by S. J. Ryan
Then, from her side, the dogs barked and lunged.
Carrot was startled and staggered, nearly teetering off balance in her dress and sandals. The dogs were as huge and shaggy as wolves, snarling with fangs that might have reached her throat had the collar chains not been yanked.
“What is this?” Archimedes demanded.
“Order of the Colonel of the imperial guard," the imperial guard captain replied, nodding to the handlers to restrain their dogs. "With the recent killings in the city, there is suspicion a witch is loose. The dogs are trained to detect such.”
"Witch!" Archimedes said. "When did the Emperor believe in such paranoid nonsense!"
The dogs were still growling at Carrot. She could have dealt with the pair, but their incessant noise-making was attracting attention of the nearest guests and made her want to flee and hide.
“Sir,” the captain interjected. “You and your party must be detained – “
"Teacher!"
The man who stepped out of the onlooking throng by the entry wore the same cape that he had worn when Carrot had watched him pace the dock at the Island of the Sisters of Wisdom. Valarion seemed even taller in person. It made his smirking expression seem intolerable.
“Valarion!” Archimedes said. “We are here as guests of the Emperor!”
Valarion addressed the captain, “This is Archimedes, Chief Scientist of Rome and personal friend of the Emperor. The Emperor will have our heads if we were to detain him.”
“But sir – the girl – “ the captain protested.
“I know, but this is the first time we've tried the dogs, and perhaps they are being triggered by a perfume or who knows what.” Valarion smiled down at Archimedes. “Teacher, I trust you will vouch for this girl.”
“Of course, in fact we're here on her invite.”
“If you say,” Valarion said. “Well, I have guests to attend.” And then he was off.
The threesome entered the hall. Carrot looked at Matt. He was looking back at her. Your Director of the Star Seed Project. The invader of my homeland.
No longer enchanted by the scenery, Carrot raised her nose and sniffed.
“What are you doing?” Matt asked.
“You know what I'm doing. She's not here.”
“Who's not – oh. How do you know what she smells like? You've never met her in human form.”
“On patrol one night, I found her scent when she was in creature form, and I tracked it back to the place where she had made her transformation. And there I detected also the scent of her human form.”
Matt blinked. “Oh.”
Carrot sighed. “I wonder where she is.”
Archimedes returned with three glasses filled with fizzing liquid. “Are you two old enough to drink alcoholic beverages?”
“In Britan,” Carrot said, “women as old as me are normally married with children, and mollify their birth pangs and soothe the teething of their infants with aged corn brew.”
Archimedes bobbed his head and gave her the drink. “And you, Matt? What are the drinking rules in Seattle?”
“No one's here to stop me,” Matt said, taking the glass.
Watching Carrot raise the glass to her lips, Archimedes said, “Careful, it's quite power– “
Carrot tossed it in one gulp and handed the glass back.
Frowning, Matt handed his glass back too – unsipped. “You know, I don't feel like having this right now.”
Archimedes looked around. “I don't see the Emperor. Usually he makes a grand entrance around this time. I'll see what the delay is.”
When he was gone, Matt asked Carrot, “Now that you we're here, what do you think of all this?”
“I'm wondering how many Britanians had to starve in order to feed the slaves who were worked to death mining the marble stone for the walls. Matt, did you hear what Valarion said? This is the first time those dogs were used, and it is when I come. Someone knows what I am and does not want me here.”
“Maybe we should grant their wish and go.”
“I will, once I see the Emperor.”
“No, Carrot. We need to go now.”
“Ivan is telling you there is danger?”
“I don't need him to tell me this isn't safe. It's a matter of historical knowledge. Carrot, we had empires on Earth. They were always filled with conspiracies, and the closer you get to the top, the thicker they are.”
“So you wish to disappoint the Emperor, based on your superior historical insight.”
“Also intuition, if you want to call it that.”
“How does Ivan 'feel' about your intuition?”
“Carrot – ” He sighed.
She read the look of concern on his face, and for the first time suspected how much he must care for her. But before she could say more, a young man in elegant robes approached and bowed.
“My lady, I greet you,” he said, smiling as disarmingly as a boy in a haystack. “Would you care to dance?”
“She doesn't know how to dance,” Matt said.
Carrot snapped, “I'll learn in a minute of watching and you know it.”
“Carrot, listen, Archimedes and I have been working in the sewers all week, and this party just happens to be scheduled for right after we're done. Doesn't that strike you as oddly convenient?”
The young man frowned at Matt. “Do you find it wholesome to talk to a lady of sewers?”
Matt continued, “And I agree the timing of the dogs is too coincidental, and isn't it even more coincidental that General Valarion 'just happens' to be nearby and lets us pass through security?”
“Then what is going on?”
“I don't know. But when a lot of strange things happen at once, there's often a root cause.”
“Please excuse the intrusion,” the young man said, sighing.
Carrot watched him retreat and said, “Perhaps I should go with him.”
Matt didn't say anything. She met his eyes, and saw . . . pleading. He looked as if he was lost. He looked as if he were going to cry. She felt her anger melt away.
“Oh Matt,” she said. “I feel like I'm the dumbest person in the world when it comes to understanding you.”
