by David Drake
"Did you see the three men with Sempronius Tardus?" Varus said without preamble. "Where did they go, did you notice? Because they weren't in the audience after I came back. Or Tardus either, but we know who he is."
Came back from where? Corylus thought, but the whole line of questioning had surprised him. Not for the first time, of course. Varus' rank as the son of Gaius Alphenus Saxa gave him access to every library in Carce; he read voraciously and apparently never forgot a word of the contents.
But Varus tended to forget that other people didn't have the same wide background as he did-and that they hadn't been listening to his thoughts to give them a context for whatever he said. Talking with him was often like having fragments of messages fall from the sky to your feet.
"I saw the attendants," Corylus said simply. He would get the context by listening carefully to his friend, and it seemed to him that answering the questions was as easy and far more useful than chattering a series of silly questions of his own. "I thought one of them might be a Moor, but I've never seen anybody like the other two. I didn't notice where they went after the performance. I was concerned with getting through the crowd to find you."
Varus made a moue. "It can't be helped," he said. "And anyway, questioning them might not bring us any closer to an answer."
"I don't even know what the question is," said Corylus, smiling but nonetheless bluntly truthful. "What did you notice about Tardus' servants that caused you to ask?"
Pandareus raised an eyebrow over Varus' shoulder. Corylus caught the gesture and beckoned him. Pandareus might know no more than his students did-which in Corylus' case at least was nothing at all-but his age and authority made everything nearby seem more stable
"That I could see them at all," Varus said. "When I looked into the audience when the vision was at its height, I… it was as if I were on a mountain, looking over the tops of the clouds. Except for those three men, whom I'd noticed with Tardus. But I didn't see Tardus or any of the other senators."
He looked at their teacher. "Master Pandareus, did you see them?" he asked.
"I noticed them with Commissioner Tardus," Pandareus said, using the senator's title as a member of the Commission for the Sacred Rites. "I wondered what tribe they might be from."
He made a deprecating smile. "I was planning to ask my friend Priscus-"
Marcus Atilius Priscus, also a member of the commission, and according to Pandareus, the most learned man in Carce. Priscus in turn assigned that honor to Pandareus.
"-to introduce me to Tardus so that I could learn more. Ethnicities are something of a hobby with me."
He turned his palms up, as if to show that they were empty. He went on, "I didn't see them during the, well, vision is as good a word as any. I might have missed them, however, because I was so engrossed in the vision itself."
"Master?" Varus said, licking his dry lips. "Could the city we were seeing be Atlantis?"
"I suppose it could…," Pandareus said, pursing his lips. "If Atlantis existed, that is. Do you have reason to believe that it does exist, Lord Varus?"
"I was told it did in a dream," said Varus with a lopsided smile. "At any rate, I'm going to call it a dream for want of a better word. I was told that Typhon was destroying Atlantis."
"Ah!" said Pandareus. "What we saw fits the descriptions of Typhon in Hesiod and Apollodorus quite well. Rather better than the city matches the Poseidonis of Plato, in fact. Though I always believed that both were mythical."
Pandareus smiled like a cheerful parrot. "I would rather Atlantis would be real than Typhon, from what we are told," he said. "But I suppose our wishes in the matter aren't controlling."
Corylus coughed apologetically. "Master?" he said. "Speaking of dreams-you were visited by the sage Menre in the past. Have you dreamed of him again?"
"I'm not sure that I ever dreamed of Menre," Pandareus said, smiling faintly to take the sting out of his correction. "I believe I saw a man named Menre, yes; and he claimed to be an Alexandrian scholar who helped Demetrius of Phalerum create the Museum three hundred years ago… which certainly implies that I was dreaming."
He turned his palms up again, then closed them. "But this is a quibble, I know," he said. "The answer that matters is that I have not received further advice from Menre, in dreams or otherwise."
Varus hunched in on himself, looking as lost and miserable as a kitten caught in a thunderstorm. Corylus hesitated, then put his arm around his friend's shoulders. Let people think what they bloody care to!
