by Assaph Mehr
“Your offer is most kind, Quintus Sosius, and I would be happy to take advantage of it. However I may not be able to leave for a few days, as I am still investigating leads here.”
“Excellent, excellent. I would rather have you there to evaluate the collection. This reminds me of the old days with your father, how we used to manoeuvre together and get the best of both buyers and sellers… At any rate I will have my scribe issue you with the official letters, and send them over to your house by tonight.”
When I got home there was another messenger waiting for me. Typheus was standing in the atrium, examining the faded mosaics of the pool. “My master would like to know if you have made any progress on the matter. Marcus Quinctius wishes to proceed with the funeral as quickly as possible. He was loathe to call the embalmers, for fear of rumours spreading. The body lies in state in our atrium, attired according to custom, but since no embalmers have been to it… The funeral needs to happen very soon. My master was worried about the cremation though, in case there were some… residual effects.”
“I understand his concern. Nobody likes an exploding body on the pyre. I will give you the name of someone who can assist Quinctius Corpio discreetly in this matter. He is a foreigner of course, but can be trusted. He has knowledge about tattoos of power, and if any residue remains in Caeso’s body he will defuse it. Come to think of it, I will see him later and give him directions to your master’s house. There is also an embalmer I know, one with looser connection to the official guild of embalmers than traditional Egretian ones. A man of great talent and discretion.
“As for the investigation, I have made some progress with leads which I am following, and will report back as soon as I have something concrete. Corpio must surely understand the delicacy of this issue.” A thought struck me, and I decided to try it. “The knowledge of these arts comes from afar. Here in Egretia it has been locked or burned for centuries. However I have information from a trusted source about a trove in Ephemezica that will likely contain information on the… on what Caeso was involved in. I was wondering, could Corpio arrange a passage for me on one of his ships? Unless I can find all the sources of the power used on the young master here in Egretia, I will need to go soon, both there and to Kebros where Caeso spent last autumn.”
Typheus left a short while later. I gave him directions and instructions on how to engage my acquaintances Brewyn the tattooist and Akhirabus the embalmer. In return he promised to speak with his master and give me a reply soon about passage on the rhone’s ships.
Finally I got to sleep.
Chapter VII
I woke up at dusk. Two neatly folded papyri squares were waiting for me in my study, sealed with wax impressed with Quintus Sosius’ ring. One was addressed to his agent in Ephemezica and the other to the owner of the library. Just as I was finishing Dascha’s chicken and beans, I heard her open the door and speak softly. Borax was here and it was time to go.
We made our way to The Dented Skull. The place was half empty, the daylight crowd having gone by now and the night people not yet arrived. I selected a table near a wall, with clear view of the rest of the dining hall and the passage to the back.
I waved a passing girl and asked for wine. When she got back with two cups and two pitchers, I had her pour more water than wine. “Tell me,” I asked, “where is Didia tonight?”
“Helping in the kitchen. She will come out later, when the place fills up.”
“Would you be kind enough to tell her uncle Felix is here?” I produced a bronze quadrans and held it to the girl.
She took it, nodded and left.
We sipped the wine as we waited. True to my expectation from the clientele, this was a decent vintage, spiced lightly with honey and thyme. The owner knew his customers would not settle for less.
We didn’t have to wait long. Didia passed by bearing a tray loaded with small plates of pickles and distributed them among the guests. On her way back to the kitchen she stopped at our table and laid a plate of olives down. “Couldn’t stay away?” she winked at me.
“Not from your blue eyes. Tell me though, has Zymaxis arrived yet? I was rather hoping to speak to him.”
She frowned. “He’s bad, that one, thoroughly bad. But that is your business. No, he is not here. He usually arrives later, though they seclude themselves downstairs well before midnight, when their chanting begins.” She shuddered.
I took out a sestertius and left it on the table. “Please point him out to me, when he comes.”
