The Heart of the Mirage by Glenda Larke Page B

taking it.’ I wrapped it up once again and tucked it under my arm.
    ‘But, Legata, I can’t let you do that! I don’t have the authority—’
    ‘Perhaps not, but I do. The Brotherhood claims this weapon, Centurion Deltos. Would you question the Brotherhood?’
    He was aghast. ‘Of—of course not, Legata. But have a care.’
    ‘That I will. Believe me, I haven’t the slightest doubt of its potency. Now, I wish to speak with some of the legionnaires who actually saw this man, this Mir Ager.’
    ‘I’ll see to it.’ He ushered me back upstairs. ‘I have one of the men who was present during the torture sessions, as well as the officer who was in charge of the execution. I’m afraid they are the only two who are here in Sandmurram at the moment. Which one do you want to see first?’
    ‘The torturer, I think.’
    ‘A man by the name of Achates. A rankman legionnaire coming up to the end of his time in Kardiastan. Not a torturer really, just an old reprobate who can’t keep out of trouble and is always given the jobs no one else wants. He was assisting only. The manin charge, Regius, died of blood-poisoning soon after.’ He took us up onto the second floor of the main wing of the building and indicated a door carved with military motifs. ‘You can use this office. I shall send Achates in to you immediately. Is there anything else you require, Legata?’
    I shook my head and he left. I looked across at Brand as we entered the room. ‘I don’t want any word of this to come to Aemid’s ears, Brand. Especially nothing about the weapon.’
    ‘As you wish. Do you want me to stay now?’
    ‘If you will.’ I would want to talk about this afterwards with someone I trusted.
    I went to the window to wait. The room overlooked the Commander’s walled garden. Several unfamiliar fruit trees and a number of flowerbeds were a tangled mass of blossoms—scarlets and purples and oranges predominating. ‘How bright the flowers are here!’ I exclaimed. ‘Have you noticed? Every garden I’ve seen seems to be overwhelmed with colour. It’s as if the flowers want to compensate for the dullness of the trees and the lack of grass and all those brown buildings.’
    ‘All that brown getting to you already, Legata?’ Brand asked. He sounded as if he were secretly laughing at me.
    ‘No, of course not. Why should it?’ I looked at him sharply, but he was opening the door in answer to a knock and had his back to me.
    The man who came in did not look like a soldier. He was a little too unkempt, a little too knowing. I knew his type, though; I had met it often enough during the course of my work for the Brotherhood. He was the sort of fellow who would always be on the lookout for a way to make an extra sestus, but who didn’t like to take too many risks. He’d probably onlyjoined the legions to escape trouble elsewhere. And he would have no compunction about uttering a lie or two if he thought it would benefit him.
    ‘Legionnaire Achates?’ I inquired. I sat down at the desk in front of the window and indicated he was to approach the other side of it.
    He nodded, his glance roaming over me in unconcealed—but respectful—appreciation. I said, ‘I am Legata Ligea of the Brotherhood.’ His look abruptly changed. Now he was deferential, but it was the deference of fear, not respect. ‘I wish to ask you questions about the Kardi known as Mir Ager.’ The look changed again; there was an animal wariness in his eyes now, and the fear I sensed deepened.
    ‘What do you want to know, Legata?’ Reluctance and trepidation warred within.
    ‘First, describe him to me.’
    ‘’Bout your height. Typical Kardi mud-colour skin and hair. Not overly muscular, not like the slave you’ve got there.’ He nodded at Brand. ‘But no weakling neither. More like an athlete than a soldier. Handsome sod, he was. Got a smile I’d walk a league or two to have: the sort of smile that charms the wraps off the ladies—begging your pardon,