I looked into Palta's room, though I didn't go inside. It was a tiny cubiculum next to the kitchen. One brown robe hung on a hook; a hairbrush lay on a table next to her narrow bed. And that was it.
I spent most of the day just sitting in the atrium. When we got hungry, Carmody and I ate some cheese and fruit we found in the kitchen. He went out exploring after that, but I didn't go with him. Later in the afternoon Palta returned, carrying a satchel filled with food. She stared at my new outfit, but she didn't say anything. Instead she silently went into the kitchen and set to work making dinner. Carmody came back next. "I watched the soldiers drilling," he said. "They use swords and lances. If they have special weapons, I didn't notice any."
I shrugged. "Maybe they just use them for special occasions."
He slumped down in a chair. "It's folly," he replied.
Hypatius arrived a while later. He looked upset. He nodded to us and then called out towards the kitchen: "Vinum!" Then he sat down and folded his arms.
Palta came in after a couple of minutes with the tray filled with jugs and cups, as she had the night before. But it wasn't fast enough for Hypatius, apparently. He spoke to her viciously as she set the tray down next to her and slapped her face.
I tensed, ready to jump up and defend her if he did it again. But he didn't. Palta silently bowed and went back to the kitchen.
"My apologies," Hypatius said. "Palta is insufficiently trained, and sometimes rather insolent. Please, have some wine."
He poured the wine and water into cups and handed us each one. "To Via!" he intoned, and then he downed his drink in one quick gulp.
"Is everything all right?" Carmody asked quietly, taking a sip from his cup.
Hypatius rubbed his cheek and poured himself some more wine. "Ruling our empire is a complicated business," he replied. "One must make many difficult decisions. I don't envy the pontifex."
"What does that mean?"
Hypatius simply shrugged. "So much to be done," he murmured. "Very difficult decisions." And he drank his second cup of wine.
The evening went like that. The food was delicious, but I wasn't hungry. Palta served it in silence and didn't make eye contact with anyone. Hypatius had little to say—he was more interested in the wine than in us. He stumbled off to bed before Palta brought us dessert, and I was glad to see him go.
"I wonder what's up with him," I said.
"I never quite understood that idiom when I heard it in your world," Carmody replied, "but yes, his behavior was unexpected. And I have no idea why."
"I don't like the way he treats Palta," I said.
"Nor do I."
When she returned to take away the plate of nuts and fruit, Carmody spoke to her in Latin. Palta stared at him for a moment, and then muttered something quickly and returned to the kitchen.
"What did she say?" I asked.
"Hypatius diabolus est," Carmody replied. "Hypatius is the devil."
"Oh. That seems about right."
"Indeed."
There didn't seem to be much to talk about then, so after a while Carmody and I went to our cubiculum. As before, he got to sleep before I did. I listened to him snoring, and Hypatius snoring in his room off the atrium, and Palta finishing up her work in the kitchen. And again a wave of homesickness came over me. I shouldn't be here, wearing this stupid robe, lying in this uncomfortable bed.
Like the night before, I must have fallen asleep eventually. And like the night before, I awoke to see someone standing in the doorway.
But this time it wasn't Palta staring at me. This time it was Gratius, and he was holding a gun.
Chapter 6
"Don't be afraid," he whispered. "We must rescue Affron and Valleia."
I poked Carmody, who was instantly awake.
Gratius repeated what he had said. He motioned with the gun. "We must go. Now."
"Where are they?" Carmody asked him.
"In prison. In the palatium. Come."
"I suggest we obey him, Larry," Carmody said. "What have we got to lose?"
We quickly got out of bed and put on our sandals. In the moonlight coming in through our small window I got a better look at the gun. It was strange—the shape wasn't quite right. It didn't seem to have a trigger, and the barrel was a little too thin. And the metal glowed a soft blue in the moonlight.
Was this the weapon Valleia had told Carmody about?
When we had our sandals on, Gratius led us out into the atrium.
