Boos echoed around the stadium. "Tirelius non curat!" the fat man next to me shouted, waving his fist in the air. "Affronius pro pontifice!" someone behind us added.
The soldiers extended their right arms towards Tirelius as he passed.
Tirelius made a little gesture acknowledging them.
Just seeing him at a distance gave me a creepy, frightened feeling. This was the man who wanted to capture Palta and me and put us to death. I remembered his icy stare during Affron's trial. I wondered for the first time if he might have some kind of mental power like Affron's. What if he could sense our presence in the midst of the huge crowd? What if he could do something to us?
I shivered.
The litter-bearers lowered Tirelius and his chair in front of the far stands. All the other dignitaries were standing, waiting for him. The pontifex got off the chair and slowly walked up to the throne in the middle of the seats. The two vice-pontifexes sat on either side of him, as they had at Affron's trial. He sat, and then the dignitaries sat. The boos eventually subsided and turned to cheers as the charioteers got up onto their chariots and were strapped in. Someone with a megaphone started announcing stuff from the middle of the field. I couldn't hear any of it; the crowd was roaring now.
And then I guess there must have been a signal that I didn't notice, because suddenly the horses leapt forward, and the race began.
I've been to sports events before, but I never saw or felt anything like this. The crowd gave out one long, loud roar of noise; I was probably shouting myself. The chariots flew around the track, passing close to each other at a big wooden post on the turns as they tried to get the inside position. The lead went back and forth. Finally on the third or fourth lap two chariots collided. Their horses got all tangled up with each other in the mud, and I couldn't see what happened to the charioteers, although they had to have been seriously injured, if not killed. I expected the race to stop but it didn't—the remaining chariots just veered around the wreckage and kept going. The fat man next to me jumped up and down and screamed advice at the remaining charioteers.
I had no idea how long the race was supposed to last. Some kind of big pole in a corner of the track looked like it was keeping track of the laps, but I couldn't make any sense of it. Anyway, the crowd seemed to know exactly what was going on. After a while the charioteer in blue pulled away a bit from the others, and the stands shook with excitement as people urged him to go faster as the red guy started to catch up to him. There was another crash; more wreckage to swerve past. And the red guy was nearly up to the blue guy...
And then, suddenly, it was over.
The chariots that hadn't crashed slowed to a stop. The crowd kept roaring. The blue guy raised his arms in triumph; the red guy slumped over. People raced out onto the track to take care of the charioteers and horses from the crashes. The charioteers, covered with blood and mud, were carried off on stretchers; the crowd didn't seem to pay any attention to them.
"What do you think?" I asked Palta.
"I have never seen anything like it in my life," she replied.
Neither had I.
And now the moment was approaching. Affron was somewhere in the stands. He would be getting ready. He would wait until all eyes were on Tirelius. And then it would happen.
A few people were starting to leave, I noticed, but most were still in their seats. Torches had been lit on the field, and a platform had been wheeled out. It was raining harder now; I saw flashes of lightning in the distance.
The charioteers lined themselves up on the platform. The trumpeters played a fanfare. Tirelius and the two vice-pontifexes made their way slowly down from the stands, across the field, and up onto the platform.
The crowd started booing once again, although not as loudly as before. The fat man next to me looked like he was almost passed out. Maybe a lot of people were like that—there had just been too much excitement, too much wine consumed. Affron can't wait too long, I thought, if he wants to get a reaction from the crowd.
Tirelius and the other two old men were standing on the platform now. Someone had handed him the laurel crown. The charioteer in the blue tunic came up the steps and knelt before him.
Now, I thought. Now!
Tirelius bent over slowly and placed the crown on the charioteer's head. The crowd cheered. The charioteer rose and waved to the crowd. He stepped aside, as the vice-pontifexes and then Tirelius walked down the steps.
And that was all. It was over. And nothing had happened.
Palta was clutching my arm.
