"Ah, Larry, we sold our souls. You have seen the gant's power. You have seen its—well, its cleanliness. Your victim is there in front of you, and then he is gone. Not like swords or arrows or gunpowder. They are all messy and brutal. The gant makes death seem almost pleasant: you don't suffer; you are here, and then you are not. The priests knew where such weapons existed, but they had ruled their empire without them—until King Harald threatened it. Then viators were sent to the world that produced them."
"Gaia," I said.
"Yes, Gaia. Palta's world. Poor, wretched Gaia. The viators brought back gants. And the Roman soldiers used them on the Gallic army as it approached the walls of Urbis. And as a result that army simply disappeared—like Hypatius, like those poor guards at the palatium. A few stragglers survived, to bear witness to the power of the priests."
We walked in silence for a moment. "But the priests had to do it, right?" I said finally. "Or all the good you did would have been lost."
"That is the argument. But once you use such weapons, it is hard to stop. The temptation is too great."
"But why do you need to use them again? Didn't people learn their lesson?"
"The people of Gallia have learned their lesson, perhaps, although I'm sure they will never forgive the priests for what they did. Some nomadic tribe invading from the east in search of better pasture land—who knows? But that is not the real problem. The real problem is how easy the gant makes it for the priests to expand their empire. Before, there were limits on expansion. We didn't try to conquer the peoples of the Far East or the Americas, or even of northern Europe. But the gant makes conquest easy. And once you betray Hieron's vision in that way, why not in others? Why not import medicines that cure diseases? Why should we stand by and watch people die in agony, knowing we have the power to cure them? Why should we ourselves die in such a way? Many priests say it is time to move on. That is what Tirelius thinks. Others think we should be faithful to Hieron and what he taught us."
"You think the priests should be faithful to Hieron?"
Affron shrugged. "Let's just say that there is a reason Tirelius wants to put me to death."
"How can you defeat him?"
"I'm not sure, Larry. Some of us used to think that Tirelius would simply die before he could implement his vision. I would be voted the new pontifex, and then things could change back to the way they used to be. But now it seems clear that he is not going to delay any further. He is getting rid of his enemies, stockpiling gants, drawing up plans. It is distressing." He stopped walking and looked around. "And it is clear, to me at least, that I am not the right man to defeat Tirelius."
"Why not?"
"It doesn't matter, Larry. Anyway, we have found the place I was looking for." We were on a narrow, dark side street, and Affron stopped in front of a windowless brick building. There was no sign in front of it; only three yellow balls hanging from a bar next to the door.
We went inside. We were in a long, dark room filled with random objects—pots and paintings and furniture and clothing; statues and swords and daggers. A bald man wearing an eyepatch and a dirty robe stood behind a counter talking to a nervous woman. Finally he open a drawer in the counter and took out a few coins, which he handed to the woman. The woman put them in her pocket and left hurriedly. Then the bald man picked up a bracelet from the counter, took out a key, and unlocked a large wooden cabinet to his left. He put the bracelet inside and locked the cabinet. Then he bowed to Affron and me and said something in Latin. Affron walked over to him, and I followed. Affron gestured at the cabinet. The man took out a key and unlocked the cabinet once again. I could see that the cabinet was filled with tray after tray of jewelry.
"I don't remember: Do you have pawn shops in your world, Larry?" Affron asked me in English.
"I've heard of them, I think," I replied. "I've never been in one."
"They are entirely worthy establishments, filling a social need, and I'm sorry I have to do what I'm about to do. It may—well, I don't know what it will do to you."
What did that mean?
Affron turned back to the bald man. The man had placed a tray on the counter. Affron picked up a gold ring. And then...
And then something happened. I saw the bald man drop to the floor. At least, I think I saw him. But my senses weren't working right, my mind was swirling, and then it spun out of control. I saw everything. Or nothing—just... emptiness. The black emptiness of a million empty universes. Emptiness that showed how trivial and worthless and meaningless I was, we were, everything was. I was just a speck in a speck in a speck. And even that speck existed in a million versions, alive and dead, good and evil. Why did I care about anything? Why did I worry and struggle? Why did I even bother to breathe?
