David Drake - Out of the waters

"Ah-ma'am?" the workman said, frowning in concern. "That's a valuable piece, you know?"

Alphena opened her mouth to snarl, then paused. He was trying to do me a favor. He cannot imagine how wealthy father is.

"Even so," she said with a negligent wave of her hand. Publius Corylus would be pleased with me. Looking toward the alley, she said, "Callistus? A silver piece for each of the men whom Master Corylus sent."

One of the clerks stared at her in surprise: a silver piece was a day's wage. If he had been about to say something, he was prevented by his partner who tugged him around to face the other way. Callistus merely bowed and said, "Of course, your ladyship."

The men who had brought the basin were leaving also. The foreman had caught the exchange with the nurserymen and watched her hopefully as he passed, but Alphena merely gave him a disdainful glance.

Anna turned to face her. The two of them were alone in the garden once more.

"I guess that's done it," Anna said with satisfaction. "There's nothing more to do but wait for moonrise."

"All right," Alphena said. She swallowed. "What should I do now, mistress?"

Anna stretched, raising her right arm and then her left separately so that she could keep one cane firmly planted on the ground at all times. "Get some rest, your ladyship," she said. "I'm going to try to do that myself, and I don't have near so far to go tonight as you do."

She pursed her lips. "And get something to eat," she added. "There's no telling when you'll be able to eat next. Ah-you might make it a good meal."

Because it may be your last, Alphena thought, completing the sentence.

"Yes," she said. "We'll both do that."

Varus walked beside Pulto at the rear the squad of "Praetorian Guards." He had listened to the servant muttering curses all the way from Saxa's house where they started before dawn.

It wasn't until they clashed to a halt in front of the home of Sempronius Tardus that Varus realized the old soldier wasn't worried about what would happen if they were caught pretending to be soldiers on a mission for the Emperor. Rather, he was furious that the troupe of servants was hopeless at marching in step.

Because of the circumstances Pulto couldn't even scream and slap them into better order with the vinewood swagger stick he carried in the guise of a centurion. Lenatus, at the head of the column with Corylus, was probably having the same mental problem.

Varus grinned. The situation was pretty funny when he thought about it. The risk of being tortured to death was an accepted hazard for any veteran of skirmishing on the frontier. The embarrassment of marching bumbling incompetents through the middle of Carce was a new experience and apparently a more harrowing one.

"Open in the name of the Emperor!" Corylus said. The door was closed, but Varus could see movement behind the eye-slot. "I have a petition with a rescript from the Emperor, requiring the release of Master Pandareus of Athens!"

The acting Guardsmen looked quite impressive when they halted, which was all that really mattered. Pulto seemed to have begun to relax. In truth, the reaction of most residents of Carce-citizens as well as slaves-to a squad of soldiers was to get out of their way, not to quibble about the quality of their close-order drill.

No one spoke from the other side of the door. Varus moved so that he-or anyway, his broad-striped toga-was visible behind Corylus.

Corylus nodded. Lenatus stepped forward and rapped a sharp tattoo on the door panel with his stick.

"I'll count to five!" Corylus said, standing arms-akimbo. His molded body armor, silvered and then parcel-gilt, was dazzling in the rising sun. "Then we're coming in whether you open the door or not!"

Bolts rattled inside. Pulto muttered what sounded like a curse. He must have been looking forward to a chance to break the door down, Varus realized. For an instant he was appalled; then he grinned. He thought, I hope that looks like a sinister smile.

The door creaked outward, pushed by the doorman. Lenatus and a "soldier" slammed it the rest of the way into the outside wall as soon as a crack wide enough for their fingers had opened. The doorman jumped inside and flattened himself against the back of his alcove.

Inside stood the major domo Varus had seen the previous day. He looked, if anything, more frightened than he had been when Saxa arrived.

"Here, read this!" Corylus ordered, holding out the petition-supposedly from the Urban Praetor, countersigned in vermillion by the Emperor and sealed with the imperial signet.

"Master, that won't be necessary," the major domo said, bowing low. He was an Oriental of some sort, Mesopotamian or from even farther east than that. For a moment Varus thought he was going to genuflect. "Please, master, allow me to take you and your friends to Lord Tardus. Lord Tardus will explain."

Varus tried not to react, but he supposed the way his face suddenly became blank was a reaction in itself. He had expected protests or blank denials, but what was there to explain? All the servants looked terrified, which was understandable in the face of armed men entering with the threat of the Emperor's displeasure; but there was something more going on here.

A pity that the major domo hadn't bothered to read the petition, though. The calligraphy was the work of two of the finest scribes in Saxa's household-one acting as the Praetor, the other for the Emperor's secretary. The librarian, Alexandros, had not only provided a document with the imperial seal but had also made a mold of it in mastic, then duplicated the markings in wax on the false petition. Artistry like that forgery deserved an audience.

Corylus motioned Varus forward. Varus stepped through the doorway directly behind his friend and Lenatus, realizing that he hadn't gotten this far the other day. I was talking with the Sibyl while my body apparently walked through Tardus' house and found the Serapeum below his garden.

And as Varus thought that, he felt the mist close in on him again.

Corylus jumped as Varus squealed, "Oh, grant thou to me a path!" in the voice of an old woman. He'd heard his friend do that often enough now that he supposed he should be used to it. Having someone shout it from behind when he was already as tense as if Germans might burst out of the thickets, though… He decided to allow himself to have been startled.

"What, your lordship?" the major domo said, his eyes opening wider. "Ah, Lord Tardus is in the office, where he'll, ah, he'll be glad to explain the situation to you."

Corylus glanced back at Varus, whose face was as stern as that of a father sitting in judgment. That could have been acting-Corylus himself was trying to look like a military officer on a grim errand when in fact he felt like a schoolboy in the midst of a dangerous practical joke-but his friend's eyes were focused on something in the far distance. It gave him an uncanny expression, more disturbing than fury would have been.

When Varus didn't speak or press ahead, Corylus nodded curtly. "Take us to Lord Tardus," he said, shaking the forged judicial order toward the major domo's chest.

The man stepped back, bowed again, and turned, pattering into the office where Tardus sat on his senatorial chair. He bowed again and while still bent over said, "Your lordship, the, ah… this officer wishes to speak with you about Pandareus of Athens."

The servant sidled from the room as quickly as a startled crab. Tardus raised his eyes. There was a direct line from his ivory seat and through the anteroom to the front door. The master of the house should have been as aware of the soldiers as Corylus was of him, but instead he looked as puzzled as if he found himself addressing the Senate in the nude.