by T. C. Edge
He set it out plainly, his task, as he saw it, to convince her to ditch her friends through other, more subtle means. If he could deconstruct her plan, she'd have no choice but to go along with his. At least, that's what he hoped. After all, she was supposed to be logical and quite callous. She didn't seem to be displaying either right now.
She considered it for a moment, going through each reservation in her mind. But Merk didn't see the reaction he wanted. She remained blindly positive, despite all the potential pitfalls.
"There are always things that can go wrong, Merk. But you realise we all have tremendous speed, and though you don't, we can carry you together. We'll have enough time, I'm sure of it."
"You're sure," repeated Merk, growing more irritated now. "And, what about the other end of this passage? I don't actually know what's there, you do realise that, or even where it leads."
"You'll work it out soon enough," said Kira. "You've lived in this city all your life. I trust you, Merk."
The old man let out a breath. She trusted him, but he really didn't himself. This was folly beyond his own comprehension. It was only going to get them all killed.
But what could he do? Did he have a choice?
He went quiet for a period, seeing that Kira couldn't be persuaded. At least not now. Not after everything that had gone on tonight. Perhaps, come morning, she'd have changed her mind? Maybe a good long sleep would do her some good.
It was all Merk could hope for. Right now, he needed to tentatively agree, and then see where the following day took them.
So he said, "Fine," and nodded. "I'll think about it, Kira, and how we might make it work."
She smiled.
"Thanks, Merk. Now you'd better go before we get caught. If I think of anything better, I'll let you know. And you do the same with me."
Merk nodded and left the room.
And already, his mind was seeking another path.
73
The morning brought with it a coldness that the city rarely saw at that time of year. The sun was gone, blotted out by a thick sheet of dark grey cloud that had began to swell overnight. And on the horizon, the flashing of lightning lit the black skies, creeping closer to the city as the morning hours passed by.
A storm was coming, and a brutal one at that.
It was perhaps a fortunate turn, and well timed by the gods. The second week of the warrior race always started in subdued fashion. With the less heralded fighters taking centre stage once more, the excitement across the city would naturally wane as a result. It was the same each year, and as the storm began to brew, the decision was taken to abandon the festivities for the day, closing the Colosseum and giving the fighters, and the city itself, another day to recover.
After all that had happened, it felt like the city needed it.
Dom certainly did.
He spent the morning in a state of contemplation, refusing to let his raging anger overcome him. As Rufus had advised, he needed to let the situation with Kira play out, but exactly how it would go he wasn't yet sure. It left him feeling unendingly shameful to even consider letting her be executed in such a way, but he was starting to realise that he didn't have much choice.
If he helped her escape, he'd be condemning others in the process, and perhaps even himself. His mother had chosen Kira as her prize, and that prize was seeing her die. Deny Vesper that, and others would take Kira's place.
Dom's mind, now, was turning quickly to an image of the city that didn't include the woman who brought him into the world, the woman he once loved so dear. It was growing sick, and she was the virus, poisoning the streets with fear, controlling the masses through her Imperial Guards and the manner in which she deployed them. But Southside was starting to stand up and say, "No more," and it was time now to Dom to do the same.
Get rid of Vesper, and the city's ills would be resolved. He could claim her spot on the throne, a spot he never wished for, and do as Rufus said - become who he was born to be. It was, he was beginning to see, his duty. A duty to the city he loved, the city he wished to save. His duty to all those he'd wronged in his life, all the people he'd stolen from foreign lands and seen killed upon the sand. He needed to right those wrongs, and turn his own life around. And though it was a station he didn't want, and even feared, he now realised that, in that matter too, he had no choice at all.
The idea was planted and had taken hold. And now, he had to consider just how it might be done.
The truth, of course, was that he couldn't do it himself. Dom, though a proprietor of gladiators and a man who'd seen hundreds, perhaps thousands of people die, had never actually done such a deed himself. Whether he could was a question he'd never encountered, but he was quite sure that, in this matter, it wouldn't be possible.
No matter what his mother had become, he knew he couldn't strike her down by his own hand.
No, it would have to be someone else, someone practiced and skilled in the art of killing, and someone he trusted intimately. The natural candidate was Rufus, who would happily step forward to perform the deed. And, in fact, given he was the only one who knew of Vesper's new heir, and her plans to banish Dom, he appeared to be the only available option.
That morning, therefore, after a night of restless consultation with his own morality, Dom summoned Rufus to his office. With the rains beginning to fall outside, and the distant sounds of thunder marching ever closer, the two men sat together in the flickering firelight and set out into a dark and perilous discussion.
A discussion of murder.
"I'll do it," Rufus said as soon as Dom broached the topic. "I said it last night, sir. I said she needed to go. I'll happily do it to serve you, and serve this city."
Dom was appreciative, as he always was with his loyal aid. He'd asked a lot of Rufus over the years, but this was taking things to a whole new level. He felt guilty in the asking, and guilty in the thinking. The concept of forming a plan for his closest companion to kill his mother was, despite the circumstances, horrible to even consider. And yet it needed to be done.
