Black Salt

Black Salt - Chapter 35

 His linen skirt was ripped, and a cut had parted his leather harness at the shoulder, so it no longer held firm against his broad chest. Bright blood flowed between his narrow brown eyes, and painted his cheeks like a garish whore. But he still had that grey hair, and with Nikias's sword tip nestled in the hollow of his throat, fear made him flinch and tremble, and he looked ever more the aged man.

They'd rushed in, he and Gygas, and each killed their man. Ajax took the third bodyguard in the back, felling him with a knife in the back. He still stood off by the trees, staring at his blood soaked hands. Kalliphas had been too shocked by the attack to realise he was alone, and he'd come at Nikias with his sword, but by then he was one man against three. He'd taken slashes high and low, shallow wounds, but it was his own bodyguard who'd betrayed him; the dead man lay in his path, and Nikias had driven him backwards with a feigned thrust at his face. He'd trip, crashed down on his back, and Nikias had kicked away his sword, and made him his prisoner.

He'd taken laurels for sword fighting, and gold and honours for his service in war. He knew how victory was supposed to taste. This tasted like ashes and salt water.

"It's over," he said. "Your plots and schemes and insurrection. Done! The king will have you hanged from the tower of Pharos, for every ship and crew and captain to tell the nations what befalls a traitor."

"If you're lucky," said Gygas. "If he doesn't fling you off the tower himself."

He hadn't asked Gygas to speak, but the man had earned himself a voice, after he'd proven he had a fighting heart as great as his beard.

Or his gut.

"He speaks the truth," he said. "Ptolemaios has a...changeable idea of justice. And as for his sister..."

A change came to Kalliphas. His face turned pale, lost those twitches and tremors, his mouth set in a hard line, and the muscles of his jaw bunched. "Rathea." His voice sounded different, grating. He sounded as if he'd taken a blow to the throat.

"Yes," said Nikias. "She's fierce. She doesn't forgive."

Kalliphas spoke with difficulty. "Kill."

"I expect she will, once she's done with you. What do you say, Gygas?"

He scratched his jaw through his beard. "I hear she feeds human flesh to those monster weasels of hers. I've heard they prefer it fresh and running with red blood, and if she don't feed them for a day or two, they're not so particular as to whether it's cut up and cooked, or...still attached."

Kalliphas contrived to look paler.

"I liked you once," said Nikias. "And for the sake of that, if for nothing else, I'll protect you, as far as I can. You've got to give me something, though. I need you to put a name to the rest of your traitors. And I need you to confess, to tell the whole story to the king; how you planned the murders, how you set me up, how you killed Apollophanos when I came close to catching you out."

He spoke again, and winced with every word, as if he had a shard of metal dug into his throat. "It won't change anything."

"Seems like you want to die," said Gygas, kicking Kalliphas in the leg. He drew a dagger, and pressed the point against his temple, so blood started from his skin. "I'm more than pleased to help you."

"Step back," said Nikias, glaring at him.

"He deserves to die," said Gygas. "All them things he done. He's paid for death."

"Yes," said Kalliphas. "Kill me."

Nikias began to feel outnumbered and overwhelmed. "What god's cursed words are these? Gygas, put that thing away. And you, Kalliphas, I'm offering you safety, safety and justice, and a chance to make your peace with men and with gods, and I won't let the bloody handed queen set her weasels on you. Yes, you'll die, but not today. You can live, and you can help me fix this burnt wreck of a city, before... Before it tears itself apart, and we all drown in black, bitter water."