The Dark Lord

by Thomas Harlan

  "Duchess," the Emperor said, watching Maxian with a cold expression. "Explain the situation in Egypt to my brother."

  Anastasia bit the inside of her lip, tasted blood, then smiled formally. "Caesar Maxian, our situation in Egypt is precarious. The province has only recently come into Western hands. There is friction between the civil government—still Eastern—and our army. Caesar Aurelian's attention is wholly focused on holding the Persians out, and—to be blunt—there are factions within Egypt who would welcome Persian rule in the place of Rome. Also, these Greek rebels out of the Decapolis have many friends behind Aurelian's barrier. The cities of Petra and Palmyra had—have—enormous trading concerns in Egypt, substantial investments, agents in every port and town."

  "She means," Gaius Julius said, leaning towards the prince, "once you enter Egypt, you will be noticed. The cities, the towns, are thick with Persian informants and sympathizers."

  "We will not enter the cities," Maxian said, exasperated. "The ancient ruins are avoided by living men—and the telecast will be in a ruin, not the forum of Heliopolis! Gales, please, I can be to Egypt and back in a week, two at the most. I will find the telecast and deliver it to Aurelian. Think of the advantage we'll have then!" He turned to the Duchess, face eager. "Another eye to watch the enemy! We'll be able to converse instantly... if need be, I can mate the two as I did before, letting Aurelian step back across the Mare Internum as if he were in his apartments on the Palatine!"

  Anastasia felt her face warm, her skin prickle, her heart race. The prince smiled, urging her to agree. Flustered, she closed her eyes, blocking out his limpid brown stare. "Wait," she said, raising a hand. She put the tips of her fingers to her forehead. A sense of vertigo ebbed and she felt her heart slow from a sprint to a walk.

  Breathe, a voice echoed out of the past. Center yourself, focus yourself. You are one, indivisible, infinite... The Hunter's prayer filled her mind and she felt the strange sensation fade away. She opened her eyes, studiously looking only to the Emperor. Galen raised an eyebrow.

  "Lord and God, what the prince says is true," the Duchess said, measuring her words. "His iron servant is swift and can carry him across many leagues. His powers are great and finding the telecast in Egypt—if one still exists—may be easy for him. But Egypt is vast and there are many ruins. I fear this search will take time, perhaps little, perhaps much."

  "And in that time?" Galen met her eyes, shaking his head minutely.

  "In that time, Lord and God, the Persians discover the prince is in Egypt. They may even discover we possess a flying machine."

  "So?" Maxian interjected, irritation plain in his voice. "What if they do?"

  "Then, Caesar, they will try and capture or kill you." Anastasia did not meet the prince's gaze. "But you are very strong. I doubt they will be able to succeed."

  The prince made a sharp huh! sound and looked to his brother again. "Gales?"

  "You are not going," the Emperor said, giving Maxian a quelling look. "I do not think you are ready to fight this creature again, not one on one. When that day comes, I want every advantage to be in our hand. We must know this thing's name, its strength, its motive. We will fight on ground of our choosing and we will win."

  "Madness—" Maxian stood up abruptly, though Gaius Julius made a faint-hearted effort to catch his arm. "Then send your ship—which will take weeks to reach Egypt—and have your legionaries grub in the dirt—more weeks will pass—and then, then you find the device and who can make it work? I can! And I will be here, in Rome, cooling my heels in the baths or at the races!"

  "We have weeks," Galen said, expression hardening as the prince's voice grew more strident. "We have months. Armies—Persian or Roman—do not leap leagues in a day. Aurelian will hold Egypt until the Nile rises, and then where will the Persians be? Unable to advance for months more, while they wait for the river to fall. By then we will know where the main Persian army is, and how things stand in Thrace and Constantinople. These troubles in Britain will be resolved. Our new fleet will be gathered, the Gothic Legion ready to move by sea wherever we need. You..." Galen stabbed a finger at his brother, "will have finished your fire-drakes and if the gods favor us, we will know the intention and true strength of the enemy."

  Maxian's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, fists on the tabletop. "What happens if the Persian sorcerer comes against Aurelian now, today, with full force? Will you hold me back then?"

  "I will," Galen snapped, a flush rising in his face. "Aurelian can hold Egypt!"

  "Like Constantinople held?" Maxian shouted. "You are a fool; you have no idea what powers are at play here!"

