by K. J. Parker
So we went to the Palace. This is madness, Faustinus said, we’ll never get past the guards. But there weren’t any guards. We simply walked in through a half-open door into a very big, empty entrance hall.
Faustinus wanted to leave. I reasoned with him by twisting his arm behind his back. We carried on into another huge, empty chamber. It had the most amazing painted ceiling, and twice-life-size statues all down one wall. At the end of it was a green marble staircase flanked by gilded bronze lions the size of oxen. We went up it, making the most horrible noise—actually, that was me, hobnail boots. At the top of the stairs, we met a bald man in a white tunic. He was sitting on the top step, with his head in his hands.
“We want to see the emperor,” I said.
He stared at us. Faustinus repeated what I’d just said. The bald man looked over the top of his head. So I hit him.
That livened him up. “Where is he?” I asked. The man pointed; right, down a long, high passage with a mosaic floor. At the end of the passage was a bronze door, twelve feet high. I gave it a shove. It swung open.
“This is all wrong,” Faustinus said. “We could be executed for this.”
I smiled. “Who by?”
“We can’t go in there. That’s the Purple. Nobody goes in there.”
I proved him wrong. The Purple is this enormous square room, so called because its walls, floor and ceiling are polished porphyry. I gather it’s a sort of dressing room, only without a single stick of furniture. The next door looked worryingly like solid gold. I knew people in the Old Flower Market who’d have something like that off its hinges and vanished without trace in five minutes flat.
“The Bedroom,” Faustinus whispered. “We can’t—”
I’d had enough of him. “Stay there,” I said. “I shouldn’t be long.”
I gave the door a gentle nudge and it opened.
It was dark. I could just make out an enormous bed, hung round with curtains. Sitting in front of it on a low stool was an old man.
He turned and looked at me. I guess there was enough light for him to see my face. He gave me a sad look. I knew what he was thinking.
“I’m Colonel Orhan,” I said, “Engineers. I need to see the emperor.”
He laughed. “Be my guest.”
He pointed to the bed. I didn’t like that, but I couldn’t see what else to do. I walked over, quiet as I could, and pulled back the curtain.
In the bed lay a man. Ordinary looking; bald, with wisps of hair combed forward. He was dressed in a plain white nightshirt. His eyes were open and he was breathing. He didn’t move.
“He’s been like that for nine months,” the old man said behind my shoulder. “He had a massive stroke, the day they told him his sons had been killed. He hasn’t moved since. I’m his doctor, by the way.”
I remember once riding straight into a low branch. I didn’t fall off, but I was completely out of it. Like that. “The emperor,” I said, or something equally intelligent.
“The emperor,” the doctor repeated. “Needless to say, we kept it quiet. Nobody knew, outside of this room. I haven’t left it since they brought him here.”
“Will he—?”
“No,” the doctor said. “No chance at all. He’ll be like that until he dies.”
Made no sense. “The princes.”
I heard the doctor draw a deep breath. “Audax and Roburtinus took a boat out into the Bay,” he said. “They were drunk, I guess it seemed like a good idea at the time. Audax fell overboard. He couldn’t swim. Neither could his brother, but he tried to save him nonetheless. The old man was genuinely fond of them, God only knows how. Anyway, there’s your emperor. Ask him anything you like.”
Faustinus pounced on me like a cat when I came out. “Well?”
“All done,” I said.
“What?”
I walked away. Faustinus had to trot to catch up with me. “I asked him for total authority,” I said.
“You did what? What did he say?”
“I got it. I’m now in charge.” I stopped for a moment. I felt dizzy and sick. “You’re my deputy,” I said. “That’s official too. You and me are running the fucking empire.”
He looked as though I’d just cut off his ear. I felt sorry for him. “How are we going to prove it?”
I opened my clenched fist and showed him the Great Seal. It had been on a table beside the bed. No idea how it came to be in my hand. It must’ve fallen off and I caught it without thinking. “Come on,” I said, “we’ve got work to do.”
