Thomas Harlan - The Gate of fire

Galen rubbed his eyes and signaled to the servant by the door for more coals for the brazier. It was becoming chilly. The African added more, and then closed the tall windows and pulled the drapes tight. When he was done, Galen poked Aurelian-who had nodded off-with one of the eating prongs left behind from dinner. "Wake up, horse. We're not done yet. A matter remains, my lady-something very troubling to me. It is the matter of our brother…"

The praetorian at the outer door sprang up, his hand going to the gladius at his side. At the sudden movement, Galen stood and shrugged his cloak back, freeing his right arm. Aurelian, without thinking, rolled off of his couch and drew-with a cold rasp-a cavalry spatha from its sheath. The sword had lain hidden beneath his seat the whole evening. Galen, of course, knew that it was there, but in this-of all things-he trusted his brother with his life. Anastasia closed her mouth and sat very still, though she reversed the writing stylus in her hand.

A knock came at the door, a firm rapping sound.

The praetorian half turned, his gladius now in his hand, to see what the Emperor desired.

Galen stepped aside from the table and nodded. Most assassins, he thought, do not bother to knock.

The door opened and a thin, tired-looking man entered. He wore a hooded cloak and scuffed mud brown boots. The man threw back his hood, running a thin hand through his long brown hair, and pulled up short, staring at the tableau before him.

"Pardon," Maxian said, looking about in surprise. "I did not know you were in a meeting."

Galen let out his breath in a whistle, and Aurelian slammed the spatha back into its sheath.

"Piglet," the middle brother said in an aggrieved voice, "you've missed dinner again!"

Galen, who had sharp words on his tongue, stopped, speechless, and stared at Aurelian in disgust. "He missed nothing," he snapped. "Now he can have dessert at least-without so much pepper!"

Maxian looked from one brother to the other and felt an iron grip loosen from his heart. He had not even realized that it had been there, and he laughed out loud in relief. Aurelian, grinning shyly, came around the couch and picked him up, wrapping him in a bear hug.

"Ay," Maxian cried, feeling his ribs grind in that embrace, "have a care! I'm fragile-only human, not one of your giant horses!"

"That," Aurelian said, turning around and setting his little brother on the end of the couch beside Anastasia's chair, "is because you are always late to dinner."

Maxian looked up, smiling at his great redheaded bear of a brother, and then turned, making a sketchy bow to the lady. Anastasia contrived a faint smile and returned the bow, though her heart was hammering like a mill-wheel at the sight of the young man. Maxian turned to his eldest brother and bowed, too, but Galen reached out and mussed his hair instead.

"You," Galen said in a gruff voice reminiscent of their father's, "are a dreadful child! We were worried," he said in his normal voice. "I regretted those words we exchanged in Albania in the Legion camp."

Maxian met his eyes and nodded, rubbing his temple. "I am sorry, too, Gales, I was very tired and too wrapped up in my own thoughts."

"No matter," Galen said, making a dismissive motion with his hand. The Emperor sat and signed to the servants who had peeked out from behind the drapes. They scurried off to get more food. "Are you well?"

Maxian looked haunted again, the brief moment of respite from his cares washing away. He glanced at Aurelian and the Duchess-he had truly hoped to find his older brother by himself-but plunged ahead, anyway. "I live," he said after a pause. Troubled thoughts churned in his mind. He had intended to bring Galen up to date on what had transpired and what he now intended. But he could not do that now, with Anastasia and Aurelian in the room. That would seal their fates like the stroke of an axe in the slaughterhouse. "The business I spoke of before… have you mentioned it to anyone?" Maxian made a slight motion toward the Duchess and Aurelian.

Galen shook his head minutely, eyes narrowing in calculation.

Maxian bit his lip, making a silent appeal to his brother. "Pray, Gales, do not." The youngest Prince turned to Anastasia and Aurelian, his face clouded with worry. "Do not take offense, my friends, I do not mean you harm or insult. This is a very delicate matter. If I can contrive a way to tell you in safety, I will, but at this moment only Galen and I may know of this."

The Duchess, ever polite, inclined her head in understanding, though she held very still and hoped beyond hope that the naked fear gibbering in her heart did not show in her face. Krista's enigmatic messages from the villa in the hills had moved her first to the raid, and then-in its aftermath-to extensive excavations in the cellars. The bodies her men had recovered, even crushed by falling stone and burned by fire, told a grim tale of what could only be dark sorcery. This young man, for whom she had such great hopes, now trafficked not only with the ancient enemies of the state, but with inhuman powers. If the reports were true, he himself was possessed of tremendous strength. "Secrets are fragile things," she said in an even voice, though her hands were sweating. "Lives oft depend on their wholeness. Augustus Galen, I will leave you and your brother in peace. It is late, and there is still much to be done. Lord Caesar Aurelian, will you walk me to my litter?"

Aurelian, making a face, stood and bowed. "Of course, noble lady."

The Duchess rose, bowed again to the two brothers, who remained seated, and glided out, the train of her chiton leaving a faint glittering trail of sparkling dust behind. Aurelian stomped along behind her, thumbs hooked in his tooled leather belt. When they were gone, Maxian slumped back on the couch, exhausted.

"Did you find the weapon you needed?" Galen leaned forward, his lank dark hair spilling in front of his eyes. "What happened after you escaped from the encampment?"

Maxian summoned up a chuckle at the characteristic bluntness of his brother. He smoothed back his hair with his hands, feeling a dull throb behind his eyes. "I thought I did… I came back here with it. I put it to the test, but… it failed. Did you see me in your dreams, when I strove against the Oath?"

Galen's head came up, and he thought back. On the ship, he thought, vaguely remembering something… yes, his face, at the end of a long tunnel of gray. "I think so," he said slowly, trying to remember. "No matter-the situation is unchanged then."

"The same," Maxian said with a mournful tone. "I have put myself and others at risk for nothing. It is just so strong!"

Galen raised a hand, for the servants had returned. When they were gone, the table between the two men fairly groaned with food and drink. The Emperor, pledging himself anew to a life of stoic moderation, took only a bowl of fresh cherries in heavy cream and honey. Maxian, after staring blankly at the food, dug in with a will. Galen, watching him, smiled, seeing an echo of the legendary appetite of Aurelian in the youngest brother. Finally, after nearly an hour, the young man fell back on the couch, groaning. "I had almost forgotten what food tastes like," he said, staring at the ceiling. "I do not know what to do, my brother."

Galen put down the empty bowl. "Can you abandon this course? Walk away and leave it be?"

Maxian shook his head and sat up again. "No," he said. "We are enemies now. To live, unless I go far away, beyond the boundaries of the Empire, I must triumph." He ground a fist into his knee. "There is so much to gain by victory!"

Galen wiped his mouth with a cloth and leaned forward, his hands palm up. "You are still young; there is plenty of time left to you. Can you defend yourself enough to take the time to consider, to think, to plan? A few months, perhaps-you are on the ragged edge now, exhausted and hurt. Gather your strength and try a different approach."