Hammer of the Earth

by Susan Krinard

  “Surely guards will follow me.”

  “You have been granted the freedom of the palace, my lord. The emperor keeps his word.” He held out his hand.

  Quintus hesitated, ignored the courtier’s offer of support and jumped from the couch. At the last moment he feigned a bout of unsteadiness, took a few weaving steps and chuckled at his own clumsiness. Hylas threw his arm around Quintus’s shoulder, and the two men made their way toward the end of the hall.

  No one followed, not even the servants. Once they had reached an empty corridor, Quintus pulled Hylas behind a column and waited, watching and listening. The corridor remained silent.

  “Come,” Hylas said. He walked with surprising swiftness down the corridor, turned into a narrow passage and emerged into the residential wing of the palace. After several more turns, he stopped at a door and knocked once.

  The door was opened by a young woman with dark hair and eyes decorated in the Aigyptian style. She stepped back and allowed the men to enter.

  The room was comfortably large and well-furnished, with embroidered pillows and furs scattered across the floor and against the walls. Three other young men and a woman sprawled or sat among the cushions, their masks beside them.

  One of the young men got up and bowed to Quintus. “Welcome, my lord,” he said. “I am pleased that you could come. I am Chares.”

  Hylas greeted the others and found a seat beside one of the men, but Quintus stayed close to the door. “Who are you?” he asked Chares.

  “A humble servant of the emperor,” the young man said, smiling. “As are we all.”

  “Why am I here?”

  “Did not Hylas tell you? Please, sit, my lord. You have nothing to fear in this room.” He gestured to his companions. “You met Doris at the door. These are Arion, Mnestros and Galatea.”

  Quintus studied the bland, pleasant faces and found no threat in them. To the contrary, he would have judged each one of the room’s occupants as harmless sycophants, pleasure-loving youths who enjoyed every privilege they received as members of the emperor’s court. Their clothing was fine, their manners easy and expansive as only those of the very rich—and protected—could be.

  Doris approached and offered him a cup of wine, smiling with painted lips. Quintus shook his head. She glanced at Hylas.

  “You must understand Lord Alexandros’s position,” Hylas said. “Until this day he was confined to his rooms, and he has no reason to trust us.”

  “But that is why you are here,” Chares said to Quintus. “You have friends in the court, Lord Alexandros—those who admire your fight against the Stone God.”

  “And against the empire?”

  The courtiers glanced at each other, more amused than nonplussed by his bluntness. “We understand why you feel as you do,” Chares said. “But we had hoped to help you see that your brother is not your enemy.”

  “I have heard this before,” Quintus said. He reached for the door latch.

  “I told you he was stubborn,” Hylas said, gazing at Quintus through hooded eyes. “He is not easily persuaded.”

  “So Danae mentioned also,” Chares said.

  “You are friends of Lady Danae?” Quintus asked sharply.

  “We have that honor. We hope that she will join us later.” He gestured toward a cluster of thick cushions. “Will you not be seated, my lord?”

  Quintus located a chair near the wall and sat straight-backed on its edge. Chares resumed his place next to the woman Galatea, a slender beauty who had worn the mask of the cat-goddess Bast during the feast. She stared at Quintus through tilted hazel eyes.

  “What did you think of Lady Danae’s performance, my lord?” she asked.

  “Very skillful.”

  “Indeed. Many men envied the emperor tonight.”

  “The lady seems devoted to him.”

  “Yes,” Chares said, “because she knows our emperor is the only one who can end the Stone God’s reign.”

  Quintus swept the group with his gaze. “Did Nikodemos arrange this meeting?”

  “The emperor knows nothing of it. But we have heard tales of your defiance of Baalshillek, and any inconvenience given to the High Priest brings great pleasure to us.”

  “Because Nikodemos protects you.”

  “It is true,” Hylas said, “that some of us would not be alive if the emperor did not hold the priests at bay.”

  “He saves you while he forsakes the common people and destroys any who defy him.”

