The Pillars of Hercules (27 page)

It wasn’t. It was the window. From it he could see the battlements and lower towers of the Ortygia. Guards were already running along those battlements, sounding the alarm. Beyond them was the sprawl of Syracuse. Fires had broken out in several places in the city. Lugorix drew in a deep breath of air—it was getting hard to breath in that room—and then drew his head back in and continued fumbling his way along the wall. In short order he reached the door. A man was dimly visible in that doorway, though Lugorix was too blinded to see his face. But he wearing an Athenian uniform. The Gaul drew his axe back.

And stopped as the man turned around.

It was Matthias. He had an Athenian’s sword in one hand, Eurydice’s hand in the other.

“You moved fast,” said Lugorix. Matthias grinned like the cat that ate the canary.

“How’d you get in here in the first place?” asked Eurydice.

“Through the water gate.”

“That’ll be totally blocked off by now.” She thought a moment. “Act like you two are escorting me.” Then she let go of Matthias’ hand, led both him and Lugorix down the corridor with a purposefulness that made Lugorix wonder who was rescuing who. She clearly knew the palace’s layout. She took them through a series of side-corridors, back-passages and storage rooms that were clearly off the main avenues of traffic. Occasionally they hung back at intersections while squads of guards rushed past them. Shouts and orders echoed all around. The fortress was in a state of considerable upheaval. And the situation back at Cleon’s chamber seemed to be the least of it. There seemed to be a major incident going on at the gates to the fortress. Lugorix reckoned that Agathocles was the man behind that. Perhaps it was a diversion. Or perhaps
they
were the diversion. They were passing through a weapons-storage room when—

“There,” said Eurydice.

“What?” asked Lugorix.

“That’s how I’m leaving,” she said, pointing at an
oxybeles
—a large crossbow, mounted on a wheeled platform.

“You want us to fire you into the city?” asked Matthias.

Eurydice didn’t bother to answer. She bent down, squeezed herself under the platform, clung onto it. She was all but invisible—only her foot stuck out.

“Now let’s hit the front door,” she said.

Lugorix and Mathias looked at each other, shrugged—began pushing the oxybeles out of the room, heading in the direction where the noise of soldiers shouting was loudest. The oxybeles attracted much more attention than Eurydice had. But it was far more likely to be allowed out of the fortress than she was. One more ramp took them into a courtyard that bordered the main gatehouse. The gate itself was open. Lugorix and Matthias pushed the oxybeles through it—

“Yikes,” said Matthias.

Lugorix knew the feeling. It was only now that he could see just how narrow the peninsula connecting the fortress to the city was. It was more of a bridge, really—a winding ramp that sloped steeply downhill, battlements on either side, another gatehouse at the bottom, at the entrance to the city. Soldiers were moving at speed down the ramp.

“Let’s do this,” said Matthias. He started pushing the oxybeles onto the ramp. The apparatus immediately began rolling away from him. Lugorix dashed past it, stepped in front of it before it could gain much speed. His eyes met those of Matthias.

“Idiot,” he said.

“How was I to know it was going to start rolling so quick?” protested the Greek.

“By thinking,” said a voice from under the oxybeles.

Lugorix started walking down the ramp, letting the oxybeles press against his back to keep it from sliding past him. Matthias grasped its rear—tugged on the platform to lessen the load. But Lugorix was doing most of the work. As he walked the oxybeles carefully forward, he was scanning the city toward which they were descending. Many of the buildings along the dockside had now caught fire; it looked like whatever civil disturbance was going on was largely concentrated in the districts nearest the harbor. Which would make sense if the goal was to funnel troops out of the Ortygia and into the city and in so doing allow the three within to escape. But what Lugorix hadn’t expected was the scale of what was taking place.

“You there,” said a voice—stentorian, commanding. It was coming from the gatehouse they’d just left. A sergeant-at-arms stood there. Lugorix half-turned—continued to walk the oxybeles down the ramp as he responded.

“Yes?”

“Where do you think you’re going with that?”

“Our lord Cleon wants more firepower to deal with the rabble.”