And then I noticed that Affron was holding on to me, keeping me from falling. "Are you all right?" I think he asked.
"I don't know," I think I said.
"I'm sorry," he said. "That affected you more than I expected."
"What was it? What happened?"
"It is—I don't know. It is the gods inside me, Valleia might say. It is my power, my curse."
"It... reminds me."
"Of what?"
"I felt something like this... just a bit... when I was trying to make up my mind to go into the portal with Valleia. To help you. I think I blacked out for a few seconds."
Affron stared at me, and then shook his head. "Very strange. But we must hurry, before the poor pawnbroker regains consciousness."
He stepped around the counter and over the bald man, who lay sprawled on the floor. I followed. "Will he be all right?" I asked.
"I think so," Affron replied. "But I don't really know. I wish I didn't have to do such a thing. But we need the money, and I didn't want to destroy him—or anyone—with the gant." He opened a drawer in the counter that was filled with coins. He emptied them into a sack and handed the sack to me. "This should be enough," he said. "If it isn't..." He shook his head. "Let's go."
As we left the pawn shop, we heard the bald man start to groan as he lay on the floor.
We hurried back out onto the busy main street. Soon I was totally lost in a maze of streets and surging, restless crowds. I still felt dizzy and confused. "Have you ever experienced this?" I asked Affron. "This feeling, like—like you just experienced the entire multiverse in an instant?"
"Is that what it feels like to you?"
I nodded.
He considered. "I experience that all the time," he murmured.
"Have you done this before—what you did to that man? Do other people know you can do it?"
"A few times—unintentionally, when I was angry or frustrated. I am not proud of that. But it's part of why I have this reputation, I suppose."
"About knowing the gods."
"Yes. The gods."
"But where does the power come from? How come you have it, and no one else?"
"If I knew that, Larry..."
He didn't finish his answer. I kept thinking about what had happened, about what I had felt, and I continued the interrogation. "When you were in prison—in the palatium, waiting to be executed—why didn't you do this to the guards? Why didn't you use your power to escape?"
"I'm not sure it would have worked—I wasn't in the best of shape back there. Besides, I don't enjoy doing this to people, Larry."
"But they were going to kill you."
"I didn't really know that. And, you know..." He shook his head. "Perhaps I wasn't sure I wanted to escape."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to be the next pontifex. I'm not sure I know how to solve what's wrong with Terra. When you have visited universe after universe, seen the same problems over and over... greed and ignorance and lust for power... anyway, give me a coin, Larry. One of the smaller ones. I'm tired. Let's get something to eat."
I took a coin out of the sack and handed it to him. It was heavy, and I noticed it had an engraving of Via on one side. We found a sort of outdoor café at the edge of a forum, and Affro
n ordered some kind of cold pasta for us. It was served on a single plate for the two of us, with something like chopsticks to pick up the food. Soldiers strolled by, but they ignored us. On the other side of the forum jugglers and acrobats were putting on a show.
After a while Affron's energy seemed to return, and he began to talk about himself. "The priests seek out talented children at a young age," he said. "I was such a child. My family was very proud, but I was taken away from them—a bit like you and your family, I suppose. I was sent to a special schola, and I was the best student there. And when I graduated I was sent to another schola, and I was the best student there, as well. And eventually I ended up at the schola in Urbis, with the best of the best."
"You became a viator," I said.
He nodded. "It is an odd role nowadays," he went on. "More of an honorary title for someone like Hypatius. If you explore new worlds, you may find something wonderful—but, more likely, you will catch a disease or be eaten by a strange beast or buried in molten lava, and you never return. So most viators go only to worlds we have already visited. I have chosen to explore. That has also been part of my reputation, I suppose."
"That guy in the temple at the desk next to the portal—he keeps track of where you go?"
