I woke when Cillian came in. It felt very late. The oil lamp still burned, though, giving just enough light so that the room was not black.
“Cillian,” I whispered, sitting up. “There is wine, if you want some.”
“Käresta,” he said quietly. “Sergius told me. Thank you for thinking of that. It will be welcome.” I heard him pour a glass. He brought another lamp over to the bedside, to light it from the flame of the one burning. Setting it down, he bent to kiss me, gently.
“What happened at the palace?” I asked.
“Quite a lot. I think we have an agreement about Irmgard, but the details must wait until tomorrow, käresta. I am very tired.” He laughed, softly. “We seemed destined not to enjoy comfortable beds when we have them.”
“It is only one night,” I protested. I wasn't sure I minded. I was determined to talk to him before we made love again. “Do you want me to massage your shoulders?”
“The walk back through the streets, under the stars, was oddly peaceful,” he answered. “I am more relaxed than I thought I would be, so, no. I would rather just hold you.” He drained his wine. I watched him undress. He slipped under the bedcover, and I nestled against him, feeling his lips on my hair. “Wake me at noon,” he murmured.
I opened our bedroom door quietly. Cillian still slept. I went to the window to release the shutters, letting the midday light stream in. I heard him stir.
“Hello, my love,” I said.
“Lena,” he said, still half-asleep. “I woke a little while ago. But you weren't here, so I went back to sleep, it seems.”
“I'm here now. Are you hungry?”
He grinned, stretching. “Yes, but not for food. Come back to bed?”
“It's the middle of the day,” I protested, hesitant. We hadn't talked. But I could feel my body's immediate response to his suggestion.
“Did that stop us at the lake? There is a lock on the door,” he added.
“And Sorley and Turlo have gone to the ship,” I said. I slid the bolt shut and went to the window.
“Leave the shutters open. I do prefer to see you, you know,” he reminded me, reaching for me as I came to the bed. He slid his hands down my body. I closed my eyes, absorbing the sensation. “Lena,” he murmured. “The light is for us both. Look at me.”
I opened my eyes. His exploring fingers made me gasp, but I kept my eyes open and let my hands begin their own voyage. Watching his face reflect his body's responses, I began to understand why he wanted to make love in the light, how intimacy and trust deepened when we allowed ourselves this honesty. No shadow of violence marred that sunlit afternoon; it was a time of laughter, of discovery and sharing, and when I finally lay against him, spent and languid, something had changed for me, I thought, a deeper healing begun.
I nestled closer, kissing his chest. “Kärestan.”
“Either your pronunciation has improved, or I have grown used to how you say that,” he said. “It was what my grandmother called me, you know.”
“I didn't. I'm glad you told me,” I said. “Did you see her again, after you were sent to the Ti'ach? When Casyn came to Tirvan, the first time, he talked about having to leave at seven, and about the comfort and love he missed. But he also spoke about returning as a man.”
“After I learned that the Empire's boys were taken to be cadets at seven,” he said, “I used to play at that, pretend my father had come for me. But no, I did not see either of them again. It would have been dangerous for my grandparents. They died, very close together, when I was thirteen or fourteen.”
He was telling me this calmly, almost detachedly, but there was an undercurrent of pain in his voice. “You would have felt so alone then,” I said.
“I did,” he concurred. “I assumed that would be my lot, until you. I planned to live with my bed unshared, but love tricked me.” He kissed me, lightly.
“That's not Catilius,” I said.
“An ancient poet, from Heræcria. We should dress and go out, Lena. There is a city to see. I am free until this evening.”
“Yes.” We should. A city of beauty and learning, outside our door. I did not want to end the intimacy of this time, but I wanted to see Casil almost as much as Cillian did. I sat up.
Washing before we dressed, I ran a finger up his back, slightly damp with sweat. “Do you want me to wash your back?” I asked. He handed me the cloth, and I soaped and rinsed, wiping the wet cloth across the scar and down his left hip to catch a stray drop of water.
