Interregnum by S. J. A. Turney Page B

yes?” Without waiting for confirmation, the innkeeper pointed to a doorway. “You’ve all got accommodation upstairs. Any one of the first four rooms. Help yourself.”
    Quintillian smiled gratefully and, turning, pounded up the stairs to the room. As he disappeared into the next floor, Mercurias cast a glance up the stairs after him and frowned. The first door opened into a comfortable room with three beds warmed by a brazier and lit by candles. The boy approached the small table near the window and gathered several candles together to light the table’s surface, upon which he laid Carso’s history. So Carso wrote crap did he?
    Feverishly, Quintillian flicked through the book, looking for something. It had been a long time since he’d read some of these chapters, but if he could just find those few words, he was sure it was what he wanted to know. Forward and back he flicked, scanning the pages and the section headings until he finally lit on the correct chapter.
    Here it was: “The Death of Wolves”. He only vaguely remembered it, but some of the events tied up too well for it to be falsehood. He pored over the first page, documenting the few actions the Wolves took an active part in after the death of his uncle. He continued over the other pages and then… There. The death of the Caerdin. Two of the Lords had been fighting over the lands near Serfium and the campaign had ended with the Lord of Velutio, chief claimant to the throne, ordering the destruction of lands and the burning of properties. Caerdin’s own villa had been put to the torch with his wife and family and all their servants trapped inside. Her name had been Livilla and she’d been related to the Imperial house. A beauty by all accounts and, in a revelation that threatened to make Quintillian laugh out loud, a distant relation of his. That would make Kiva a distant relation by marriage. He smiled for a moment and wondered how he might broach the subject with the captain. Probably best not to. He didn’t want to reveal too much and he was damn sure that neither did the captain. After all, that would be the most delicate of subjects: his wife and children.
    Returning to the text, he flicked quickly through the next couple of pages which told of the revenge of Kiva Caerdin on the men who were responsible for his family’s death. Even in the graceful and objective tones of Carso, Quintillian saw horror and violence on a hitherto undreamed-of scale. Caerdin had not been kind. Not merciful. In fact, barely human in his quest for blood. There was a reference to a duel with the Lord of Velutio in which Caerdin was badly wounded. Would this be the same Lord Velutio now, or his son? Despite all his time on the island, Quintillian had never seen the man and knew precious little about him.
    It was after this revenge was enacted that Caerdin disappeared from history. There was no mention of him or the Wolves from then on. Closing the book, Quintillian cradled his chin in his hands and stared out of the room’s window into the night sky behind the inn.
“I presume that’s why he doesn’t want us to go through Velutio then.”
A voice behind him spoke quietly.
“I told you not to take them as gospel.”
    Quintillian turned to see the medic standing in the middle of the room. Dear Gods’ the man was quiet! The lad hadn’t heard him climb the stairs or open the door.
    “What d’you mean?” he asked the medic.
    “I told you it’s crap” the man replied. “Oh a lot of the facts are there, but not the meaning or the heart. It’s not enough just to know what happened without knowing why; causes and consequences.”
    Quintillian scraped his chair back so that it faced into the room while the medic dumped his pack under one of the beds. He then sat on it and frowned. Quintillian coughed.
    “Then why don’t you tell me?” he asked. “You know I’m going to find out anyway. Better to have the truth of it from his close companions than to misread