Wishing Dodger served the dwarven drink of kaf, he shook his head to clear the cobwebs. Seeing his old comrades in arms left his head clouded from the wine. Too much wine, more than he was used after three bilustrae serving amid the Custos. Thirty years, even split into ten year hitches, took their toll. Added to two bilustrae during the war, and nearly forty years between service times, the few breaks did not give him the time to recover.
Soft knocking echoed gently in the room. Glancing towards the door, he wondered who dared call this early in the day. Remembering Didius' attitude the night before, he chose rudeness over civility. "What emergency do you wish to die from?"
Outside laughter filled the narrow hall. "I would say reminding you to collect your muster out pay is pretty important, Kayth."
Use of his own service name, and the light-hearted attitude answered the who, and right now, his muster out coin, small though it would be, held promise of saving gold for later. "Billenius, you scamp, better have kaf with you!"
The door opened, despite being locked. The kid's talent that way bordered on criminal. "I do, two pots, three cups."
Ambrosia's aroma preceded him, forcing Cethegor to smile and play gracious, if still cranky, host. He motioned to a small, rickety table. "Any other good news?"
Billenius set the pots and cups down gently on the table, shifting his head for something to sit on. "Thirteenth and Sixtieth Turmae go north, with the Urias caravan. Black Cat's under a new commander."
Kayth winced, hearing his original turmae mentioned. 'Well, hope this poor fool can overcome the bad luck of that."
"I hope I can." Billenius poured the dark liquid, as Cethegor reached up, removing the stool off the rafter for the boy. The comment sunk in only as he sat, lifting his cup.
He took a sip, enjoying the hot beverage, before reacting. "Congratulations. Your uncle pull strings for you?" Wincing at the hurt look, the old Custor regretted the accusation.
Billenius sobered, face not showing hurt. When he glanced across, Cethegor noted a face he recognized. His own, in the mirror when he rose up early to command. Worry warred with anticipation as the boy struggled with his thoughts. The retired Custor let the young numen think a bit, waiting for the real reason for the visit.
When Billenius spoke, it was softly. "Just finishing my first bilustrae, I was surprised at this. Avunculus did nothing for me on this. His shock reading the Imperatrix's order nearly broke his face." Wrapping hands around his cup, the young Custor leaned forward. "This crudus desires counsel on his next posting."
Another knock, this time the door opened before Cethegor could speak. "Kayth, I smell kaf in there, you better share!" Didius entered, holding his own cup.
"Find your own chair, the boy came seeking counsel before I cashier out." Nodding at the pots, he chuckled. "At least he used his foresight to bring enough brew. Should motivate two old warhorses quick enough."
Stepping lightly, Didius approached, glancing at the boy. "Well, never had much use for seers before, but you show promise, Varus."
Billenius nodded, keeping his silence a moment. He knew Didius by reputation and tales of his parents.
Kayth broke the silence as the old Centurion splashed the drink on table and cup. "Varus gets my old unit to command. By Her Majesty's hand."
Very little rattled old warriors. Cethegor read not a touch of surprise on his old comrade's face. "Perfidio, she listened to me." Billenius started, glancing at the older elf. "You deserve it, boy. First assignment, even in your own turf, everything done correctly. That deal with the latros, when they stole the children shook even the Decuria over your handling of it."
Custor Varus bowed his head at the praise. Keeping his mouth shut, a hard thing for one his age to do.
The older horseman noted this with pride. "Titius is damned good optio. He lost his right hand, though, when Damaticus retired a few hebdomae back. Listen to his counsel." Holding up a single finger, he lowered it to Billenius' nose. "Do not let him rule for you though. For an island man, he's trustworthy, but ultimately, he belongs to the Decuria."
Behind those walnut eyes, both elders noted him filing information away. Didius spoke softly, settling on the edge of the cot. "You know the desert. Heard about your time in the Forty-third last year. Be careful, or old Bentarius will be drafting you for duty in the Triarium, not the priesthood." A long draft from the handle-less mug most soldiers owned allowed some pride to peek through. "Not that all you do is good. The Triconis stuff has to end. Commanders known for jokes sometimes feel hastae in their backs during battles." He nodded at the shamed face.