The Purple, still empty. Likewise the two echoing marble halls and the courtyard. We passed through the wide-open main gate into the Golden Mile. “Where are we going?” Faustinus asked me.
“The Old Flower Market,” I said. “Don’t suppose you’ve ever been there.”
He caught my sleeve. “Orhan,” he said. “This is hardly the time.”
I pulled my arm free. “Yes it is,” I said. “Now keep up or piss off.”
Nobody in the Old Flower Market. Faustinus had the creeps quite badly. He kept telling me how many unsolved murders and stabbings and muggings there’d been down there in the last six months, which surprised me. I didn’t think anyone bothered counting. You’ll be fine, I told him, you’re with me. I don’t think he believed me.
The Dogs was all shut up, shutters on the windows. I banged and kicked the door a few times, to no effect. “That would suggest there’s nobody home,” Faustinus said. I ignored him. There had to be somebody home, or the City would fall. Therefore, there must be someone home. I looked around for something to use as a jemmy. Some hope; things like that aren’t left lying about in that neighbourhood. I tried shoulder-charging the door a few times, but had the wit to stop before I hurt myself. Stupid. Supreme ruler of the empire, couldn’t even get a door open.
Fortunately, before I burst into tears, a window opened. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she said.
I looked up and grinned joyfully. “Open the stupid door.”
“Go away, Orhan,” she said. “I haven’t got time for you right now.”
“Open the door. Please.”
She called me a name she must’ve learned from her father, and the shutter slammed. A short time later, I heard about a dozen bolts being drawn, and the door opened. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I don’t want any soldiers here. You understand.”
I pushed her out of the way; she took a swing at me, but I ducked. “I need to talk to the Theme bosses,” I said. “Urgently.”
“Who’s he?”
“What? Oh, him. That’s Faustinus, the City Prefect. The Theme bosses, Aichma, where do I find them? It’s really important. I need to talk to them right now.”
She looked at me. “Is it true? Are there really savages—?”
“Yes. That’s why I have to see the Theme bosses. Now.”
“But the army—”
“All dead,” I told her, and her eyes opened wide. “There’s no army and no fleet, there’s just me. Which is why it’s essential I see the Theme bosses, straight away. Do you know where they are or not?”
“They can’t be,” she said. “Not all of them.”
“Aichma.”
Known her since she was small enough to lie on the palm of my hand. Aichmalotus, her father, thought she was the most amazing thing in the history of the world; my kid, Orhan, he said to me, like it was some kind of miracle. And before that, he was the last man you’d ever expect to turn out to be the proud-father type. It takes some people that way. Aichmalotus wasn’t his actual name, of course. It means “prisoner of war” in Aelian, and that was what was written on the label round his neck. The recruiting sergeant couldn’t pronounce his real name, so he was Aichmalotus for the rest of his life. Aichma means “spear”. He chose it because she was the better half of him, and sharp as a nail. But she looks just like her mother.
“What do you want them for?”
“Aichma.” Mustn’t shout. Getting her to do what you want is like ge
tting a pig into a cart. If you push it, it backs up the other way with all its considerable strength. You’ve got to make it want to go into the cart, or it just won’t happen. “Use your head. There’s no army, and there’s about a million savages the other side of the Land Wall. Why would I want to see the Theme bosses?”
She looked at me. “They won’t—”
“Fine, But I’ll ask them anyway. That’s if you’ll bloody well tell me where to find them.”
“I can’t do that,” she said. “But I can fetch them here.”
“Wonderful,” I said. “Do it now.”
She hesitated for a moment, then pulled her shawl over her head and walked straight past me through the yard and out into the street. “What was all that about?” Faustinus said.
I’d forgotten about him. “It’s something you just don’t do,” I said, “tell the likes of us where to find someone. Especially the Theme bosses. You understand that, surely.”
He was getting all het up again. “Oh, sure,” he said. “What I don’t understand is what you want with a bunch of gangsters. Most particularly at a time like this.”
