David Drake - Out of the waters

And Hedia wouldn't have forced a change if she could. Oh, it was excessive, no doubt, but Master Corylus was certainly an impressive young man.

Hedia let a smile play at the corners of her mouth. Corylus even had the good judgment to refuse to become entangled with his friend's beautiful mother. Which was a pity, though Hedia was no longer concerned that a physical relationship would be necessary to bind the boy to her. He would support her for so long as he believed that she had the best interests of the Republic at heart.

"I didn't hear much," Anna said with a sort of smile. "A sight of a monster, is all. The boy won't talk, which is as should be for an officer. My Pulto was afraid to talk; afraid of what he doesn't know, pretty much, and I don't blame him. But I could guess things, and-"

She shrugged.

"-I could feel them, too, when they're as strong as what happened yesterday."

"Mistress?" Alphena said. "Anna? Do you know what it is that we saw in the theater?"

"No, dear," the old woman said, "no more than I knew what made the ground shake so one winter in Upper Germany. It wasn't for two weeks that we learned that the snow had come down the slopes in Helvetian territory and buried a thousand people in a village."

She looked at Hedia. "You've been dreaming of this monster come up from the sea, then?" she said. "Is it the same as it was in the theater?"

"Nothing like that," said Hedia, more sharply than she had intended. "In the theater, though, there was a city and there were glass men on its walls. Does that mean anything to you?"

Alphena sat down, offering the older women a burl walnut tray of small sweet cakes. There wasn't room for it on the table with wine containers.

Hedia had emptied her cup. She hesitated-she never ate sweets; she loved them and knew she would bloat like a dead cat if she didn't if she didn't exercise rigid control over what she ate-but finally took a cake and nibbled. It was delicious.

"I've never heard of glass men, Hedia," Anna said, reverting to previous familiarity now that they were completely alone. "Real men, moving you mean?"

"Moving, certainly," Hedia said, forcing herself to visualize the images that terrified her without reason. "Real, I don't know. Certainly not real men; but they acted like men."

She took a deep breath. Her eyes were open, but for the moment she wasn't seeing anything beyond her memory.

"I dreamed of them in the Underworld, Anna," she said. "I dreamed of them with Latus, where I visited him before. I couldn't hear them, but I think they were questioning him. He was screaming."

She sniffed with bitter amusement. "Screaming like the damned, in fact," she said, "which is likely enough with Latus."

Hedia forced her eyelids closed, then opened them and met Anna's calm gaze. "I think they're hunting for me," she said. "I don't know why or why I feel that. But I feel it, and I'm afraid."

"When we opened the passage to the Underworld," Anna said, "it couldn't be closed again. I'm sorry, but that was one of the risks."

Her face twisted into a smile. "It wasn't one of the risks that I worried most about," she said. "I didn't expect to see you ever again."

Her gaze flicked to Alphena. She added, "Either of you."

Hedia laughed, finding the humor of the thought. "Rather like virginity, you mean?" she said. "Well, that wasn't much good to me either. Perhaps keeping the passage to Hades' house open will turn out to be just as pleasurable in the long run."

Alphena's lips pressed together, but she tried to smile when she felt Hedia glance at her. She's really everything one could wish in a daughter. Even her playing with swords turned out to be useful.

"Is there anything you can suggest, dear?" Hedia said. Then, blurting, "Can you do anything? Please!"

Alphena had refilled her cup. She drank, to hide her embarrassment and to sooth her throat. She was dry, and her thoughts were dry and withered.

"A charm, you mean?" Anna said.

Hedia waved her hands, disgusted at her own weakness. "No, of course not," she said. "I know better, but I'm… frightened."

"Some of my charms do help," Anna said. She spoke softly, but there was rock not far below the surface. "Some help, and more help because people think they're being helped. But not for this, no. My usual work is for sick people; and sometimes for girls who want something or want to get rid of something."

She spread her hands. "I won't lie to you, your ladyship. Love charms and abortions. But what happened in the theater is beyond such neighborhood business."

Hedia opened her mouth to object, but Anna stopped her with a raised hand. "You may not be concerned with what happened in the theater, dear," she said, "but I am. It reeked on my men when they came home last night, and it's nothing I'll pass over lightly."

Her tone was polite but no longer obsequious. They were in Anna's realm now, and however much she might respect Lady Hedia, she wouldn't leave any doubt about what she knew.

Hedia's cup was empty again. She thought for an instant, then covered it with her hand as Alphena reached to refill it from the mixing bowl.

"I think that's enough for me," she said, rising smoothly. She might feel as though she should hang herself; but if she did, she would expect to writhe gracefully. "Thank you, Anna. You've helped me understand the situation better."

Anna struggled to rise from her stool. Alphena braced her while she got both her sticks planted.

"I told you I'm not passing over this, your Ladyship," Anna said. "I… I won't promise you. But there's another thing that might be tried. It means danger for those I would die to keep from danger, but I fear-"

Her eyes locked with Hedia's.

"-that there's no safety anywhere if this thing isn't scotched. So I'll try."

"Mistress," said Hedia. "He's a soldier, in his heart at least. He'll understand."

Anna laughed. The sound would have been appropriate at a funeral. "Aye, we all understand," she said, "but it's still bloody hard to send them off. Well, we women know about that kind of hard, don't we?"

"Yes," said Alphena unexpectedly. "We do."

She reached out; for a moment, the three of them linked hands. It didn't make any sense, but Hedia found herself more hopeful than she had been since she awakened from her nightmare.

As Corylus and Pulto approached the apartment block, one of the daughters of the cobbler on the fourth floor leaned out the window and called, "Hello, Master Corylus! I'm glad you're back!"

Corylus waved a half-hearted acknowledgement and tried to smile. He probably didn't succeed very well.

"I wonder if that's Tertia or her sister?" Pulto said, sounding mildly curious.

Corylus looked at the older man, uncertain whether the implication was a joke. He said, "Quartilla's pretty young, Pulto."

"Well growed, though," Pulto said. "And from the way everybody on the street's looking at us now, you could probably parlay one visit into a two-fer."

Then, with the break in his voice he'd been trying to avoid with the crude jokes, he said, "I wonder what it is my Anna said to everybody to get them so excited? Well, there's nothing to do about it now."

"Ah," said Corylus, who now understood a great deal more than he had a moment ago. Yes, a parade with elephants could scarcely have drawn more attention than he and his servant were getting right now.

Corylus had been thinking about the oration his fellow student Clementius had given today, urging Hannibal not to storm the walls of Carce. Pandareus had responded by 'predicting' all the disasters which had beset the Carthaginian cause when Hannibal marched away without attacking.

Corylus would be speaking tomorrow. His set subject was to advise the imprisoned Socrates either to flee to Macedonia or to stay and drink the hemlock poison. He had planned to argue that Socrates should stay, honoring his principles-but that would give Pandareus the opportunity to blame Socrates for all the misfortunes "the gods" had heaped on Athens after his execution. Perhaps Corylus should argue that from exile in Macedonia, Socrates could foment a revolt of reason within the body politic…