...just in time to see a lamp come on in Hypatius's cubiculum. He appeared in the doorway a moment later. His hair was messy; his robe was rumpled; his eyes were bloodshot. He set the lamp down on a table in the atrium and stared at Gratius—stared at the gun.
"Oh dear," he said. "Oh my."
He and Gratius started talking to each other in Latin. Gratius gestured with the gun; Hypatius shook his head.
"I forbid it, my friend," Hypatius said finally in English. "It cannot be done. It isn't right. I know that this business with Affron is not proceeding the way you would like, but you will destroy us all."
It was at this point that I noticed Palta, her arms folded, standing in the shadows of the atrium just outside her cubiculum. Gratius had his back to her, and Hypatius didn't notice her because Gratius was in the way. She was listening intently to their conversation.
And then she started walking slowly forward, towards Gratius.
I stared at her. Should I say something? Should I try to stop her? She glanced at me, and then looked back towards Gratius.
She was staring at the gun in his hand. In her own hand was a small knife.
The argument between Gratius and Hypatius lapsed back into Latin and continued. Gratius looked upset. Hypatius looked frightened. Gratius began to speak...
And then Palta leaped forward and stabbed his hand. Gratius yelped in pain and dropped the gun. She grabbed it and scampered back away from him, brandishing it at us. She said something to Gratius and motioned to him to move aside. He did as he was told.
She aimed the gun at Hypatius.
Hypatius extended his hands and spoke to her in Latin—gently, as if explaining to her the mistake she was making. His face was sweating; his hands were shaking.
"Diabolus," she hissed. And then there was a brief low hum, an even briefer flash of light from the barrel of the gun, which turned a deep blue. Hypatius's body glowed a brilliant white for a moment, hands outstretched, mouth open to reply....
And then his body disappeared.
There was a bitter smell in the air. On the tiled floor of the atrium where Hypatius had stood was a small heap of ashes.
He was gone. Totally gone.
We all stared at Palta. Gratius slumped into a chair. Palta placed the gun down on a table next to him and went into the kitchen. She returned with a narrow strip of wet cloth. He looked up at her and fumbled for the gun. She bowed and offered the cloth to him. Finally he put the gun down and held out his injured hand to her, and she wrapped the cloth around it.
"That weapon is not like anything from your world, is it, Larry?" Carmody murmured to me.
"I've never seen anything like it."
"Palta says Gratius can kill her if he likes, but she did what she had to do," Carmody went on. "Now she wants to come with us to rescue Affron. Apparently Affron and Valleia are both going to be executed at sunrise."
"Executed?" I said. "Is that what Gratius and Hypatius were talking about?"
"Yes. I didn't understand all of the conversation, but as you heard, Hypatius was trying to persuade Gratius not to involve himself in this."
Palta had wrapped the cloth around Gratius's hand, and now she was kneeling next to him, waiting.
"Why did you do that?" Gratius demanded in English.
"Why were you arguing with him?" Palta replied. "Do you think you could have left him alive? Do you think he wouldn't have done everything he could to stop you?"
"No, I suppose not. But that isn't why you killed him."
"No," she admitted. "It isn't."
Gratius sighed and stood up. "Very well," he said. "We have no time to waste." He picked up the gun in his left hand and motioned for Palta to rise.
"What is the plan?" Carmody asked.
"When Valleia and I talked before the trial," Gratius said, "we agreed that if Affron were sentenced to death, we would try to rescue him. And save you two, if Tirelius wouldn't let you go home. We did not expect that Valleia herself would be imprisoned. I think now perhaps our plan should be that we all use Via to leave this world. It is the only way we can ensure Affron's safety."
"How do we help?"
Gratius shook his head. "I think your help will not be necessary." He looked down at his gun. "It is not a good thing to use such a weapon. But now we have no choice."
Palta went and put out the lamp, and then we all left Hypatius's house. And we left his ashes behind. I wondered briefly if we should do something about those ashes, but no one seemed interested. And I wondered why Palta had killed Hypatius. But I guess I knew. I remembered how disgusting it was when he had pulled her down onto his lap. How would he act when there was no one else around?