"Master…," Varus said. He started in a mumble with his face downcast. Remembering that he was speaking to his teacher, he caught hold of himself and straightened; Corylus stepped back.
Varus resumed in a firm voice, "Master, I believe Carce and the world are in danger. You can put that to my dream also, if you like."
"I share your belief in coming danger," Pandareus said in a dry tone, "I believe the vision everyone in this theater will cause the Senate to call for examination of the Sibylline Books. At least it will if anyone beyond the three of us recognized what was happening."
"I'm pretty sure Meoetes and the stage company have figured that out," said Varus. He had recovered enough to smile wryly. "Though what actors and stagehands say won't carry much weight with the Senate."
"And I don't see much reason to convince anyone that it should," Corylus said. "Consulting the Sibylline Books in a crisis is a custom with the weight of six hundred years of tradition behind it, but I don't believe that it's a practical answer to the thing that threatens us. Whatever that thing is."
"Yes," said Varus. "That's what I thought too."
Taking a deep breath, he looked from Corylus to Pandareus and went on, "Which is why I hoped that your mentor-Menre that is-would have suggested a path for us to follow. Otherwise we have nothing."
Corylus exchanged glances with their teacher. Then he said, "In the past, Gaius, you provided the direction for us by quoting the Sibylline Books."
Varus had never seen the books, nor would he be allowed to unless he were elected to the Commission for the Sacred Rites. He probably would be so elected; but not for perhaps forty years, when he had become a senior senator rather than merely a youth of learning. Nonetheless, responses from the Books had come from his mouth; though not from his conscious mind, he had said.
"I was told that if Atlantis was destroyed, then all the world was doomed unless Zeus again slew Typhon," Varus said, shaking his head slowly. "And it was strongly implied that Zeus didn't exist. I don't see that this is very helpful."
"Well, I'm pleased to have my skepticism about the Olympian gods to be confirmed by such a respectable source as the Sibylline Books," Pandareus said. His humor was so dry that even if Varus' superstitious father overheard, he wouldn't be shocked by the sacrilege. "Perhaps more will be offered to you later. As for me-"
Candidus brushed Pandareus as he bustled into the Tribunal, looking self-satisfied and important. He went immediately to Saxa.
Resuming with a faint smile, Pandareus said, "I will put my head together with my friend Priscus. We will peruse his remarkable library to see what we can find relating to Atlantis and to Typhon."
"Master Pandareus?" said Saxa, joining them to Corylus' amazement. From the expressions of Varus and Pandareus-the Greek lost all expression as he turned to face the senator-it was an equal surprise to his companions.
"I've just invited my colleague Marcus Priscus to dinner tomorrow night," Saxa said. "I'm hoping you will be able to join us. I cannot imagine a more worthy addition to a learned dinner than you, Master."
Amazingly-given the difference in their ranks-Saxa bowed to Pandareus. The teacher bowed in return, careful to dip lower than the senator had. "I would he honored, my lord," he said.
Corylus felt a twinge of pity for Varus' father. For all his wealth and position, Saxa really wanted to be known as a wise man. It was his misfortune to be intelligent enough to realize that he wasn't wise.
Hedia left Alphena stan
ding by herself and touched her husband's shoulder. When he turned, she whispered in his ear.
"Ah, yes!" said Saxa. "Varus, would you care to invite your friend Master Corylus to join us as well? He has a reputation for learning, and I believe he's already acquainted with Marcus Priscus."
Corylus' expression hardened. Before Varus could react, he said, "My lord, much as I would like to join you and your distinguished guests, I have a previous engagement. I regret that I must therefore refuse your generosity."
Corylus would be eating in his own apartment, as usual. That suited him; and it did not suit him to be a rich man's toady. Even less did he wish to dance attendance on the rich man's wife…
"What?" said Saxa in obvious puzzlement. No one in his social circle expected lesser men to turn down a free meal prepared by his excellent chef. "What? Ah, of course, of course. Well, another time."
He started down the stairs, beaming again with the success of his entertainment. That applause, Corylus realized, was what had given him the courage to invite Atilius Priscus, whose real erudition was the standard to which Saxa vainly aspired.
