* * * *
Noviodunum streets at night were mostly abandoned. A few women draped in loose colorful sarongs stood near the main doors of a brothel next door to the largest of the inns on the main street. Candlelight shone in all the windows and sounds of drinking and debauchery wafted out the windows and filled the street in front of the buildings.
Rillan noted the new buildings and streets in the town since the last time he was there. Each time he ventured into this godforsaken city it was larger, louder, and more depraved. Still, even with the expansion of the city, the inner streets were the same. Keeping to the shadows, he worked his way through the newer alleyways, into the older streets and toward the domi of the senators.
Tonight was for scouting. Rillan established a routine long ago. He walked the streets near the senators’ domi, reminding himself of the locations of various landmarks. There was a time when he could have called this place home.
There was one stop he needed to make. Easily picking his way through the rat infested alleyways, Rillan found himself staring at a rotted wooden door. Lightly rapping on the door he feared it might break in half and fall in. There was no answer.
This was the last chance for the druids to revoke the decision they made in sending Rillan to assassinate Tiberius. Rillan closed his eyes and concentrated. He couldn’t smell or hear anything from behind the door, at least nothing beyond the rest of the human and rat waste that soiled the air in the alleyway.
Pushing gently on the poor excuse for a door, half concerned that anything stronger would be the end of the entryway, Rillan walked in. He checked the room over for signs that anyone had been there recently. He was fairly certain that he wouldn’t find the marking which meant that his assignment was canceled. Still he felt obligated to look. The small store room was littered with broken and crumbling wooden barrels. There were piles of debris scattered about the room. Rillan didn’t even want to guess what may be hiding beneath the foul smelling piles.
Leaving the back room, he walked through to what, in a different age, had been the best shop in town. Mosaics with missing tiles and crumbling furniture decorated a decaying sitting room. He checked the front of the shop as a matter of course. There was no one to be found. Signs of habitation, recently evacuated, disturbed the dust on the stone floors. But that was the extent of the excitement in the place.
Rillan returned to the abandoned store room. Picking his way through the mess to a back corner, he kicked some debris off into the darkness. A clattering sound from the disturbed clutter caught his attention and Rillan noticed a small round black thing rolling across the floor. Momentarily distracted from his mission, he walked after it and picked it up. Staring at the small bead in his hand, Rillan realized he was holding a black pearl.
I wonder how long that’s been waiting in this chaos to be found. It was relatively small and easily over looked. If it hadn’t gone rolling across the floor, he would have mistaken the little gem for a stone or just another speck of dirt on the floor. He chuckled. Maybe anyone else who saw it thought it to be shit. Rillan suddenly found himself thinking of Mira. A rare speck of beauty amongst rotting darkness.
Rillan carefully placed the small pearl in his pocket and went back to the place on the floor where he started. Kneeling he traced the edge of one stone tile and, finding a notch in the side, lifted it from the floor. Beneath it, Rillan found a shallow indent. I didn’t think so, he thought, replacing the stone. If the mission were to have been revoked, he would have found a letter or some means of marking within the hiding place. To date he had never been called off his task once he started.
Having established that he was still in play, he retraced his steps and returned to the large inn he passed on the way into town to get a room. Upon entering the inn, Rillan realized that he could count on one hand the number of men in breeches in the main room. There was an obvious distinction and segregation. The men wearing breeches and shirts sat together at a table in one corner of the main room. Judging by the clean look of their boots and the white of their shirts, Rillan figured that they were probably fairly wealthy. They sat quietly conversing.
The men in togas and kilts boisterously circulated throughout the room. A good number of them were accompanied by scantily clad women. A virtual orgy was starting at the far end of the large long table in the center of the room. A couple fair skinned women, sitting on either knee of a soldier wearing a battered but ornate breastplate and spaulders were being undressed by soldiers standing to either side of the one seated. One of the men was groping the woman he was undressing. His hand roughly squeezed her breast and lifted it toward his face as he leaned down to wrap his mouth around the woman’s large brown nipple.
