Arts of Dark and Light: Book 01 - A Throne of Bones

by Vox Day

  “It’s strange to speak with someone who knows such legends personally. I always believed they were more or less myths, until I met you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know them.” She shook her head regretfully. “I’ve never even met Bessarias, although I’ve seen him occasionally from the sky. He left the Collegium long ago, before I was born. I do know Amitlya, she substituted for one of my teachers once for a few weeks. She’s very kind and was much more patient than our teacher ever was. You had only to speak to her to realize that her mind exists on an entirely different plane than ours.”

  “Probably thinking about sex, I imagine. If I was a virgin for six hundred years, it’s all I would ever think about.”

  She stared at him, absolutely dumbfounded for a moment, then burst into a high, elven peal of laughter. It was always vaguely unnerving to him. Her laughter never sounded entirely sane by human standards, and she had been through a rather difficult time before they’d met. “You haven’t been a virgin for years, and it’s all you think about now! We just futtered, and I have no doubt you’re thinking about it again already!”

  “In my defense, my lady, you stand before me in your naked elven splendor while I have spent the last two weeks sharing my tent with a pair of church knights in your stead. I am a man deprived of love, and as the poets say, who can live without love? Even if Sieur Osmont and Sieur Gautier weren’t sworn to chastity, they are shockingly hairy, and I fear their perfume is nowhere nearly so delightful as your own, my lady. But we are fortunate that we reached here no later than we did. Another week, and I fear I’d have been contemplating assassinating the archbishops. No one even notices if the head of a royal embassy happens to have a woman in his tents. Or six, for that matter. But bring churchmen along, and I must go without.”

  “So the return trip should be more pleasant. What a pity we still have leagues to go on this one.”

  “It will go faster now. The road to the south is Amorran, and while they may have a primitive outlook on magic, there is something to be said in favor of their attitude toward transportation. They build good roads.”

  “Oh, yes,” she nodded, uninterested. “I don’t understand what any of this has to do with hate.”

  He sighed. For all their brilliance and beauty, the elven ability to follow straight lines was limited. “I was just saying that, even though the king took my title from me and made me a slave, I don’t hate him. It took a long time, but I truly don’t. I’ve traveled far enough, I’ve seen enough, to know there are worse kings than Louis-Charles de Mirid. And his son is a good man, maybe even a great one. If I still hated them for what was done to me as a child, I would be blind to that.”

  She stared at him then shrugged. “If you say so. I will still kill them if I see them. I just don’t care enough to have you hunt them down. I’d rather you stay with me.”

  He smiled and stroked her cheek. “You’re very sweet, in a remarkably savage manner.”

  “We built our cities when men were still living like goblins,” she said. But she was smiling. “What will you do when we reach Amorr?”

  “For now, what the king has commanded. We won’t return north until the spring. If there is to be a campaign against the wolf-people then, Charles-Phillipe will lead it, and he’ll want me with him. It may be years before I even have to think about it again. Or it may be never. Only God knows what tomorrow will bring.”

  His sealed orders made it clear that there was something brewing in Amorr, and his primary mission was to learn what it was before it happened. Bonpensier was no spymaster, but one didn’t reach the position of archbishop to the realm without understanding the importance of information, and his contacts in the Church reached much further than either of the networks belonging to the grandmagicien or the chancelier.

  “How about you?” he asked her. “What will you do? If you don’t wish to stay the winter there, I’ll arrange to have you brought safely to Merithaim. Or I’ll take you there myself once the archbishops are safely crowned or whatever it is they do to them to make them celestines. They aren’t familiar with elves there, and it won’t be safe for you to go out without a guard.”

  “Are you in such a hurry to be rid of me now?” She smiled and waved away his protests. “No, I have no wish to return to my people now. Even though I will be forgiven for the theft of my magic, I will be scorned by some and pitied by the rest. They simply won’t want to be reminded that even a great magistress like Amitlya can be robbed of her mighty powers by an unwashed man-rat.”