"Yes, that is his job. But he only writes what we tell him. That is how Gratius got his gant—he secretly went to Gaia and obtained one. That was very brave of him."
"Do a lot of viators visit my world?" I asked.
Affron shook his head. "I am the only one who has visited your world. To be honest, Larry, it isn't particularly interesting. But of course every world has its share of interesting people—like you."
He seemed serious about the compliment. That pleased me a lot. "What are we going to do next?" I asked. "I mean, after we find someplace safe to stay. What happens then?"
A cool breeze suddenly sprang up. Across the plaza the crowd, applauded as the jugglers and acrobats finished their show. Affron sighed and pushed around the remaining pasta on the plate. "I suppose," he said, "we shall have to try to save Terra."
Chapter 11
Back at the insula, an old man wearing a thin tunic was standing on the steps, waving a fan in front of his face. He nodded to us as we passed; Affron nodded back.
"He knows who we are, I expect," Affron murmured to me as we continued up the steps. "I expect that everyone in the insula does."
"How do you know?"
"We stand out too much. The neighborhood is small. People talk."
"Will they turn us in?"
"Probably not. People in the poorer castella have no love for the priests."
"Why not?"
"Because the priests take them for granted nowadays. They take Roma for granted. They think all that Romans want is their games in the summer and free grain when they're old. It's not enough for many."
"But there's a reward for our capture."
"Yes," Affron agreed. "That does complicate matters."
Back in the apartment, people was hot and worried. Flies buzzed over the toilet; everyone and everything stank. Affron placed the sack of money we had stolen onto the table and then went back to bed.
Everyone looked at me for an explanation.
"How did you get the money?" Carmody asked me.
I shook my head. "Affron doesn't want me to say."
"He used his magic, I suppose," Valleia said.
"What magic?" Carmody asked.
Valleia shrugged. "It is said that he knows some kind of magic. What it is I cannot say."
Carmody looked at me to explain the magic, but I just shrugged too.
He looked annoyed. And Palta looked annoyed because Affron had taken me and not her. We were all annoyed. We had to get out of this place. It was too hot, too small; and, if Affron was right, one of our neighbors would turn us in to the priests eventually.
"When can we find a bigger place to live?" I asked.
"William and I will find a place tomorrow," Valleia said. "Right now, you two go out and buy us food."
Palta and I left the apartment with a few of the stolen coins. She was quiet at first, and I thought she was mad at me. But then she perked up. She quizzed me about what had happened with Affron, and I told her some stuff that I hadn't told Carmody.
And then she said, "I know his magic."
"Really?"
She nodded. "It is how he saved my life."
"Here? Or on Gaia?"
"Gaia. One night I was on street I should not be on. My tribe had sent me out for food, and this was fastest way back. They were not bad people usually, but sometimes they beat me when I'm too slow. But still—I was stupid girl to go down that street. I saw them too late—big men, long beards, faces painted every kind of color. I know that kind of men—they are evil. I ran—I am fast runner—but I tripped, and they grabbed me. They took my food, of course. I said: 'You have my food. Now let me go.' But they were not going to let me go. You know how it is."
I supposed I did. "What happened?"
Palta folded her arms up tight. Her gray eyes were moist. "One of them had gant, I saw. So I say to him: 'Just take food and shoot me, please, but leave me alone.' Much better to be pile of ashes, right? But they all just laughed. 'Don't worry, we'll shoot you later,' one of them said. And they laughed some more."
"And then what?"
Palta smiled. "Then someone says, 'Excuse me, I think I'm lost.'"
"Affron?"
