Muses of Terra (Codex Antonius Book 2) (44 page)

He gathered his strength and then leaned over the side of the chair to look behind him. There were at least ten octopod bodies lying in the com room with more in the hallway. They all had wrapped their tentacles around themselves, as if bedding down for the night. They were not moving. They must have died when the vessel finally entered the sun and its communications with them ceased.

“How long have they been there?”

“They were about to tear us limb from limb until you stopped them,” Dariya said. “I do not know what you did up there, but they listened to you. Then just a few minutes ago, they all lay down as if going to sleep, but I do not think they are sleeping anymore. They look dead to me.” She paused, and then in a quiet voice, said, “Is it true? Lucia, Ocella,…Kaeso…?”

Cordus looked at her. “I’m sorry.”

She gave a shaky sigh. “What will we do now?” she asked under her breath. Daryush’s lost expression said much the same thing.

“What do you want to do?” Cordus asked.

“We do
not
want to stay on this planet any longer than we have to. Even the Persians here are too Roman.”

“Then
Vacuna
is yours,” Cordus said.

Dariya stared at him. “What about Blaesus?”

“His days of exile are over. I’m going to need him if I’m to survive Republic politics.”

Dariya’s mouth twitched. “Thank you.”

Daryush clapped his hands and rubbed them together, eager to get back to the ship and do all the tinkering he’d always wanted to do.

Dariya smiled at her brother, then said to Cordus, “Come with us. Leave this craziness to all the crazies here.”

“I wish I could. But these are my people, crazy or not. I need to help them as best I can.”

Dariya nodded. “Well, then they are already better off than they have ever been.”

Cordus appreciated the compliment, but the Republic was still technically in a civil war and Roma was in ruins. How were they better off? Would they ever be ‘better off’ with him leading them? Cordus didn’t know, but he knew he owed it to all the people who fought and died for him to make it happen.

He leaned forward, steadied himself on the chair’s armrests, and stood on shaky legs. Vertigo overwhelmed him, and both Dariya and Daryush steadied him.

“You need to see a medicus,” Aquilina said from the door. She and Ulpius stepped around the octopod bodies crowding the door and entered the room. Aquilina took his right arm and draped it over her neck. She guided him out the door and through the octopods in the hall. Somehow, after all she had been through, Cordus could still smell the faint scent of jasmine in her braided, wispy hair.

“Thank you,” he said. “I can’t wait to hear about
your
adventures.”

She tensed. “It was…interesting.” She said no more, and he didn’t feel like pressing her for details.
Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva—don’t let her run off after Arrius. Please keep her by my side.

Ulpius, Dariya, and Daryush followed them into the hallway. The corridor was filled with octopod bodies, all lying in the same position as the ones in the com room, with their tentacles wrapped around themselves. Cordus half expected them to jump out of their slumber and attack, but he could not see any movement from them, not even breathing motions from the sides of their bulbous heads.

They made their way through the octopods and down the elevator to the main temple level. When they opened the doors to the altar area, Cordus was shocked to see the butchery before him. Octopod bodies and pieces lay strewn about the floor of the vast temple hall. Praetorian and Custudae bodies lay among them, alongside the bodies of plain-clothed citizens. Most of the human corpses held a gladius in their hands. The fighting here had been vicious and close.

There was no movement among the carnage.

“Gods, did
anybody
survive?” Cordus asked aloud.

The others seemed just as stunned, for they didn’t say anything.

The doors at the temple’s main entrance were opened wide, and sunlight streamed through them. Cordus heard the murmurs of a large crowd combined with the low chanting of prayers. He stepped through the slaughter toward the fresh air, the sights and stenches enough to give Cordus a lifetime of disturbing dreams.
 

Movement caught his eye to his right. A lone golem female, with the standard dark hair and white complexion, sat on the floor with her back against a marble statue of Apollo. Her yellowish innards spilled from a large gash in her abdomen. Her head and eyes followed Cordus and his group.

“How may I serve?” she asked in a gurgled voice. Yellow golem blood dribbled from her mouth when she spoke.

Aquilina exhaled, staring at the golem. “At least their controls are back in place.”

Cordus nodded wearily.
 