“Does he really?” said another voice. Its owner stepped out of the shadows behind the sergeant-at-arms. It was Demetrius, the guard captain. Beside him was Cleon, looking seriously pissed.

“Shit,” said Matthias. He leapt onto the oxybeles-platform, swiveled the oxybeles itself around so that it pointed directly at Cleon—pulled a trigger that sliced through a rope, unleashing the compressed energy of the weapon. There was an enormous twanging noise as a giant bolt shot from the oxybeles. Cleon was already hurling himself aside with a speed that belied his girth, but Demetrius wasn’t so quick. The bolt lifted him off his feet, hurled him backward. He never made a sound. But the soldiers who were rushing up behind him did. They swarmed down toward the oxybeles screaming bloodlust.

“Time to go,” said Lugorix. He scrambled around behind the oxybeles and gave it a hard shove as it began rolling down the ramp unchecked. Then he gripped the back of it, running behind it, giving it some more momentum before leaping on. He steadied himself on the rear, grasped the edge of the platform, looked back up at Cleon. The Exalted Ambassador of the People of Athens was on his feet again, entirely beside himself with rage. He screamed curses and insults as his soldiers ran after the accelerating oxybeles-platform. But they were quickly left behind as the contraption careened down the ramp. Lugorix grinned.

And then a hand appeared right in front of him. He grasped it, helped its owner onto the platform.

“I figure the time to keep a low profile’s over,” said Eurydice.

Lugorix nodded. The wind tugged at his hair. They were going faster than any horse could carry them, and they were still gaining velocity. Eurydice took in the steepness of the ramp, ran her eyes along its sinuous length.

“You know,” she said, “this was a really stupid move.”

“You’re the one who wanted to use this thing,” said Matthias.

“Not in this fashion.”

“Small comfort now,” shot back Matthias.

“How about both of you shut up,” said Lugorix.

The planks holding the accelerating platform together were starting to creak alarmingly. Soldiers leapt out of the way to avoid getting run over. Ahead of them the ramp sloped to the right, curving down toward the lower gatehouse.

“We need to throw our weight to the right,” snarled Eurydice.
“Now.”

The three of them did just that. Lugorix swung himself as far off the right-hand side as he could, holding onto the oxybeles itself, feeling the platform tilt to the point where it seemed it was about to tip altogether. The platform scraped against the left-hand wall, ripped along it, careened down what remained of the ramp and shot through the lower gatehouse. Stunned soldiers stared as it whipped past, into the streets of Syracuse. Which were far too narrow and winding to allow them to slow down. Ahead of them was a nasty-looking wall.

“Hang on,” said Eurydice.

“Oh
shit,
” said Matthias.

The crash that followed was as loud as it was spectacular.

Chapter Twelve

B
ack from black: Lugorix swam slowly upward through the layers of awareness. He was dimly aware of pain in his head, of some kind of overwhelming heat that waxed and waned at odd intervals. Shadows hovered over him. Someone was mopping his brow, telling him to rest. But the resting had gone on for eons. Then at last light flickered above him, shimmering through all that dark. Gradually more sounds began to suffuse his brain. Chief among those noises was a hammering. It got louder. And louder. And then—

“He’s awake,” said a voice.

Lugorix wasn’t so sure about that. He opened his eyes, but all he could see was a blurry haze.

“Can you hear me?” said the voice.

“Yes,” said Lugorix.

“Turn your head.”

Lugorix did.

“Move your left foot.”

Lugorix did. Several more instructions followed. A hand grasped his wrist, checked his pulse. A light weight fell on each of his knees, checking his reflexes.

“He possesses full mobility,” said the voice.

“Of course I do,” said Lugorix.

“Then I shall leave you, my lady.”

“I’m not a lady,” replied Lugorix.

“That’d be me,” said Barsine.

Lugorix focused on the shadowy form that was sitting on the edge of the bed. He squinted as that form resolved itself into the features of the Persian noblewoman. He realized he’d been dreaming about her. He wondered if this was a dream too.

“That was the doctor,” she added.

“How am I doing?” asked Lugorix.

“I think he’s surprised you woke up.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Some weeks.”

“Some
weeks
?”

“The blow on the head was followed by a fever. One that nearly consumed you in your weakened state. How do you feel?”

