In The Darkness [M - V]

[Chevi]

Azarion groaned, partly from pain, as the medicus was cleaning his wound, but mostly from frustration. He really, really needed Marcus to understad. Damn the Romans. Damn them for taking his words away.

"All right, you were out in the alley and you were injured there."

Azarion nodded.

"You saw someone there this evening. Someone dead?"

He shook his head, then yelped as the medicus started stitching his arm. Holy fuck, it hurt.

"How serious is he hurt, Nicandros?"

"It'll sting. He will need to keep the arm clean, so nothing with the horses until it's begun to heal. There will be a scar but nothing worse - I will bandage it and will take another look at it in a day or so, with your permission?"

Azarion huffed, sucking his teeth at the pain. At least the injury was not as bad as it felt. His hands grabbed the edges of the table, but he was still looking at Marcus. He shook his head again, then used his free hand to make a stabbing motion. Come on.

@Sharpie

[Sharpie]

Fucking Romans. Marcus swore in Parthian in his head, cursing anyone who'd had a hand in rendering Azarion mute.

"There was someone dead, but not today... You found Safinia there." And now he himself was wounded.

"Nicandros, in your opinion, how would you say he was wounded? Could that be a scrape from a nail or a sharp scrap of wood, for instance?"

The medicus paused in cleaning the wound. "No, it's too clean, not torn - I would say it was a knife or something sharp like a knife."

Marcus looked back down at the patient. "Was it a knife?"

 

@Chevi

Edited November 30, 2021 by Sharpie

[Chevi]

"There was someone dead, but not today... You found Safinia there."

He had. Azarion nodded. This had to do with Safinia. With her killer. Who was still out there. Fuck, the stitches hurt. Azarion chewed on his lips. The blood was more of a drip than a trickle now, but the loss of it made him feel dazed, and the room spun again.

"Nicandros, in your opinion, how would you say he was wounded? Could that be a scrape from a nail or a sharp scrap of wood, for instance?"

"No, it's too clean, not torn - I would say it was a knife or something sharp like a knife."

"Was it a knife?"

Azarion nodded sharply. Of course it was a fucking knife, you fucking excuse for a boss. Ow.

@Sharpie

 

[Sharpie]

Of course the stablehand he'd sent out after any prospective lurkers - or attackers - had come back, a little breathless, with an apologetic look. "There wasn't anyone out there, domine, sorry. I did find this, though." He held out a slave tablet, the wood scored.

Marcus recognised it - of course he did; it had Azarion's name on it, and the request to return him to his master at the White stables if he ran away. The cord which allowed it to be hung around a slave's neck was intact, which surprised him a little. He held his hand out for it before dismissing the slave.

The medicus had finished bandaging Azarion's arm in the meantime. "He'll need a drink and maybe something to eat, and I'll check on his arm in a couple of days, if that suits?"

"Yes, thank you."

"At least it wasn't a shipwreck this time. Much more interesting, and much easier to treat - and it'll heal cleanly unless he's careless with it."

"He's not going to be careless with it," Marcus said flatly, folding his arms and giving Azarion a level look. "Your face is much too expressive, Azarion," he added, wondering exactly what insults the boy was hurling at him mentally. "Now. I hate playing Twenty Questions, but that's going to be the only way I'm going to manage to get a clear description. So. It was a man. Did you see his face?"

 

@Chevi

[Chevi]

Azarion drifted off from the conversation. The stitching was just too damn painful. How did the one time he actually had an injury treated by a medicus turn out to be so damn painful?... He let out a long breath once he was bandaged.

Someone returned with his tablet. For the first time, it occurred to Azarion it might be a bad thing that he had taken it off. In Marcus' eyes anyway.

"At least it wasn't a shipwreck this time. Much more interesting, and much easier to treat - and it'll heal cleanly unless he's careless with it."

"He's not going to be careless with it,"

The medicus left. Azarion was still lying on the table, trying to get his bearings. He had felt blood loss many times before. It was no use getting up too quickly. Marcus was still towering over him.

"Your face is much too expressive, Azarion,"

Fuck you too.

"Now. I hate playing Twenty Questions, but that's going to be the only way I'm going to manage to get a clear description. So. It was a man. Did you see his face?"

Azarion sighed, or rather, took a few deep breaths until the room stopped spinning. He nodded.

@Sharpie

[Sharpie]

Marcus turned the slave tablet around in his hands, examining it before looking back to Azarion. "I don't have to put an actual collar on you, do I? This was taken off deliberately, I can see that; the cord hasn't been cut. Now, was it for protection, or because you needed some sort of weapon?"

Technically, it could have been both (Marcus might have made a professional career in the chariot racing... stadium, but he was aware of gladiators and the games. Enough to know that weapons could shield in certain circumstances.)