She took the coin, hoisted her tray and left without another word. Borax and I remained at our table, sipping slowly and keeping an eye on the back stairway.
After a short while, when it looked like no one was coming or going to the downstairs room, I got up, stretched, scratched myself, and told Borax, “I am going to look for the latrines, will be right back.”
I went to the rear of the house. As I was walking past the kitchen, a large man wearing a dark blue tunic came out and headed towards the main room. He looked me up and down, and said “This is the private section. If you’re looking for the latrines, it’s out the front door, around the corner to the right and twenty paces down the alley.”
I had to make a quick decision. Since he appeared like he might be the proprietor I lowered my voice and said, “Actually my good man, I have heard your fine establishment holds the most excellent private parties. I was hoping to see if I can get an invitation.” I jingled the purse inside my tunic.
His face relaxed and registered interest now, but he replied, “Tonight is booked up. Private party. Come tomorrow — it’s pretty boys’ night; or three days hence we have an open banquet when I am sure we could find you something you will like.”
I put my head closer to his. “I have heard about special parties, not your usual orgies. I was told that the Nones are the nights to come.”
His face became inscrutable. “I do not know who you are. If you give me your name and stay in the main room, I will let… the organiser know that you are interested. He will either contact you or not. But you must not come here again without invitation. Now return to the tavern and wait there.”
I went back to my table, and sat down with Borax. Crassitius had given me a true professional, not your usual drunken ex-gladiator, for I saw his wine cup was still untouched. And suddenly I felt this would be handy tonight.
We sat in our corner table for what seemed like an hour. We kept sipping very slowly from the spiced wine, nibbling on olives, pickled onions and radishes. The place filled up with what I presumed were the usual clientele. A mix of respectable men on the way back from their day of labour, and cheap human entertainment starting their night’s work.
One by one I saw men going to the rear of the house, nod to the proprietor on the way, and head down the stairs. I counted seven, all men. They all seemed affluent by the cut of their tunics and hair, the youngest in his late twenties, the oldest about fifty. Occasionally I caught Didia’s eye, but she always shook her head slightly and moved on.
Sometime during our third cup of watered wine, I saw a man come in and walk straight to the back room. He was short, completely bald, tanned skin, of lithe and graceful build. In his late thirties or early forties, I estimated. He wore a dark green tunic, embroidered with gold thread in a classic pattern of squares around the edges. On his waist was a leather belt, beautifully tooled and with shining brass buckle and studs. Even before Didia gave me an urgent look, I knew this must be Zymaxis.
As the man walked to the back stairwell, the proprietor (whose name I never learnt) poked his head out and went after him. I saw them standing at the top of the stairs going down, heads together conferring in whispers. The proprietor nodded in my direction, and Zymaxis turned his gaze on me. Our eyes locked and held together for a long moment.
Without averting his gaze, Zymaxis cut off the other man with a wave of his hand and walked to my table. “I understand that you have been asking about me,” he said without introduction.
“Leave your slave here and come.” He turned around and walked to the back of the tavern. I got up and followed.
Before we went down the stairs he ducked into an empty private dining room, located close to the kitchen. He faced me and said, “We can speak a bit more openly here. Now, who are you and what have you heard about me?”
“My name is Felix, sometimes called Felix the Fox. I have heard of you from a friend of a friend of a friend. I have heard rumours of ancient rites, and found it most intriguing.”
“And why should I be interested in you?”
“I make my way in the world in the service of others, although that was not always so. I used to study in the Collegium Incantatorum, until my family’s fortune was lost and I was expelled in shame. I am still keenly interested in such matters though, and have always been drawn to the real powers that flow throughout our world. I make my living as a fox, a diviner of occult matters and items for others. However if what I heard was correct, you have a better vision of both power and future.”
He gave me a calculating look for a long moment. “Interesting. What you might be referring to sounds highly illegal to me. What is to stop me from reporting you?”
