Corvus by Paul Kearney Page A

fled, feet pattering on the chill stone.
    “Kassander?”
    The shadow
resolved itself into a massive cloaked figure, as broad as Karnos but taller.
    “You keep buying
up all the pretty girls, Karnos. How many do you have stashed away here now?”
    “If you want one,
I’ll lend her to you - now what’s the news that has me shivering like a spent
horse here in the night with Phobos leering down at me?”
    Kassander drained
his cup. “Word from the east. Hal Goshen has surrendered to him.”
    Karnos leant
against a marble pillar, the last of the bedroom’s warmth sucked out of him. “Ah,
hell.” He rubbed one hairy-knuckled hand over his face, and seemed to feel the
weight of his years and the loom of the winter weigh down his very bones.
    “I told them, didn’t
I?”
    “Yes, you did,”
Kassander said. “You have been proved right at every turn. There’s good in that
- it means they may pay heed to you now.”
    Karnos raised his
head sharply, a sneer splitting his beard. “You think so? Brother, you have a
faith in the rationality of men that makes me wonder whether to laugh or weep.”
    “If this does not
unite the League, nothing will. This could be good news, Karnos - it may be the
turning point.”
    “Ever the
optimist, eh? Who else knows this?”
    “It’ll be all over
the city by dawn. I’ve already sent couriers to the hinterland, and the Kerusia
is being waked as we speak.”
    “Come inside with
me. My prick has shrivelled up like a raisin in this cold - or maybe it’s your
news has done it.” Kassander followed him like an obedient bear, tossing his
cup into the courtyard pool with a silver splash.
    “Light, light!”
Karnos roared. “Am I to stagger around in the dark in my own home? Bring a lamp
there!”
    Polio appeared
again. He bowed to Kassander, who nodded curtly in reply. “Master, your study
fire has been lit, and -”
    “Have my clothes
laid out there, Polio, and rouse out the stables. I want the black gelding
warmed up and shining, my best harness. I’ll be going to the Empirion with the
dawn.”
    Polio bowed again,
handed his lamp to Karnos, and glided away.
    The household was
coming to life, slaves scurrying everywhere with lamps in their hands,
unintelligible shouts emanating from the kitchens at the back of the house.
Karnos and Kassander strode along the corridors, oblivious, until a heavy door
was swung back to reveal a firelit room, littered with scrolls and papers, and
a wide-eyed slave who bowed deeply, placed a tumble of clothing on the desk and
fled, mumbling inanities.
    “You’ve too many
slaves,” Kassander said, unlooping the end of his cloak from his arm. “They’re
underfoot like damned cockroaches. Can’t you hire some free-men to light your
fires and groom your horses?”
    “Free men have
loyalties and families and worries of their own,” Karnos said, sweeping the
piled papers from two iron-framed chairs. “Slaves only have to worry about
their job. They do that well, and they have no other worries in the world.” He
threw off his woollen chiton and stood naked in the firelight, then began to
dress in the clothing the slave had abandoned.
    “You’d have been
Speaker far sooner if the world did not look askance at the harem you have
here. There’s jokes about you and your insatiable prick scrawled across every
wineshop wall in the Mithannon.”
    “Insatiable, eh?”
Karnos said with a grin. His head emerged from the neck of a black linen
chiton. “I like that. The people love a politician whose vices are out in the
open, Kassander - they know he has less to hide. Me, I love women -”
    “Then marry one.”
    “Are you insane?
No, no. I flirt with power and I fuck slaves. Good decent women are too
dangerous for a man like me. And I’m near forty now - too old to be learning
the ways of a wife. Have a seat. No, you make my blood run cold merely by
mentioning it - and you know the regard I have for your sister -”
    “She thinks the
sun rises and sets