Black Salt

Black Salt - Chapter 20

 Maybe it was the breeze, blowing in from the sea. Maybe it was the stink from the harbour, where the bustling ships had got so packed together that they almost couldn't move, and what few gaps remained had been plugged with small boats, turning the bay into a mass of jostling wood. Sailors and fishermen swore at one another, blocked in, trapped by the need to finish business before dark, and the curfew. Fresh fish could smell appealing, but after they'd lain in a heap in the hot sun, they let out foul humours that clogged the nose and made the eyes weep.

Maybe it was the breeze itself, not cool as a breeze should be on a summer's day, but warm and uncomfortable. It should have made him feel more alive, but instead it felt stifling. Nikias wanted to leave the city. He longed for the green farms of Hellas, and the clear mountain air of Parnassos. He had to shove his way through the thronging streets, where every face was a stranger, perhaps an assassin coming to make another attempt on his life, and the few who did recognise him averted their eyes in fear, and cursed him when he passed on.

The curfew might have saved lives, he would never know.

It had not made him friends.

"It reeks like Hades," said Kalliphas, voicing his thoughts. "I'm starting to believe Garantzis. We must have offended the gods."

He ignored him. He'd heard the same story half a dozen times each day, as if the citizens shared a single mind. They longed for something to break the gods' curse, and restore their lives to normal. They would welcome a royal wedding, even if it did make Rathea their queen. If Black Salt made no more trouble, the people would forget them, oblivious to the danger. They might even believe the wedding had appeased the gods, and Black Salt had served only as an agent of Olympian will.

What would a wedding accomplish?

They'll be happy for a day, he thought. "Then her purges will make their lives worse than they are today."

"Sir, Nikias, even you can't stop a royal wedding."

He froze, and stared at Kalliphas with his mouth hanging open. "I never- I didn't- I wouldn't!"

Kalliphas blushed. "Sorry! I thought- I mean, we heard what she said, and I thought you might..."

"What? I might what? Commit treason?"

Kalliphas swallowed, and pushed his palms outwards. "Woah, no, I didn't mean-"

"I'm no gods' cursed traitor!"

Kalliphas's jaw fell open, his eyes went wide, and he waved his hands. "No, no, I- You-"

Nikias felt anger like an ember that smouldered in his heart. It hurt, and yet it felt enticing, as if the pain might somehow change to fierce joy if he let that ember burn. He looked at Nikias, and felt its heat in his eyes, and for a moment the young officer with the grey hair of a grandfather didn't look like a man. Nikias saw his eyes, big, soft and weak. He saw his neck, where the veins stood out, easy to slash. He saw his bare chest, broad and strong, but easy to pierce with a blade, even those pathetic antiques the circle favoured.

He looked at Kalliphas, but all he saw were targets.

In fear, then, that he might do something stupid and irrevocable, he turned his back on Kalliphas, and marched towards the library at top speed. As he went, he wished that Kalliphas would leave him alone. He wished the king would leave him alone, that the entire city would stop begging him for protection when everything he tried made them more upset.

All I want is to be with my family, he thought. Just us together, away from all the intrigue, the stupid crimes and the hateful crimes, away from all the murders.