Cethegor met the eyes that turned to him. "Not that using tricks is all bad. Surprise moves by a commander can save the day, but only if you communicate with other units and leaders. No sense charging in to combat when the archers just let loose a volley at your target. Timing requires patience, diplomacy and strategy."
The boy sat for nearly half a glass, speaking only to ask for clarifications, obviously a good student. The coffee ran out well before the advice trickled to a stop. Custor Varus left less happy, hopefully a bit wiser. For the blue sand part of the next hora, the old soldiers sat silently, remembering other young men, who failed despite trying valiantly.
"Think he can pull it off, Rico?" Cethegor let the old nickname slide out, despite their service days being over.
Didius watched dancing motes of dust hanging mid-air by the window a bit. "He'll do. After you left last night, Ben said there was no rush getting him into the temples. Mentioned some prophecies speak of something he has to do first." Lifting the spouted pots, head jerked to the door. "He'd make a bloody good centurion. Of course, so would you."
Rising gently, Cethegor laughed. "Perfidio, Rico. Benni recruits with more sublety than you." Arms worked behind his back, shoulders popping the morning aches out. "More kaf, or wine?"
"Kaf, the Runt's makes a better pot than these." Leading the way, he navigated stairs needing repair. Broken furniture dominated the main room, telling that fights marred the night. Beyond, under Jzhan's soft green glow, filthy streets guided them past shops and abandoned buildings. Along the way, the pumillo merchant who provided the kaf recovered his pots. At last they reached a tidier part of the city. Fewer empty buildings, more shops open and better sanitation.
Under a sign marked with the shadow cats of the mountains, Didius at last stopped. "Temnei Lyeveitsa. Good place to find work, supposedly." Rico motioned him inside.
Cethegor stepped in, finding the place neat, with lots of light. Definitely a step up from Dodger's Inn. A dwarf with salt and pepper hair, clean shaven against his people's traditions, met them. "Two? Seeking work or already contracted?"
Kayth smiled at that greeting. "Definitely the first, good dwarf. I hope you have Kaf."
"Sbeiten and kaf are our specialties. My wife's bread is famous hereabouts as well." The short one guided them over near the fireplace. "First customers of the day get the ochag seats." Gesturing down at the broad polished marble heart stone.
"Spasebo, Gospodhin. A pot of each, and cheese bread." Rico seated himself to see the door.
Twisting the other chair, Cethegor followed suit. "Do I smell goose roasting?"
He winced as the merchant lit up, knowing the price just climbed a bit. "Yes. Also there is auroch left from last night, on the spit through the dark hours."
Digging out a smallish vial of balux, he set it on the table. "A shavings plate from each, please."
"Certainly." Passing an elf just coming in, the innkeeper motioned their way, whispering something.
Moments later, doing his best to act casual, the elf stopped by their table. "Viri, may I join you?"
Didius smiled. "Only if you are serious about hiring real warriors, not mercenaries, Decimus Urias Servillus Salius."
The numen waved that aside. "Cumbersome, our naming traditions. Salio will do." He grasped a nearby chair.
Cethegor smiled as well. "Salio, cut to the chase. Too many times I barter with you more than I should."
"I know you both, viri, as stout warriors and elves of ethics. As the local Kenzili lack metal, I must ask my own to fulfill contracts."
Suddenly, sensing the shifting winds of supply and demand, Cethegor smiled. "Just the Crossing under the shadow, or several trips?"
"This circuit for certain, others if the fools in the Roshen try to force me to take back those I am replacing. Just to spite them." Salius hesitated, rubbing his scalp. "Guild and bonus, minus rations."
"Guild, half bonus, rations included and mounts." Didius pressed fast, noting the gesture. "Renewal only if mutually agreed."
Salius grimaced, leaning back in disgust. "Fine, but not games of chance during the caravan, you scoundrel."
They all laughed after a moment. "Oh, I suppose we can avoid games of chance, given we can at least run pools on how many attacks each leg." Cethegor let his grin show.
The Mercator nodded, sobering a bit. "Only if I can take a few numbers on that." Leaning forward, his right hand out, waiting for the sealing of the deal.
Catching Rico's eyes, Cethegor met the grip. "Done."
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