by S. D. Stuart
She could not believe what she was seeing. “Who are you?”
“My name is Nero and I am at your service,” he bowed slightly. “I must say how honored I am to have such a distinguished, and important, guest staying in my casino tonight.”
Dorothy regarded the hand that still held her down. “More like a prisoner.”
“Don’t be silly. Prisoners don’t get a private chambermaid.”
“Do you think she could let me go?”
Nero thought for a moment. “Alice, you may let our guest up now.”
Alice released Dorothy and stepped back.
Dorothy tossed the covers aside and sat up, wincing at the stomach muscles that screamed in agony with each motion.
She looked at Nero. “What have you done with Scarecrow and the Woodsman?”
“Oh how cute. You’ve given them names. The two automatons that accompanied you into my city have been entered into tonight’s games. I must thank you. Attendance had started to wane. People were getting bored watching the same old bots beat each other up week after week. But with your two new contenders entering the mix …” He waggled a finger at her. “Tonight is going to be a packed house. I just know it.”
“I didn’t authorize you to enter my automatons into any games.”
“I do not need authorization. If there is an automaton in my city, I take it. I only offer the reward so that people think they have a choice. They usually take the reward. Considering the alternative.”
“What is the alternative?”
“Why bore you with local politics? You should get ready. Lunch is in half an hour.”
“Return my automatons or …”
“Or you’ll what?”
“I am the East Marshal …”
He cut her off with a raised voice. “And that means nothing here.” He looked ready to continue his tirade, but then his demeanor shifted and his face softened. “One of the best ways to get people to do what you want, without question, is to give them a choice. You can either choose to be my guest or you can choose to be my prisoner. However, remember what I said, prisoners don’t get the nice little chambermaid.”
She stared at him silently, her fists clenched.
After allowing for a dramatic pause to let his point sink in, Nero smiled. “Excellent choice.”
He headed out of the room. “Be sure our guest is dressed in something befitting someone of her station.”
Alice spread her pale blue frilly skirt as she curtsied. “Yes, my lord.”
The doors closed behind him and Dorothy was alone with Alice and, despite knowing otherwise, Dorothy still thought she looked completely human. Where did Nero get the technology to build an automaton that could pass for being human?
Alice smiled at her. “Your bath is ready, milady.”
Dorothy grimaced from the pain in her side as she stood up. She walked slowly over to Alice. “May I touch your skin?”
Without any hint of concern, Alice lifted an arm up for her to touch. “If you wish.”
Dorothy extended a finger and touched her arm. She jerked her hand back quickly in surprise at how soft and warm the skin felt.
Alice looked concerned. “Am I too hot? I can regulate my temperature to something cooler to make you more comfortable.”
She shook her head. “No. I wasn’t expecting you to feel so …”
“Human?”
She smiled at the little girl. “I don’t mean to be rude. My father worked with lots of automatons when I was a little girl before they were outlawed. I don’t remember ever seeing anything as advanced as you. Who built you?”
Alice turned away. “Your bath is getting cool and you are expected to be on time.”
Nero strode into the large cavern carved out of the unforgiving earth beneath the coliseum. Repair bays lined both sides of the quarter mile long hallway. He surveyed the men in coveralls working on various gladiator automatons. He spotted the one he was looking for and walked over to stand next to him.
Nero regarded the latest two additions to his gladiator games. “Are the modifications complete?”
The elderly man, dressed in coveralls, wiped grease from his hands on a towel that looked dirtier than his hands. “The big one was no problem, but this new one,” he motioned to Scarecrow with the dirty rag. “Never seen anything like it. It was hard to make heads or tails of the mechanics inside. And near as I can tell he was a clean slate upstairs.”
Nero looked Scarecrow up and down. “Will he be ready to fight tonight?”
“Aye. I was able to make the modification, but I had to do a little tweaking with the design and gave him some rudimentary programming. At this point, I can guarantee you, he will lose any fight you put him in.”
Nero patted the elderly man on the shoulder, causing dust to lift from his coveralls. “Always open with a comedy act. It warms up the crowd.”
Together, they regarded Scarecrow. His long overcoat and top hat were gone. Instead, he wore steel studded leather armor emblazoned with the Classical Greek letters “aywv”.
The dark brown leather suit looked more impressive than it was. It provided no protection against the weapons used in the games. Its primary purpose was to provide a theatrical atmosphere for the games.
Scarecrow looked at Nero with a tilt of his head. “I take it by the word ‘contest’ spelled out in Greek on my outfit, I am to be entered in some form of competition?”
Nero laughed. “You are correct. Everyone who enters the games carries the Agon coliseum logo. You are the opening attraction tonight.” He furrowed his brow. “I was informed that you haven’t been programmed yet. How did you know the letters on your uniform were Greek and what they meant?”
“I contain a complete compendium of human history in my memory.”
“Really? How strange, and somewhat useless. If you survive tonight, remind me to wipe all that nonsense from your brain to make room for some combat protocols.”
