The Lydian Baker

20

I made it eventually and got my back to the first step. Then I stopped. Gods, I couldn't do this. If I was headed for the death mask then fine, but crowbar or not I couldn't die without a fight. Maybe I'd get lucky and take Prince Charming or Melanthus with me.

Only to fight I needed my hands free.

Okay. I lifted myself up the riser of the step and felt the top edge. It was worn smooth in the middle, but further over my fingers found a ragged line of chipped stone. Yeah, that might do the job. If I had the time before PC came back. If I didn't, then…

The hell with speculation. I set the rope between my wrists across the line and began to move it back and forward. I'd hardly started when from above came the sound of the bolt being pulled. Shit! Prince Charming couldn't have brought Melanthus already, surely?

Unless, of course, I was back in the Scallop and the guy had been there all along…

I hunched down under the shadow of the step. Maybe if they didn't see me straight off I could trip whoever came down first. It wouldn't do much good, but I'd at least have the satisfaction of hurting one of the bastards. I might even provoke Prince Charming into killing me outright, which the way things were going would be a plus.

The door opened. I couldn't see what was going on now but I did notice the light in the cellar hadn't changed much, and that didn't make sense. They'd have had a lamp, sure they would. Probably a couple of torches. If this was to be an interview they'd want light.

Someone started down the steps. I tensed.

'Valerius Corvinus?'

A man's voice, pitched low. Not PC's, and not Melanthus's. In fact, no voice I recognised at all.

'Corvinus? You down there?'

A pause, while he waited for an answer. Ah, hell. Things couldn't get much worse anyway. I raised my head.

'Who wants him?' I said cautiously.

The guy let out a breath. I could see his silhouette against the doorway, and nothing else in the blackness but the whites of his eyes.

The large whites of his eyes.

Search as you will, there ain't nothing blacker than an Ethiopian down a midnight cellar.

'You mind telling me who you are, pal?' I struggled to my feet. 'And what the hell you're doing here?'

He didn't answer. Instead he came quickly down the steps, spun me round, tied a gag between my teeth, put a bag over my head and hoisted me over his shoulder like a sack of turnips. Gods. Maybe it was something I'd said. And obviously I'd been wrong about things not getting worse. At least before the bastard arrived I could speak, see and breathe…

Being upside down with my ribs crushed wasn't doing marvels for my headache, either.

I'd had enough. Being kidnapped twice in one night is once too many. I kicked out hard as I could manage and felt him stagger. Only for a moment. Then he righted himself.

'Okay, Roman,' he growled. 'We can do it two ways. This is one, and you'll like the second even less. Still, it's your decision. You want to co-operate or carry on making things difficult?'

Put like that, I didn't have much choice. I grunted into my gag and went limp. We started up the stairs.

Ears were all I'd got left, and I was listening hard when we got to the top and through the door. The Ethiopian's nailed sandals clicked on stone or tile for a good twenty strides, then he stopped and reached forward. There was the sound of a door opening and I felt cold air around me. A few steps later he swung me round and set me down on a flat wooden surface at chest level. The surface gave, and I heard the jingle of harness. So. We were going on someplace by mule-cart. I felt cloth pulled over, covering me completely. Yeah, well, at least wherever it was I'd do the trip in comfort. And anything would be better than the cellar with only Prince Charming to look forward to.

The cart started up with a jerk, banging my already aching ribs against the floorboards, and the pain almost made me bite through the gag. Okay, so I'd been wrong about the comfort; but at least I was alive. If you can call being bounced across Athens in a mule-cart with your head in a mouldy flour sack living. And bruised ribs or not now was the chance for some constructive thinking before Big Black Hercules up front hauled the rug off again and we were in for yet another round of fun and excitement. Besides, I didn't have anything better to do at present.

The cellar could've been part of the Scallop, sure: the hallway had had a pricey marble floor, I remembered, and the door hadn't creaked when Hercules had opened it. Well-oiled hinges; that fitted the Scallop too. It was a shame about the bag. A whiff of sandalwood would've proved things beyond doubt, but all I could smell was weevily flour. On the other hand, we hadn't stopped on the way, and if Hercules had had no business being in the Scallop — which was a reasonable assumption — he'd've wanted to check the coast was clear before tiptoeing across an open hallway with a body slung over his shoulder. Even brothel customers with their minds on frank carnality tend to notice things like that, and if Antaeus had been around he wouldn't have made more than a yard.

Shelve the problem of location for now, then. A more important question was what the hell was going on here? The guy must've tailed me and waited his chance, that was obvious, but this was no last-minute rescue. The cart and the bag argued forward planning. I was being taken somewhere else, which meant someone besides Melanthus and his tame gorilla wanted Corvinus for a sunbeam and Hercules was working for him. So who was Hercules's boss? Who else besides my Academician pal would be interested enough in the Baker to want to talk to me?