  Chares sighed. “You were right, Hylas. But we mustn’t abandon the attempt.”

  “To convince me that your emperor will save the world by smashing it under his heel?” Quintus asked.

  “It will take more than words to convince him,” a feminine voice said from the doorway. Danae closed the door and stood with her back to it, meeting each of her friends’ eyes in turn. Finally she looked at Quintus. “Is that not so, Lord Alexandros?”

  He stared at her, dry-mouthed and foolish with anger and desire. She was fully dressed in a simple chiton, her hair arranged close to her head and her face clean of paint—far more lovely than when she had flaunted her legs and breasts before the court.

  “I’ve heard many arguments,” he said slowly, “but I have seen no proof.”

  “Tiberian stubbornness and royal will,” Danae said to the others. “A dangerous combination.”

  Quintus stepped in front of her. “I must speak to you.”

  “There is no safer place than this,” she said. “Chares—”

  “Alone,” Quintus said, gripping her arm.

  She nodded toward the doorway of an adjoining room. He pulled her through the door, out of sight and hearing of her friends. For a moment he held her pinned to the wall, feeling the softness of her breasts against his chest, and then he stepped away.

  “Briga was taken last night,” he said.

  “I know.” She searched his eyes. “I had no way to reach you until now. She is well.”

  “So Hylas claimed. What happened, Danae?”

  “Nikodemos…learned of what I had done.”

  “He caught you?”

  She shook her head. “He was not angry…not as you would expect. He had the girl taken to a safe place where Baalshillek cannot take her.”

  Quintus cursed and struck his fist on the wall. “What does he intend to do with her?”

  “No harm, Quintus. He told me that I must bring others like her directly to him from now on, and that he will protect them.”

  “For purposes you do not know.”

  “Whatever his purpose might be, it will not help the High Priest,” she said. “I did not tell Nikodemos about Briga because I didn’t want to place him in a dangerous position.”

  “You feared his punishment if he were to learn that you were acting without his knowledge.”

  She frowned at him, eyes flashing. “I have long suspected that Nikodemos knows of my work with the children. He cannot acknowledge it, but he hasn’t tried to stop me.”

  “He merely allows other infants to feed the Stone God’s fire.”

  Danae raised her open hand and let it fall again. “You will continue to believe what you wish, no matter what I say.”

  “Nothing has changed, Danae, even if the emperor has given me the freedom of the palace.”

  She turned from him, disgust plain on her face. “And I was the one who suggested that Hylas and Chares speak with you.”

  “To what end? They’ll only repeat what you’ve already told me…what Nikodemos himself said when he honored me with his presence.”

  “I see in your eyes what you think of my friends,” she said. “You judge them weak, inconsequential creatures who would do anything to keep their pleasures. But Nikodemos is wise enough to recognize the value of their alliance. Arion is of a leading family in Makedon, the country of your uncle Alexandros’s birth. Mnestros is a general’s son and Chares is a wealthy merchant in his own right. Galatea is of the house of the Ptolemies, rulers of Aigyptos u
nder the empire. Each one of them possesses wealth and power, free of the Stone, that will be at the emperor’s command when it is time for him to act.”

  “Against Baalshillek?” Quintus said mockingly.

  “They would be your allies as well. They trust the emperor and are trusted by him. Do not discard their goodwill so lightly.”

  “And what of your goodwill, Danae?”

  “That has not altered.”

  He cupped her face in his hand. She stiffened and then slowly relaxed, meeting his gaze. Her lips parted, soft as ripe berries.

  “You’ve stayed away,” he said.

  “It would do neither of us good if the emperor knew we have spoken as friends.”

  He dropped his hand, afraid of losing his own self-control. “It was truly a magnificent performance tonight, Danae. I didn’t realize the extent of your talents. Was the dance your idea, or the emperor’s?” He clenched his fist. “Was it for my benefit, Danae?”

  She laughed. “Should every entertainment be designed for you, my arrogant Tiberian?”