"He couldn't do it," she whispered.
I shook my head in disbelief.
"Perhaps now Valleia uses gant..." she said.
But no, Valleia wouldn't use the gant; no one would use the gant. It was over. Tirelius got back onto the chair, and the litter-bearers picked him up and carried him through the lines of saluting soldiers. I heard a few boos, but now everyone was too busy leaving before the thunderstorm arrived. The torches flickered in the rain. Tirelius disappeared into the tunnel, followed by the priests and the other officials. I supposed Decius was among them. And he would be furious.
I didn't move. I couldn't move. It was over, and with it my hope of ever returning home. The fat man staggered past us, along with everyone else in our row. It was dark now, except for the occasional flashes of lightning.
I couldn't imagine what would happen next. I didn't even want to think about it. Now Decius was our enemy, in addition to Tirelius. And what had happened to Affron? Was it that he couldn't use his power on Tirelius, or that he wouldn't?
Palta was still clutching my arm. She was worried about Affron, I knew—and maybe about me, I realized. And she had every reason to be worried about me.
"Come," she said. "There's nothing for us here."
She was right, but was there anything for us back at the house in Parioli? Or anywhere?
I stood up.
Palta took off her soggy wreath of flowers and flung it away, and then we went down the long set of steps past the few people remaining in the stands. I looked around for Affron and the others, but I didn't see them; I hadn't expected that I would. The passageway leading out of the Circus Maximus stank of pee and vomit. In the plaza outside no one was demonstrating; I just saw drunken fans waving blue flags and banners in the rain. A few wet and bored-looking soldiers remained to stare at the people streaming past.
We saw a flash of lightning and then heard a thunderclap close by.
"Gods are angry," Palta said. "The gods."
I didn't argue with her. I wondered what she had thought about gods back on Gaia. Did she blame them for everything that had gone wrong on her world? We started walking towards Parioli. But then Palta suddenly pulled me off the main street. "Where are we going?" I asked her.
"Nowhere," she replied.
And then we were running, as the thunderstorm raged. Running through the streets of Roma, past the crowds, past the drunken fans and the beggars and the prostitutes. Running nowhere, just because we had to do something. Because if we stopped, we'd have to think about what was going to happen tomorrow, and the day after that, and the rest of our lives.
Finally we paused in a long colonnade lit by a couple of torches, and we leaned back against a column, catching our breath as the thunderstorm raged. We were both soaked to the skin, but the night was warm, so it didn't feel so bad.
"I used to love being in places like this during a storm," Palta said, pushing her wet blond hair back off her forehead. "It would make me feel safe, even if the gods were angry. They weren't likely to be angry at me."
"Me too," I said. "My mother was terrified of thunderstorms. She was sure we'd be struck by lightning. She'd always want us to come inside and stay away from windows. But I liked being out on our porch, hearing the rain drumming on the roof."
Was terrified, I thought. Past tense. As if I was never going to see her again. As if she had ceased to exist somehow, with me here on Terra.
I think Palta saw s
omething in my eyes as I talked about home, because suddenly she slid into my arms and kissed me, there in the colonnade. The kiss felt wonderful; she felt wonderful. For a brief moment I didn't want to be anywhere else but right there, in Palta's arms.
A laughing couple hurried past us, arms around each other, paying attention only to each other. A mangy dog slunk by on the street. Everything was dark; everything was wet.
The kiss ended, but Palta stayed in my arms.
"Maybe Affron will have another plan," Palta said.
"I don't think we can trust Affron to come up with a plan," I replied. "I don't think we can trust him to do anything."
A wagon with a canvas top rattled past and then stopped. Two men got out and came into the colonnade. A lightning bolt lit up the sky. I saw a pile of rubbish, an unpainted door. The men had long beards and colorful robes. Palta pulled in closer to me as the men approached.
"Pulchellus puella," one of the men murmured as they came nearer. Very pretty girl. Another lightning flash. He smiled and bowed. He was missing several teeth.