I was still puzzling that out when the cart stopped. I felt the cloth being yanked away.

'You still awake, Roman?' For a pointless question that absolutely took the nuts, but I nodded anyway. 'That's good. Just lie quiet and you won't get hurt.'

Yeah. The trip so far had been a real bed of roses, hadn't it? I would've groaned but before I could summon up the energy he hauled me out and hefted me over his shoulder again. This was getting monotonous. Now I knew how a side of beef felt on its way to the butcher's.

When he finally dumped me it was on stone, and he didn't do it gently. I heard the sound of a knocker.

Things went very quiet. Somewhere very close a door opened. Then the bag was suddenly jerked away and I was blinking at a face staring down at me in the light from the street-side cresset.

Bathyllus had never looked so beautiful.

'But Marcus, where on earth were you?' Perilla dabbed with a damp cloth at the egg-sized bruise on the back of my head.

I winced. 'Jupiter, lady, be careful! That hurts!'

'Then it serves you right. We've had a terrible night. Bathyllus was frantic.'

'Would you believe listening to a recitation of Pindar's "Pythian Odes" at the local glee club?'

The cloth came down again. Hard. I winced a bit more.

'Lady, please..!'

'Don't you "lady" me, Corvinus!' Perilla snapped. 'And stop joking! I've been worried sick!'

Worried sick or not, peeved or not, there was no way I was going to tell her I'd been belted from behind coming out of a brothel. Some things Perilla just wouldn't understand, and tonight I didn't need the hassle.

'I was following a lead,' I said. 'I got jumped by muggers. End of story.'

'Very well.' From the tone she didn't believe it, but to be fair not even my saintly old grandmother would've believed it, and I could run rings round her when I was five. Still, she obviously didn't want to press the matter either, for which I was duly grateful. 'So who brought you back?'

'You tell me. You were the one who took delivery.'

Bathyllus had come in with a tray. Thank the gods for well-trained staff. I grabbed the cup of Setinian and drank it down. The wine hit my empty stomach like a velvet club.

'We didn't see either, sir,' Bathyllus said. 'The man had already gone.'

'Uh-huh.' Understandable: I'd thought my Ethiopian pal might be the shy, retiring type from the way he'd dumped me. Well, whoever Hercules was he could wait because my head felt big as a melon and some bugger was trying to squeeze my ribs until they met in the middle. 'Are the baths hot?'

'They should be, sir. They were on earlier. I'll check.'

'You do that.'

He left. Perilla was still frowning, which was bad news. 'Corvinus,' she said, 'you were bound and gagged and your purse was intact. I'm sorry, but that does not sound like muggers to me.'

I sighed. So I wasn't off the hook after all.

'Look,' I said, 'I've been through one interrogation this evening and I don't need another, okay?'

'Interrogation?'

So much for stonewalling. Well, I was never very good at it anyway, especially where Perilla was concerned. 'Okay,' I said. 'You've got me. Scratch the muggers. I was right, Melanthus is the guy we want. I've just had a talk with his right hand man. He thinks I know where the Baker is.'

'Tell me,' she said simply.

So I told her; not about the Scallop, just what happened afterwards. She was quiet for a long time. The frown was gone now. Now she only looked upset, which was worse.

'Oh, Marcus!' She tried a hug, but I yelped and she let go. 'Can't you leave this alone? Please? Priscus wouldn't want you to get hurt, and if the statue's gone it doesn't matter.'

'Sure it matters.' I massaged my bruised ribs. 'And the statue hasn't gone. It's still out there wherever Smaragdus left it.'

'Then at least talk to Callippus. This is a matter for the Watch. If Melanthus is the killer then it's his job to track him down, not yours.'

True. And Callippus probably had more brains than to get himself sapped and end up breathing weevils, what was more.

'Okay,' I said. 'I'll do it tomorrow. Today, rather.' The light was already filtering through from the courtyard garden: dawn, or near enough. 'Whatever. Go to bed, Perilla. I'll have a quick bath and come right up.'

'You're sure you're all right now?'

'Comparatively. Anyone ever tell you first aid's not your strong point?'

She kissed me and left. I filled my wine cup and drank slowly. My brain was beginning to turn over again. Hercules. I was missing something, sure I was, but what? The guy had had me cold, ripe for the sweating. Why risk his own life just to bring me home? Who was he working for, and how did he fit in?

It made no sense. None at all.

'The furnace was out but I've ordered it to be stoked up again, sir.' Bathyllus was back. 'The baths will be ready shortly.'

'That's fine, Bathyllus.' I stood up. Shit, I was getting too old for this sort of thing. It felt like every bone in my body had been taken out and put back the wrong way round. 'You go off to bed too, okay?'

'Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir.' He padded off.

Okay. Bath first, then bed. Tomorrow — today — I'd have a word with Callippus.