“You're the smartest person in the star system,” he said. “And I'm just a moron who can't dance.”
“Ivan can't teach you?”
Matt hung his head. “He's tried.”
“Well, once I learn, maybe I can help – “
Carrot heard a light "Ahem" at her side. An elegantly liveried servant was standing. He bowed improbably low and said formally, "Are you the Lady Arcadia?”
Carrot nodded.
“The Emperor is not feeling well. He has requested, however, to have a conversation with you in private. If you will follow, I will lead to his quarters.”
Carrot met Matt's gaze, then returned her attention to the servant and bowed. “Yes, I will follow.”
“Carrot, don't!” Matt said, his voice quavering.
“Matt, I must. If there is any chance he is sincere, it would mean so much!”
“Then I'm coming too.”
“This is to be a private audience,” the servant said.
On cue, two towering, grim-faced guardsmen appeared at his side.
“Watch over Archimedes,” Carrot said. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”
“Carrot – “
Matt grabbed her arm. She felt her skin tingle and she looked up. His expression was grim. She had never noticed before how deep his eyes were. She became aware of the servant's exasperation at the delay and tried to shake free of Matt's grip. To her surprise, she couldn't.
Then Matt let go and said, “Be careful, Carrot.”
"I can take – " She halted. No, she wouldn't say that to his pleading. Instead, she said, “You be careful too, Matt.”
Carrot followed the servant out of the reception hall. Voices and music faded. With escort she passed courtyards, vaulted halls, and security checkpoints. It is like a city within a city, she thought. All for one man, whi
le half the world goes hungry.
She remembered Matt's admonitions and thought, Nothing here is as it seems.
Her personal resentment toward Matt that evening had been tucked into a mental compartment before they had finished speaking, and she had opened another compartment, one that contained the business of survival. The Leaf had trained her to take seriously even the faint crack of a distant twig, as well as the slightest of intuitions from her comrades. She could not dismiss that training now.
Yes – nothing here was as it seemed. Despite its sedate mingling and idle chatter, wasn't the party she had just exited full of the greatest murderers on the planet? To attain the summit of power in Rome, one either breathed conspiracy or breathed not at all. Just as Ral had warned . . . just as Matt had too.
Yet as the servant and she journeyed deeper into the bowels of the palace, soon the soldiers were few and then invisible. The empty gardens, bathed in silent moonlight, were so placid, the mesmerizing gurgle of the fountains so seductively calming. The halls were adorned with paintings, murals, frescoes, and tapestries presenting imagery not of war and brutality but of domestic and pastoral tranquility.
Still, her subconscious whispered, It's all a lie.
She wanted to run, but sensed it was already too late.
In a deserted hall, the servant halted at a nondescript door. "He is expecting you."
Carrot entered alone.
It was a bedroom, smaller than she thought it would be. It was well-lit by lanterns set high on the walls. Even with normal vision, she would have had no trouble seeing the scene as it had been laid out.
Hadron's body was sprawled unmoving on the bed. He was staring upward, fixedly. The goblet in his hand had spilled its remaining contents onto the sheets, mingling with the trickle of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.
Behind her, Carrot heard the door click. Then a tray crashed and a woman screamed.
40.
Matt paced the great hall, back and forth across the entry into the passage that the servant and guards had taken Carrot. Minutes had passed and she had not returned. Then he realized it was ridiculous to think she would be back in minutes. It was a big palace and she might not even be there yet. Wherever 'there' was. A study? A bedroom? And why did that bother him?
“Ivan, I know you're controlling my hormones, but do you think I'm upset about this just because I'm attracted to her?”
“I lack sufficient data to assign a probability.”
“Do you think he'll try anything with her?”
“You mean, will the Emperor attempt a sexual advance on Carrot?”
“Yeah.”
“I lack sufficient data to assign a probability.”
“Then there's the question, what if she makes a sexual advance on him?”
“It is unlikely that Carrot is sexually attracted to the Emperor.”
“She might do something if she thinks it will help her country.”
“Matt, you are asking questions involving individual human behavior which are outside my analytical skills and knowledge base. Perhaps you should consult a human friend on these matters.”
If I still had one, Matt thought.
He became aware that the nearest guests were staring and realized he had been muttering. He strode quickly away to the balcony. It overlooked a garden painted in moonlight. No signs of motion, save for lanterns wafting in the breeze.
Taking care to subvocal, he said, “Is Herman above the horizon yet?”
“No, Matt. Hermanrise is in twenty-seven minutes.”
“He's never around when we need him. Is, uh, the partition transmitting?”
“Yes, Matt.”
“So where is she?”
Ivan flashed an augmented-reality arrow in Matt's field of vision. It pointed over a building on the other side of the garden.
“So she's in there?”
“She is in that direction.”
“Range?”
“Two hundred and thirty-five meters. Please note this value is based on attenuation of signal with the assumption of no intervening obstacles.”
“Can you triangulate her position?”
“For an accurate determination, it will be necessary for you to walk a minimum of thirty meters in a direction perpendicular to the signal vector.”
Before Matt could take a step, a hand clamped his shoulder.
