Flight to Savage Empire se-4

by Jean Lorrah

  Zanos noticed the high color in Astra’s cheeks, her paleness otherwise, and attempted to soothe her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you-”

  “It’s not you,” she replied. “It’s the savages. What are we going to do?”

  “That’s up to the Emperor and the senate. In the meantime,” he added, deliberately changing the subject,

  “I want to thank you. I took your advice about the stable owners. It took a full night of arguing and coaxing, but they finally agreed-not one of us paid those Readers this month. And it’s working! So far, all the stables have been represented at the matches, their best wrestlers performing. “

  “Congratulations,” she said. “I’m glad the idea worked. There’s been no retaliation from Vortius and his friends?”

  “Not even threats. No one has seen Vortius lately. He’s not at his town house or his villa in the southlands. So far as anyone knows, he’s left the empire.”

  “But where would he go?” she asked in amazement.

  Zanos smiled at her sheltered innocence. “Surely you know both trade and smuggling go on outside the empire. I’m sure Vortius will be back-but if it takes a while, and he makes a rich haul, it may not be worth his while to try to break the united strength of the gladiators on his return.” And maybe before he tries it, 1 will be far away from here.

  “When will you be out of the infirmary?” he asked, looking around the tiny room. “I’d like to celebrate our success with a music party, and you’re the first person I’m inviting.”

  “I’ll be out in another day or so, and I’d love to come,” she said eagerly, then frowned. “But your friends would be uneasy with a Reader in their midst.”

  “Well, we won’t tell them.” He shrugged. “My servants won’t say anything. Just don’t wear your robes or give your title. Play your lute with us. Once everyone gets to know you, you being a Reader won’t matter.”

  “And if they ask where I come from? What I do?”

  “They won’t,” Zanos replied. “Not in The Maze.”

  “Very well, then, I’ll be there. ” And she smiled, that beautiful smile he’d waited so long to see again.

  Zanos left the Academy less lighthearted than when he’d entered. Surely Astra’s news about Gaeta and the savages would mean war. But he wasn’t as concerned about war with the savages as about a widespread search for spies in Tiberium.

  How ironic… I’m finally free of Vortius and his kind, only to be endangered by Adepts from the savage lands. But if I had the powers they’re reported to have…

  The next day war was officially proclaimed, although there was no mention in the public statements of Adepts having caused the earthquake that had nearly destroyed the Gaeta hospital. Zanos sidestepped the sudden fervor for the war effort and concentrated on readying his wrestlers for the next evening’s matches. He went to bed satisfied that each of his men was ready.

  Sometime after midnight, Ard awakened him to give him a note.

  Zanos read it, dressed, strapped on his sword, and almost forgot to grab up his cloak as he ran out the front door.

  Minutes later, he entered the Temple of Hesta. Serafon led him to one of the anterooms.

  Massos lay on a large table, more dead than alive. He was covered with cuts and bruises, and the gladiator didn’t have to touch him to know that many of his bones were broken.

  Zanos swore mightily as he strove to hold his anger in check. In the back of his mind rang the sound of Vortius’ mocking laughter.

  “Who did this?” he demanded finally.

  “Cutter. That was all he could tell me. He didn’t know why.”

  ” I know why,” Zanos growled. “This is Vortius’ way of telling me he’s back, and knows I’m the one who stopped his extortion. Cutter must have been waiting to see which of my men would break training. I thought that for a while at least-”

  He left the sentence unfinished, not really angry at his fighter. He had misread Massos, humiliated him in front of his teammates, and really believed he wouldn’t retaliate with an act of disobedience. He’s paying for my mistake.

  “Zanos.” Serafon’s tone was quiet but sharp. “What are you going to do?”

  “Answer Vortius’ message,” he said curtly. “For the moment-just for the moment-I’ll still leave Vortius to you. But Cutter is mine. “

  Cutter and his gang were well paid to act for those too fastidious to fight their own battles. Everyone in The Maze knew where they celebrated after one of their dirty jobs. And at this late hour-

  “Can you take care of him yourself?” Zanos asked, nodding at Massos.

