Prey of the Huntress: Ships of Britannia, Book 2 by E. M. Kkoulla

Author:E. M. Kkoulla [Kkoulla, E. M.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: PublishNation
Published: 2021-06-13T16:00:00+00:00

VIII

Despite his expectations, Milo’s stay in the capital had dragged on through into Februarius; not that he was complaining. A warm room in town was infinitely preferable to being parcelled off to scour the bleak countryside, plus it gave him time to catch up on his network of contacts and informants. He continued reporting in to his superiors at regular intervals, but so far it seemed that everyone had hunkered down for the winter. It had been a cold, wet and miserable season.

The damp was pervasive and Milo wished for a few crisp days, or even some snow, though the aftermath of that would be just as bad. Still, if it had snowed, people would doubtless be complaining about that instead. It was a standing joke in the Empire that Britons were obsessed with the weather.

He was crossing the Forum at dusk when his speechstone activated, its warmth flaring against his upper arm.

<Blue here,> he Sent.

The central operator’s voice came over the link.

<Agent Blue. Unauthorised teleport activity has been detected in a block near Hadrian and Vallum, co-ordinates 86 by 41. Investigate and report back immediately.>

<Acknowledged.>

He signed off, changing direction and quickening his pace. Those co-ordinates were too near the palace for comfort and nobody should be portalling in or out of the city without official sanction. As he went, he contacted Caniculus.

<Blue to Green.>

The reply was immediate.

<Green here. What’s up?>

Milo explained.

<I’m heading for the co-ordinates now. Have you heard anything?>

<Not much. I’m still at the palace. It’s probably a glitch in the system again.>

<Again?>

He could sense his fellow Agent’s amusement.

<Apparently. Hart was sent to check the same thing out last week, but didn’t find anything. It must be your turn to draw the short straw. Charge ’em extra for wasting your time.>

Milo snorted. <If only. I’d better check it out.>

He ended the Sending and slowed, ears and eyes alert for anything out of the ordinary. It wasn’t unknown for there to be false alarms, but it paid to be cautious. Or rather, he was paid to be cautious.

There was still a large number of hooded figures about, most of them hurrying to get home before the heavens opened up again. Milo crossed at the intersection of the two streets, using the stepping stones to keep his boots out of the mess of dung, rubbish and dirty rainwater. It was quieter here, near where the old Londinium wall and ditch had been before it was filled in and built over; badly in some places. He wouldn’t like to be living in one of these properties that had been hastily raised on weak foundations.

The old sections of wall had largely been incorporated into new buildings, but traces of the ancient stonework remained in patches here and there. He leaned casually against one piece and scanned the rows of shops, most of which had living quarters above. Unless they expected him to knock on every door, what else was he supposed to do? Even then, any guilty parties would hardly admit to breaking the law.

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