Rillan turned away in disgust, looking for the innkeeper. As if on cue, a fat, greasy, bare-chested man in a dirty toga waddled up to Rillan, eyeing him up and down with distaste. His eyes finally lingered on the gold clasp affixing Rillan’s cloak. Suddenly, the man’s demeanor shifted, and he appeared much friendlier. “Can I be of service to you, barbarian?”
Rillan smiled at the condescending tone in the man’s voice. Barbarian? Rillan scoffed openly. “How much for a room for the week,” Rillan replied, in a hard intimidating tone.
The greasy innkeeper shifted uncomfortably and answered with more respect. “One sestertius for the week.”
Reaching into his purse, Rillan pulled out two silver coins. “I’m not to be disturbed,” he said, placing the two coins in the man’s grubby hand.
Turning them over in his hand the innkeeper examined the old coins. The senator’s head on the coin was turned the wrong way. He looked questioningly at Rillan, held one coin to his mouth and bit down. Silver is silver. “As you like it,” the man said, once he was satisfied with the authenticity of the money. He waved a hand, signaling a girl to join them. The girl’s round, brown eyes reminded him of Mira, but spoke of the south, while her narrow face was distinctly of the druid nations. She smiled warmly at Rillan. “Arial, take this man to a room. Make sure he has everything he requires.”
The irony of that statement, Rillan thought as he followed the pretty girl. She led him out a door in the back of the main room into a poorly kempt courtyard open to the sky. It was surrounded on all sides by columns, propping up an overhang forming a peristyle. Beyond the columns were numerous doors, most of which were closed. Rillan could hear the distinct sounds of rough sex coming from behind various doors. He walked with Arial through the center of the courtyard, around a water filled basin, and past the columns directly across from the main building. Choosing a door that was slightly ajar, Arial stepped into the small room ahead of Rillan. There was only an unmade bed in the small room. It smelled of rancid wine, urine, and other things that Rillan didn’t even want to contemplate. Even knowing that his nose was more sensitive than humans, he wondered at a person’s ability to sleep in this.
“You come to be used to it,” Arial said softly, when she noticed the look in Rillan’s eyes.
He faced her and shook his head sympathetically. “It’s enough to make me think sleeping in the stables would be more pleasant. No one should have to grow used to it.”
A sad expression came over her. “Some have no alternative.” Arial suddenly snapped back to being sweet and comely, as if she remembered that she should be smiling at the wealthy man in front of her. She stepped up to Rillan and ran a gentle hand across the bulge in the front of his pants. “Is there anything else you require? Dinner? Wine? Company?” Arial’s experienced fingers traced along Rillan’s rapidly growing shaft.
This was the first time he thought of sex since he left Mira. He hated the way he parted with her. Arial’s attention made him acutely aware of how used to sleeping with a woman he had become. Sighing, he took hold of Arial’s wrist, brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her softly on her palm. Staring into her eyes, Rillan could see a hopeful glimmer. “I’m afraid that I’ll not be needing company this night Arial.” Disappointment clouded her pretty brown eyes. Yo
u’d not be so upset if you truly knew me, sweet one.
“I guess I should go to the other guests then,” she said regretfully.
At that, Rillan realized what that would mean. Pulling another sestertius out of his purse, he placed it in her hand before releasing her wrist. “Have this night to yourself.”
Arial stared in wonder at the coin, speechless. She shoved the coin into a hidden pocket in her sarong, as if someone would see it and try to take it.
The grateful smile on her face was more than Rillan could handle. He decided to change the subject, before she started talking. “Tell me who a man speaks with, if he wants to know the goings on of the senate.”
“That depends,” Arial said. Her innocent demeanor seemed to melt from her, the sweet innocent stare she perfected belied more than Rillan could have guessed. “What kind of goings on are you interested in.”
“I want to find out what a senator does all day.”
