Anno Mortis Page 8

  "I'm sorry," Vali said, sitting on the crate beside him.

  Narcissus tilted his head, looking at the other man through one eye. He remembered that it had been his idea to hide in the crate. "It doesn't matter. If they'd caught me they would have killed me anyway."

  "Probably." Vali stretched, then rose to his feet. "Since we're here, I suppose we may as well explore."

  Narcissus remained seated. Now the first panic was over, the questions returned. "Who are you, anyway? Why did you help me? If that's what you were doing."

  Vali tilted his head, considering, and Narcissus was quite sure he was deciding how much of the truth to tell him. Then he shrugged. "I heard of your investigation, and it matched my own."

  "You're looking into smuggling?"

  Vali shook his head. "No. Well, yes, but only as a by-product. I'm interested in the Cult of Isis."

  "The Cult?" Narcissus had heard of them, of course. Claudius had attended a meeting once, but he hadn't gone again. Decadent and meaningless, he'd said. "They're Egyptian, I know - but shipping in crate-loads of beetles? Why?"

  "They were scarab beetles," Vali said. "Carriers of death."

  Narcissus stared at him, but that appeared to be as much of an answer as he was going to get. "And how did you know I was looking into this? I didn't tell anyone." But as soon as he said it he pictured her sitting in the dark, with her pretty face and broken mind. "Did Julia tell you?"

  Vali smiled and shrugged. "She is one of mine."

  That was a non-answer, too, but the bland, unreadable expression on the other man's face told Narcissus he'd have to be satisfied with it. He sighed and rose to his feet, pacing the length of the storage room. "None of that matters now, anyway. Neither of us can do what we want until we get off this boat and back to Rome." He tried the handle of the door at the far end of the room and smiled to find it turning, unlocked.

  Vali moved up beside him, placing a hand on top of his to still it. "Why would we want to leave here? This boat is taking us exactly where we want to go. We're on the Khert-Neter itself, didn't you realise?"

  Boda shut her eyes, waiting for the killing blow. She knew it would hurt, but not for long.

  After a minute, as the noise of the crowd grew, she opened her eyes. Adam wasn't looking at her. He was frowning up into the stands, his sword slack at his side. She couldn't work out what had caught his attention at first. And then she saw him, high above and to the left, a lone figure on his feet and shouting, his fist raised in the air.

  She couldn't make out what he was saying, but after a while the crowd took up his words and then she could hear them chanting: "Let her live, let her live, let her live!"

  Something unfolded in her chest, sharp and painful. She thought it might be hope.

  Adam looked back at her, his sword raised once again. She knew he was wondering if he could chance a killing blow before the demand to spare her became too loud to ignore. But the words were so clear now he couldn't deny them, and in the Emperor's box, she saw an upraised arm.

  Adam flung his sword into the sand and walked away.

  The spectators roared their approval. Boda found that she didn't know what to do. She tried to locate the original figure, the one who'd begun the cry to save her, but the whole crowd was on its feet now and he was lost in the multitude of white togas and brown faces.

  So she just bowed, and hurried to the great gateway that led out of the Arena. The other fights were finished - none of them fatally - and the gladiators crowded around her. They stank of sweat and blood and she knew that she did too. But she was alive, when she hadn't thought she would be, and that warmed her stomach like beer.

  There was a ceremony after, gold and a laurel wreath to the victor. Boda smiled and drifted through it, ignoring the hate-filled looks the other fighters gave her. But the expression on Quintus's face when they returned to the school was more troubling.

  She knew he'd been in the crowd. He already knew his plan had failed, but in the hour since his rage had built. The instant she stepped through the door he struck her across the face.

  She gasped and reeled back, more shocked than hurt. The old man had little strength in him.

  "Useless bitch!" he said. "You call that a fight!"

  She lifted her chin. "As much of one as you allowed me."

  "You disgraced me! You made my school a laughing stock!" There were little flecks of spittle at the corner of his mouth. He wiped them away with a quick hand and struggled to compose himself. The fury in his eyes faded to be replaced by a more calculating light. A more dangerous one.