“Go any lower and I won't want to go out,” Cillian warned.
I laughed. “You managed six years of abstinence and now you're insatiable after three weeks?”
“I had no idea what I was missing,” he said. I put my arms around him, resting my head on his back, not caring it was damp.
“Loving someone does make a difference,” I agreed.
“Yes,” he said. “It does. But not only that.”
“What, then?”
“I had promised myself I would not repeat my father's mistake, you remember? There is only one way for a man to truly ensure a child will not be conceived,” he said evenly. He turned so he could look at me. “Did I not say you were a revelation to me, käresta?”
“Oh. Really?” I thought back, remembering the slight hesitation the first time we had made love. “Oh, Cillian,” I started to laugh. “I'm not laughing at you, my love,” I said. “I'm just so surprised.”
“I thought you might be,” he admitted, but he was smiling. I kissed him.
“Can I ask something?” This seemed like a good time.
“Of course.”
“The vow you made to yourself, about celibacy? What were the terms for ending it?”
“What has Sorley said now?” he asked.
I felt myself flushing. “That you had found the love you needed to end it. But we did not love each other at midwinter.”
“You did not love me, to be accurate,” he said calmly.
“Cillian? Are you telling me you loved me then?”
“I believed I did, yes. And the vow depended only on me finding a partner whom I loved. I did not expect the feeling to be returned; that would have been too much to ask.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Käresta, you had just told me only a few days earlier that you could offer me only pleasure, in affection.” He took a breath. “I did tell you, actually, only in a way I knew you could not understand.”
I thought back. I couldn't remember anything. “How?”
“Do you remember me saying 'Accept the things to which fate binds you'?” I nodded. “The next part of that quote is 'and love whom fate brings to you'.”
I rested my head on his chest. “Oh, Cillian. I wish I'd known. Is that what was wrong, much of the winter?”
“Yes. I thought I would be content with what you had offered, but I wasn't. I wanted more, against all my philosophy and expectations. And then you told me I was difficult and complicated, but also a blessing, and I began to wonder if you cared for me more than I knew.”
“More than I knew,” I admitted. “Until that evening.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. I almost told you I loved you, and the thought shocked me almost as much as I think it would have you.”
He laughed. “What a pair we are, Lena.”
“Sorley said that, too,”
“And he was right.” He let me go to begin dressing, in the light clothes of the previous day. I dressed, too, thinking about what he had just told me, and something he had said earlier. I walked back into the bedroom. Cillian sat at the window, looking out.
“Believed you loved me?” I asked.
“I would have sworn it, at the time,” he said, turning, “but, käresta, if that was love, what do I call what I feel now?” He wasn't smiling, and what I saw on his face was close to anguish.
There was so much need in him, and underlying it, fear. He is so newly come to love, and so aware that our time together may be brief, I
thought. The last time he had let me see this, it had frightened me, but what I felt now was calm, a simple acceptance. “Love grows, when it is returned,” I said.
He smiled at that, and with the smile his face cleared. “My wise Lena,” he said. “What would you like to see, in Casil?”
“Can we find the market, or shops?” I asked, relieved at his change of mood.
“Of course,” Cillian said. “What do you need?”
“A new journal. Mine is nearly full.” I retrieved my purse of coins from my pack. After a moment's reflection, Cillian did the same.
Sergius met us downstairs. Cillian said a few words to him, and a soldier appeared. We were to be escorted, or guarded, I discovered. I glanced at the man curiously; I’d never seen someone with skin so dark. Sergius asked a question, and said something more. Cillian nodded, turning to me. “Give the guard your purse, Lena. Sergius tells me it is safer; cut-purses do not target soldiers.”
I saw the sense in that, although it took me a minute to work out what a cut-purse was. I handed the man the leather bag, and he slipped it and Cillian's into a pouch on his belt. Then we went out to see Casil.