Hedia glanced after her husband, then gave Corylus a knowing smile as she returned to Alphena's side. Corylus watched her, then realized Alphena was glaring at him.
The light in the Tribunal wasn't good. Corylus hoped that his blush wasn't as obvious as it felt when it painted his cheeks.
***
Alphena turned away. She was suddenly angry with the whole world, starting with herself. She didn't know why she couldn't control these rushes of anger whenever she saw Corylus looking at her stepmother, and it made her furious.
Hedia's maid Syra babbled, "What a hideous monster! Meoetes should be whipped for building something so terrible! Why, if there were any expecting mothers in the audience, it'll be Juno's mercy if they don't miscarry, it was so awful!"
Alphena felt her face go white, then blaze red again. Her skin tingled as she turned to the servant.
Syra was talking to Florina, the maid who had been assigned to serve Alphena for the ten days which would end tomorrow. Alphena hadn't chosen a personal staff, so Agrippinus, the major domo, rotated servants through her suite for various periods.
Alphena suspected that serving her was regarded as a punishment posting. In the past that would have pleased her. More recently she had been reconsidering her attitude, but right now there was room for nothing but fury in her mind.
"You little snip!" she said. "What do you mean by calling him a monster? He was a man, and a very distinguished man at that! Even if he was a foreigner."
Florina hadn't been speaking; even so she closed her eyes and began to tremble. Servants were not to talk in the presence of their owners unless they were directed to. Syra was on informal terms with her mistress, but there was no one to protect Florina from whatever torture the daughter of the house chose to inflict.
Syra, however, stood as though she'd been spitted on a javelin. Yes, she knew a great deal about Hedia's life away from her husband's house, but she didn't imagine that would save her if Alphena really wanted her flayed. Alphena was, after all, a fellow aristocrat; and Syra knew that she shouldn't have been chattering.
Though Syra would wonder-everyone in the Tribunal would be wondering-why Lady Alphena was so exercised at two maids discussing the recent stage presentation. That outside view of her behavior brought Alphena down from the heights of rage that she had climbed unaware.
Alphena relaxed, stepping back mentally from a battle she was losing. She took a deep breath, let it out, and gave a dismissive wave with her left hand.
"Never mind, girls," she said. Florina was a year older than Alphena; Syra was five or six years older than that. "I'm wasting my time discussing such a thing."
"I hadn't realized it was a man in costume myself," Hedia said from beside Alphena. "To tell the truth-"
She glanced at the maids. They hopped backward to the railing, getting as far as they could from their mistresses. Syra still looked white and tears were running down Florina's cheeks.
I'd like to slap the little chit! Alphena thought. Then, as sudden as the flash of anger, she felt a rush of revulsion at her behavior. I wouldn't treat a kitten that way. Why do I do it to a woman? A girl!
"As a matter of fact…," Hedia said, now that the maids were making a point of being in a completely different world in which they could neither see nor hear their betters. She looked sidelong at Alphena. "I was afraid it wasn't stagecraft at all. I was afraid that it was a vision of things that might be real if our fates took a wrong turn."
"I don't know what it was," Alphena mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself.
"Daughter," Hedia said sharply. "Are you all right?"
Alphena came to herself. Her father was going down the stairs; preparing to return home, she supposed. She would like to go back now also, but Hedia obviously had things to say. She owed her life to her mother; and she certainly owed Hedia more courtesy than she had just showed her.
"I'm sorry, mother," Alphena said, touching the back of Hedia's wrist contritely. "I didn't think it was a stage trick either. I don't think it could have been."
She cast her mind back to the vision. "Do you recall the walls of the city?" she said. "And the ball on the top of the tallest spire? You saw them?"
"Yes, of course," said Hedia, her eyes narrowing as she searched for meaning in what her daughter was saying. "They were gold, weren't they?"
