Stowaway Slaves (4 page)

He turned to indicate the line of boys beside him, some of whom were barely able to stand.

“On your left, my lord, we have Ruma the Etrurian and Argon the Gaul. Then we have Teo and, on your right, Gladius the Calabrian. My spies inside the arena inform me that these slaves were all close companions of Decimus Rex and the boy Olu. They were seen talking together during the trials, and they all shared a section in the holding cells.”

Doom's expression remained cold. “And?” he snapped. “What of it?”

“My plan is to announce the execution of these boys, at a memorable location, with a second announcement that their fates can be altered if Decimus and his friend hand themselves in to our guard patrols. The Suvius Tower will be a good, strong location, as it is visible for miles around. We can stage the executions there, but also lie in wait for the young . . . heroes.”

As a wave of comprehending horror washed over the gathered slaves and they began to dart terrified glances at one another, Drin Hain continued to outline his plan.

“I have it on good authority that the Calabrian was closest to Decimus during the trials. Therefore, his execution alone should bring Decimus out of hiding; the others will be . . . a bonus entertainment. I take it that all of these children are expendable, my lord?”

A sick smile spread across Doom's sharp features.

“They are indeed, Drin,” he said. “They are indeed. Your thinking, as always, is inspired. You may proceed with your plan.”

D
ecimus and Olu had been traveling through the aqueducts for three days, feeding on the sort of scraps that even the rats wouldn't touch and sleeping beside rivers filled with the foulest stench imaginable. At one point they had come upon a vast network of different tunnels but, without the slightest clue as to which way they should travel, they ended up selecting their path largely at random.

However, finally, it seemed that they had hit a lucky break.

“It's a harbor,” said Olu, squeezing his face against the bars of the wall-mounted grate they had found. “I can see five, six, maybe even seven ships! We can escape, we can get away from Doom! Ha-ha! This is fantastic!”

“I agree,” Decimus muttered. “The only problem is that we don't actually have the first idea about where we are. Those ships could be going ANYWHERE!”

“So?” Olu looked amazed at his friend's attitude. “Anywhere is better than the arena, surely?”

“I want to go home, Olu . . . and considering that my home is in Tarentum, there's a good chance we're going in exactly the WRONG direction.”

Olu turned to face his friend. His expression was stern.

“You can't go home, Decimus. Not now; probably not ever. Our parents got us into this, remember? Your trials are paying for your father's debts. Don't you think Doom's warriors are likely to be keeping a constant watch on your hometown? Going back to Tarentum right now is just unthinkable. We need to get as far away from Doom as possible. We must get beyond his reach.”

Decimus fought back the urge to argue; he knew deep down that Olu was right. There really was no going back home—at least, not yet.

Returning his attention to the grate, Decimus put his hand around the bars and beckoned for Olu to do the same.

“Do you think we can wrench this off?” he muttered. “I think it would be better to go now, in the darkness, than to wait until morning light. The entire harbor will probably be crawling with merchants by then.”

Olu nodded, closed his own fists around the grate, and gave it an experimental tug.

“It feels pretty sturdy to me,” he admitted. “Let's both pull on the count of three. One, two, three, GO!”

The two slaves pulled on the bars with all their might, but the grate didn't give an inch.

“We need to find another way out,” Decimus muttered. “There's no other choice. We'll just have to go back to the last set of steps we passed and up through the opening beside that caved in section of tunnel.”

“Yeah, but we can't—that would take us right onto the streets . . .”

“So? We'll have to brave them.”

Olu spun around.

“Are you crazy?” he gasped. “We'll be spotted in minutes!”

“Do you have a better idea? Besides, it's dark outside—that should give us half a chance. C'mon!”

It was dark in the coastal town of Formiae, and a gentle breeze was blowing. The guard patrols on these narrow streets were few and far between, partly because there was seldom any trouble that the locals couldn't sort out, but mostly because even the most dedicated watchmen could be persuaded from their duties by the sounds of merriment. Moreover, the kind of fights that started in harbor towns between rowdy sailors soon turned into large-scale brawls that most common guards would do anything to avoid if at all possible.

Decimus and Olu had been watching a particularly loud and obnoxious pair for the better part of an hour. Their duties seemed to consist of walking up and down the main harbor stretch, glancing occasionally at the line of mostly unmanned ships, and then taking a ten-minute break.

“They're back,” Olu whispered, pointing to a doorway some distance from their hiding place in the garden of a small temple overlooking the harbor. “As soon as they get ‘distracted' again, we can make our move . . . hang on, they're going inside.”

“Right,” said Decimus, but he wasn't really paying attention to the guards. His eyes were fixed on the long shadows being cast by the impressive collection of ships that dominated the harbor before them.

“I wish I knew where we were,” he muttered.

Olu hadn't taken his own eyes from the lighted doorway.

“We're somewhere on the border of Latium,” he said.

“What?” Decimus turned to his friend, visibly shocked at the revelation. “How can you possibly know that?”