The guard—Druisius, Cillian told me—led us along the street of houses. In the distance I could see a tall, circular building, enormous to my eyes, its first three floors a series of tall arches, divided by pillars. “What is that?” I asked.
“The Prægrandeum,” Cillian answered. “Another place for games, and spectacles.” Druisius turned. “Vérum![15]" he said. “Quomo sicare?[16]"
Cillian answered. Druisius became friendlier, and more voluble. He led us past the huge building. Underfoot, the ground had been paved. Trees along the edges provided some shade, but heat and light radiated off the stones. I could feel sweat on my neck, and under my arms.
We followed the curve of the arena, and then ahead of us stood a statue taller than I could easily comprehend. At least half the height of the building it flanked, looking to my untutored eyes like a perfect replica of a man, the bronze figure wore a rayed headdress, and held a sword. I stopped walking, staring upward. How had anyone made that? I glanced at Cillian, seeing the awe I felt mirrored on his face.
“Prægrandus Sûl,” Druisius told us.
“The Giant of the Sun,” Cillian translated. Around us, people walked past, servants on errands, groups of men or women in twos and threes, strolling slowly in the heat, talking. No one looked at the statue. Did you just get used to something like that?
Beyond the statue a tall fountain bubbled and splashed. Druisius led us over, gesturing to the metal cups chained to its rim. He showed us how to hold the cup where the water sprang out from the central pillar, letting it overflow the cup for a minute before drinking. The water was cool and vaguely metallic.
I looked around, trying to comprehend the city. All of this had been here, while in the West we had been forgotten, abandoned. Why? Whatever the Eastern Fever had been, Casil had recovered. But they had never bothered to find out what had happened to the lands they had once ruled: not just my Empire, I thought, but that vast plain we had crossed. That had all been theirs, once, too.
Would our presence here raise those questions? I looked up at the statue again. Was that how Casil had seen itself, a giant towering over the world? If the Empress, and her advisors, once reminded of her client Empire, decided they wanted it again, how could we stop them? The enormity of the task facing Turlo and Cillian astonished me.
Mostly Cillian, I acknowledged. Turlo might have the power to say yes or no, but it would be Cillian who would choose the words, make the arguments, try to sway Casil's subtle and sophisticated leaders to his view. A responsibility and a burden I could not imagine, and yet one he appeared to be shouldering without complaint. How could I add my own private concerns to that burden?
Druisius gestured us forward. A long, rectangular, colonnaded building lay ahead of us. We walked up the wide stairs and into its cool interior. Mosaics lined the walls, and our footsteps echoed on the tile floor. Two statues of seated women, back to back, stood near one end. Druisius, his voice ebullient, gave Cillian a long explanation.
“This is a temple,” Cillian told me, “dedicated to Casil, but also to a goddess of love. Druisius tells me it is the largest temple in Casil.”
“I can't imagine how they built all this,” I said. A thought struck me. “Are they building anything new, Cillian? Or living among past glories?”
“An interesting question,” he replied. “Everything we have seen has been in good repair, so there is no lack of money and skill, it would appear. But it would be worth knowing, because it would tell us something about how they view themselves, and their place in the world.”
The contrast between the temperature in the temple, and the heat outside oppressed me. Cillian had asked something of Druisius, and they were deep in conversation. I walked beside them, wishing for shade, past more tall buildings and an arched monument covered in inscriptions and carvings to a long, enclosed, paved area. At one end of this rectangular enclosure, a huge statue of a horseman stood; at the other, a tall, carved column, flanked by two buildings.
“The Forum of Ulpius,” Cillian told me. “The column is carved with representations of some of his victories, and the two buildings are the libraries, one with books from Heræcria and the other with books from Casil. Druisius tells me they will be closed now, but we can look in on them.”
The libraries were open to the air, but a metal screen closed off access. The grey floor, striped with a golden stone, shone even in the dim light. Each wall had columns, not white like most I had seen, but of a creamy hue flecked with purple, framing wall recesses. Tables and stools lined the floor.