  He held his tongue. He still didn’t understand the bond between elven virginity and magic, and he suspected it was little more than a tradition akin to L’Academie’s preference for keeping talented women as breeding stock instead of training them as battle mages. But she had not reacted well to his previous inquiries on the subject. And if there was one thing he’d learned about elves in the past year, it was that they made absolutely no distinction between their iron-bound traditions and the dictates of nature.

  She turned around again, her expression half-hidden in the shadows. “What is a year or even a decade in the life of an elf? As you say, only the gods know what the morrow brings, but there are no gods. If we are fortunate, then tomorrow will be the same as today. I thought my life ended with my magic in that whorehouse, but you showed me there were still pleasures to be found in it. Perhaps there are even things worth living for.”

  “Yours is a cheerful philosophy, my lady Everbright. How well-named you are!”

  “Even where there is no hope, there is always pleasure. We are an old and decadent people, isn’t that what your people say?”

  “I’ve heard the thought before. What is it that you find so intringuing about our young and innocent race?”

  She loomed over him, as thin as a young girl but taller than most women grown, her hair falling over her shoulders in a ghostly cascade that shined through the shadows. Then she smiled wickedly and pushed him over backward.

  “You speak well of the slenderness of elves, Magicien. But since we met, I’ve come to understand that being slender is not always a virtue.”

  CORVUS

  A rush of mixed emotions filled Corvus’s mind as he walked up the familiar streets leading to his domus. There was excitement and anticipation, of course. It had been months since he’d laid eyes on Romilia, and he was almost trembling, so eager was he to see her again. But there was nervousness too. She had probably heard about Fortex’s death by now, but did she know of his responsibility for it? He didn’t relish the thought of trying to explain it to her.

  After facing his brother just this morning, he wasn’t sure if he was up to a long interrogation session or spending the evening attempting to explain the harsh realities of legionary justice to a woman so tender-hearted that she would force the cats to release the rats they caught.

  He’d been glad for the company of his fascitors earlier today, but they were beginning to feel more like his jailers than an honor guard. At the baths, he’d practically had to order them to wait in the apodyterium. He had the impression that Caius Vecellius and the rest of the squad would have blithely followed him into the caldarium, still wearing their full armor, had he not instructed them otherwise.

  Now they were leading him home, and he found himself wondering if they would actually follow him into his bedchamber if he did not tell them otherwise. Then it belatedly occurred to him that perhaps they were waiting for him to release them from their duty. He slowed a little so that he could address Vecellius without the others overhearing.

  “Forgive me, Captain, but as you know, I am unfamiliar with my new status. Would you mind telling me the extent of your duties?”

  “Why, to accompany you, my lord consul. We are to ensure that the Sacred Republic’s dignity is respected and its safety is secured at all times.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. But I’m afraid the nature of my question is a little more specific. What I mean to say is, don’t you ever go off duty? Am I expected to feed t
he eight of you and put you up for the night?”

  Corvus couldn’t be certain, but for a moment, it appeared that the faintest of smiles might have briefly threatened the dignity of Amorr. “Yes, my lord, we do go off duty on occasion. Tonight, we will do so once we deliver you to your home. Two of our fellows will stand guard outside your door. I sent a message to the commander when you were at the baths, so they should be in their position already.”

  “Ah, good. It’s not that I should mind giving you all dinner, you understand, it’s just that I haven’t been home since the legion marched in Aprilus. For all I know, my wife has run off with a young lad from the theatre and the domus is empty.”

  “In which case, we shall retrieve her for you, my lord.” Corvus couldn’t tell if Vecellius was joking or not. His face was about as expressive as a marble statue. “If that is the consul’s desire.”