“That makes no sense. Anyone could tell you that the senators attended meetings all day. You must be wanting something more specific than that.”
Rillan reached into his purse again and pulled out a denarius. He held it up in front of Arial, watching her eyes focus on the coin. “I guess I am looking for some fairly specific information. And I don’t want anyone to know that I’m looking for it.”
Arial nodded, staring past the shining golden coin to Rillan’s face, the innocence now completely gone from her features. “What do you want to know,” she said quietly, reaching for the coin.
Rillan let her get her hand around it, but didn’t release it. “I need someone who can tell me what Tiberius Caelius Novanus does day and night. Who he’s with. Where he goes.”
“You need a member of his personal staff. It’s not as if that information is secret. If you waited around outside his gates you would see him come and go.” Arial sounded almost disappointed that his question hadn’t been more interesting. “He leads a fairly public life.”
During the day, he thought. Sometimes I hate the sun. More and more often of late. “I don’t want to be seen watching him.” Rillan started to take the coin out of her hand. “If you can’t help me—“
“I know just the person you need,” Arial said quickly and snatched the coin out of his hand.
“Bring him here tomorrow night,” Rillan said dismissively and started to move so that Arial could leave the room.
Showing no intention of leaving, Arial’s eyes focused contemplatively on Rillan. “It’s not often that I do this for someone who hasn’t paid and demanded it,” she whispered.
Confusion was replaced with uncertain regret, as Rillan watched Arial drop to her knees in front of him. She managed to untie his breeches, pull his limp member from his pants and wrap her lips around it, before he knew what was happening. Either I’m getting slow or my guard was far too low with this one. “Arial,” he hissed, trying to find the right words to stop her without insulting her. His cock, betraying him, responded enthusiastically to Arial’s touch.
With the thought process of a philosopher examining the intricate differences between two flowers, he found himself contemplating the differences between Mira’s naïve hands and Arial’s practiced fingers. Arial’s tongue swirled around the head of his cock, tracing the ridge. Her small hands gripped his shaft tightly and stroked the length slowly.
Pulling her mouth from him, Arial licked the tip a couple times as she stroked it. “You’re so cold,” she whispered.
Rillan took advantage of her having released him from her mouth. “Arial.” He reached under her chin and made her look at him. “I have someone. I need you to stop this.”
Disappointment filled her eyes, but she released his member from her grip and sat back on her heels. She watched him rearrange himself and tie his breeches securely in place. “You are an unusual man,” she said softly. “And whoever she is, I envy her.” Arial quickly got to her feet and disappeared through the door, before Rillan could say anything more.
Chapter 8
Nightfall brought a soft knock on Rillan’s door. When he opened it, Arial was standing there with a middle-aged, nervous man in a toga. Stepping back, Rillan opened the door as wide as he could in the confined space and allowed them both in.
Arial smiled winningly at Rillan. “This is Sarius. He waits on Tiberius, and his wife works in the kitchens.”
With the mention of his wife, Sarius looked a bit smaller. “Well, she used to,” he said to the air.
Arial shot Rillan an apologetic gaze. “She’s fallen sick. Sarius needs money for the apothecary.”
“I’m sorry for your troubles.” Rillan felt little sympathy overall. At least the man has a wife to be sick. “I pay well, if that’s any aid to your cooperation.”
“I’ll cooperate,” Sarius said in a muted voice. “Arial said that all you want to know is what Tiberius does all the time.”
Rillan nodded. “That’s all.” He produced several golden denarii. “As much detail as you can.”
Rillan listened carefully as Sarius related the intricacies of a day in the life of Tiberius Caelius Novanus. He looked a bit uncomfortable, when Rillan started asking questions about the number of guards in the house and where they were at night.
Neither Arial nor Sarius was fool enough to not draw some conclusions about why Rillan wanted a daily itinerary, especially after Rillan’s questions. Even so, the money was enough to support Sarius’ family for the entire year.
