Kelli Stanley - The Curse-Maker

“I’ve enjoyed hurting you. I could stand a little more enjoyment.”

“No-no. I’m just asking to leave. Please-I-I can’t help you. I’ll tell you what I can, and then-just let me go.”

I stared at him and watched his eyes drift back over to the wine jug. “All right. Tell me.”

Relief poured out of him like sweat. “I’m-I’m here for the mine.”

I leaned forward. “The haunted mine?”

“I’m the one-the one who spread the rumors. I was here four years ago, when it-the death-happened. I make sure people still believe it.”

“Who pays you?”

He shook his head. “That’s all I can tell you. I mean it. Go ahead and ruin my face, if you’d like, but-but I can’t tell you anymore.” He tried to straighten his tunic.

“Where is it? The mine?”

“I can tell you that. Then-then you can see for yourself. It’s about fifteen miles from here. Right off the Sorviodunum to Iscalis road. There are a lot of mines in those hills. This one-this one is the farthest one north, about seven miles from Iscalis.”

I stood up and said softly: “Do you ever hear voices at night, Faro?”

He looked scared again. “What do you mean?”

“Not dead ones. Living voices, full of pain and misery. Pain you’ve put there. That’s the only thing you bring to life. And sometime soon it’s going to drown out the sound of anything else.”

He was already looking old. I turned to Secundus and Mumius. “Don’t repeat this to anyone. Especially your wife, Secundus.”

He started to sputter again. “My wife-my wife-you’re-you’re going to believe-”

“Yes, I believe him. Your wife takes a malicious pleasure in watching other people suffer. I’d-watch what you eat, Secundus. Just watch what you eat.”

Secundus and Mumius gaped at me. Faro was staring at the ground, trying to read his own future.

Materna wasn’t anywhere to be seen or smelled. The road home was a blur, and Gwyna was reading a letter in the triclinium when I walked in the door.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

“No. That’s Faro’s blood.”

She needed to hear it, and hear it in full.

“That bitch. That unholy bitch. So we were just there for her ‘amusement.’ I wonder how she found out-it must have been the baths. I tried to wear loose clothes. Or maybe it was Sulpicia-”

“I don’t think Sulpicia would’ve told her. What about Philo?”

She looked at me sideways. “Ardur-don’t blame Philo for everything. It’s not that hard to figure out. Everyone knows we don’t have children, and I-I-”

I leaned forward to kiss her. “You’re the most beautiful woman in Britannia, and people talk. Forget it.”

She squeezed my hand, and changed the subject. “So Faro is connected to the mine?”

“Yes. That’s where I’ve got to go.”

“Now? But-” She thought about it and nodded her head. “You’re right. I’ll go with you.”

“You can’t. This is dangerous.”

“So is Aquae Sulis,” she said drily.

“Gwyna, it’s a hard ride, and I don’t know what I’ll find when I get there. Please-for me-stay here and see what you can find out. And take two slaves with you, wherever you go.”

“Well, Agricola seems to have an endless supply. But don’t you-don’t you want to hear the news from home first?”

She waved the tablet in her hand.

“Is it from Bilicho?”

“Yes. And Stricta.”

“Are they all right? Is Hefin all right?”

“Of course. Bilicho says Hefin needs more friends his own age-you know how important age-mates are-what is it, Ardur?”

I wiped my forehead. My head hurt. “I don’t know. Nothing, probably.” I tried to be interested. “What else did they say?”

Gwyna stared at me and smiled as if she could see through me. Which she could.

“Your mind’s not here. You can read it later. Go on and change. I’ll tell the servants to pack you some food. I want to know exactly where this mine is, and what road you’re taking.”

She committed it to memory and sent me off to the bedroom. It took her considerably longer to do whatever she was doing than it did for me to put on my leggings, boots, and traveling cloak. I told one of the slaves to pack a club and gladius on Nimbus where I could get to them in a hurry. I stuck a dagger in my belt as an extra precaution. My foot hurt from tapping on the floor when she returned with a medallion.

“Wear my necklace, and think of me. It’ll help protect you from whatever’s there.”

“I think of you constantly.”

She smiled and put it around my neck. “Go on, Ardur. It’s already the fifth hour of day. You want to get there before dark, and that’s hill country. You’ll have to go slower than you’d like.”

I bent down and kissed her gently. “I miss you already.”

She plucked at my sleeve. “Ardur-did Faro-did Faro say what made him choose-a boy?”

I raised her face to look at me. “The law of averages, my love. Faro is a fraud. He admitted it.”

She gave a small nod. Her hand squeezed mine, and she stood on tiptoe to kiss my cheek. “Go on. Nimbus is waiting for you. And be careful!”

I smiled at her and walked outside. The air was fresh, with a threat of winter rain in it, the sun shining thin and pale through the clouds. A good day to travel-and find out who the hell was haunting the haunted mine.

* * *

The countryside around Aquae Sulis was some of the most beautiful I’d ever seen. Wooded hills filled with ash, elm, oak, and holly stood sentry over lush green meadows, bright with the boisterous colors of fall.

Nimbus and I enjoyed getting out of town. A kind of creeping melancholy unwound from around our necks. By all rights, Aquae Sulis should be a lovely place. Maybe one day it would be.

I thought I heard a horse behind me once or twice, and when I climbed a hill, I caught a glimpse of dust in the distance. Nimbus flared her nose and gave me a worried look. I patted her on the shoulder. I wasn’t unprepared.

It was about two hours before sunset when I finally found the mine, but it already felt too late. Shadows from the hills were stretching toward the valleys. The peaks would keep the sunlight for a little while longer.

A small, rocky path meandered from the main road, passing by two other operations that looked closed. The trail itself was clear of debris, except for a log dragged across the road to block it. I didn’t believe in trees that conveniently fell across unused paths. Especially when the dirt was tightly tamped and there weren’t any weeds.

About three or four miles farther-up a steep shale-and-rock ledge the scrawny pines were barely able to cling to-I found the last stop in the trail. I was hoping it would be, in more ways than one.

Like most things the Romans get personally involved in, mining was big business, and this had been no small-time operation. A large, rectangular shaft marked the opening in the side of the hill. It was framed with wood and, from the size of it, probably led to several horizontal and deeper vertical galleries inside. That’s where the Roman was supposedly killed-and where he was still supposed to walk.

I got off of Nimbus and bent down in the light dust. Somebody was walking around here, all right, but I didn’t think it was a dead Roman.

Somewhere above me a kestrel shrieked, and I jumped. The wind was getting ready for the evening. Nimbus’s ears pricked forward, and she nickered softly. I wondered at what.

I walked around, looking at the wood beams stretched on the ground. It was an artful arrangement. Everything looked deserted-except, like the roads, there weren’t any weeds around the wood. Disturbed earth grows weeds like the Hydra grows heads, if the ground is ever let alone. This place felt about as lonely as the Circus Maximus.