  The neighborhood in which he lived was much less fashionable than his brother’s. The houses were perhaps one-third the size, and they were built right next to each other. But it was a livelier place. Children were playing in the streets, and more than once a dog ran up to confront the two lines of armored men, barking madly before making a hasty retreat as the fascitors marched toward them without slowing. Corvus saw an old married couple walking slowly down the street in the opposite direction. He recognized Quintus Sabenus and his wife, who lived a few houses down from him. Risking the dignity of the Republic, he waved to them, and they waved back in a friendly manner without appearing to notice anything odd about the men accompanying him.

  The two fascitors Vecellius had mentioned were indeed already standing outside the little wooden gate that marked the limits of his humble property. They looked slightly absurd in their full armor, towering over the two waist-high brick columns upon which the gate rested. But they drew themselves erect and saluted as he approached, every bit as crisply as he had ever seen their fellow fascitors do at the Forum or a Senate session.

  “Thank you, Captain.” Corvus nodded to Vecellius. “I trust these gentlemen will be able to defend me in case one of those dogs we passed earlier realizes that I am no longer being guarded by your full complement and takes the opportunity to attack?”

  “They will, my lord consul. And now that I am off duty, my lord, may I offer my congratulations on your victory over the goblin tribes?”

  “Why, thank you, Captain. You may, indeed.” Corvus was surprised: For the first time that day, Vecellius actually resembled a human being more than an animated statue.

  “My brother was a farmer up north,” Vecellius said. “Bloody breeds killed him and his family four summers ago. I don’t know if you recall, but that was when the raids got really bad. It’s good to see someone has finally given them some of their own back.”

  Corvus nodded. “My condolences, Caius Vecellius. Perhaps it will ease your heart to know that every farmer who died in the raids was avenged ten times over. I’m afraid it won’t do your brother or his family any good, but there won’t be any goblin tribes raiding across the border for many years to come.”

  “That’s good to hear indeed, my lord. I only wish I could have been there with you. Adete, consul.”

  “Adete, Captain.”

  Corvus was surprised to see no one in the house had seen him approach or had heard the squad of fascitors marching up the street. The foyer was empty, and there was no sign that there was anyone in the domus at all. A flash of irritation crossed his mind. It wasn’t as if he’d expected a civic festival to mark his return to Amorr, but he didn’t think it was unreasonable to anticipate at least a modicum of welcome in his own home after months of absence. Could it be that she had heard the news about Fortex and was angry with him? Or perhaps she really had taken a lover and left him. He didn’t think Romilia had it in her—but then, what betrayed husband ever did?

  But betrayal or no, it was simply rude to fail to receive one’s lord and master, let alone consul of the whole damned republic, in this way! He’d sent her a messenger from the Forum, so she had to have been aware of his intended return tonight.

  Then he heard something in the next room. Mastering his disgruntlement, he strode through the doorway, and his annoyance vanished in a flash.

  There, laying on the floor in front of the fire, was his dear old friend, Marsra. The sound he’d heard was the thumping of the aged dog’s tail against the floor, stirred into action by the familiar sound of his master’s step. His muzzle was almost entirely white now, and his ribs showed on his age-emaciated body. His once-golden eyes had gone rheumy and blue, but the elderly dog nevertheless struggled to rise and welcome him. Corvus could feel tears spring to his eyes as he rushed to his faithful dog’s side and embraced him.

  “Don’t rise on my account, old friend.” He kneeled down, curled his dog’s head under his chin, and inhaled the familiar scent of his short-haired fur, which had changed little in the fifteen years since Marsra had been a pup. The thump-thumping of the tail didn’t cease for a moment as Corvus rocked back and forth, holding the dog’s alarmingly thin body in his arms, delighted and surprised to discover he had survived Corvus’s latest absence. He hadn’t expected the dog to live so long. In fact, he hadn’t even expected the poor old beast to survive the previous winter, or the winter before that.

  In campaigns past, Marsra accompanied him, running easily alongside his horse even at a canter, ranging back and forth along the line as if he was one of the scouts. But age had slowed him, and for the last five years, Corvus had been forced to leave his loyal companion home with Romilia when he left with the legions.