"You understand it comes with great risk, Rufus," said Dom, a large part of him wishing he could put the instructor off. "For you, and for me, and for all of us here in the ludus. Failure could destroy us all. And not a word of this can be spoken beyond this room."
"I understand entirely the risks we're facing here. And failure is not an option, sir. We must succeed, for all our sakes."
"Indeed. The question is, how?"
It was a question that Dom had already pondered through the night and early hours of the morning. He'd come up with no certain answers at all, and was hoping that his advisor would have something to offer, given his experience in devising battle tactics and strategies. Perhaps, Dom thought, they might cross over to planning the murder of an Empress.
Rufus, by the slant of his eyes, had been considering it too.
"The Empress only appears in public with Ares by her side," he said. "He would sniff out an assassination attempt before it was even considered. And even if he didn't, he'd damn sure avenge Vesper without hesitation. He's the problem, Dom. I don't know if any such attempt is possible while he's with her."
Dom nodded.
"I agree. And Ares is loyal to a fault, which might be down to some of her telepathic coercions. It's the same with the rest of the Imperial Guard. She has a hold over them that guarantees their loyalty, even after all she's done and all she's become. A man like Ares is a good example. He has a strong moral centre that must see how awful she is. And yet, he appears unable to break free of her control."
"Her death might solve that," suggested Rufus. "It would take away the link, free up Ares and the Imperial Guard to think for themselves a little more. You have your mother's powers, sir. Do you think that's the case?"
"It's certainly possible, even likely," said Dom. "And it would need to be. If, for example, we managed to kill my mother, and Ares' blind loyalty remained, he might well hunt you straight down. I cannot have that, Rufus. Thi
s cannot be a suicide mission, not for you or for anyone else."
"I agree, sir. I'd prefer to survive this, if possible," smiled Rufus. Then his eyes narrowed and turned serious. "But I would do it regardless, Dom," he said. "If it meant ridding the city of her, I would sacrifice myself for that."
Dom lifted a hand in refusal.
"No, Rufus, no I don't agree. You're loyal to a fault as well, my friend."
"Perhaps, then, you've been using your telepathy to influence me too, sir?" suggested Rufus with a cheeky smile.
"Ah, I'd never do such a thing," said Dom.
Rufus shook his head.
"I'm well aware," he said. "You have the loyalty of your subjects because you are a good man, right to the core. As soon as this deed is done, the city will see that. Most know it already. They will lift you onto their shoulders and embrace you as their ruler."
"Thank you my friend. However, I'm wary of that. People may not like it that their new ruler killed their last. They may have trouble trusting me."
"No, sir," said Rufus firmly. "They will be delighted to be rid of her. They will see you as a hero for freeing them. And that isn't just the people of Southside, but the nobles and lords as well. Too many of them live in fear. They want her gone just as much as the poor, they just aren't vocal about it."
"Perhaps you're right, Rufus," said Dom, the instructor's words typically wise. "Let's move forward, assuming you are. Now the question remains - how to do it. As you say, my mother is only vulnerable when Ares, and any other guards, aren't with her. And that is rare indeed. In fact, I haven't been with her alone myself for quite some time, except of course when I met her in her quarters, and she told me of her new heir."
"Difficult," said Rufus, stroking his dark chin with nimble fingers. "I wonder if another meeting could be set?"
"I never set meetings with her. Only the other way around. And, that would leave me to perform the, um, deed..."
"Not necessarily. I could accompany you, as Claudius usually does. Once I'm inside the palace, I may be able to complete the job."
"I'm not sure 'may' is a strong enough word, Rufus. This can only be done if it's guaranteed to work. Otherwise we are merely condemning us all to the noose."
"I agree, but only to a point, sir. The stakes are high enough here that we have to take some risk. You may be the only person your mother ever meets in private. She may still trust you enough to give you that time alone."
Dom shook his head.
"I doubt it," he said. "After our last meeting, I'd say our relationship is now damaged beyond repair. She may even wonder if I'm considering a plot like this. She is mad now, there is no doubt about that, but she remains sufficiently in her right mind to be suspicious. She will be extra careful now that she's informed me of her heir, and my impending banishment. I doubt she'll ever be far from Ares, or some of her more powerful guards."
Rufus was raising his eyes.
"Then what, sir? It sounds as though you've already determined that an assassination isn't possible."
"Well, steady on there. I'm merely spitballing and working through the facts. Can you deny anything I've just said?"
"I wish I could," murmured Rufus.
"Then, at least we know the framework we're operating in here."
"I suppose we do. And it's a tight framework, sir. Unless you can get me inside the palace, and alone with the Empress, I see no other option other than a suicide mission, as you call it."
"No, Rufus. That's not what I want..."
"It may be all you can get, Dom," said Rufus with a growling authority. "If you won't allow me to do it, then force it upon someone else. You have your telepathy, sir, and it's powerful. You never use it here in Neorome. Why? Because those are your mother's rules. Rules that she's used in order to keep her power intact. Well, sir, forgive me for saying it, but we're discussing her murder here, so to hell with her stupid rules." Rufus leaned across the table a little, and sharpened his dark gaze. "You have the ability to destroy her, sir. If you truly wish for neither of us to perform the deed ourselves, then coerce someone else into doing it."