They marched past the female golem, passing more golems that still functioned despite their wounds. All followed Cordus with their eyes or heads. The golem bodies grew more numerous as they approached the temple doors. The floor was slick with their yellow blood and biological circuitry. He prayed that his use of their power had saved more human lives than were sacrificed.
Gods, if you exist in Elysium, let it be so.

They stepped past the last of the golem and human bodies, past the giant marble statues of Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva, and then emerged into the sunlight just outside the temple doors.
 

They all stopped and stared.

Thousands of people had gathered in the great square in front of the temple. Several black-robed flamens led them in prayers of thanks to all the gods of the Pantheon. Human and golem bodies littered the square and the steps leading up to the temple. On the horizon, smoke billowed into the bright morning sky from numerous fires throughout the city. The sirens of fire brigades warbled and echoed. Above the city, Roman attack flyers left crisscrossing contrails as they screamed across the sky.

The chanting tapered off as the black-robed flamens noticed Cordus. The Pontifex Maximus, a gold braid around the shoulders of his black robes, approached Cordus. Cordus didn’t remember ever meeting the Pontifex so he didn’t know the man’s name. His white hair was wispy, and his robes were ripped and stained. The old man looked exhausted, but tears brimmed in his red eyes as he regarded Cordus. He slowly bent down to one knee, then both knees, and then lowered his head to Cordus.

The flamens near the Pontifex did the same. Kneeling spread to the citizens at the foot of the Temple steps and then, like a slow wave, to the citizens in the square beyond. Cordus could see kneeling people all the way to the Senate House two hundred paces away.

Aquilina squeezed his hand. She watched him with soft brown eyes and a reassuring smile. The morning sunlight made her face glow, and he had never seen anyone so beautiful. If she were not standing beside him right now, he would have run in the other direction.
 

Instead, he took in ragged breath as he surveyed the kneeling throngs before him.
 

“
Cac
,” he exhaled.

Epilogue

Uller Mus climbed the numerous steps to the Zhonguo Imperial Palace. The Zhonguo Sphere’s capital world, Pan Ch’ao, had a gravity slightly greater than Reantium’s—1.05T to be exact—but it felt good to his legs. Uller was born into slavery on Abundantia, a world with 1.12T, and had lived most of his life there, until he was sold to Aulus Tarpeius when he was thirty-six Terran years old. Tarpeius hated worlds with higher gravity than Terra-standard; he said it prematurely aged a man. And so they had settled on Reantium in part because of its lower gravity.
 

Uller grinned inwardly.
That worked out well for me, though not for him.

He was flanked by an entire cohort of Divine Riders, the Zhonguo Emperor’s palace guard. Like their Praetorian counterparts, each wore ceremonial armor while in the presence of their sovereign: gilded bronze helms with red plumes, bronze scale armor beneath gilded shoulder guards. Each carried a shiny, stylized pulse rifle made to look like a short spear. They reminded Uller of the rifles the Roman Legions had carried when they conquered the Zhonguo’s ancestors on Terra over nine hundred years ago.

The Zhonguo Chancellor, a eunuch named Zheng Yang, led the procession up the steps. He was a fat man with a bald head who wore elaborate, flowing robes that made him look fatter. Despite his bulk, however, he climbed the Palace steps with ease and little shortness of breath. The air was warm and humid, which made the large eunuch’s fitness even more impressive. Uller had just left his shuttle five minutes ago and sweat already dripped from his forehead.

The Imperial Palace was every bit as massive as the Consular Palace in Roma, but with classical Zhonguo architecture: sweeping gabled roofs with yellow tiles, red walls with gold trim, and carvings and paintings of dragons along almost every wall and column. While the Consular Palace was made of marble, the Zhonguo preferred wood for their religious and imperial centers, though their cities were made of steel and concrete like all modern human cities.
 