She nodded. "Men turn. I was still on ground, but I see him standing there. He nods to me, like he knows all about me, like this is no trouble at all. One man tells him to go away. He shrugs and doesn't move. Man raises gant. He still doesn't move. And then man screams and is on ground next to me, sobbing. I grab gant and start shooting. One, two, three of them disappear into ashes. Then Affron says to me, 'Enough,' and I stop. Rest of them run away. I turn and kneel before Affron. He tells me to get up. Then he says: 'Stay, or come with me?' He explains a little about where he is going, but I don't understand. I don't care. I say: 'I want to come with you.' As we leave, that first man was still lying there in street, sobbing. Affron did it to him just by looking. By being Affron. That is his magic."
"He brought you back here to Terra, in Via?" I asked.
"Yes. Terra was much better than Gaia. Much, much better. Until they took Affron away, and that pig Hypatius made me his slave."
She fell silent. I thought about her story. "When Affron did that," I said, "when he made that man fall down sobbing—did you feel anything?"
"What do you mean? I was happy, of course. Relieved. Who wouldn't be?"
"No, I mean—did you feel what Affron did, what made the man fall down and start sobbing?"
Palta shook her head. "Of course not. Affron was doing his magic on that man, not on me."
"Okay. I understand." But I didn't, not really. Affron's magic. Why had I felt it—suffered from it—and not Palta?
"He did that to someone here today, yes?" Palta asked. "To get money."
Affron had told me not to say anything, but he hadn't mentioned that Palta already knew about his magic. "He did something like that," I said.
She nodded. "They say gods have visited him."
"Maybe. I don't think his magic makes him happy."
"We must help him be happy."
We bought bread and cheese and dates and olives and brought them back to the insula. Palta tried to teach me some Latin on the way—what the shop signs meant, how to say simple things like "Good morning" and "How are you?". Learning the language seemed to come easily to her. It was harder for me, but I thought I could get the hang of it. It was weird that her version of English didn't seem to have the words "a" or "the"—just like Latin.
People hanging around outside the insula stared at us as we walked past them. A fat woman said something to us, and Palta gave her a brief reply.
"She wanted to know where we come from," Palta said. "I just told her: not from here."
Affron didn't get up for dinner. We ate
in silence, and after the sun went down the room finally started to cool off, as it had the night before. There wasn't anything to do in the darkness, so I tried to go to sleep on the floor. I wondered if Palta would join me.
She didn't. But in the middle of the night I awoke and saw Affron sitting cross-legged once again in front of the small windows, making those strange motions in the air. I watched in silence for what seemed like an hour. Finally Affron stopped and stood up. He turned and nodded to me. "Go to sleep, Larry," he whispered.
"What were you doing?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Magic," he replied. "Except the magic isn't quite working."
And then he went back to bed.
* * *
In the morning Valleia and Carmody left to find a house. He would pretend to be a rich merchant from Britannia, the most distant part of the priests' empire. He was in Roma with his wife to see the Games, and needed a suitable place to stay while he was here. Valleia would be his Roman-born wife; she would do most of the talking. With the money Affron had stolen, they would be able to rent an entire house in a fancy castellum.
In the meantime, Affron sent Palta and me out to buy the day's food. Without refrigeration, you couldn't have more than one day's food at a time, especially in the summer, so people were always shopping for it.
As before, Palta wanted to explore, not just do our task and return to the insula. I was beginning to understand a bit about Roma at this point, even though I had a hard time keeping the geography straight. It seemed like there was an endless series of neighborhoods—castella—some poor and run-down, like the one where we were living, others much nicer. The nicer ones were up in the hills, where the air was cooler. All of the castella seemed to have shops surrounding a central forum with a large fountain in the middle. In the poorer castella you'd see women washing clothes at the fountain and naked kids playing in it; beggars and drunks were everywhere. In the nicer ones there'd be outdoor cafes, like the one Affron had brought me to, and beggars were nowhere to be seen.
We were mostly silent as we explored, but suddenly Palta grabbed my arm and whispered, "Priests." She gestured with her head to two blue-robed men strolling through the plaza, maybe twenty yards away from us. I didn't recognize them, but Palta evidently did, because she turned around and quickly led me down a dusty side street.
TERRA (The Portal Series, Book 2) Page 8