  “Nikodemos openly defied the High Priest with his display of the gods,” he said. “I was meant to be impressed.”

  “Were you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then there is hope for you yet.” She brushed her fingertips across his cheek.

  He caught her hand against his face. “Show me why I should believe you. Make me understand.”

  “Quintus,” she murmured, eyes closing. “You—”

  He kissed her. Her lips softened under his, and then she pushed him away.

  “Don’t,” she said. “It isn’t possible.”

  “Of course not,” he said harshly. “Only my loyalties must change.” He stalked away. Her footsteps hurried after him.

  “Do not hate me, Quintus. Turn your hatred toward the destruction of your enemies, not your friends.”

  “You’ve given me no reason to love your emperor.”

  “Then tell me how to change your heart.”

  By giving me yours, he thought, but kept his teeth locked over such puerile sentiments. “Let me see Briga,” he said.

  She turned aside, tugging gently on the lobe of one delicate ear. “Perhaps it can be done,” she said. “Give me a few days to make arrangements.”

  “Without the emperor’s knowledge.”

  She nodded. “There is one thing I would ask of you in return.”

  “Only one?”

  “Be gentle with Hylas.”

  “Why does he require my gentleness? He seems capable enough to me.”

  “Don’t you see? He is enamored of you.”

  Quintus snorted. “Because I am the king’s brother?”

  “Because he recognizes your nobility, your belief in your cause. Your courage.”

  He flushed, remembering Hylas’s words at the feast: “I will not deny that I would treasure your regard, my lord.” Quintus had heard of Tiberians who inexplicably preferred the love of their own sex to that of women, and he knew the Hellenes were more open about such matters than his countrymen.

  “I have no interest in his kind,” Quintus stammered.

  “His kind,” Danae taunted. “A man of vast loyalty who wears a mask to hide his tender heart.”

  “I will not hurt him unless he compels me to do so.”

  “That is all I ask.”

  “And you will help me see Briga?”

  “Trust me.”

  Quintus was well aware that he had little choice. He let Danae go, briefly taking his leave of the others before returning to his own rooms. No guards intercepted him. Several times in the night he checked his door and found it unwatched—at least by anyone detectable by his senses.

  Two days later Leuke came with a message from Danae. Quintus was to attend one of Hylas’s frequent nightly gatherings in his rooms, where he would spend several hours while Hylas’s servants watched the corridors to make sure Quintus’s movements remained unobserved. From there he would go to meet Danae in one of the many courtyards that adorned the residential section of the palace, a tiny garden generally unused, save by servants.

  Quintus received a warm welcome from Hylas, who flirted shamelessly but stayed just within the boundaries of propriety. The servant Ashtaph escorted Quintus to the small garden well after most of the palace folk had taken to their beds.

  Danae was beautiful by moonlight, but she gave Quintus little chance to admire her. She swept him off through a maze of corridors, a circuitous route of twists and turns that must have covered the better part of the palace. When she stopped it was before the door to an unoccupied room in a wing that had the look and smell of age and abandonment.

  “This is the oldest section of the palace,” Danae whispered, allowing Quintus to push open the heavy door. “Nikodemos intends to have it torn down and rebuilt, but this room holds a secret of great value to us now.”

  Quintus stifled a cough at the whirlwind of dust that rose with each step. “What is this secret?”

  In answer, Danae approached one of the bare walls, felt along a seam in the stone and pushed with all her weight. The wall groaned. Taking his cue from her, Quintus added his efforts. The larger portion of the wall swung inward, a door hung on seemingly invisible hinges. A rush of dank air spilled from the opening.

  “Tunnels,” Danae said with a grin of triumph.

  “Under the palace?” Quintus asked.

  “Yes. I discovered them some time before we helped Nyx escape. Most of the entrances are in rooms inaccessible to us, but this one has been forgotten.”

  Quintus leaned into the musty darkness and drew in a sharp breath. “Who else knows of this?”