I ask you. City Prefect; he’s got the job of running the capital city of the empire, and to him the Themes are just gangsters. “Go back to the prefecture,” I told him. “I need to know exactly how much money we’ve got. Not money of account, not credit reserves, actual gold coins. Don’t tell anyone else and come straight back here. And if you see Captain Bautzes, tell him I want full armour and weapons for all my lads, and then I want them on the wall.”
“Who’s—?”
“Forget it. Just go and find out about the money. Please?”
And then I was all alone, in front of the open door of the Two Dogs. I decided it was time for some unilateral executive action. I went inside and requisitioned a bottle of brandy. I had the authority, after all; but I left thirty trachy on the bar, even so.
You’ll have noticed that I used the term “Theme bosses”, rather than their actual names. That’s because I didn’t know the names. Very few people do. You don’t become boss of the Blues or the Greens for the glory. Holding office in a Theme carries the death sentence, mandatory. In fact, if anyone really wanted to find out, it wouldn’t be all that hard. The Themes choose their leaders from working gladiators, if not the colour’s current champion then one of the top ten at the very least. Luckily, the government has always taken the view that someone qualified to be Theme boss won’t be around for very long by the very nature of his trade. Why make a big fuss arresting a man and putting him on trial and hanging him when, sooner or later, a business associate will do the job for you, with people paying to watch? For my part, I was sure I knew who the Blue boss was, and had a pretty shrewd idea who led the Greens. I was wrong, of course, on both counts. I should be used to it by now.
Turned out the Blue boss was Hierascus—he always refused to answer to that, said his name was Arrasc and if the blueskins couldn’t pronounce it, tough. He was number four in the Blue rankings, fought forty-seven, won forty-four, drawn three. His father was Sanc Fui; by the look of him, his mother was Robur. They tell you that never happens, but it does. I’d seen him fight a dozen times, admired his footwork and his controlled aggression, knew nothing else about him at all. He was a long, lean man, about thirty-five, so old for a Hippodrome fighter. He looked like your typical arena bruiser, except that he had sad, clever eyes.
His opposite number was Longinus, ranked Green number two. It’s always good to see a friendly face in a stressful situation. He and I went way back, to when he was the most blatantly dishonest quartermaster’s clerk in the history of the Supply Corps. He once sold me two thousand of my own regulation pickaxes, issued to me under sealed requisition. He gave me a big smile, which cheered me up enormously. He was a big, wide man with arms the size of legs. There were two different versions of his story. One version was that his mother worked in the leisure and entertainment sector and he grew up in the Old Flower Market, a bit like the trees you see growing high up in the cracks in walls. The other was his mother was a chambermaid in a very grand house; from her he got his cheerful disposition, while his physique and intelligence came from his father. He had the most beautiful voice; he could have been an actor, he told me once, but he got carried away in a fight scene and broke the leading man’s jaw, and after that nobody would work with him. I’d say he was maybe an inch taller than Nico and about the same as him across the shoulders, and he was only number two in the Greens because he hadn’t fought often enough to get the ranking points. He’d gone thirty bouts in the Hippodrome undefeated, and he was twenty-eight years old.
There they stood, with Aichma between them like the barriers in the lists, as though if they happened to collide there’d be an explosion. I felt a tiny bit uncomfortable, I have to confess. Hippodrome fighters have that effect on people; like big dogs, you can’t really be sure they won’t suddenly bite. I reminded myself that I was a soldier. “Gentlemen,” I said, “thank you for coming. Sit down and have a drink.”
So they sat down, on opposite sides of the table, with me at the north end and Aichma at the south. I hadn’t asked her to stay. I hadn’t asked her to leave, either. While I was waiting I’d raided her private stock for two bottles of date wine and four horn shot cups. I proposed the old Hippodrome toast: the losers, God save them. The date wine made my eyes water. I’m not a drinking man.
“You’ll have heard the news,” I said. They nodded. “Now, we all know who runs this town. The other side of the wall, there’s a bunch of savages who just wiped out the Guards. You boys are in the trade, I’d like you to think about that for a moment.”
Arrasc scowled at me. “We’re screwed,” he said.