The other man muttered something to him in a foreign language.
The first man shrugged. "Me paenitet," he said to us. I'm sorry.
And then he grabbed Palta while the other man pulled me back, punched me in the face, and knocked me down. I hit my head hard against the cobblestones, and the man kicked me in the groin.
Palta screamed and kept screaming. I didn't see what happened next. By the time I had staggered to my feet, the wagon was disappearing in the distance, and Palta was gone.
Chapter 15
I raced after the wagon. It didn't occur to me not to. It didn't occur to me that if the men spotted me they might stop and grab me and throw me into the wagon along with Palta. Or simply beat me to death. I had to rescue her. What else—who else?—was left for me on Terra?
I was limping from the pain in my groin. My eye throbbed. The back of my head throbbed. I tripped and whacked my knee on another cobblestone. I could barely see in the rain and the darkness.
The wagon turned. I was losing ground. I couldn't hear Palta screaming anymore. Had they gagged her? Had they killed her? Who were they? Where were they going?
I went down the street where the wagon had gone, just in time to see it turn again. I hobbled after it. I tried to think. Maybe catching up to the wagon was the wrong idea. I wasn't going to be able to out-fight those guys. But I couldn't lose sight of them. I had to find out where they were taking Palta. Maybe I could surprise them while they were asleep. Or maybe I could go back there with the others and save her.
If the others were still back at the house. If they still had the gant.
So I had a sliver of hope.
The wagon slowed down once it got to a more crowded section of the city, where people were out on the streets, even in the rain. We passed through a poor castellum with lots of taverns and shabby insulae. I could hear singing and laughter from inside the taverns.
I limped along, trying to keep far enough behind the wagon that I wouldn't be spotted. The men probably thought they had left me unconscious in the colonnade. I felt a bit dizzy, along with the pain. Back in my world, my mother would have had me at the emergency room by now, checking me out for a concussion. Did people even think about concussions on Terra?
The wagon turned, and turned again, and I found myself in an area of the city Palta and I had never visited in our explorations—the waterfront. The river was far wider here than it was back where the fisherman had let us out of his boat. Vast numbers of ships were at anchor out on the river or pulled up alongside huge docks. At a few of them men were busy loading or unloading cargo. The place stank of fish. Facing the river, the street was lined with huge windowless warehouses. I remembered Decius talking about grain imports and how important they were to Roma. The grain was brought up the river from a harbor a few miles away. This was where the imported grain was stored, maybe.
Were the men going to put Palta on a ship and send her off someplace?
She hated the water.
I kept back a little farther now. Eventually the wagon came to a stop by a small, shabby building off the main street. It was dark except for the glow of a lamp on the first floor. One of the men got out, walked up a short flight of steps, and pounded on a door. It opened after a minute, and he went inside. Before long a larger set of doors swung open to the left of the steps. Someone was holding a lamp. I saw a large open room, big enough for the wagon and the horses. Crates were piled up along the walls. The wagon went inside, and the doors swung shut. And that was all. It was like the wagon had never been there.
I waited. I saw lamplight appear in another window on the second floor. The light on the first floor went out. Nothing more happened. I made my way closer to the building. It was an old, run-down wooden place, three stories high; it had been painted once, but most of the paint had faded or flaked away. I thought I could make out the word NAVIS or NAVES painted on its side. Ship? Ships? The building looked badly built, like a big wind would knock it over. I walked around it. On the other side I spotted a small door with garbage piled up beside it.
The rain had let up a bit. I listened for sounds from inside. I didn't hear anything. But I knew that Palta was in there. I wanted to burst inside, rescue her, and kill the men who had kidnapped her.
But that wouldn't work, of course. I was just a kid, and this wasn't some video game. I needed help. I needed a weapon. I had to go back to Parioli.