“If what I have heard is true, you will be avoiding the officials just as much as me. If what I have heard is not true, they would hardly care for either you or me. But if what I have heard is, indeed, true, then you are looking for men like me.” That last bit was a guess of course, but if he was running an underground cabal he would no doubt find my story intriguing enough to be considered.
He thought a moment further, and I could see on his face when he made his decision. “You are direct, I will give you that. And I appreciate directness. Come,” and he walked out of the room and turned down the stairs.
* * *
The room under the tavern looked quite different than it did this morning. Lamps were lit in the sconces, giving me a better view of the lurid frescoes. All the couches and tables were pushed against the walls. Two tripod tables were set aside from the others, close to doorway. One had only a simple black cloth on it. The other had some items but I could not discern what they were for they were covered with a similar black cloth. And very noticeably, in the centre of the room hung a single rose from the ceiling — the whole affair was done sub rosa, in secret. Yet my skin did not tingle and I could sense no enchantments present.
The seven men I had seen before going down were waiting here. None were sitting, all standing talking amongst themselves. The conversation stopped as soon as we stepped in, and all eyes turned on me.
“Friends,” said Zymaxis as he walked to the gathered men, “this is Felix. He has put himself forward as a candidate for our little group.”
As Zymaxis was talking, I took a better look at the other men present. The man to my left seemed like a merchant. In his mid-thirties, wearing a very fine, red coloured tunic richly embroidered with gold thread under a pristine white toga. Fashionably barbered reddish hair, soft hands. He wore a larger than usual iron citizen’s ring, showing an ornate seal.
The next man to him was taller and slimmer, standing erect. In his early forties, fit, with close cropped dark hair, greying at the temples. An inscrutable look was on his face as he studied me. I imagined him to be a military man. With his gold senator’s ring, he must have been high ranking.
To his left again, stood a man with wind weathered face and arms. Short, tanned, wiry muscles, legs slightly apart. Wearing a grey tunic of a style favoured by sailors. Clearly a seaman, though I was not sure if navy or of the merchant fleet. He projected self-assurance, and I imagined him to be a captain.
Somewhat behind Zymaxis stood a mousy little man, with thin brown hair and blue eyes. I estimated him to be in his early forties as well. I could see some scars up on his arms, though they were mostly covered by his well-tailored tunic and toga. His manner was very passive, and even though he rarely looked directly into my eyes I saw them sparkle with intelligence. He wore an iron ring and a pileus — the small conical felt cap of manumitted slaves.
The next man in the circle was the youngest, in his late twenties. A trained incantator, that much was obvious from the trappings of his belt and the wide saffron coloured stripe on the right side of his tunic. He wore his hair longer, and sported a thin jawline beard that was currently fashionable with the young rich boys of our city. His citizen’s ring was of gold, indicating he was from a family of senatorial rank. I tagged him as a recalcitrant son of a senator.
The last but one man was the only one not wearing a citizen’s ring besides Zymaxis. He was in his mid-thirties, dark of skin and fair of eyes and hair. A long, straight nose. Classic Hellican look, even without the Hellican pleated chiton he was wearing. He looked at me with open curiosity.
The last man, immediately to my right, was another incantator. He wore an iron ring and a good but slightly faded tunic, and was the oldest and the shabbiest of them all. In his early fifties, with straggling hair covering his balding pate from one side to the other, and greasy stains on his tunic. He gave me an unkind look, and my reaction to him was similar.
With varied backgrounds, all were men of middle years, successful, and — I was feeling certain — hungry for more.
“As is common with us,” Zymaxis continued, “there will be no introductions as of yet. Only should Felix be chosen for initiation will he be welcome into our circle.