He set it aside; he wasn't angry that Azarion had taken it off - desperate times and desperate measures, after all, and if he'd been wearing an actual collar riveted on, he wouldn't have had even that slim defence. He'd been injured even with the meagre protection of the wooden board.

"So. Your assailant. Would he have been about my height, taller, or shorter?"

 

@Chevi

Edited December 2, 2021 by Sharpie

[Chevi]

"I don't have to put an actual collar on you, do I? This was taken off deliberately, I can see that; the cord hasn't been cut. Now, was it for protection, or because you needed some sort of weapon?"

Azarion really wanted to roll his eyes, but it was a bad idea for multiple reasons: he was still dazed, and Marcus had already commented on his face expressing his thoughts. At least he was asking the right question this time. Azarion nodded again, making a swinging motion with his good arm. Since I can't carry actual weapons. If he had had a bow, the fucker would be dead.

"So. Your assailant. Would he have been about my height, taller, or shorter?"

Wow, he was bad at this. One question at a time, Azarion signed before he realized Marcus could not read his hand signs. This was going to take forever... he blinked. He signed again, but this time, in a way that Marcus would hopefully understand. He mimed holding a stylus, and writing.

@Sharpie

[Sharpie]

Marcus nodded, the ghost of a smile hovering at his mouth. He hoped that Azarion had connected with his assailant and that it had hurt. He probably wasn't supposed to wish things like that, but gods knew Azarion ought to have some sort of justice for that gash to his arm.

He looked mildly surprised when the youngster signed a request for something to write with; he hadn't thought Azarion could read or write. That would make things much easier, and he turned to one of the hovering slaves. "I want a writing tablet and stylus."

The slave disappeared in his errand and Marcus returned his attention to Azarion, though he didn't say anything further to him just yet, snapping his fingers to draw the attention of one of the other slaves. "Help him sit up, if he's able to, and get him something to eat and drink - not too strong."

The tablet was passed to him and he handed it to Azarion.

"You two can wait, everyone else can be about their business."

 

@Chevi

[Chevi]

Marcus asked for a tablet and a stylus. At least that was going to make things a little easier. One of the stable hands helped Azarion sit up. His head was still spinning, so he took it slow, but once he was confidently vertical, he slipped off the table and took a sear in a nearby chair instead. Some food and a cup was placed in front of him. The food made his stomach lurch, but the wine was welcome.

Azarion leaned against the table as the tablet was placed in front of him. He concentrated on shaping the letters. He did not have much practice at all, and he had to blink to keep them in focus, but he did his level best to convey what needed to be conveyed.

JASON

PLATINE

SARMATIA

He surveyed the words. They looked alright. Then it occurred to him that he had just been asked about the description of the assailent. So he also added

HELP
for good measure.

@Sharpie

[Sharpie]

Marcus surveyed the four stark words in confusion. The Palatine was where the emperor lived - though the name scribed into the golden wax was a one-word Greek name, presumably that of a slave who served in the palace complex somewhere. It was probably too late in the evening to request that any of the palace slaves come down here from the Palatine, though. What Sarmatia had to do with any of this, though, he couldn't imagine.

"You want me to send to the Emperor's palace for a Jason to help? A slave, I imagine... a Sarmatian?"

If that guess was right, then they might be able to pinpoint the right Jason, which would at least be something.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, imploring Ahura Mazda to send some sanity into this whole mess. For an equite to send to the palace on the word of a slave... at least it was to request the services of a slave, rather than, say, the Emperor or his brother!

 

@Chevi

[Chevi]

"You want me to send to the Emperor's palace for a Jason to help? A slave, I imagine... a Sarmatian?"

Marcus looked exasperated, more so than usual. Azarion felt the same. But he needed to talk, and if he had to teach his master how to ask simple yes and no questions, the murderer was going to die of old age before anyone got him. So, he nodded. Jason. He raised his hands, although the injured arm hurt like shit, and talked with the trading signs. He can speak with me. Help catch the murderer. He serves the chief there.

He knew Marcus was not going to get any of that. But he would see there was a method to the signs. Something another Sarmatian would understand.

@Sharpie

[Sharpie]

Marcus all but threw up his hands in disgust. Though, the signs that Azarion was making (and that were surely hurting his injured arm) were not the simple mime he was used to, but something more complex. "Fine. I will send to ask if this Jason can come. Tomorrow; it's far too late to bother anyone this evening."

Azarion had best be on his best behaviour for the rest of his life after tonight; Marcus could not quite believe how much he had let him get away with!