  “How very glad I am to see you, little boy! I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.”

  “If I must come second in your affections, I am glad it is to one who loves you so very dearly.”

  Corvus smiled. He didn’t look up at his wife. He didn’t want her to see the tears that were still in his eyes. Instead, he surreptiously wiped them on the dog’s silky-soft ears as he embraced the dog one more time, then kissed him on his slender, streamlined head. “When I left this spring, I had not thought I would see him again. We said our farewells for the last time, I thought.”

  “He has missed you. For the first two months you were away, every time a horse rode past, his ears would perk up and he would make his way over to the door.”

  “Once a legionary, always a legionary.” Corvus ran his hands over the dog’s long ears one more time, then rose to his feet. “Where is everyone?”

  Romilia was wearing her hair pulled up and back in a style that reminded him a little of a tribune’s crest, and the dark kohl that lined her eyes made them look enormous and white. She was still beautiful, and in the dimming light of the setting sun, she looked barely older than the beautiful young girl she’d married. But her body was no longer slender and slyph-like. It was alluringly lush, rich with curves that pulled the white robe she was wearing deliciously tight across her breasts and hips.

  “I sent them all away,” she said, smiling mysteriously. Her lips were painted too, he realized. “I wished to reserve to myself, and myself alone, the privilege of being the first to serve Amorr’s newest consul upon his return to the city. I have heard that it is a great honor to have a consul attend one’s table.”

  “A very great honor indeed, I should imagine.” He took her in his arms and kissed her. She kissed him back and pressed her body against his for a moment. He ran his hands over her buttocks, which were still pleasingly taut, if no longer a mere handswidth across, but when he started to slip them inside her robe, she pushed him away.

  “I think not, my lord consul! Surely you must be dreadfully famished after a long day consorting with senators and knights galore! Come into the triclinium, and I will see that you are refreshed.”

  After many years in the field, Corvus knew an ambush when he found himself in one. He contented himself with one more kiss accompanied by a squeeze of her bottom that produced a noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeal, then obediently releas
ed her before following her into the triclinium.

  There, he found a table set with flowers, fruits, a pair of goblets, and a flagon of what he presumed was wine.

  She picked up the flagon, poured something red into the two goblets, then paused after she returned the flagon to the table.

  “Forgive me, my love, but I really must ask. Our son is well?”

  “Marcus is with his legion and in good health.” Corvus stretched out upon the solitary couch and sighed at the comfortable sensation. He hadn’t dined while properly reclining since Bergamum, and even there the couches had been strangely hard. “Or perhaps I should say Clericus, as the men have taken to calling him. I can’t say I’m fond of it, as agnomen go. But he seems to regard it as a compliment even if it wasn’t necessarily meant that way.”

  Romilia laughed. “He would, wouldn’t he!” She offered him the goblet. “I will ask no more. Not tonight. But you will tell me everything tomorrow, do you understand?”

  “I do indeed, beautiful lady.” He sniffed at the wine, then tipped back the goblet and took a healthy draught. “Ah! Now that is a distinct improvement on the horrors I’ve been drinking!”

  “It is good, isn’t it?” She sipped at her own goblet and licked her lips. “It’s from one of Magnus’s southern estates. Julia gave me two amphorae to celebrate your consulship.”

  “Only two? I assume these must be the dregs, then?”

  “Of course. A lonely woman gets thirsty after spending the evening being pleasured by her household slaves, one after the other after the other.”

  Corvus laughed as her eyes sparkled mischievously. “In that case, I’m surprised you managed to save me the one flagon.

  “I was saving it for all the gladiators I was expecting tonight. Or was it the dwarven ambassadors? So many come though here in your absence, it is all but impossible to keep them straight.” She leaned over him and kissed him on the mouth. Her tongue tasted of wine and honey. “Drink your wine and have some fruit. You’ll like the little oranges, they’re very sweet.”