“There is one thing that I would add,” Sarius said. “Tiberius was a general before he took control in the senate. You ask a great deal about guards. He doesn’t have many because he doesn’t need them.”
“Thank you for that,” Rillan replied and added another coin to the pile. “Is there anything else you would add?”
Sarius thought hard to come up with something else that might add another denarius to his payment. Finally he shook his head.
Rillan pressed the coins into Sarius’ hands. “I don’t think I have to tell you to forget that you were here.”
“No. That goes without saying.” Sarius took the coins, excused himself, and skulked off into the night, grateful that the ordeal was over.
Arial stayed behind for a short time, but once she established that she wasn’t going to be able to bed Rillan, she excused herself.
* * * *
Rillan was beginning to feel the wearying effects of all the travel, day and night. Not to mention the constant nagging longing for Mira. The woman never leaves my thoughts. Even now, standing in the shadows of the stone wall surrounding Tiberius’ home, all he could think was, Finish this. Then you can return to her.
Intently, he watched the windows of Tiberius’ domus. The candlelight long since extinguished, Rillan was only waiting now in the hopes that Tiberius would be asleep for the attack. He had dealt with warriors before. It was always more difficult than the standard overfed politician helplessly cowering in a corner.
Impatient for an end to this assignment, Rillan took a deep breath and summoned up his demon. Blood lust ran rampant through his senses. This half reveled in the task at hand. No remorse, he told himself. Do what must be done, because no one else can.
Crawling from one shadow to the next, Rillan slid easily up to the domus. He scaled the wall and crept on his stomach along the burnt orange tiled roof. Laying along the edge of the roof, he scanned the courtyard and garden for people. A large statue of a man, presumably Tiberius, dominated the center of the courtyard. Intricate mosaics made up the walkways throughout the courtyard garden. Lanterns illuminated the courtyard, fighting out the night even in the absence of people, illustrating the decadence of the household.
The shadows within the peristyle insisted that Rillan be cautious. He listened for breathing or movement, waiting long moments patiently. After having established no one was around, he lowered himself into the courtyard. Slinking beneath the overhang, past the columns, Rillan melted into the shadows of the peristyle and followed the extravagant
mosaics past the kitchen and latrine into the atrium. He counted doors along the wall, until he came to the one that Sarius had indicated belonged to Tiberius.
With a practiced hand, Rillan lifted the latch and slowly pushed the door open. As small and rancid as his room at the inn was, this room was spacious and fragrant. Incense burned somewhere in the darkness. There was a sitting area with several large chairs. Columns acted as the divider between the entrance and the chairs and the bed chamber.
Spying the mounded blankets on the large bed, Rillan moved through the darkness to the bedside. As he reached the piled blankets, he knew something was wrong. He heard no breathing, smelled no blood or sweat. No human is that clean, he thought.
Rillan sensed the attack, just as a wicked spatha sliced through the air and bit into the mattress, sending a cloud of soft down into the air. Instinctually, Rillan sank into the shadows. Moving faster than Tiberius’ eye could follow, he scaled a column and watched the man search for him from the darkness.
“Rillan ap Tiernay,” Tiberius said with grudging awe and respect. “Vampire assassin. I wondered when you would come for me.” Tiberius held his spatha lightly in his hand, as he cautiously searched the shadows, careful not to let his guard falter. “I was told not to take this domus. The senate believes it cursed. Do you have any idea how many druids I had to interrogate before I found out what demon they commanded?”
Rillan knew that Tiberius was taunting him with intent. The man moved as if he was more than familiar with the weapon in his hand, and he was confident enough in his abilities that he chose not to call his guard to his aid. Rillan decided to watch a bit longer. The man had earned some respect.
Tiberius shifted his search from the large deep shadows to search the less obvious possibilities. “There are legends still told about you,” he spoke into the darkness. “Stories about the great warrior Northman who held back our armies for years before vanishing. What was it? The destruction of your army? The death of your family?”
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