“Where are the books?” I asked.
“Those wall recesses have cupboards, and the books are in there, to protect them,” Cillian answered.
“This Emperor valued them, to build a library so beautiful,” I said.
“He did,” Cillian agreed. I looked over at him, seeing both wonder and longing on his face. “To spend even part of day here would be a thing beyond belief.”
“Could you?”
He shook his head. “I don't know. Perhaps. But even to have seen it, to know it stands and the books are here—that is enough.”
Watching him, seeing his pleasure at the idea and reality of this library, a memory from earlier in the afternoon arose in my mind, of seeing a different sort of pleasure taking hold of him. A wave of desire followed the image, startling me in its intensity. I couldn't keep from smiling.
Druisius spoke to Cillian, who listened, nodded, and turned to me. “Druisius says it is hot, and if we want to find a taberna for a drink before they are too crowded, we should do that now.”
I assented, gladly, and we followed our guard along a passage and out into a large market. A long, curved building housed many shops, and on the paved area in front of the permanent shops, dozens of market stalls overflowed with food and fabric, sandals and pots, and a hundred other things. Conflicting odours floated in the air: fish, meat, sweat, perfumes. People jostled and chattered, but they made way for Druisius in his uniform, and therefore for us.
Druisius indicated a shop in the curved building. Inside, books bound in leather or fabric lined one set of shelves; others held individual sheets of paper, rolls of vellum, and scrolls. While Druisius spoke to the shopkeeper, I looked at the books until I found one I thought was a good size for my pack. I pointed it out.
Druisius leaned on the counter, speaking sharply. The shopkeeper replied with what sounded like a protest. Markets everywhere, I thought, remembering haggling in Casilla over the price of a belt. I was glad to let Druisius do the bargaining, here.
He finally agreed on a price, and we paid the proprietor. He looked at the coins suspiciously, bit them, then pulled out a small set of scales and weighed them. Satisfied, he handed over my book, and a small pot of ink powder. Druisius took them, accepting that it was his job to carry the articles. The ink-pot went into
a pocket, and the book rested easily in his big hand.
Then he grinned, mimed drinking, and with a sideways cock of his head led us to a taberna. We passed several that looked almost identical to my eye, but he was our guard, and our guide. He shouted something to the serving girl as we passed through the dark room and out into a courtyard, where several tables stood among a few trees and a fountain. Sparrows chirped and pecked among the tables, and the trees cooled the space just a bit. One table was empty.
Wine and water appeared, and a dish of the small, black, tangy fruit. Cillian poured wine, leaving space for water, and offered a glass to Druisius, who shook his head, saying something that sounded like a reproval. Cillian smiled.
“Druisius is appalled by my manners. I should have offered you the wine first. My apologies, Lena,” he said, giving me the glass.
“Tell him I say he deserved the first one for being such a good guide and bargainer,” I answered. I watered the wine while Cillian spoke. Druisius laughed and inclined his head to me. He took the second glass of wine.
I was glad to be sitting down. My mind felt stuffed full of sights and sounds—and there were so many people! Cillian and Druisius were talking again. I drank my wine and ate one or two pieces of fruit, listening to the fountain and the sparrows chirping, thinking about what had happened at the library. Did it mean other memories were receding?
Cillian turned to me. “What else would you like to see?”
“As if I would know,” I said. I thought a moment. “Can we go up on the city wall?” I wanted space, and quiet.
He raised an eyebrow at the request but relayed it to Druisius, who frowned and then nodded, spreading his hands. I took that as a 'maybe', an opinion confirmed by Cillian a moment later. “He says it will depend on who is on the gate.”
We finished the drinks, paid, and walked with Druisius across the market square, turning into a wide street which curved westward, ending at the city wall. I stared up at the looming structure, trying to imagine the work involved in building it, even in making the bricks it contained. Druisius chatted with the guard, who, after a minute, stepped aside to allow us to climb the internal stairs.
Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy Page 90