  "Enough of this," Galen said, his voice very cold. "My decision is made."

  The Emperor stared at Maxian, his face like granite, until—after a very long moment—the younger man looked away. "Securing another telecast is not critical, but it would be a boon. Duchess, send your ship and someone discreet and efficient. Maxian, you will make this talisman. I pray we find success, but this is a diversion from our real task."

  The prince stared at the floor. Anastasia could see a vein pulse in his neck.

  "Maxian?" Galen stood up, absently tugging his heavy tunic straight. "Aurelian will be fine. He is an able commander and well served by brave men."

  Maxian did not answer. Galen watched him for a moment, then turned back to Anastasia and Gaius Julius. "You know what to do. Be quick about it."

  "Yes, Lord and God," they said, bowing. The Emperor gathered up his notebooks. Maxian continued to stare at the floor, grinding one fist into the other. Galen waved the Duchess and Gaius out of the room. They left quickly, avoiding looking at the two brothers.

  In the hallway, Anastasia motioned to the Praetorians to close the heavy, bronze embossed doors. The guardsmen did so, though no sound had issued from the room.

  "Very wise," Gaius Julius said, sotto voce. He seemed pensive. "Do you need anything?"

  "For what?" Anastasia's eyebrow arched in suspicion. She drew the cloak across her chest automatically. Just being this close to the ancient made her feel queasy.

  "For this 'quiet' expedition to Egypt." He seemed very serious. "You've your own ships, I know, but if you need men, supplies, guides, money—let me know."

  "Why would you help me?" Anastasia lifted the cowl of her cloak, settling it over her hair. The high-piled, ornamented coiffure was striking, but also inconvenient and heavy.

  "I think the boy is right," Gaius said, still speaking quietly, as if they were two friends at a dinner party, sharing some confidence. Anastasia realized, with a start, the old man was worried. "The Emperor is tired, stretched thin. We need the speed these devices offer. The speed to know, the speed to react. Such a thing could be the difference between victory and defeat."

  "They may not be there anymore," the Duchess said, warming—against her better judgment—to the twinkling-eyed old man. "Thousands of years stand between Pharaoh Kha'sekhem and ourselves. Time for many misfortunes to befall such a device."

  "I know." Gaius Julius managed a half-smile, still worried. He looked back at the closed door. "But such a prize..."

  Yes, Anastasia thought, bowing politely and turning away. But not one you will ever have!

  —|—

  The Duchess frowned, stepping down from the litter, a brace of handsome young men kneeling on either side to help her descend. Her courtyard was crowded with two large, overly ornate litters, an even dozen bearers lounging in the shade of her vine-covered walls stuffing themselves with bread rolls and sausage and a clutch of Praetorian guardsmen drinking her wine. She dismissed her own litter with an irritated wave, then turned to enter the Villa of Swans.

  "Mistress!" Betia was at her side, a quiet ghost suddenly made flesh. Anastasia glared down at her maid. The little blond girl was dressed in a too-short tunic with bare feet, and her face glowed with perspiration. "The—"

  "Empress Helena is here," the Duchess said, disgusted to see the Praetorians eating a picnic lunch in her foyer—e
ating from her silver plates and cups! "With her usual circus troupe..."

  "Yes, mistress," Betia said, hiding behind the Duchess as Anastasia swept across the courtyard and into her home. "They arrived only a little while ago, with the two little princes."

  "She's in the garden, I suppose." The Duchess paused, waiting for her servants to appear in the dimly-lit hallway. They did, taking her traveling cloak, her lace stole, the veil, removing her walking shoes. Betia knelt, fitting slippers to her feet. Anastasia felt a little better. The house was cool, where the streets of Rome in midday were swelteringly hot.

  "No, mistress," Betia said. "The Empress is down in the gymnasium, watching Thyatis and Mithridates spar."

  "What? Where are the boys?" Anastasia held out her arms, so Betia and another maid could dress her in a filmy, flower-embroidered silk half-jacket. "Aren't they a little young to be watching the gladiators?"

  Betia smiled, her little oval face brightening. "They are in the garden, mistress, with the Empress' maid Koré to watch over them."

  "Hmm." The Duchess waved away a young boy with a carafe of wine and a thin-shelled porcelain cup. "There is no rest for the wicked today."

