David Drake - Out of the waters

Corylus set the lantern at an angle on the ground so that the light through its mica windows fell on the stones inset in the smooth shaft. He set the point of his pry bar, then used it to work the wedge sideways. When it bound, he blocked the widened crack with a pebble, then shifted the pry bar to the other side and levered the wedge the other way.

An inch of the wedge was clear of the wall. Corylus thumped it with the heel of his bare palm so that the pebble fell out, then gripped the stone with the fingertips of both hands and wriggled it back and forth while he drew it out. He hopped when it fell, but it landed between where his feet were anyway.

"What are you doing down there, boy?" Pulto asked with a rasp in his voice. He was worried, and that made him harsh.

"I think I've found what we're looking for," Corylus said. He didn't say that he'd found an Etruscan tomb, because he knew that the information wouldn't please Pulto.

As Corylus hoped, the larger slab tipped forward when the wedge was removed. He walked it awkwardly to the side, trying not to crush the lantern or trip over the wedge. Holding the lantern before him, he knelt to peer into the opening.

The chamber beyond was cut from the rock like the well shaft. It was about ten feet long but not quite that wide. Benches were built into the sidewalls. At the back, facing the entrance, was a chair that seemed to have been carved from the limestone also.

On the chair sat a bearded man with a fierce expression. He wore a white tunic with fringes of either black or dark blue and a heavier garment of deep red over his left shoulder, leaving the right side of his chest covered only by the tunic. On a gold neck-chain was an elongated jewel clasped by gold filigree at top and bottom.

"Master, what are you doing?" Pulto said. His voice echoed dully in the well. "Hold on! I'm coming down!"

"Stay where you are!" Corylus said, twisting his head backward as much as the tomb door allowed him. "I'm coming right back!"

He stepped forward, hunching; the floor was cut down so that the ceiling might have been high enough for him to stand, but he didn't want to chance a bad knock in his hurry. He set the lantern on the floor, then took the jewel in his hands and started to lift the chain over the head of the bearded man.

The figure and his clothing vanished into a swirl of dust. A bracelet of braided gold wire clinked to the stone chair, then to the floor.

Corylus sneezed, then squeezed his lips together. He backed quickly out of the tomb, then dropped the chain over his own head as the easiest way to carry it. I'm not going back for the lantern, he thought.

"Pulto!" he said. "Drop me an end of the rope and snub it off. I'm coming up and we're getting out of here!"

The rope sailed down; the basket was still attached to the handle.

"That's the first thing you've said tonight that I agree with!" Pulto said. "By Hercules! it is."

David Drake

Out of the Waters-ARC

Daylight through cracks in the shutters awakened Corylus. He sat up quickly, angry with himself. Ordinarily he awakened before dawn and- Pain split his head straight back from the center of his forehead. He wobbled, sick and briefly unable to see colors. He whispered, "Hercules!"

"Swear by Charon, better," said Anna as she hobbled over to him, carrying a bronze mug that she had been heating in a bath of water. "I've never seen anyone closer to dead but still walking than the two of you when you came in last night."

She offered the mug. "Here," she said. "Swallow it down."

Corylus lifted the warm bronze cautiously. The odor made his nostrils quiver; he started to lower the mug.

"Drink it, I tell you!" Anna said. "D'ye think you're the first drunk I've had to bring back to life in the morning? It's been your father often enough; but I don't think he'd be pleased to learn that my man, who he trusted, let you get into this state-and himself no better!"

"Yes, ma'am," Corylus said obediently. He held his breath and drank the whole mugful at a measured pace, then set it on the side table empty. Anna gave him a napkin. He looked at it puzzled, then sneezed violently into it.

"There," said Anna with a satisfied smirk. "You'll feel better now, or so I believe."

Corylus lowered the napkin with which he had covered his mouth and nose. He did feel better, for a wonder. He would have thought that the sneeze would have shattered his head into more bits than the shell of a dropped egg.

"I meant to stop at the first jar," he said contritely. "I must have had more than that to drink."

"Aye, you must have," Anna said, her tone still grim but her face showing a trace of humor-if you knew what you were looking for. "Well, it's done and you're back safely, no thanks to that fool husband of mine. Are you going to your class today, then?"

"If I…," Corylus said. He got slowly to his feet as he spoke. Somewhat to his surprise, he found that he was all right except for a slight wobbliness when he straightened. "Yes, I will. I want to talk with Varus afterwards anyway, and Master Pandareus too."

A thought struck him. "Oh!" he said. "And we did find what you sent us for, or I think it was."

He reached under his tunic. The chain wasn't around his neck.

Anna gestured with her free hand toward the storage chest on the other side of the bed. The chain and the jewel wrapped in the net of gold wire were there. In a shaft of sunlit, the stone was a cloudy gray-green with very little sparkle.

"I took it off you," she said. "When I got you out of that filthy tunic and sponged you before I put you to bed."

Her grin suddenly widened. "As I've done your father half a hundred times. It takes me back, lad."

Corylus reached for the jewelry, then paused and raised an eyebrow in question.

"Aye, take it," Anna said. "Take it and wear it. I don't know what it means or what it does, but I know it's meant for a man."

Corylus didn't move. "I don't know what you mean," he said. "Meant for a man?"

Anna grimaced. "I don't have the words!" she said. Her voice was as harsh as he ever remembered her talking to him. "If a civilian asked me how you knew the shields on the far hill were Suebi and not Batavians, what would you tell him? You'd just know, that's all. Well, I tell you, that jewel's meant for a man; and whatever else I am, I'm not that."

Corylus picked it up by the chain and carried it over to the window for better light. He threw open the shutters.

"It's glass," he said, looking at the scalloped fracture lines at one end of the stone. "Slag from a glass furnace, anyway."

He held it up against the sky and squinted through it. "There's something inside, but I can't tell what it is," he said.

Then, lowering the pendant with a triumphant grin, "No! It's volcanic glass! But I still think there's something inside it."

"I tried to look," Anna said. Corylus tried to hand it to her; she waved it away and said, "No, I don't mean like that, so better light would show me more than the lamp did. Another way, boy. All I learned is that there's something inside, all right, and that it doesn't like women. I set it down then-"

She nodded to the chest.

"-and I stepped back, and I burned a little frankincense to Mother Lucina-"

A Greek would have called the goddess Hecate, but Anna was a Marsian born in the mountains a hundred miles south of Carce.

"-that I wasn't any deeper in when I roused it."

"Should I-" Corylus said. He stopped, lifting the pendant by its chain. He was seeing the complete object this time, not trying to peer into the depths of the cloudy glass.

He looked at Anna. "You said I should wear it, dear one," he said. "If it's dangerous…?"

She cackled without humor. "A sword's dangerous, boy," she said. "But not to you when you're wearing it, I think. Nor is this, for you're a man if ever a man was born. The dream that guided me…"