"They were orichalc," Alphena said flatly. "Not brass like the edge trimming for shields that people call orichalc, but the real thing. I…"
She broke off and glanced toward the maids. Florina closed her eyes, her face scrunching in terror. She at least probably wouldn't be able to remember her name, let alone what she might hear today in the Tribunal; and neither she nor Syra was close enough to understand anything Alphena said in a normal voice.
"I saw orichalc where I was before you found me and brought me back, mother," Alphena said, touching Hedia's wrist again, but this time not removing her fingers. That had been in a place of magic and terror, to which Hedia had come to rescue her. She saved my life. "You can't mistake orichalc if you've seen it once. Because of the fire in it."
"Ah," said Hedia, shrugging. "I thought that might be sunset on gold, but in all truth I wasn't paying much attention. I was…"
Hedia's eyes had been unfocused; or anyway, focused on something a great distance away. She turned her gaze on Alphena again. This time there she wore a guarded, uncertain-perhaps uncertain; the light was bad-expression.
"You saw the walls, dear?" Hedia said. Her smile was false, but it had a trembling innocence instead of the brittle gloss Alphena had seen her show the world in normal times. "You mentioned that you did. I suppose you saw the people on the battlements, too? The figures, I mean?"
"Yes," said Alphena. "Some of them wore orichalc armor, yes. And each of the flying ships had a helmsman in orichalc armor, too. That's what you mean?"
She suddenly felt uncomfortable. There was something wrong with Hedia, but Alphena didn't know what. Framing the question in that fashion made her realize how much she had come to count on her stepmother's ruthless calm in the past ten days.
"No!" Hedia the older woman, her anger as unexpected as Alphena's own had been some moments earlier. Hedia's expression chilled; she tapped her left cheek with her fingertips, symbolically punishing herself for a lapse of control.
"I'm sorry, dear, I'm not myself," she said. "No, I meant the… that is, did you see glass statues on the battlements? And yes, in the ships as well. But they moved."
"Yes," Alphena said carefully. "I saw them and I don't understand. But I saw the ships flying, and I didn't understand that either."
She wondered how she could avoid provoking Hedia into another outburst, when she had no idea of what she had done before. She felt a rueful humor, but it didn't reach her lips: Syra and Florina were probably wondering the same thing about me. Then she thought, I won't do that again to ser
vants.
"But you saw them and you saw them move," Hedia said. "As if they were men."
Alphena lifted her chin in agreement. "Yes," she said. "But I wasn't… I was looking at the…"
Varus was still talking earnestly with Corylus and their teacher. The two maids were trying to force their way into the stuccoed brick wall at the back of the box, and the male servants had gone down the steps with Saxa.
"I thought just for an instant saw I saw a, well, a monster that was all legs and arms," Alphena said. She didn't know why she was so embarrassed to admit that. "But then I saw he was a man, wading in the sea. I shouldn't wonder if he was a king himself, or a priest. He wasn't a monster, mother."
Hedia looked at her and quirked a smile. Suddenly the familiar personality was back, the calm sophisticate who laughed merrily and, in season, killed as coldly as a Egyptian viper.
"If you say so, dear," she said. "I suppose whether it was a man or a monster doesn't matter a great deal, given that the rest of what we saw-I saw, at least-didn't make any more sense than a monster tearing a city apart did."
Hedia pursed her lips as she considered Alphena. "Once before you came with me on a visit to Pulto's wife," she said. "Now I have other questions that a Marsian witch might be able to answer. Would you care to join me tomorrow, dear?"
"To ask about the…," Alphena said. "About what you say is a monster?"
"No," said Hedia, suddenly distant again. "To ask about the glass men."
"I'll come," Alphena said. "I'd come anyway, mother. I want to help you. However I can."
Hedia patted Alphena's shoulder and said, "I'll inform Pulto of what we intend. Up here in front of Corylus, so that he won't object."
Hedia stepped over to Syra and gave crisp directions, leaving Alphena with her thoughts.
I don't know why I care. But he's not a monster.
***
"Master?" Varus said Hedia's maid had gone down to the stage floor a moment earlier; now she was returning. "Could I-and Publius, if he wishes, of course. Could we help you and Lord Priscus in his library. We-"