  The old woman sighed. “Yes. He will be all right… eventually. “

  “Fine,” he said as he stripped off sword and scab-bard. Unlike Cutter, Zanos had to remain within the law to continue in his profession. Even in The Maze, Aventine law would not protect him if he used a weapon.

  Besides, he wouldn’t need it.

  The Crying Maiden tavern was a dimly-lit meeting place for thugs and cutpurses. On this night there were few patrons-except for the six men Zanos was looking for. They sat at a large circular table by the far wall, none with his back to the room’s center. Their rowdiness had emptied the tables all around them, Zanos noted. So much the better.

  “Massos is going to live!” he announced from the doorway, and smiled as the six stopped talking and looked in his direction. He entered with exaggerated calm, spotted the innkeeper, and tossed him a small pouch of coins.

  Behind the gladiator and to his left, two stools scraped away from a table and two men left quietly, closely followed by the innkeeper. Several other patrons kept their seats, watching and waiting.

  The six denizens of the gutter stared at Zanos with eyes full of contempt and strong wine.

  “You recognize me, ‘ he said. “That’s good. You’re not too drunk to understand. I’m going to assume that you’re smart enough not to get up when you fall down. Because if you get up, you will die. “

  Cutter, who was sitting directly across from him, let out a derisive laugh, revealing rotted and missing teeth. “Why don’t you just go home, Zanos? You’re not in the arena now. And you can’t count, eunuch.”

  The insult drew laughs from the others. Zanos hadn’t known his deception had reached this deeply into the Maze. “Oh, I can count, all right. In fact, I can do a lot of things that would surprise you…” He noticed all of them slowly dropping their hands below the table, shoulder muscles tensing.

  He braced himself. “I’m here because I got the

  message you brought me from Vortius. And now you’re going to deliver my answer back to-”

  “NOW!”

  Sure enough, the table flipped over at Zanos, wine jugs and tankards flying. He easily jumped out of the way as they staggeringly launched themselves at him.

  His jump back became a spinning kick, connecting with the attacker on the far left and breaking ribs. The man fell back, screaming, and collided with the thug beside him, taking both of them down.

  The other four moved in two directions, seeking to trap the gladiator in a circle. Zanos’ left hand snaked out and grabbed up a chair by the edge of its seat. He turned and threw it to his right with lightning speed, nearly taking off the head of that thug, leaving him unconscious.

  Now a triangle opposed him, all three in his range of vision, Cutter directly in front of him. The dark-haired leader yelled something at the one on Zanos’ right, but the ploy didn’t fool him; he looked to his left and ducked as a wine jug sailed past his ear and smashed against the wall.

  The one who had been knocked over by Broken Ribs was on his feet again, charging from between Cutter and the jug thrower. He came in low, arms spread for a tackle.

  Zanos set himself and carefully timed a knee-kick to the man’s chin. The head snapped loudly back, and it was a corpse that knocked him into a small table and sent him sprawling, the hem of his cloak wrapping around his legs.

  Seeing their chance, Cutter and the other
two leaped. Zanos unhooked the clasp of his cloak, then rolled out of the garment just as the first one was on him.

  Zanos’ legs snapped up, both feet catching the thug in his groin and using the momentum to carry him over the gladiator’s head. He crashed into the wall, slid down it, and did not get up.

  Cutter and his last henchman came at the fighter from two directions, murder in their eyes. The henchman reached him first, aiming a kick at Zanos’ head. The gladiator twisted out of the way, and the attacker lost his balance, fell backwards, and hit his head on a stone pillar.

  Zanos twisted the other way, but Cutter’s kick grazed his left temple. Ignoring the pain behind his eyes, he kept rolling until he was on his back again and could grasp the leg of a chair. He tossed it at Cutter’s knees. Wood and bone collided, and the man roared in pain as he staggered backwards.

  Zanos got to his feet. The two of them faced off across the room, neither moving for a long moment.