  —|—

  Helena was eating grapes, reclining in a wicker chair among the pillars at the edge of the gymnasium floor. Like Anastasia, the Empress had shed most of her heavy, formal going-out wear, leaving the dark-haired woman in a gown the color of young aspen leaves, which set off the gold circling her wrists and throat.

  "You're comfortable, I see." The Duchess lowered herself into a matching chair. Betia was already bringing another cup and more wine. It was cool and dim in the colonnade. No torches or lanterns were lit, the only illumination falling from high windows piercing the clerestory above the fighting floor. "Your men are well fed too."

  Helena replied with a lazy smile, her cheeks bulging with grapes. "Mmph!"

  "You look like a chipmunk," Anastasia said grumpily. She sipped the wine, then both eyebrows rose and she gave Betia a slit-eyed glare. "This is an excellent vintage! Are those thugs upstairs drinking the same?"

  "No, mistress," Betia said, making herself very small and kneeling beside the chair. "Most of them wanted honey mead or wheaten beer."

  "Huh. Barbarians!" Anastasia took another drink. She felt relieved to sit down.

  A harsh, deep shout drew her attention to the sand. Thyatis, stripped down to breast-band and loincloth, was attacking, lean arms and legs flashing. The giant African, Mithridates, his wounded arm free of its bandages at last, was on the defense. The redheaded woman spun hard on her heel, leg lashing out. The African blocked, huge palm slapping aside the heel arrowing for his head. Thyatis bounced back, falling into a half-crouch. Mithridates advanced, bare feet sliding in the firm sand. He lunged, punching, massive fist blurring in the air. Thyatis weaved aside, flashed a kick at his stomach. He turned, catching the blow on rippling abdominals. A deep thwap sound hung in the air. The African snatched for the extended leg. Thyatis sprang up in the air, another ringing shout belling out, her heel snapping around at his head.

  Mithridates threw himself back, rolling across the sand. Thyatis dropped lightly to the ground, landing on both feet and one hand. Her skin gleamed with sweat, but her breath was even and unhurried.

  "Well done," Anastasia called out, clapping politely. Both of the fighters turned towards her, Thyatis brushing mid-length red-gold hair from her face. "Come and sit, I have business to discuss."

  "Business?" Helena swallowed the last of the grapes and dabbed the side of her mouth with a cloth. "Should I go? Ooh... is it a secret?"

  The Duchess made a point of ignoring the Empress, smiling at Thyatis as the younger woman sat down on the step between the colonnade and the sand. "You feel strong?"

  "Yes," Thyatis said, running lean fingers over fresh scars along her stomach and side. "The arrow wound has knit clean."

  "And you?" Anastasia lifted her chin to Mithridates. The African towered over all three women, but he seemed uneasy, standing a good distance away. "How is your leg?"

  "Good," Mithridates rumbled, ducking his head. "That Gaul knew his business." He flexed his knee, muscles rippling under glossy mahogany skin. "Straight and true."

  Anastasia nodded, pleased. She felt a brief glimmer of hope. "Something has come up, daughter. I need you, and Mithridates here—if you will help—to go to Egypt. You'll leave within the week, I think."

  "Egypt?" Thyatis raised a pale gold eyebrow. She stood, shaking out her limbs. Nervous energy radiated from the young woman and she shifted her balance from foot to foot. The Duchess watched her expression change from interest to impatience to haunted memory in the space of two heartbeats. "The Caesar Aurelian is in trouble? Persian spies?" Thyatis tried to grin. She couldn't manage, settling for a grimace instead. "Someone needing to be made less... troublesome?"

  "Sit down," Anastasia said softly. "You're making me dizzy. Mithridates, come over here where you can hear. I don't want to shout. Betia..."

  The little blonde sprang up and darted off through the columns.

  "...make sure we're not disturbed!" the Duchess called after her. "Very well. Here is the matter in a nutshell—there is a device in the Imperial Library—a telecast. Mithridates, you've not seen the damnable thing, but it allows a thaumaturge to view things far away. It has other powers as well, but the point is this: another such device, perhaps even two of them, may lie hidden in Egypt. The Emperor directs me to recover these objects. To this end, I am sending you, Thyatis, to find the missing telecasts, and make sure they do not come into Imperial hands!"