  "You must be punished, of course," he said. "Two hundred lashes should suffice."

  Two hundred lashes was near enough a death sentence - and a far worse way to die than sword-stuck in the Arena. Even some of the other gladiators murmured their protest.

  Quintus ignored them. She guessed he'd have preferred to dispose of her more subtly. A death in the Arena would have aroused no comment while this might spark some questions. But she wouldn't be around to answer them, and that was what mattered to him. He gestured at two of his household slaves and they moved forward to seize her hands. She tensed her arms but didn't try to shake them off.

  "Wait," Quintus said, as they began to drag her to the whipping post in the centre of the training ground. He leaned in, his mouth so close to her ear that she could feel the moist brush of his lips. "I'm sorry, my petal. Truly. But you've seen too much."

  When he pulled back, she saw that his eyes were misty with tears, and she realised that he meant it. It was almost funny.

  "Stop!" a new voice said. She thought it must be one of the other gladiators, their conscience pricked, and didn't bother to look up. There was nothing they could do. But the man spoke again and the men dragging her away stumbled to an uncertain halt.

  It was Petronius. His deceptively guileless brown eyes darted towards her, and he sent her a brief, tight smile. Then he looked back at Quintus. "I can't have you whipping her."

  Quintus looked baffled and Boda guessed that Petronius hadn't been spotted at the Cult meeting. Quintus didn't understand why the young man would want to intervene.

  "It can be distressing, young sir," Quintus said. "But disobedient slaves must be punished."

  Petronius nodded. "By their masters."

  "Indeed." Quintus licked his lips, nervous, because although Petronius was agreeing, he wasn't going away. Instead, he walked to Boda and put a hand on her arm, drawing her gently away from the men holding her.

  "Even when the crowd has chosen to spare them for their valiant display?" Petronius said. And something in his voice, some intonation, sparked Boda's memory. It had been Petronius who called for mercy in the Arena. He was the one who'd saved her life.

  "Even then," Quintus said.

  "Well, clearly you're a hard master. I, however, am more lenient. And as this slave is now my property, I choose to spare her this punishment."

  Quintus's eyes bulged from his face. "Your property?"

  Petronius smiled brilliantly, at Quintus and then at her. "That's right. I bought her from the school half an hour ago."

  Narcissus didn't want to explore the ship. Now he knew where they were, he didn't want to leave the safety of their crate for the remainder of the voyage. But Vali clearly intended to poke around, and Narcissus felt safer with him than he did on his own. So when Vali pressed his ear against the door, listening in silence, then pulled it sharply open, Narcissus found himself following behind.

  The other man seemed to have some idea of where they were going. The below-decks area was cramped and crowded, a maze of storerooms filled with crates, all seeping a rich olive oil smell into the air. Vali wove a course through that, five minutes later, took them to what appeared to be the ship's armoury. One wall held a rack of swords, polished and sharp, the other rows of round leather shields.

  Vali took one sword for himself, pushing the scabbard through the belt of his tunic. He looked back at Narcissus, holding out anothe
r.

  Narcissus shook his head. "I've never handled one. I don't know how."

  Vali continued to hold out the sword. "Perhaps now would be a good time to learn."

  But Narcissus stepped back, hands by his side. "I'd be more of a danger to myself than any enemies," he insisted.

  The other man smiled at that and returned the sword to its rack. "As you wish."

  Narcissus could hear footsteps again, above them on the deck. No more than four sets, and he was beginning to wonder if that was all there were. "What now?" he whispered. "Do we try to overpower them?"

  Vali raised an eyebrow. "Can you sail a ship?"

  Narcissus shook his head.

  "Then it would probably be inadvisable."

  He was right, but Narcissus couldn't stand the thought of being cooped up below decks for the entire journey, constantly wondering if they were about to be discovered. Fears, he was beginning to discover, were less frightful if you turned and confronted them head on.