“I do not belong to you.”
“As far as you are concerned, I am your god and I will do with you as I please.”
Nero picked up a tiny box with a single switch on it. He pressed the switch and Scarecrow immediately shut down. He moved in close and stared into the dark eyes of the disabled automaton.
He stepped back and smiled again at the silent Scarecrow. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I expect you to give my audience a show they will never forget.”
While Dorothy had been bathing, her clothes were washed and laid out neatly on the bed. It had taken some convincing to get Alice to wash her Marshal uniform rather than make her put on the frilly dress she had originally laid out for her. In the end, Dorothy won her tiny victory and dressed quickly back into the leather corset and boots.
Dorothy followed Alice down the hallway. They passed ornately carved statues and oil paintings from the various art masters. She recognized some of the more famous paintings but could not remember the artists’ names. She should have paid more attention during her school field trips to the museums. She wondered if any of these paintings hanging before her were originals and the fakes were in the museums outside of the Outcast Zone. This would be the last place anyone would look for stolen artwork.
Alice paused before a set of massive mahogany doors, inlaid with pearl, and looked at the man who stood guard. His face and arms were covered in a golden fur.
She remembered the young boy she had saved a couple years back and wondered if this was him. He refused to look at her and instead focused his attention on Alice.
Alice smiled at him. She still looked and behaved completely human. Dorothy shivered a little. This place was as far removed from reality as she had ever been. A young girl in a frilly dress named Alice was leading her through a veritable wonderland. The irony had not escaped her.
However, when the little girl spoke, she spoke with the wisdom of the ages. “Good day, Caleb. Mr. Nero has requested the Marshal join him for dinner.”
I do have a name, thought
Dorothy. She decided against saying what she thought aloud. Nobody she has met yet wanted to call her anything other than her new title.
Caleb smiled back at Alice; his sharp teeth glistened in the bright light of the hallway. “Good day to you, Miss Alice.” He turned and opened the doors with a practiced grace. They swung open silently to reveal an equally massive banquet hall. The long table had at least a hundred chairs spaced evenly on each side. Only the head of the table and the chairs next to it on the far corner had been set with plates and flatware.
Caleb motioned toward the chair at the other end of the room.
“Mr. Nero will be in shortly. Please, have a seat.” He bowed as he swung the large doors closed leaving Dorothy and Alice in the room alone.
Dorothy didn’t move slowly, but it still took nearly a minute to walk the length of the table and reach the far end.
She turned back and noted that Alice stood off to the side of the large doors. Dorothy realized she would patiently wait as long as she had to before Dorothy was to be taken back to her room. It was unnerving that someone who looked so small and frail was her guard and who was more than capable of preventing her from escaping.
“Please have a seat, Dorothy.”
She jumped and spun around to see who had snuck in behind her. Whoever this was not only knew her name but also actually used it.
She stammered as she spoke. “You … You know my name?”
Nero chuckled. “I know a lot of things about you Dorothy. But the only thing I’m interested in is your emerald necklace.”
Dorothy instinctively reached for the necklace around her neck and found it still was not there. “I lost it in the crash.”
He regarded her for a moment as he tapped a finger on his lips. “Most unfortunate. But I think you can still help me.”
“Help you with what?”
He ignored her question and instead answered her with one of his own. “Do you know how I have managed to stay in power for as long as I have?”
She started to say something, but he held a finger up to silence her. “I know what you’re going to say, and you’re wrong. I’ll let you in on a little trick of mine that I use to test those closest to me. Whenever I get that nagging feeling that someone is plotting against me, I pretend to be poisoned by my drink. I gasp and choke. Bulge my eyes out and clutch at my throat.” He pantomimed his hands at his throat and bulged his eyes as he spoke. “Surprisingly, the more dramatic I am, the more convincing it is. As I lay dying, someone always takes that opportunity to gloat at my seemingly painful demise. It never fails.”
“And what do you do with them once you’ve routed them out?”
He smiled, “They’re never heard from again. And I am still top dog.”
Dorothy looked at him. “I feel sorry for you.”
He laughed. “Sorry for me? Why?”
“Because you do not have real power. Making people afraid of you is not power.”
He grabbed her by the arm and herded her across the room.
His fingers dug deep into the muscles of her arm. “Ow! You’re hurting me.”
He shoved her toward the window and, for a moment, she thought he was going to push her out of it. He pointed down to a large fountain in the courtyard of the casino.
“The most precious thing in OZ is a clean glass of water to drink. I have an entire fountain of it, just for me to look at. That is true power.”
She stared at him, her anger boiling just below the surface. “And you abuse this power to take whatever you want and hurt whoever you want.”
He released her arm. “You misunderstand me, Dorothy. I use my powers for good. It is because of me that no one in Roma wants for food, clothing, or shelter. I give them the best life they can hope for in OZ.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Loyalty, of course.”