The night was cool and silent. All the houses around us were dark. Gratius led us in the opposite direction from the main road, into thin woods beyond the castellum. My mind was filled with the image of Hypatius just... disappearing. Alive one second, a small heap of ashes the next. Like in a video game, only real. I could still see the pleading look on his face. I could still smell the bitter odor in the air afterwards. What kind of gun was that?
I sneaked a glance at Palta as we walked. If she was upset about killing Hypatius, she didn't show it.
I tried not to think about his death. Instead I thought: once Gratius rescued Affron and Valleia, we were going home. That was the plan, right? Would it really happen? That meant I'd show up in a robe and sandals. Well, so what? I'd be home. My parents wouldn't care about what I was wearing; they wouldn't care about the explanation. They'd only care that I was safe. I hadn't known that before I went to Carmody's world and learned something about the love parents feel for their children; I knew it now.
We kept walking. I could make out the temple of Via on a hill in the distance. Buildings loomed off to our left. I stopped thinking about home and started thinking about what was about to happen. How far away was the palatium? How dangerous would it be to rescue Valleia and Affron? Were they locked in cells? How many people would we—would Gratius—have to kill to get them out?
Did the guards have these strange guns too?
I noticed that Palta was walking beside me. "Are you all right?" I asked.
She nodded.
"You're not from here—from Terra."
She shook her head.
"Shhh," Gratius said, waving at me to be quiet.
I stopped talking. And then the palatium loomed ahead of us. We were walking towards it at an angle; only a large park separated us from it. A few dim lights shone in random windows, but mostly the huge, long building was dark.
Gratius took us around to the side of the palatium, onto a narrow path between it and another building. Then he led us down a set of stairs that led to a door. He opened the door, and we went inside.
We were standing in a long corridor. In the distance a torch or lamp was burning. Gratius waited a moment while our eyes got used to the dim light, and then he led us quickly down the fresco-lined corridor towards the light.
The light came from a torch flickering in a bracket on the wall next to another door. Gratius opened the door, and we walked down a flight of stairs. Now we were in a cold and featureless passageway, without the tapestries and statues and frescoes of the upper floors. Gratius paused, as if he was uncertain which way to go. Finally he headed left, and we kept going until we reached a large pair of metal doors. Gratius paused again, and this time I got the sense that he was gathering up his courage.
Finally he whispered, "Stay here. Away from the doors."
We moved to the side. Finally Gratius twisted the knob, opened one of the doors, and strode through.
We waited. I heard voices being raised, sounds of an argument. And then silence. After a moment Gratius opened the door. He had the gun in one hand, a ring of keys in the other. I could smell the bitter odor I had smelled after Palta killed Hypatius.
Gratius led us inside. We were in a cold, bare room with a table at the far end of it. A lamp and playing cards of some sort sat on the table. Next to the table were two small piles of ashes.
I glanced at Gratius. He was sweating, despite the coldness of the room. "Quick," he said. He motioned to Carmody to pick up the lamp. Then we went through another door and into a small, foul-smelling passageway, with prison cells on each side; each had a metal door with a small barred window at eye height. Gratius looked into a couple of them and then whispered, "Salve, Valleia."
He fumbled with the keys until he found one that fit. He opened the door, and inside Valleia was standing up, wide awake, still wearing her purple robe from the last time I'd seen her, when the guards dragged her away after Affron's trial. Gratius went inside, and the rest of us stayed in the passageway. He and Valleia embraced and had a brief conversation. Then she came out of the cell with him.
She touched Carmody on the arm in the narrow passageway, which I thought was odd. Then she bowed to me and Palta. She gave Palta an odd look, as if unsure why she was there. "Welcome, all," she said in English. "Now let us save Affron."
He was in the last cell on the right along the passageway. Gratius handed Valleia the keys while he held the gun. She found the right one, opened the door, and went inside.