  "The sun's set," he said. "It should be dark enough to sneak on deck unseen. We could try to overhear what the sailors are saying."

  Vali looked amused. "And do you speak Egyptian?"

  "No!" Narcissus snapped. "But if you have a better plan, feel free to share it."

  Vali's smile widened. "I do speak Egyptian, and I think your plan is absolutely fine."

  It took them a while to locate the steps leading up; the narrow treads glistening white with caked salt. The crystals crunched gently beneath their feet and Narcissus winced at every step, but Vali didn't hesitate.

  The moon was only a silver sliver in the far corner of the sky. A million stars shone bright around it, but none shed enough light to reveal Narcissus and Vali to the others on deck as they crept through the hatch.

  Narcissus could hear the sailors, muttering softly near the sharp prow of the ship. He wanted to ask Vali what they were saying, but didn't dare risk it. Sound carried too clearly on the open water.

  Vali laid a soft hand on his arm, then gestured forward.

  The wind sighed through the rigging, a haunting, mournful sound. A haze of sea-spray hovered all around, and the deck beneath was spongy and slick. Narcissus trod carefully, securing one foot before he moved the next. The sailors were visible now, dark silhouettes against the distant moon, though their faces were hidden beneath deep cowls. He kept his eyes fixed on them, alert for any sign that they'd been spotted.

  And because he was looking at the sailors, he didn't notice the tangle of ropes strung across the ship. They whipped his legs out from under him so fast he didn't have time to put out his hands to break his fall. His head met the deck with a meaty thud and he couldn't stop himself from calling out.

  The sailors were on them before he'd regained his feet, moving faster than he could have guessed. A wicked-toothed knife jabbed towards his ribs and he rolled desperately. The blade sliced through his tunic and into the skin beneath, but the point hit wood and stuck there and he managed to scramble clear.

  There were four of them, as he'd thought. Black-cloaked in the darkness, only the silver of their blades shone bright, and deep within their cowls the sparkle of eyes.

  He dragged himself backwards and away from them. Splinters of wood drove beneath his skin and he tried to regain his feet but his legs were wobbly with fear and as the hooded figures approached, he fell to his knees again. There was nowhere to escape to, anyway - nothing but sea all around.

  He understood for the first time why people spoke about dying with dignity. He longed for the sword he'd refused earlier. He didn't want it to end like this, with him cowering in front of his killers.

  And then Vali attacked. His sword carved graceful arcs through the air, a moonlit blur of movement. His aim was true and the metal bit deep into the chest of the nearest sailor.

  It didn't even slow him. The man turned, jabbing his own blade forward in a less elegant but equally deadly thrust.

  Vali leapt back, but now there were hidden ropes behind him. He stumbled, his sword arm flailing wildly as he fell. His blade missed flesh and instead caught and hooked in the hood of the nearest sailor. The material parted and fluttered to the ground.

  At first, Narcissus thought it was a trick of the moonlight, the long blackness at the front of the man's face, the hint of curved teeth within. But then the man shifted slightly, the remainder of the hood fell away, and there was no more hiding what lay beneath.

  The sailor had the head of a jackal on the shoulders of a man.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Narcissus cringed back, crying out in fear. The jackal head swung towards him, jaws parting in a wide grin. A long pink tongue snaked out to lick the purple lips.

  "You have seen us, mortal," the creature said. Its voice was slurred, as if that mouth wasn't made for human speech.

  "I'm sorry," Narcissus babbled. "I'm sorry. I meant no blasphemy."

  "These creatures aren't gods," Vali whispered.

  Narcissus felt his bowels loosen. If these creatures weren't gods, then they must be something darker, the enemies of divinity - because they surely weren't human.

  The creature let out a laugh that was almost a howl. "You are right to fear us, child of man. None who see us live to speak of it."

  It knelt in front of him, reaching out to clasp his chin. Its hands were human, black and thin, but their touch burned like fire. Narcissus flinched and the creature's grip tightened.