But what if that took too long? What if she wasn't here when I got back? What if they put her on a ship and sailed away and I never saw her again? Could I just leave her behind and hope I could return before it was too late? And what if Affron and the rest weren't at the house? Maybe they had been arrested; maybe they were dead.
And anyway, I wasn't sure I knew the way to Parioli from here.
Palta would have known.
I had to try. I walked as fast as I could, limping and still groggy. I had never been alone at night in the city, but I was too upset and in too much pain to be scared. I ignored everyone I passed. This wasn't my world. They could all go to hell. All I wanted was to rescue Palta.
After a long while I found myself at the Forum, mostly empty at night except for a few soldiers guarding the buildings, and from there I knew the way to Parioli.
When I finally arrived at the house, with every part of my body throbbing with pain, the door was locked. I couldn't see any light inside. Was anyone there? I pounded on the door. "Let me in!" I shouted.
Carmody opened the door a minute later. "Larry, be quiet," he said. "Where have you been? Where's Palta?"
"She's been kidnapped. We have to rescue her." I rushed past him into the house. Valleia was walking towards me from the atrium.
"Kidnapped," I repeated. "We went to the Games, and afterwards two men attacked us and took her off in a wagon. They went to a building by the waterfront. They beat me up when they grabbed her. They probably thought I was unconscious, but I managed to follow them. We need to rescue her and bring her back."
Valleia put a hand on my arm. "Come sit down, Larry," she said. "You look awful."
"I don't want to sit down. We have to go. Maybe they're putting her on a ship right now. Palta can't stand the water."
Valleia pulled me into the atrium. Affron was sitting there. His eyes were closed, but he didn't look asleep. He looked like he was somewhere else.
Carmody brought me a cup of wine. I took a sip, but I wouldn't sit down. "What's going on?" I demanded. "Nothing happened to Tirelius."
"Affron couldn't do it," Valleia said quietly.
"You mean, he wasn't able to? Or he changed his mind?"
"Does it matter?"
"I don't know. I guess not. But right now we have to go and get Palta."
"Larry, I'm sorry, but we can't."
"Why not?" I had an idea. "We rescue Palta, and then we—what's the word?—we commandeer a ship, like we did outside Urbis. Make them take us somewhere we'll be safe."
"It's not that simple, Larry," Valleia replied. "Affron won't move; he won't speak. It was all we could do to get him back to Parioli. Unless we can get through to him, we're stuck here."
"But Decius will be looking for us. We can't stay here."
"Don't you think we know that, Larry?" Carmody said.
I looked again at Affron. Yes, something was wrong with him. What? But it didn't matter. "Carmody and I can go," I suggested to Valleia. "You can stay here with Affron. Just give us the gant."
Valleia sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Larry. We need the gant to protect Affron against Decius and his soldiers, if they show up."
"But Palta—"
"Palta is gone, Larry. She's probably already on a ship sailing to Barbarica somewhere. The slavers are active during the games, when foreigners visit the city and go to places where they shouldn't go."
"We have to try!" I insisted. "Palta is—is—"
She's part of our family. I wanted to say this, but I didn't. Because obviously Valleia didn't think she was.
"Valleia," Carmody said, "perhaps we could—"
"Do what you want," she responded. She looked tired and angry. "But you can't take the gant. We told Larry and Palta to stay in the house, but they didn't. And this is the result. I'm very sorry about what happened to the girl, but you can't take the gant and leave Affron here defenseless."
"Fine," I said. I turned to Carmody. "Will you come with me?"
He looked at me, looked at Valleia. "Without the gant?" he asked.
"I just need some help," I said. I felt like I was close to crying. "I can't do this by myself."
He turned back to me and slowly shook his head. "It'd be suicide, Larry. You saw two men capture Palta, but there are bound to be more at the place where they took her. Valleia is right. We can't rescue Palta, and we'd just endanger everyone else, especially Affron. I'm sorry."
TERRA (The Portal Series, Book 2) Page 12