 

@Chevi

[Sharpie]

It was early in the morning when a slave had come by Tiberius' rooms with a most unusual message and request, and Jason was still as confused as he had been then as he followed the messenger down the Palatine hill and across the city, passing under the shadow of the Circus Maximus, a route he had traced for the first time recently.

He had no idea why he had been sent for - or rather, why his master had been asked for the loan of his body slave for the morning - but hoped that it wasn't for anything bad. They were drawing closer to the large building that Jason recognised as the White stables, and his confusion was growing by the second, until he was shown into a room that reminded him strongly of his master's private office.

There was a man seated behind the desk. Jason didn't recognise him, though he was more exotic-looking than the average Roman, with dark curly or wavy hair cropped short, dark penetrating eyes and a white tunic woven from a fine wool, over which he was wearing a green pallium pinned with an expensive-looking brooch. The expression on his face seemed unamused.

"You are Jason?"

Jason swallowed. "Yes, Domine." At least, he thought, his own master knew where he was.

"You are Sarmatian?"

Now even more confused, Jason nodded. "Yes, Domine."

"My name is Marcus Eppius Parthenicus, I have been informed that you might be able to help."

Before Jason could even begin to try to puzzle that one out, the man behind the desk had clapped his hands, summoning a slave who was sent to fetch Azarion.

Well, that explained some of it. But only the smallest fraction.

"I am hoping you might be able to translate for me," Eppius Parthenicus continued, before Azarion entered the room. Jason's eyes went first to the bandage around his arm, then to his cousin's face, then to the face of the man behind the desk.

 

@Chevi

[Chevi]

Marcus agreed to send for Jason. Azarion relaxed a little bit. It felt like a long time to wait till morning, but he knew he had already pushed Marcus' patience far enough. Jason would come in the morning. And they would make sure to catch the bastard that had killed Safinia.

Azarion slept like the dead, and woke up hungry early in the morning. He ate breakfast, had his bandages changed with the help of the medicus, and then loitered around outside Marcus' office till he was summoned. Jason was already there, looking confused and a little wary. The question was written all over his face as he looked at the bandages. Azarion probably looked like hell too, still pale from the blood loss.

I need your help talking to him. He signed, echoing Marcus' words. Signing was not very comfortable with an injured arm, but he tried. I was attacked last night.

@Sharpie

[Sharpie]

Jason took in his cousin's appearance - not much had changed from the last time he'd seen him, although the bandage on his left arm was new. At least it wasn't his dominant arm, and they seemed to be taking care of him, which was something.

"I think your master might know that," he said dryly, hating that the presence of the other man meant he had to talk Latin. And not being alone with his cousin reinforced the fact that they were both slaves.

"I want as much of a description as possible," Marcus put in. "Height, age, anything at all." If it was the same man who'd attacked and killed Safinia, he was going to put the Whites on alert and stop them using that alley for the foreseeable future. Two members of the faction attacked in the same place could not be a coincidence.

Jason nodded, hoping that the trade sign - and Azarion - would be up to this.

 

@Chevi

[Chevi]

"I think your master might know that," 

He is shit at asking questions. Azarion noted. It was better to have Jason here, although he did not look too excited about the task. He probably did not like to speak Latin, or being summoned as someone else's slave on loan.

"I want as much of a description as possible. Height, age, anything at all."

Tall, Azarion signed. Taller than him. He added, pointing at Marcus. Azarion had grown some in the past years, but he was still shorter than his cousin or his master, who stood at about the same height. Lean. Strong. Dark hair?... he was unsure there. It was hard to see a person's coloring in the dark, let alone the color of their eyes. Younger than him. He pointed at Marcus again. He had a knife.

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[Sharpie]

Jason nearly choked at Azarion's blunt 'he is shit at asking questions' though he managed to recover his equilibrium.

You are going to get in trouble. Big trouble, he signed back rapidly, before saying aloud, "Slower. You are signing in Sarmatian and I have to translate to Latin."

"He's taller than you, Domine, and younger. Not fat - strong. Maybe with dark hair."

Marcus nodded. "It was dark, it would have been hard to see. Was there anything unusual about him - like a scar or anything?"

Azarion wouldn't need the question translated and Jason fell silent, waiting as Azarion thought it over.

 

@Chevi

Edited December 4, 2021 by Sharpie

[Chevi]

Poor Jason. He understood more than he was allowed to translate. Being in trouble was not news to Azarion, but Jason had much fewer scars, which meant he knew how to behave himself.

Azarion shook his head. He had gotten a good look, but how to describe any of that in signs?

If I saw him, I would recognize him.

Now, he just needed to go around and look at every man in Rome. Great.

He could have killed me. He added, taking a deep breath, knowing it would open up a whole lot of new questions. He had a knife, he was bigger. He could have killed me. And he chose not to.