We waited. I caught a glimpse of her kneeling beside Affron's hard-looking cot, talking urgently to him. Finally she led him out of his cell.
He looked worse than he had at the trial—gaunt and tired and a bit confused. "So nice of you to come," he murmured. And he put a hand on my shoulder and stared at me with those glittering eyes of his. "You look very odd in that robe, Larry," he murmured.
Then Palta prostrated herself on the damp floor in front of Affron. Why did she do that? With some difficulty Affron bent over and brought her to her feet. He smiled and whispered something to her. And then he said to Valleia and Gratius, "I do not understand the plan."
"We must leave Terra," Valleia said. "Anything else is too risky."
Affron sighed. "I suppose you're right. But I fear the gods will not look with favor on this plan."
"The gods are not interested in us, or our plan. Let's go."
We headed back down the passageway to the room where the guards had been playing cards until a few minutes ago. Affron smelled the air, looked at the piles of ashes on the floor, and sighed. "This is not good," he said. "Why do we struggle against Tirelius, if we turn into him?"
"It had to be done to save you," Valleia replied.
"Nothing has to be done."
She looked a bit exasperated.
Gratius motioned with his good hand that we had to hurry.
We went through the doors and back out into the main passageway, then up the stairs. Valleia led the way, carrying the lamp. Affron could barely keep up; I grabbed one of his arms and Palta grabbed the other as we climbed the stairs. "Sorry," he muttered. "Not a lot of exercise lately."
But we made it, then hurried along the corridor that led to door we had used to enter the palatium. Valleia left the lamp there in the corridor, and we went back outside and up the steps to the narrow path between buildings.
But something was different.
We heard noise now. Shouted orders. Marching feet.
We crept along the side of the palatium, then looked out at the forum and beyond, at the temple of Via.
A scaffold had been erected in the forum. Behind it, soldiers were arrayed all along the steps of the temple. A man on horseback holding a torch was supervising the arrival of more troops.
The place was getting ready for the executions.
"Too late," Gratius mur
mured. "I'm sorry."
We retreated back along the path, down the steps, and into the palatium. We all looked at each other.
"We could circle around by the schola," Valleia suggested. "Use the side entrance to the temple."
"All the entrances will be guarded," Gratius said. "Tirelius will take no chances."
"Then we can kill the guards."
Everyone turned to Affron. He slowly shook his head. "I cannot do it," he said. "We should not have killed those guards. It isn't right."
My heart sank.
"We must save you," Valleia insisted.
"Not like that."
"Then don't leave Terra," Gratius said. "We have been waiting to start the revolution. Let's start it tonight. We can go to the armamentarium. The guards have only swords—this is known; they scarcely know what they are guarding. And we have a gant. I know we may end up killing people, but how else are we to succeed? I risked my life to obtain this gant. We seize the other gants that are there, arm your followers, and take over Urbis. Tonight."
Gant? Was that what they called Gratius's weapon?
Again we looked at Affron.
And tears leaked out of his eyes and coursed down his cheeks. "I cannot," he said. "I'm tired. You need a better leader."
"There is no one else," Valleia said. "You know that."
He shook his head. "Not me. Not now."
"What are we to do, then?" Valleia exclaimed. "The scaffold is for us, Affron. You don't like death. Do you want us to die? Gratius? These children?"
"We can escape," he replied. "Leave Urbis. Make our way to Roma. There we can disappear among the masses, or find a ship that will take us to Barbarica."
"Tirelius will track us down and kill us," she replied. "You know he will."
"His reach doesn't extend as far as you think. We can survive."
"But how do we get out of Urbis?" Valleia demanded. "How do we get to Roma? In an hour or less Tirelius will know we have escaped, and then nowhere in Urbis will be safe for us."
Affron turned his gaze to Palta.
"I can get us from Urbis," she said quietly. "I know how to do this."
TERRA (The Portal Series, Book 2) Page 5