"And kill them instead?" said Dom. "It would only be suicide for them as well."
"It may be the only option. Beggars can't be choosers, sir. This is a desperate situation, and it needs a desperate solution. There are guards in the royal box. You could set orders inside them to force them to kill the Empress. You may even be able to do so with Ares..."
"No, that won't be possible at all. These guards are trained to deny such mental advances. If I tried, they'd be aware of the attempt before I could set any order in their head. My mother has them well trained and has ensured their minds are not for taking by anyone but herself. The attempt would be our end, Rufus."
The conversation was going nowhere, and both men knew it. There was a reason why the Empress, despite her many powerful and wealthy detractors, had maintained control of the city for so long. There was a reason why no one ever made an attempt on her life, and if any ever did they ended in swift failure. She had the place in a firm grip, and had made herself almost invulnerable. The discussion seemed to be a losing one from the off.
Rufus, still in deep thought, began to consider another path.
"How about we look at this in another way," he said. "This uprising in Southside. Maybe you should support it."
"Support it?"
"Not publicly, of course. Just financially. Help arm them, and pay for mercenaries to fight with them. It'll keep the Imperial Guards busy, and may distract your mother enough to make her more vulnerable."
"That's, um...more of a long term process, though," said Dom, unconvinced. "We have so little time, Rufus. I want this to happen now..."
"We have some time, sir. We have until the Empress' new heir is born, do we not, and perhaps even longer if you can delay this so-called exile? And please, Dom, don't tell me you're thinking about Kira. We will not be able to do anything to halt her execution. It will occur in days only. We cannot change that."
Rufus knew Dom rather too well. So well, in fact, that Dom sometimes wondered whether his instructor had some telepathic powers he didn't know about. Because he was thinking about Kira. For some reason, she wouldn't leave his mind.
"Sir, this is bigger than Kira," continued Rufus, clearly needing to convince him. "This is about the entire city, and all the people within in. So many thousands are at risk, and living horrible lives in Southside in particular. It's important we consider them first and foremost. If aiding the uprising there will help destabilise your mother's current standing, then it's something to look into."
"Oh, Rufus, why are you so wise? I feel truly inadequate in your presence. You have that sharp mind, those incredible senses and powers, and most of all, those tremendous white teeth. I can't say I'm not jealous, my friend."
"Don't try to change the subject through whimsy, sir. I'm quite serious on the matter."
"And so am I, Rufus. As much as it pains me to say it, I know full well that you're right."
Rufus began to nod, and a little breath of relief escaped him.
"That's good to hear, sir," he said. "I wish Kira to survive this too. Foolish as it is, I've taken to caring about her as you have. Though, perhaps not in the same fashion..."
Dom lifted his brows.
"Careful now, Rufus. No suggestions or innuendos, please."
Rufus raised a hand in apology.
"Just clarifying, sir. Kira is a rare case for both of us, I feel. I don't know what it is this year, but with her, and the young boy, Finn, I would very much like to see them safe from this city. With Finn there may be a way, but not with her I'm afraid. At least, not one I can see."
"Well, perhaps something will present itself when we get details on her punishment. I'm keen to visit with my mother to find out exactly what will take place, but as I've said, I doubt she'll give me the time anymore. I'll have to wait until I see her in the royal gallery."
"Yes, I imagine that's true," said R
ufus. "We must continue to consider ways of getting to her, sir. Poison is an option to consider, but she may be wise to that threat too."
"Hmmmm," murmured Dom. "Something to think about, for sure."
"But again, it comes with risk. Doesn't Ares often taste her wine before she drinks it?"
"He does," nodded Dom, a sinking feeling taking hold in his stomach. "Or else another servant will do so."
"And her food?" queried Rufus.
"She doesn't tend to eat in the gallery. Only in the palace."
"OK, so it looks unlikely. But, you should keep an eye on any possible opportunity the next time you're up there on the balcony. I will too, if you're allowed to still bring me."
"That may be a struggle now too," Dom suggested, shaking his head. "She wasn't exactly pleased about it before. My rights are gradually being stripped away. But, while I've got them, I'll exercise them to my fullest authority."
"Well that brings us back to Southside, sir. After Merk's failure yesterday, your mother will no doubt be taking a harder line in dealing with these insurgents and dissenters. From what I saw, a lot of them already appeared well armed beneath their cloaks. It's curious, actually. I got the impression there were guns-for-hire among them, mercenaries by their manner of movement and look."
"You're sure of that?" asked Dom. "Were they not just embittered local residents?"
"Many were, yes. But proper soldiers and fighters share that look in their eye, and I saw plenty of them within the crowds. There were pockets of men causing most of the trouble, riling up the crowd and not letting Merk say his piece at all. It's possible they have gathered their resources and hired men to fight for them."
"And you're suggesting I add to the pot?" said Dom. "Secretively fund them and ensure that they're suitably armed and equipped to cause my mother a serious headache?"
"That's exactly what I'm suggesting, sir. Claudius can manage it and do so covertly. He's a genius at fiddling accounts so that no one will notice. With your wealth, you could be an enormous help for them."