@Sharpie

[Sharpie]

Jason very nearly clipped his cousin around the head before catching himself. "Of course you would," he said in his own language. "But you can't go around Rome looking at everyone, he'd be dead of old age before you got halfway. Did you see very much of him? Or just what he was wearing?"

Marcus had rested his elbows on his desk and his chin on his hands, trying to squash the temptation to massage his temples as the conversation devolved into a language he didn't know.

Jason was here to translate, not to argue, and turned back to the man behind the desk. He looked irritated, which Jason could understand. "The man could have killed him, he had a knife. But he decided not to."

"Why?"

Now, wasn't that a good question - though Jason was grateful he hadn't. To have lost his cousin for good so soon after finding him alive...

 

@Chevi

[Chevi]

Jason was annoyed enough that he switched back to his native language. Azarion was aware that he could not go around staring at random people all day. He rolled his eyes at his cousin. This was why he was here. To translate, and thus, help. Marcus looked like he was getting a headache.

"The man could have killed him, he had a knife. But he decided not to."

"Why?"

Azarion shurgged, then shook his head. Don't know. He wanted to run away. Not be seen. He was looking around, in the place where... my friend died. There was no hand sign for Safinia's name.

@Sharpie

[Sharpie]

Jason switched back to Latin before he got thrown out on his ear; he was pretty sure his master would want a good report - and whether Eppius Parthenicus knew it or not, he had a hold over Jason and Azarion in that they were cousins and needed his permission if they were to be allowed to meet again after this.

"He doesn't know, Domine. The man just wanted to get away without being seen. He'd been looking around the place where his friend died." He indicated Azarion; he wasn't entirely certain it was a good idea to let on just how well they knew one another - although it was obvious that they did know one another, simply from the fact that he was standing here having apparently been asked for by name. His Roman slave name, anyway.

"What was he wearing?"

This was probably where the trade sign would get interspersed with actual gestures. Jason braced himself for the game of charades that was surely about to follow in answer to that question.

 

@Chevi

[Chevi]

"He doesn't know, Domine. The man just wanted to get away without being seen. He'd been looking around the place where his friend died." 

Azarion frowned. He had not told Tiranes about Safinia yet, it would not have made good conversation for their reunion. But now he wished he had, so this whole conversation would have been less out of the blue for him.

"What was he wearing?"

Azarion sighed.

Long cloak. Down to his knees. Hood. He half signed, half mimed. Hidden knife. He added, showing the motion as he pulled the knife under the cloak. He waited for his cousin to translate.

Not a warrior. Soldier, the Romans would say. The man could fight, likely even kill, but he did not seem like a trained soldier. Or one of those gladiators. Hunter, maybe.

 @Sharpie

[Sharpie]

He wanted to give his cousin a hug or - something, in sympathy for his friend, but couldn't. Not right now. He wished he'd had a bit of warning as to what this was all about.

"A long cloak, Domine, down to his knees, with a hood." And if Azarion's master hadn't figured that bit out without Jason's help, he was blind. "He had the knife under it. He didn't seem to be a soldier, though. Maybe a hunter."

He turned to Azarion, asking in their own language,  "Your master said it was dark - did you see the colour of the cloak? Earth, grass, sky?" Meaning, of course, brown, green or blue - not that the signed language of the traders and the hunters had signs for the colours, but it did have signs for the world around them by which the actual colours could be inferred. Which was something that only someone familiar with the signs could ask, too, unless they wanted the yes or no responses that they'd be limited to without Jason.

Marcus watched the pair of them. They were getting somewhere now, a little faster than they would have without Jason, at least.

 

@Chevi

 

[Chevi]

Jason switched back to their own language again. Which was probably not something Marcus enjoyed - Romans always got antsy when their slaves spoke amongst themselves - but it definitely made the quetioning faster. Jason knew how to ask so that he could answer.

"Your master said it was dark - did you see the colour of the cloak? Earth, grass, sky?" 

Azarion hesitated, shrugging again.

Grass? Darker.

It was not much to go on. If they wanted to catch the man, without wandering aimlessly and staring at people, they needed more.

He came back, to where he killed. Azarion signed. He hurt others too. Maybe he goes back there too.

@Sharpie

[Sharpie]

It wasn't much help, but it might be something. "It was a dark green cloak, Domine," Jason said to the man behind the desk.

This was slow, but quicker than the yes or no answers they'd be limited to otherwise - so much of that was based on guesswork and asking the right questions.

It really wasn't much of a description at all, so far - someone taller and younger than Marcus, with dark hair, wearing a dark green cloak - there could be hundreds of such men in Rome.

"Was there anything remarkable about his face - a scar or a beard or anything unusual?" Marcus asked.

 

@Chevi