  Then Cutter’s right hand slapped his hip and came up with his throwing knife by the blade. One of the corner spectators yelled a warning as Cutter let the blade fly.

  But the gladiator didn’t move. The missile missed its target, and Zanos deftly plucked it from the air by its hilt.

  Cutter staggered backwards again, this time in shock, and someone muttered an oath. Cutter’s blade never missed.

  Zanos smiled nastily as he flipped the weapon into the air and caught it by the tip.

  Cutter’s eyes darted left and right, but there was no one to help him.

  He jumped to his left, grabbed up a small table as a shield-and let out a small gurgle as he fell over, the hilt of his own knife sticking out of his throat.

  Corpse and table hit the floor with a loud crash, and then the room was silent. No applause, no cheers for the champion. The only roaring was in Zanos’ ears. He fought dizziness as he bent for his cloak. The throb of bruises pushed through his mental barriers, and pain in his right knee caused him to limp as he left the tavern.

  This is insane, he thought bitterly. I’ll have to kill half the city before summer! There must be a better way of getting the money I need. We have to be out of the empire before we’re caught in the war.

  “We” now included Astra. With the savages intent on murdering Readers, she was in grave danger. And if the savages had such powers as Zanos had heard, his band of refugees would need a Reader to guide them.

  How he would persuade her, he didn’t know-but the time to approach her would be when he was finally ready to go. In the meantime, he must try to prevent her Reading his plans, such as they were.

  Suddenly he stopped walking. A new plan came to him, full-blown. He laughed at its simplicity. Astra is right. I can’t defeat my enemies alone, so I’ll get myself an ally-a very powerful ally!

  The next morning, he dressed in his most impressive clothes, went to the royal palace, and requested an audience with the Emperor. Zanos usually shunned his celebrity status, but this day he exploited it, adding all the charm and wit he could muster to work his way through the Emperor’s retainers.

  Eventually he was escorted to one of the conference chambers, and left to wait for the Emperor. The portly, middle-aged man greeted him warmly, clasping the gladiators upper arms as though the two men were comrades in arms.

  “Ah, the arena games just haven’t been the same since you retired, Zanos,” the ruler said.

  “Thank you, majesty, ‘ Zanos smiled.

  “You’ve come to make a contribution to the war effort?”

  “Yes, ” Zanos nodded. “As the war fleet’s launching date approaches, each citizen must do his part to raise funds. I’m offering as my contribution a special arena match-myself against any single opponent of your choosing-with admission receipts to be donated to the military.”

  “Excellent!” said the Emperor. “I like that! The greatest gladiator of the century coming out of retirement.

  Why, every citizen in the empire would pay to see that-except the Readers, of course,” he added with a laugh.

  Zanos hid his annoyance with a tight smile. He had no love for this soft, self-indulgent aristocrat sending thousands of people to war while he stayed safely at home.

  “But finding an opponent worthy of you,” the ruler was continuing, “someone who can truly test your mettle… I thank you for bringing me this delightful challenge. I will send out word, and when such an opponent is found, the match will be announced.”

  Zanos left the palace, inwardly smug. Now that the Emperor himself had an interest in Zanos’ affairs, the criminals would have to back off. Even better, this match would generate heavy gambling. If he wagered everything he owned on the outcome, Zanos could win enough money to make his dream a reality.

  Just a little while longer, and I’ll be going home… home!

  In the days of preparation for war, the city of Tiberium began to change. Political and social factions which ordinarily ignored or antagonized each other united against the threat of the savages. The Emperor and the senate met daily, as did the Council of Masters.

  Astra was released from the infirmary into an Academy whose daily routine was interrupted by senators and generals seeking audience with Portia at all hours.

  She picked up the threads of her duties, but with a keener interest in both state and Academy politics.

  She used her powers carefully, not deliberately spying, but attempting to separate the strange facts from the even stranger rumors. Slowly she gained a picture of a nervous senate wanting to protect Aventine citizens from further attacks by the savages-but also

  hoping that the army could regain the lands lost to the Adepts in the past few decades.