When they reached the top of the steps, they entered the palace through massive wooden doors. The Chancellor and the Riders led Uller into the main audience chamber just inside the entrance. At the far end of the chamber was a gold-painted, wooden throne carved to look like the clawed hand of a dragon. Upon it sat Emperor Pan Ku, dressed in multi-colored robes even more billowy than the Chancellor’s. Uller was about the same age as Pan Ku, but the Emperor’s hair was dyed black and his cosmetic surgeons had done a remarkable job keeping any hint of age at bay. He looked about twenty Terran-years old, with smooth, glossy skin and no facial stubble or wrinkles. He sat straight-backed and statuesque on the Zhonguo throne, his eyes focused on the city outside the door. The chamber was packed on all sides by Divine Riders, bureaucrats, and dozens of Imperial courtiers dressed just as colorfully as him. Holo-monitors were built into the walls, depicting glorious vistas from worlds in the Sphere’s twenty-two star systems. The court grew silent as Uller and the Riders entered.

Chancellor Zheng Yang approached the foot of the Emperor’s dais and bowed deeply. The Emperor did not move or shift his eyes. The Chancellor then turned to Uller.
 

“Uller Mus,” the Chancellor said in ancient Han, “you come before us not as an emissary of our friends the Daqin, but as an individual. A slave to be exact. Your master on Reantium was tragically killed in the golem uprising there, which you say was related to the troubles the Daqin experienced with the alien vessel that attacked them and Libertus. You have told us that you bring a great gift to benefit the Zhonguo people. The only reason you stand here is because your master, Aulus Tarpeius, was a wealthy and powerful man among the Daqin. Why should Emperor Pan Ku, the True Son of Heaven and Lord of Ten Thousand Years, listen to a former slave? Why should he not send you back to your Daqin masters as a gesture of good will between our nations?”

Uller swallowed, and a quick stab of fear shot through him.
I can’t go back. I can’t be a slave again, nothing more than a golem with a soul.

“Courage, Uller Mus,” said a voice from his right. “We promised you greatness, and we always keep our promises.”

Uller cast a quick glance at Marcus Antonius Primus. He wore ancient Roman armor, his fists planted on his hips. Uller knew only he could see Antonius, so he tried not to let his eyes linger on the apparition.
 

A surge of confidence suddenly flowed through him. It was the same confidence that helped him betray Tarpeius after Uller injected himself with Cordus’s Muse-infected blood on Reantium. Marcus Antonius Primus had appeared to him immediately after and showed him how to set the Reantium golems free. How to set Uller Mus free.

Uller sighed quietly, then gave the Chancellor a steely gaze. “If you return me to the Daqin,” Uller said in perfect Han, “you will never learn the secrets of Daqin power. The secret that enabled them to go from riding horses to starships within two hundred years.”

The Emperor seemed unimpressed; he kept his focus locked on the cityscape behind Uller.
 

The Chancellor smiled. “Lofty words from a slave. How do we know you can deliver these…secrets of which you boast?”

Uller reached up to the pendant around his neck. Almost as one, the Divine Riders surrounding him stepped closer and leveled their rifles at him. Uller ignored them, brought the pendant over his head, and held it out to the Chancellor.

The Emperor never flinched.
 

Chancellor Yang sniffed. “The True Son of Heaven has no need for Daqin baubles—”

“In this pendant you will find a blood sample. It is the blood of Marcus Antonius Cordus, the last Antonius.”

“An interesting religious relic,” the Chancellor scoffed, “but the Emperor fails to see how—”

“The Daqin have humiliated the Zhonguo for centuries,” Uller continued. “From taking your lands in Terran Asia to Daqin pogroms that attempted to destroy your culture. You fled Terra and reestablished your nation among the stars of Heaven. Don’t you wish to repay the Daqin for their crimes?”

The Chancellor sighed, seemingly bored. “As you say, the Daqin are a nation in ruins. But we already have the strength to assert our rights, and the Daqin can do nothing about it.”

Marcus Antonius leaned close to Uller. “Now set the hook.”

“True,” Uller said, “the Daqin cannot hurt you
now
, but neither can you hope to conquer them. Even as fractured as they are, their Legions are still strong and will likely unite with an Antonius as consul again. It is only a matter of time before they are strong again, and a threat to you.” Uller dropped his voice low. “But what if I told you how to destroy the Daqin without your forces even firing a single shot?”

The Chancellor raised an amused eyebrow. “And what is that way?”

“Inject this blood into your body, and you will learn the secrets of a hundred dead
alien
civilizations. Civilizations from the distant past that were more powerful than the one that just attacked the Daqin.
This
, dear Chancellor, is the source of Daqin power.”