  “The emperor, of course. Undoubtedly some of his closest advisers. And Baalshillek.”

  Quintus jerked back. “They are not aware of your knowledge?”

  Danae wrinkled her nose. “Am I a fool, Quintus? Nyx used these tunnels to escape the palace. I thought they might become useful again one day, and so I took some time to explore them. One of the branches runs close to the soldiers’ barracks, and that is where they keep Briga.”

  “Then the guards don’t use these tunnels.”

  “I have never seen one in them. Nikodemos employs them but rarely.”

  Quintus couldn’t quite control his excitement. “This is a great thing, Danae. If you’d told me earlier—”

  “I told you now only because you insisted upon seeing Briga. We must not visit these tunnels too often. Come inside and help me close the door.”

  He did so, and Danae withdrew an unlit lantern from within her cloak. “There are torches set at intervals along the walls,” she said. “We must get to the first one by feel, and then light the lantern.”

  With confident steps that proved her familiarity with her course, Danae started down the left-hand corridor and descended a narrow, steep flight of stairs. The dank smell grew stronger, but cool air flowed constantly through the tunnels. Soon enough the first torch came into view. Danae lit the lantern and set off at a faster pace. Sometimes Quintus heard strange echoes, voices that came from everywhere and nowhere; once he nearly jumped out of his skin at a violent quarrel that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves.

  “The sound plays tricks here,” Danae said. “We pass near many rooms that do not connect and a few that do. Let us hurry.”

  They continued past several more torches and a number of portals before Danae called a halt. “The barracks,” she said. “Most of the soldiers are sleeping.” She pressed her ear to the wall and listened. “I hear nothing.” She put out the lantern. “Let us open the door slowly.”

  She showed Quintus the clever mechanism that released the portal and helped him swing the slab inward. Quintus pushed ahead, moving cautiously in the darkness of a narrow hall.

  Someone coughed. Danae caught Quintus’s arm.

  “It is only the children,” she said.

  “Children?”

  “Come.” She tugged at his himation and guided him d
own the center of the hall. A sliver of moonlight from a high window provided just enough light to distinguish one step from the next. Squat, motionless shapes projected from the walls—benches or pallets, each with a sleeping occupant. Danae crept from bed to bed, peering into each face. Finally she stopped beside the last pallet and knelt to touch the sleeper’s cheek.

  The girl sat up with a start, and Danae covered her mouth. “It is Danae, Briga,” she whispered. “Danae and Quintus.”

  “Quin—” Briga swallowed her cry and flashed white teeth in a grin. Quintus crouched by the other side of the pallet and found himself enveloped by thin, strong arms.

  He patted the girl awkwardly and set her back. “Are you all right, Briga?” he asked, careful to keep his voice low.

  “Yes. When the guards came for me I was frightened, but they didn’t hurt me. They brought me here, to the others.”

  Quintus exchanged glances with Danae, knowing this was not the place for explanations. “The emperor didn’t threaten you in any way?”

  “No. I did not see him.”

  “No…no man has touched you?”

  “They leave us alone, except to bring our food or take us into the courtyard.” She searched his eyes. “You are all right, too?”

  “Yes.” He turned to Danae. “Will she be safe?”

  “Safer than anywhere else in the city. I’ll explain later.”

  The child on the next pallet stirred, mumbling something about her mama. “We should go,” Danae said. “You see that Briga is well and will remain so.” Her mouth twisted in a half smile. “You can trust me again.”

  “I can’t go with you?” Briga asked, the words thick with disappointment.

  “Not this time,” Quintus said. He hesitated and stroked her hair, letting its fiery strands sift through his fingers. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Briga. That I promise.”

  “I know.” She gave him another fierce hug and lay back down. “I’m not afraid. Good night, Quintus.”

  He kissed her forehead and retreated, watching the girl until she disappeared into the gloom. Danae already had the portal open. Quintus stepped through and closed it behind them.

  “Who are these others Briga spoke of?” he asked Danae as they set off again.