  “It could happen,” Zanos agreed when she told him her speculations. She had stolen an hour from errands Portia had assigned her, and found him willing to take a break from his strenuous training for the upcoming bout. Nothing she told him violated her Reader’s Oath-and she quickly found that the rumors in the Academies were equally current in The Maze.

  Despite the chill air, Zanos shone with sweat in the winter sunshine. He had been practicing with a wooden sword against some complex piece of machinery which, Astra noted, swung around to strike the athlete whose blow landed off the target. As she stood next to him, she became aware of the salt smell of his fresh sweat, and realized that he was wearing almost nothing-just a sort of breechclout.

  His muscles rippled, even when he merely bent to pick up a rough towel to wipe himself off after his exertion, and Astra noticed once again how huge and powerful he was. She remembered him holding the collapsing building off the children they had rescued the day they met… his strength inspired her trust somehow, as if he could protect her. But that was nonsense-no mere man’s strength meant anything against the powers of the savage Adepts.

  Zanos tossed the towel over the apparatus, and pulled a woolen tunic over his head. Not noticing Astra’s blush, he continued, “Ships are massing in the harbors. The army will probably attack the western coast, then march inland. If they move fast enough, they might take a good piece of territory before the Adepts unite against them. But when that happens, there is going to be a slaughter. “

  It’s the Adepts who will do the slaughtering,” Astra said, letting Zanos lead her away from the practice field in the direction of his home. “I’ve heard that the sorcerers can turn ships to stone. If that’s true, our troops may never reach the land!”

  “Every battle, every war has its ifs,” Zanos pointed out. “A gladiator faces them every time he steps into the arena: he might lose his life if his opponent is the stronger, or the smarter-or he might die simply because the gods frown on him that day.”

  “Yes,” said Astra, as Zanos opened the door to his house and led her into the music room. “That brings me to the real reason I’m here. Why are you going to fight in the arena again?”

  He explained that it was his contribution to the war effort, told her of the Emperor’s excitement-but she was not satisfied.

  �
�Why would you want to endanger your life again? Surely not just out of patriotism.”

  Zanos gave her a strange smile, and an old feeling came back to her-the sense that he was hiding something very important from her. A part of her wanted to violate the Reader’s Code and purposely invade his thoughts, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t do it even if she suspected him to be an enemy of the state.

  This man stirred up emotions in her that she could neither deny nor fully comprehend.

  “Vortius is back in Tiberium,” he said finally. “I plan to use the match to keep him from attacking me. I didn’t tell you I was back in training because I knew you wouldn’t come anywhere near the arena unless you had to-like the day we met. I knew you’d hear about it anyway.”

  “I may not come to watch you fight,” Astra said quietly, “but I care what happens to you-as a friend. Is this why you never held your music party?”

  “I’ve spent all my time getting back in training. My opponent has been chosen and is being brought to Tiberium. The Emperor will set the date for the contest in the next few days. It will probably be just before the first day of spring. So I’ve had no time for music. Besides, you know what a terrible player I am.”

  “I know no such thing,” Astra said as she got up to retrieve the two musical instruments from the corner.

  Zanos was still protesting as she handed him his flute, then sat down again to tune her instrument. With a smile, she challenged him with an intriguing tune that she made up on the spot. Zanos raised his instrument and chased musically after her, harmonizing as Astra repeated the main theme.

  The joy she experienced that day was deepened in the following weeks. Any evening Astra had free from her duties, she knew she would find Zanos at home-his strict physical regimen meant no carousing, and an early bedtime.

  So they shared private music parties, giving her brief respite from the increased apprehension in the Reader system. The split in the Council of Masters seemed to be getting worse. More students, Magisters, and Masters were sent to walk the Path of the Dark Moon. Astra held her tongue, tried to hold her wild powers in check, and kept out of Portia’s way except when sent for. She didn’t have to work at avoiding Tressa; the other young Magister stayed well out of Astra’s environment.