"Come this way, Matt," Archimedes said. "We want to hear your views."
“I'm just going outside for some fresh air – “
“Air is important, but so is entertainment.”
“Right now I'd rather not be entertained – ”
“You're not going to be. I am.”
Archimedes dragged him halfway down the hall to a spacious wing. A group of guests were clustered next to a wall. They all wore elaborate robes, and one of them had a purple fringe that looked like a swatch from a shag carpet. They elevated drinks as Archimedes and Matt approached.
Archimedes introduced. "This is Matt of Seattle. Seattle is a city of cultural sophistication in the western reaches of Espin. Matt, these are people of apparent status in Rome."
Heads finished bowing and appraising gazes began. Archimedes gestured to the wall, which was covered by a mural.
“Matt, the paintings in this wing were commissioned and donated to the imperial palace by the Sisters of Wisdom. Could you enlighten us as to the views of the learned scholars of Seattle regarding the historicity of these portrayals?”
Matt took a moment to parse the sentence, and then regarded the mural. It was fundamentally a map of the Yuro Archipelago, centered on the island of Italia with Britan in the upper left corner. But it was half allegorical in that it showed selected buildings and ships, people and animals and plants disproportionately thousands of times larger than scale. Rome, for example, displayed the imperial palace, Victory Square, and the Coliseum. Londa was Governor's House. Elsewhere on the map, magnified symbolically, were fishermen, farmers, and soldiers.
“Okay . . . ” Matt said. “Is there something I'm supposed to see?”
“This is meant as a map of the present day,” Archimedes said. “Nothing you see different from the perspective of Seattle?”
Matt shrugged, hoping he could get back to tracking Carrot.
“Now here, look at this one. What do you think?”
The next painting was a throwback to the children's book at Fish Lake. Amid clouds and mesas resided a box. The lid of the box was flung open. Out of the box emanated rays of light, and riding upon the rays were plants and animals.
Matt ventured, "It looks . . . like the legend about The Box That Everything Came In."
The shag-fringed senator spoke into his drink, “How revelatory.”
Archimedes scowled. “We all know of the damned Box Myth, Matt! What these esteemed personages want to know is, what is the thinking in Seattle about it? How do you reconcile your advanced scientific knowledge with the notion of a box that fell from the stars, and out tumbled all the plants and beasts?”
“The obvious question is,” another man said. “How did it all fit in? Were the plants and animals in a miniaturized form?”
"Perhaps the box is charmed," said an older woman. "It's larger on the inside than the outside. It's a miracle, as my governess would say, and miracles are not to be questioned."
A few of the men snorted. Matt wondered if he should just play dumb. But he was also curious to see how the truth played among a group of people who considered themselves the most educated and sophisticated on the planet.
"The box didn't contain full-size animals," he said. "It contains the patterns for making animals. See these little spiral wisps coming out the sides? Those are DNA snippets which are spliced into the existing DNA within the cellular – "
"I heard of 'deena' in Temple School," a young woman said. "It sounded so amazing! It can turn anything into anything else, through invisible homonuculi known as editian viralises."
"Editor viruses," Matt said
. “And it can't turn anything into anything. In fact, it doesn't turn anything into anything.” Ivan was hurried calling up information, which Matt read from AR screens. “It doesn't mutate the organism, it mutates the gametes which combine to form offspring, which are thus mutated from – “
“And so, a mouse gives birth to a lion,” said the senator. “That must be a hard fit for the mother!”
Matt waited for the chuckling to die down.
“There are a lot of intermediate steps,” he replied. “You don't go straight from a mouse to a lion. You start with a mouse, a subvolean chimera actually, but let's call it a mouse. You allow the mice to breed throughout the planetary ecosystem. Then editor viruses in microprinted spore encasements are released into the atmosphere and randomly absorbed by members of the mouse population to enter into the cellular nuclei and edit the DNA of their gametes to create mouse-plus-one intermediate-form chimera gametes – “
“And what is a gamete?” asked another listener.
“A sex cell,” Matt said.
“Ah. So this was the interesting part.”
Matt waited for the round of laughter to die down, but before he could speak a woman interjected, “I want to know more about the deena. Is it like a worm that burrows beneath the skin?”
Before Matt could respond, a man said, “I once saw an elephant do tricks at the Coliseum, but it didn't climb out of a mouse.”
They all laughed again. Archimedes tugged Matt farther down the wing. “Now, Matt, take a look at this one.”
They went on to the next painting. Eyebrows furrowed, Matt backed up to get a full view.
Pensive men in dark robes aimed tubes that spat fire. Above their heads, where halos would have hovered on the paintings of Medieval Europe, were positioned icons that resembled stylized beetles of white inside circles of green. The men were shooting at an army of humanoid creatures emerging from the box.
Matt's jaw dropped and for a moment he forgot all about Carrot. “What is this?”
“A battle scene from The War Between the Mentors and Witches,” Archimedes said.
“The War Between the Sisters and Mentors,” said the woman who had mentioned 'Temple School.'
“I didn't read anything in the library about this,” Matt said in a quiet voice to Archimedes.