  "No escape," it said. "You will lie in these deep waters for all eternity and time will turn your bones to rock."

  "Or," Vali said, "you might like to think about this for a minute." He sounded strained but unafraid.

  The sailor released its grip on Narcissus and swung to face the other man. "In such a hurry to die? We care not which throat we slit first." It loomed over Vali, spittle dripping from its open mouth onto his cheek.

  Vali brushed it away and Narcissus could see that it had left the skin red and blistered beneath. "But does it matter to you," he said, "why we're here? Or how we found you? If you kill us now you'll never know."

  The sailor reared back while his comrades clustered closer, whispering in a guttural language that Narcissus didn't think was Egyptian or any other human tongue.

  The one who seemed to be their leader turned back to Vali. "And will you answer those questions?" it said.

  Vali smiled. "Will you kill us as soon as I have?"

  The creature didn't answer, but its fangs shone white in the moonlight as it smiled.

  "In that case, no."

  Narcissus wanted to scream that he would answer, that he'd tell them anything they wanted to know. But Vali was right. Silence was their only hope and he bit his tongue to still it, hard enough to draw blood.

  "So be it then," the sailor said. "It is as well. Only answers found in pain are to be trusted. You will tell us what we want to know, when even death seems sweeter than what we offer you."

  "You intend to torture me, then?" Vali said. Narcissus couldn't see his face, but his voice sounded calm, almost as if this was what he had expected.

  "Not you," the sailor said. "Your mouth is full of lies."

  As one, the jackal heads of the sailors swung to face Narcissus.

  It was dark as Boda and Petronius walked from the school to his home. Boda had never been out at this time of day before, and she was shocked to find the streets crowded with wagons, their wooden wheels the cause of the deep ruts in the road's surface which had baffled her before. The noise was unimaginable, ten times the volume of the yearly fair at which her people traded their cattle with other tribes.

  "What is this?" she shouted to Petronius above the din.

  He looked puzzled and she gestured around her as they squeezed against a wall to let a heavily laden wagon through. The horse paused to shit as it passed, the pungent smell quickly buried in the cacophony of other odours.

  "What occasion is it tonight?" she asked. "Why do they all gather?"

  His expression cleared. "Oh, it's like thi
s every night. An edict forbids wheeled vehicles by day."

  "Every night?" Boda could hardly believe it. She knew that trade was the lifeblood of the Empire, but to see it like this! How could so many people want so many things?

  Petronius nodded and Boda looked away from him to study their route, trying to memorise it. She was used to fighting on her own ground, where she knew the place of every tree and twig. Here she'd be fighting blind, and if - when - Quintus came after her, she needed to be prepared.

  After a long space of silence, Petronius turned to her. "So, are you really not going to thank me?"

  Boda's muscles tensed. "I don't know how much gold you spent, but don't expect repayment in another coin."

  Petronius laughed. "I'll take that as a no. I did save your life, you know."

  "Yes," she said. "Why?"

  He shrugged and looked away. "Maybe I think the world would be poorer without you in it. Or maybe I'm just desperate for company."

  She laughed at that, though she still wanted to know the real answer. Guilt? Perhaps, though he hadn't struck her as a person who heard the voice of his conscience very loudly.

  "I did spend a lot of gold," he said. "But it wasn't, in fact, mine."

  "Your father's?"

  "Seneca's."

  She frowned. "Wasn't he the man you were following when I met you? He was one of the cultists."

  He nodded.

  "Was it wise to steal from him?"

  "Probably not. It's probably not very wise to take you back to his house, either, but I don't have much choice. There's nowhere else I can go. I'll try to sneak you in when he's not looking, hide you in my quarters."

  "I've heard more impressive plans," she told him. But there wasn't much heat in it. He had, as he said, saved her life.

  When they reached it, the house was grand but dark, the white marble blank and unwelcoming. It took her a second to realise why. There were no windows facing out, only a metal-studded wooden door leading in.