Thomas Harlan - The Gate of fire

The Duchess continued to speak, for Nikos had asked some question.

"…there will be only those whom we can trust, and no thaumaturge has answered my plea. The Prince is still a man, and he must sleep. Krista can provide all pertinent information about this house at Ottaviano. We will strike by night and swiftly, within the next week. It will take time, even with fast horses, to reach the villa, so you must be ready to leave within a day."

Thyatis nodded, and her attention turned inward, measuring time and distance in her mind. The Duchess turned to the tall, lean man at her side, her hand creeping into his. "And you, my Lord Jusuf, shall leave as well-but for the east and beyond, not upon this errand."

The Khazar sat up, his face intent on Anastasia's. "My lady-are you sure? With me on the team, there will be three strong blades, not just two."

The Duchess shook her head, though Krista could see a great sense of loss hiding behind the older woman's calm appearance. "You must return to your people, as we have discussed. Time seems to press upon me, and if things go wrong here, you must be far away. Kahrmi and Efraim will remain and go in your place."

Jusuf bowed his head, accepting her judgment. Krista hid a puzzled frown; the Duchess was playing some other game, as well-which was not surprising. Nikos and Thyatis, however, were not involved, which was a little odd.

– |Anastasia sighed and put the little oil lamp down on the table by the head of her bed. It was very late at night, again, and she did not look forward to sleep. The day had been long and arduous, not only for the chilling tale that Krista had brought, but for the tension and outright anger among Thyatis and her men. Thyatis was hurt that Anastasia would not, could not, tell her the full story. The others felt her displeasure and echoed it. It was very tiring.

The Duchess removed the silver pins from her hair one by one, letting the black cloud drift down over her shoulders. Tomorrow would be worse; she would have to go the offices and speak with the Emperor. Galen had settled back into the business of running his Empire with renewed vigor, and a number of massive public projects were in the offing. For each of these things, he wanted to know who would benefit and who would not. The Emperor had a good head for the politics of his state, and he relied on Anastasia for current information about all of the players in his great game. Such a meeting would be a major effort at another time, but now? With this other matter obsessing her every thought?

The door creaked a little as it opened, and the Duchess turned, expecting to see the shy face of Betia with her combs and brushes. Anastasia smiled wanly, seeing that it was Krista. The young woman did have Betia's basket in her hand, along with a flask of oil and clean cloths. A little black cat that had recently made itself a member of the household padded along behind her, its curious yellow eyes examining the corners of the room for mice.

"You needn't do this," Anastasia said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You've promoted yourself from my maidservant. I have Betia to take care of me…"

Krista settled on the bed by Anastasia's side and smiled, running her hand through the older woman's hair. "The little blond shrimp? She is occupied elsewhere, I think. I told her to make herself scarce."

Anastasia turned a little, arching a thin, elegant eyebrow. "Were you mean? She is very sweet, you know…"

Krista made a sour face. "She almost squeaked in fear when I sent her off. But she does seem to have a good heart. I know this place is lost to me now." Anastasia touched Krista's cheek, seeing the frightened, wide-eyed little girl she had brought into her service for a moment. That child was gone now, leaving a skilled, tough young woman.

"I am so glad you came back." Anastasia smiled sadly and dabbed at her eye. There was something in it. "I feared you were dead a dozen times over. Then I thought you would choose to stay with the Prince."

Krista shook her head, letting curls of her thick dark hair fall in front of her face. Disappointed at the lack of fat brown mice or other playthings, the little black cat sprang lightly up onto the bed and nosed around among the pillows.

"The Prince was a fine young man," she said softly, "but this is my home. There is a doom over him that poisons everything he touches. He must be stopped."

The Duchess sighed. She felt the same way. This was one of those days that felt like the whole of the world was crushing her into the ground. "Do you think that he is right? The Emperor told me about the curse that only Maxian can see-is it real? Must such steps be taken?"

Krista shrugged and flipped the stray tendrils of hair out of her face. Behind her, the little black cat found a corner of turned-up quilt and wormed itself under the covers, making itself a cave.

"My lady, I know that he believes, and that poor Abdmachus believed. I have not their powers or skills, so I have not seen anything myself, but they are dead set upon it. Those others, Gaius and Alexandros, they want only continued life and power. They are the real danger to the Emperor; how could they stand to live as ordinary men after a taste of the Imperial drug?"

Anastasia rubbed her face with one of the cloths soaked in oil. Her makeup came off at the touch, and she continued until it was all cleaned away. She picked up a silver-backed mirror and squinted at it. In the hazy reflection she seemed to still have her looks. She put the mirror down. "Are they real? These men-are they, in truth, these ancient legends come alive again? They are not mountebanks or some deluded fools…"

The young woman nodded, her eyes dark with memory. "They are. It seems impossible, but…" Krista shrugged her tunic off one shoulder and showed Anastasia the thin, puckered scar she had gained in the collapse of the Egyptian House. "The Prince has brought me back from the edge of death twice. These others, he plucked them from the halls of Hades itself. The strength of their legend gives them life and power and the lever the Prince desires."

Anastasia sighed, thinking that on another day this would be a wonder past compare.

Krista touched her cheek and turned the Duchess' head away. There was a rustling sound as the girl picked up a comb of ivory and horn from the basket.

"Tell me the good things that have happened while I was away." Krista began combing out the Duchess' long, dark hair. It would take a good hour, for the flood of deep blue-black spilled to Anastasia's lower back. Krista smiled to herself, remembering how nervous she had been the first time she had done this. It seemed an eternity ago, something that had happened to a wholly different person.

"Well," the Duchess said, sighing after a moment, "I made Petro take out all of the gladiolas that used to line the northern edge of the big garden and put in roses and lilies instead. He was furious, and we had a huge argument about it. He swore to leave and never return, to die before committing such a sacrilege-but he is a slave, of course, so eventually he gave in. But now they look beautiful, and he thinks it was his own idea…"

Under the covers, the little black cat settled into his nest, putting his head on his paws, and went to sleep.

– |Krista found Thyatis in the gymnasium right after breakfast. The redheaded woman was reviewing corselets of mail laid on the big wooden table in the armory. The room smelled of oil and metal and sweat, and here, among the racks of spears and swords and tools, Thyatis seemed most at home. The sounds of the Khazars engaged in a furious training session echoed through the doorway to the fighting salle. A great clatter of metal on metal made quite a din. Krista paused in the doorway, unconsciously fingering the spring-gun strapped to her left forearm. Like Thyatis, she wore a short linen kilt held up by a stout belt, a long knife slapping at her thigh in a wooden sheath, high-laced boots of kid leather, and a loose blouse of fine dark green wool with long sleeves.