"No, I don't know what it says."

"So how can you be sure...?"

He laughed. "I found it in the salt jar."

They eyed each other. Kalliphas shook his head. "That's as weak as butter in the sun."

"Unless you've got something stronger? Then let's go find ourselves an Egyptian."