“You all have been initiated, you all are dedicated to our cause. You are all exasperated at the stifling choke hold the collegia maintain over our city. This arcane ruling by the archaic collegia is preventing honest citizens from pursuing knowledge, success, power! We, men of action, men of the morrow, are looking to shed the yoke placed upon us and rise once more. Egretia is being held back from its true potential, and it is up to us to free it from its shackles and lead it to a bright future, taking its rightful place as the leader of nations — with us at its head!”
Zymaxis paused and drew a deep breath. “And as you all have pledged and proven your dedication and loyalty to our cause, so now must Felix.” He turned his gaze on me, and so did the others. “You are now required to prove both your merit and dedication. As with all other initiates, you need to complete a task to show your value. Considering your self-proclaimed expertise of being a Fox, sniffing items of enchantment, I would task you to provide our group with an object of significant value. Not mere riches, but an item of learning, of purpose. You must ascertain and procure something that is declared contraband by our collegia, an item that can be used in the pursuit of knowledge by educated people, that can further us in our cause. What such a thing shall be, I will leave to you. My only advice is that you should think carefully. It must not be a trinket or a trivial enchantment that can be bought on the black market by any common criminal, but something to impress the future directors of Egretia’s greatness.
“Once you have procured such an object you will return here and present it to us. If we accept your offering, we will ask you to swear your allegiance to our cause. You will take a sacred and binding blood-oath together with all of us. This oath cannot be broken save by death, and will mark you as one of us. From that moment on you will devote all your life, possessions and skills to our group and our cause.”
All eyes were focused on me at that moment. Zymaxis had a zealot’s glow on his face, the soldier and captain inscrutable as before. The boy and the foreigner seemed interested in my reaction, the freedman similarly but with sidelong looks. The merchant to my left and the ageing incantator to my right both had unkind looks in their eyes, not openly hostile but disapproving and unsympathetic.
“Now then,” said Zymaxis, “will you accept those terms?”
The task, while I had no definite idea at
that time what I could use to gain their trust, did not concern me much. I have been in the business of ferreting information and small items of power for long enough, and have learnt much from my father’s dealership in antiquated and enchanted paraphernalia, to know how to approach traders in illicit contraband.
The blood-oath did worry me though. These things can be binding, and who knows what else would Zymaxis add to it? I could end up completely in his thrall. Such oaths can be mutual to ensure people remain true to each other, but the more sinister of these binding charms affect the bound profoundly, with complete subjugation of their will. The other members did not seem to suffer any of those effects, though that could just mean a more subtle enchantment. Could I risk such an oath?
In the end of course, I did not have much choice. With all their eyes upon me I accepted their terms with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. Reactions were congruent with their previous dispositions, from smiling acceptance, to guarded nods, to barely masked disapproval.
“You have chosen wisely,” Zymaxis told me with a smile. “I am confident that you will complete the tasks and pass our tests. However now we must ask you to leave us. Until such time as you have been initiated into our circle you may not attend our meetings. Ah, here is our good host Titus Septimius! Right on time.”
I looked behind and saw the proprietor walk in carrying a large silver tray bearing two pitchers. Rather uncommonly both pitchers contained wine, and not wine and water. Behind him walked in Didia, carrying cups, bread, and shallow bowls of olive oil.
Septimius nodded to Zymaxis, placed the tray on the clear table, and left the room with Didia. He gave me a curious sidelong glance as he walked past me, but made no comments.
“One last thing before you leave us on your quest, Felix.” Zymaxis went to the two tables at the side of the group. He uncovered the objects hidden so far by the black clothes. I saw three little lidded jars, like the pyxidae women use to store their cosmetics. He opened one of them and took out a pinch of what looked like ground herbs, which he dropped into one of the cups. He poured wine on top of the herbs, and some into another cup. He picked up both cups and gently sloshed the spiced wine as he walked back towards me. “This is not yet time for your blood-oath of course, but you would understand that we must still carry our meetings in secret while the oppressive collegia remain in control. I am certain that you will prove yourself dedicated to our cause, however as a simple precaution I would ask you to drink from this cup before you leave us.”