  Thyatis squinted at the Duchess. Helena screwed up her nose and put down an eggshell-thin wine cup. Mithridates showed no reaction, but then he was habitually impassive.

  "Pardon?" Thyatis smoothed her short hair back in a nervous gesture. She shot a glance sideways at Helena, who was watching Anastasia with a sour expression. "The Emperor is sending us, but we're to make sure he does not get the... devices."

  "I'm more concerned," the Duchess said, "in ensuring Prince Maxian and more to the point, a certain Gaius Julius, do not get their hands on these devices. I am not going to say anything more about the issue, save I wish to avoid true danger. The Empire does not need to have any telecasts. One is trouble enough."

  "Oh." Thyatis raised an eyebrow. The young woman's attention was still focused on the Empress, who said nothing. "Are we the only hounds on the scent?"

  "For the moment." The Duchess felt weary again, leaning back in the chair. "With the god's luck, the Emperor will let me handle this myself. However, the prince Maxian is very interested in recovering the objects. He is making an amulet that will lead you to a telecast if you get close enough. I hope he will just hand the amulet over... but he may not. You may have company on your trip."

  "Who can I take?" Thyatis cracked her knuckles, canting her head at Mithridates. "We're shorthanded—I'll need more help than this colossus."

  "True." Anastasia pressed her hands to her eyes. "We've lost so many men—"

  "I want to go," Betia said in a small voice, barely audible. She was kneeling beside the Duchess' chair again, having quietly returned from her circuit of the gymnasium.

  "—lately." The Duchess pouted, thinking. "Perhaps those Gauls have not left Italy yet; they might help. I have a feeling old Vitellix can handle himself in a pinch. Or... we can recruit among the Eastern expatriates—some able men are likely to be found there. We can't trust anyone in Egypt, even the—"

  "Mistress!" Betia managed to raise her voice, though Thyatis and Mithridates were watching her with amused expressions. The Duchess frowned at her maid.

  "What is it, child?" Anastasia looked rather sour at being interrupted.

  "I wish to go," Betia said, trying to look determined. "I can help."

  "Hmm." The Duchess looked her up and down, seeing the girl's muscles were firm and lean, her wrists no longer spindly. The little German looked like she could run all day... and she is discreet. Quiet. Un
remarkable... Anastasia considered the matter, tapping long-nailed fingers on the curve of the chair. She's no older than Krista was, when I sent her after the prince. The memory brought a pang of loss to the Duchess, but she pushed the emotion aside. The world is loss, she thought. Children age, go away, die. I cannot keep her safe and I need her eyes, hands, nimble fingers. "Who would do my hair, paint my face?" she asked plaintively.

  Betia bowed in place, forehead brushing against the slick, enameled tesserae on the floor. "You've other maids, mistress. Maximia and Constantia can brush your hair, set out your clothes, clean, fetch and carry as well as I."

  "Perhaps," the Duchess thought aloud. But they are not of the Order. You are my last ephebe. "I will consider this." Anastasia beckoned to Thyatis, who rose, pearls of sweat shining on her face and arms. "Daughter, prepare for a swift departure. You will need help. If there are willing, discreet, trustworthy men you know, bring them to me."

  "Trustworthy men? In Rome?" Thyatis managed a bitter chuckle. "I will do what I can."

  "Good." Anastasia nodded, dismissing the young woman. Thyatis bowed, then jerked her head at Mithridates. Both fighters padded off through the columned hall, scooping up towels, their sandals and tunics from beside the fighting floor.

  "Well," Helena said, breaking the silence. She sounded particularly wry. "You must think me blind and dumb, to ignore treason and intrigue against the Emperor's expressed wish. My guardsmen sit at your door. They would be pleased, I think, to arrest all within this house." The Empress brushed a long, straight tendril of hair from her face. She seemed amused, but there was a steely light in her eyes. "My husband does need more coin, to fuel this war... your estates are varied and rich."

  Anastasia nodded. "This is true. Come, let's go to the garden."

  "The garden?" Helena remained sitting while the Duchess rose. "Why there?"

  "I am tired of sitting indoors," Anastasia said. She waited, Betia in her shadow, until the Empress rose as well. Helena made a face, but scooped up the basket of grapes and tucked the wine amphora under her arm. The Duchess glided out, Betia running ahead to open the doors.