“No,” I replied. “Not yet. I have no idea who these jokers are, but they’re smart, which is lucky for us. They’re smart enough to know that the wall is too strong for them, and they’re smart enough to stay out of catapult shot. Now, between us four, there aren’t any catapults, but they don’t know that. Last I looked, they were sitting down, making themselves comfortable. I don’t know if they’re waiting for their heavy kit to arrive, or whether they’re planning on building it on site. In any event, we seem to have a bit of a breathing space. We aren’t dead yet, gentlemen. We still have a chance.”
Longinus refilled his cup and sipped it, very refined and genteel. “I saw some of your boys wheeling a load of junk on barrows,” he said. “What’s all that about?”
I told him and he laughed. “Give my lads a few days and a couple of barrels of nails and they’ll be real machines up there, not pretend ones,” I went on. “But there’s only four thousand of us, plus six hundred Watch, who I wouldn’t trust as far as I could fart them out of my arse—” smiles from both of them “—and the massed hoes of the Parks and Gardens boys, and that’s it. I need willing hands and strong backs, gentlemen. You have plenty of both. We need to make a deal.”
Dead silence. Aichma was getting fidgety, which meant she was nervous. For my part, I felt like I was standing in a pen with two bulls. Stupid, really. Aichmalotus was a Theme boss, and he was my friend.
“Here’s what’s in it for you,” I said. “First, the City doesn’t fall and we don’t all get slaughtered like sheep. In case you were thinking of getting out by sea, you can forget that. There’s no ships. There’s the shit barges and one freighter. No way you could get even a fraction of your people out on them. If you want to stay alive, we have to hold the City. I think it can be done. No promises, no guarantees, but I reckon it’s possible.”
I took the Great Seal out of my pocket and put it down in the middle of the table. Longinus raised his eyebrows and said nothing. Arrasc said, “Is that—?” I nodded.
“Mine,” I said, “so I can do what I damn well like. And what I’d like to do is legalise the Themes. Legal to join, legal to wear the colours, legal to hold office. You’ll each have a charter, like the Knights of Allectus or the Hospitals. You’ll be able to buy and own land, raise
money by subscription, sue for debts in the courts instead of breaking kneecaps. We all know that all the government in this City that’s worth doing is done by you boys. Now you’ll be able to do it openly, with the Prefect helping instead of making your lives difficult. If you want, you can even come to civic dinners and march in the Ascension Day parade.” That made Longinus laugh. “That’s what I’d like to do,” I said. “You ask Aichma here, I’ve been saying it for years, it’s time the Themes are recognised for what they really are in this town. And I can do all that. All I need is a bit of paper and some hot wax.”
They were looking at me. Arena fighters look at you in a special way, dead still, taking it all in, actually watching. Comes of all that swordfighting. Terrifies the life out of you until you get used to it, and you really shouldn’t. Hippodrome men are dangerous, at all times.
“What do you want?” Arrasc said.
“All the men you can give me,” I said. “And women, and children. I want fighting men on the walls. I want fetchers and carriers, men to dig trenches and saps, build walls, knock down houses, find all the stuff I need, get it from A to B. I need people I can trust to gather up all the food in the City and hand it out, strict rationing, no cheating. If I left that to the Prefect, first thing you know, you boys’d be running a black market, and you’re so much smarter than he is. So I want you two to do it, and anyone who cheats gets his legs broken. I want—” I searched for the right word, but all I could think of was “—co-operation. I think, as you do, that this is your city every bit as much as it’s the emperor’s. Fine. You want it, you’re going to have to fight to keep it. And if we win, I promise you, you’ll have what’s rightfully yours. And if we lose—well, it’s not going to matter a shit, is it? Well? What do you think?”
Another long silence. I was worried. Then Longinus said, “Is anybody going to be paying us for all this work?”
“Yes,” I said. “Rations and cash money. Now I’ll be straight with you, there’s only so much coin in the City and we can’t very well send out for some more when that’s gone, so if this goes on for very long, sooner or later it’ll have to be paper. But there will be money, and you will get what’s fair. You can trust me on that.”