“I would think loyalty would be easy to buy in a place like this.”
Nero frowned. “Easy to buy, not so easy to maintain.”
“Maybe your heavy-handed techniques are not developing the proper kind of loyalty. As soon as I put on this Marshal star, Munch and his brothers gave me their undying loyalty.”
“And for how long did they promise this devotion?”
“I’m sure it would endure.”
Nero half smiled, a glimmer of surprise sparkled in his eyes. “They didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
He pointed to the star on her chest. “The protection that star gives you has an expiration date.”
“An expiration date?”
“The law states that when a Marshal gains their power by killing the previous Marshal, there is a seven-day cooling period during which the new Marshal cannot be killed. Otherwise, that entire region reverts to the control of the Wizard. Since nobody wants that, everyone abides by the law. By my calculations, you have about four days left before that shield becomes a huge target.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that whoever has you at the end of four days, gets the star.”
“Are they going to force me to give it to them?”
He smiled, but it was not a warm smile. “That’s not how we do things here.”
Chapter 13
Nero slid the chair out and helped Dorothy into her seat at the table.
“I do not mean to worry you dear. I just want you to be prepared for what’s coming if the Wizard is unable to get you out.”
She looked up at him quickly, obviously startled.
“You know I want to leave?”
“No one has ever attempted to break out of OZ without me finding out about it.”
“Are you going to stop me?”
“I’m going to help you.”
She stared up at him unsure of how to respond. Her eyes darted back and forth searching his eyes for the truth.
He smiled as warmly as he could.
“Because of my position, it cannot look like I am helping you. But you’re going to have to trust me.”
Before she could ask him the obvious questions that were most certainly burning in her head, Caleb opened the door and interrupted them. “I am sorry to disturb you, sir, but I have an urgent message for you.”
Nero looked down at Dorothy. “I’m afraid I must a step away. Please enjoy your dinner and, when you’re finished, Alice will take you back to your room.”
He winked at her. “Remember what I said.”
Caleb closed the door as soon as they were both in the hallway and looked at him with a concerned expression on his fuzzy face. “Do you think she understood?”
Nero stared at the closed door as if he could see right through it at the young girl who, literally, fell out of the sky and landed in the middle of the largest power struggle that would change the world forever.
He nodded to Caleb. “Make sure she understands.”
Caleb bowed and walked swiftly down the hall and disappeared through another door.
Nero straightened his coat and strode into a small room off the main hallway. Inside waited a young man and an old man, both dark-skinned natives of this large continent.
As soon as the young man saw Nero he bowed respectfully.
“The Queen wishes to speak with you.”
He laughed. “She’s not the queen yet. There is still much to do before that can happen.”
The young man stayed bowed. “My father will be your conduit to the Queen.”
Nero looked at the old man who was adorned with shells, bones, and feathers over his entire outfit.
“Why can’t she just send me a handwritten letter like everyone else?”
The old man knelt down on the ground and untied a small leather pouch from around his waist. He poured a tiny pile of powder out onto the floor from the pouch. He clapped his hands together loudly once over the tiny pile and it erupted into purple smoke.
The smoke wafted up and encompassed the face of the old man who began to hum deep in the cavity of his chest.
/> “He is clearing his mind and getting ready to join telepathically with his brother who is in front of the Queen right now,” said the younger man.
“I know what he’s doing,” replied Nero as he shook his head and reminded himself that he should have pushed harder to get the new electric telegraph system installed throughout OZ. It would be a lot more stable than the witchcraft the natives used.
The old man started to hum deeper and louder as he rocked from side to side. Nero remembered the first time he was told about the Australis natives’ innate telepathic ability. He immediately discounted it as some form of belief system coupled with suggestive ideas that were so generic they could be construed to mean anything. He never really took much stock in signs of mysticism, or astrology, or seers.
Nevertheless, there was something different about these natives. They have proven repeatedly to be able to communicate specific details telepathically over large distances.
The old man suddenly went quiet, his eyes snapped open. The stark whiteness of his eyes glowed in direct contrast to his nearly charcoal black skin. “The Queen has canceled her trip. The girl does not matter. Only the star and what it represents. Give it to the Princess when she boards the airship.”
“What airship?”
“The Queen is sending her fastest airship. It will be here tomorrow morning.”
Nero move closer to the old man.
“Tomorrow morning is too soon to guarantee getting the star.”
The old man looked at him, but his gaze went straight through him as if he wasn’t even there. “Do what I hired you to do Nero.”
“West Marshal, you hired me to make you Queen of OZ. And that is what I plan to do.”
“Very well then. I leave it up to you how to do it, but I want it done by tomorrow.”
The old man dropped his head and it swayed from side to side. He let out a large sigh and then sat up. He looked around as if he was unaware of what had just taken place.
Nero smiled at the natives. “Thank you very much gentlemen, if you will make your way to the restaurant I will see to it you get a good meal before leaving.”