He thought about that. “My head hurts.”

“That’s to be expected. But Damitra’s been a damn sight more useful than that doctor. She’s been dosing you with herbs every day.”

“Where am I?”

“At the house of Mardonius. Back at Thieves’ Cove.”

“Ah,” said Lugorix. He thought about this for a few moments. It seemed a more fundamental question was in order. A few more moments, and he realized what that question was.

“So what the
fuck
is going on?” he asked.

“You put your life on the line and earned your two talents,” she said. “But I need you to come further west with me.”

There was a pause. Lugorix said nothing. She looked up, met his eyes.

“It’s your choice, of course. But regardless, I owe you an explanation.”

“You owe Matthias one as well.”

“He’s already heard it.”

“Was he injured in the—”

“No. And I’m pleased to say that he’s forgotten all about his silly crush on me. Thanks to that slut of a sorceror’s daughter.”

“Eurydice?”

“She’s a creature of considerable appetites. And she’s taken a fancy to your friend.”

“Oh. That’s, um,”—Lugorix searched for the right phrase—“great news.”

“It certainly made the news that I’d been in Alexander’s bed easier for him to deal with.”

Suddenly it all came rushing back. “Taranis,” muttered Lugorix. “That was
true?”

“It
was
.”

“You were working with Alexander?”

“If I had been—if I still was—do you think we’d be having this conversation?”

Lugorix mulled this over. His head really hurt. “What’s that hammering noise?”

“That? Eurydice is supervising some adjustments to the
Xerxes
. Enhancements of her own design that are going to be make the next phase of this journey much easier. One more reason we’ve been holed up here for so long. She may be a sex maniac but I can’t deny she’s got talent. Fortunately Agathocles didn’t realize that.”

Lugorix nodded. “He was planning to take Aristotle for himself, eh?”

She smiled wryly. “I wasn’t going to trust Agathocles further than I had to. Those plans for the Ortgyia and that diversionary attack of his… he was helping us out so that he could get his hands on a sorceror who might help him overthrow Athenian power
and
keep the Macedonians at bay as well. Needless to say he wasn’t too pleased to hear of Aristotle’s death. Matthias and Eurydice gave him some of the scrolls and told him that was all they’d managed to get out.”

“And Aristotle didn’t really die of sickness, did he.” It was a statement not a question.

She shrugged. “Probably not. All the more suspicious given how quickly they seem to have gotten rid of the body. Eurydice tells me she was left alone with his corpse for less than ten minutes.”

“The Macks got to him.”

“Presumably. If you could get into the Ortygia, so could others.”

“Or they were inside the Ortygia already.”

She sighed. “I know Cleon was about to ship the old man back to Athens. Which isn’t to say he would have been safer there. As we’ve had ample cause to learn, the whole Athenian command-structure is plagued with those who’ve succumbed to Macedonian gold. I’ve asked Eurydice what she thinks happened to her father, but she refuses to even discuss the issue. My guess, she was in considerable danger by the time you reached her. The Athenians have been waking up to the fact that she has a good chunk of her father’s abilities, and that means the Macedonians were going to be after her as well. She’s lucky you got her out when you did.”

“All the more so as you’re not working for Macedonia.” Same inflection as before, but now it had the hint of a question. Barsine sighed.

“Alexander’s forces captured me after the battle of Gaugemela,” she said. “Darius ordered all members of his household to fall back on Ectabana, but the Macedonian cavalry moved too fast. We were brought before him at Babylon. That was when I saw him first.”

She stopped talking, seemed to be searching for words. Or maybe she was just lost in memories. When she looked up at him, her eyes were glistening.

“I’d like to tell you he forced me. That would make it easier, wouldn’t it? But the truth of the matter is that I loved him from the moment I laid eyes on him. I thought he felt the same. It took me a long while to realize the only thing he’s capable of loving is his own reflection. It took me even longer to realize what he thinks that reflection really is.”

“That of a god.”

“And he truly does possess the means to become one.”

“Is that why we’re going west?” asked Lugorix.

Barsine stood up. Walked over to a window and looked out it. Then turned back to Lugorix. Her voice sounded far away.