The Felix Chronicles: Freshmen (2 page)

“A simple act of carelessness can sometimes have far-reaching consequences.” Hosius entered the room, stepping past wine-filled amphorae stacked against the wall on either side of the doorway. The air inside was heavy and hot. No draft. “I’ve been told you misplaced something that belongs to the Emperor. A certain book.”

Eusebius turned deliberately toward Hosius, then folded his arms across his thick chest. “Ahhhh… yes. About that…”

“Leave us!” Hosius demanded, tilting his head at the man still gasping for air; his tremendous girth (his neck was wreathed in rolls of fat that wriggled over his collar, pulling down on his chin and parting his lips) identified him as the highest ranking member of the governor’s delegation.

The man’s face reddened in sudden anger and he began to breathe even harder.

“Shall I summon the guards, my lord?” a man with hair cropped close to his skull asked the governor.

Eusebius didn’t answer, his narrowed eyes unmoving.

“Now!” Hosius repeated. “Go to your sleeping quarters. You’ll be reunited with the governor soon enough.”

The fat man started for Hosius and said primly, “Guards won’t be necessary. I’ll dispose of this trespassing peasant myself.” He settled his smug gaze on Hosius and added: “I’ll teach you to respect your superiors, worm. In the presence of Eusebius, you bow your—”

“Shut up you imbecile!” Eusebius snapped at the man.

The man stopped, face pinched, his eyes trained on the floor.

The others stood there, their eyes darting uncertainly at one another, then at Eusebius, clearly expecting the governor to give the order to put Hosius in chains. But Eusebius only worked his jaw, grinding his teeth, looking as though he was suffering from a bout of severe constipation.

Hosius stifled a grin of amusement as he watched the bewildered men shifting their weight from one foot to the other, too afraid to look Eusebius in the eye. Finally, when he gave them no orders and none appeared forthcoming, they skulked toward the back of the room and shuffled past the bust of Constantine, disappearing through a doorway that led to the inner chambers.

His face deep crimson, Eusebius’s hands slowly curled into fists and he lifted a foot as if to stamp it down hard, then he appeared to think better of it and eased the sole of his sandal onto the tiled floor. “How dare you! How dare you give orders to my men!
My
men! Don’t you have anything better to do? Shouldn’t you be…
dead?”

Hosius thought this was quite funny, but he kept his face placid as he turned his back and studied a fresco depicting a scene from the Trojan War. The craftsmanship was excellent. He was simple, but no philistine. “Do you know who sent me?” He didn’t intend it as a question.

“The mighty Constantine,” Eusebius said in a dramatic voice, like an actor entertaining an audience in an outdoor theatre.

Hosius turned away from the fresco, surprised, but not stunned, by what he was hearing. “You’re not actually mocking the Emperor…
are you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Eusebius’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “His spies have obviously informed you of what happened to his precious
Manifesto
. We all know he grows more paranoid by the day. But to place spies in my Fortress is unconscionable. Perhaps you should remind the Emperor that I’m a master of one of the five Fortresses of the Order of Belus. If I find the spy—
and I will
—I’ll feed her to my hounds.” Sweat broke through his bushy eyebrows and he blinked hard, wiping at his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I’m sure it’s a woman. They always make the best spies.”

Hosius plucked a small empty amphora from off the floor and cradled it in the crook of his reed-like half arm, absently gazing at the familiar painting on it without really seeing it. “I was told that one of your Sourcerors was reading the book by candlelight, and that it got too close to the flame. I was also informed that she was drunk.”

Eusebius raised his shoulders and let them drop heavily, his mouth twitching into a smirk.

Hosius paused, observing Eusebius from across the room. “So you don’t deny it then?” He stroked his grizzled beard with a weathered hand. “Perhaps being a master of one of the five Fortresses you were aware that there are only five copies of
Constantine’s Manifesto
in the entire realm. And you may have also heard it’s rather important—that only Sourcerors initiated in the Order are permitted to know of its existence.” Hosius was goading him, trying to get a reaction to determine if Eusebius was salvageable or not. “How did you allow that to happen?”

“Draft another copy for your Emperor.” Eusebius cleared his throat and spat on the floor. “Isn’t that what you and Constantine’s other favorites do? The Emperor says he needs to piss, and you fight to see who can bring him the shiniest piss pot.”

Hosius smiled, his eyes narrowing into slits. “Tell me—why do you harbor such hostility for the man who made you what you are? Constantine has always held you in the highest regard. He appointed you Governor of Caesarea. He gave you your own Fortress. And this… this is how you repay him? Do I need to remind you that Constantine could shatter every bone in your body with a thought?”

 “Is that so?” Eusebius said skeptically, arching an eyebrow. “Then tell me why the governors have gathered here? It’s no secret—despite what you may think. The Emperor’s near death, and tomorrow we’ll learn how he intends to administer his empire upon his passing. He’s dying. And I have nothing to fear from a dying man.”

“I see.” Hosius paused. “Of course you must realize that one day your insolence will get you killed.”

“Get
me
killed?” Eusebius snarled. “Enough! Enough with this nonsense! I know why you’re here, and it has nothing to do with
Constantine’s Manifesto
or any other book. Let me hear you say it! Say it!”

“You’ve broken your oath.” Hosius’s voice was calm. When he was a younger man, he would have allowed the anger inside him to flare up and consume him. But not now. Anger only clouded the mind, and he needed every bit of mental acuity if he was going to survive this day; one mistake, one wrong move, and Eusebius would snuff out his life in an instant. Then again, Hosius was a smart man—he had taken precautions. Eusebius, on the other hand…

“You called off the search for the boy,” Hosius continued in the same wooden tone. “Every one of your Sourcerors is hiding in your Fortress instead of fulfilling their duty. Your insubordination is causing the Emperor to question your loyalty. He wants to know why, my dear governor, why?”

“They’re weary,” Eusebius said plainly.

“Weary?”

“Yes.” Eusebius regarded him defiantly with his dark eyes. “My Sourcerors have grown weary of the quest.”

“You can’t be serious.”
Hosius laughed. “You think your ability to wield the Source will save you from the Drestian? Is that it? Because when he arrives, weariness will be the least of your problems.”

“Perhaps.”

“I think I know what this is all about,” Hosius said pleasantly, twisting his neck to peek out through the doorway. Outside, all was silent except for the circling birds shrieking high overhead beneath thin ribbons of stagnant clouds. “You’ve become weak. Your position, your titles and all your political power have made you
soft
. You actually believe you’re important—that you matter. You’ve forgotten your purpose. And now you’re scared. You’re scared to sacrifice the comforts you’ve grown accustomed to.”

“Don’t presume to tell
me
about sacrifice!” Eusebius bellowed, stepping away from the bust of Apollo and toward the center of the room. His movements were smooth and surprisingly graceful for a man his size. “Do you know how many years it’s been since I passed the test and learned of the Source? I’ve squandered my life searching for this boy—this
Belus
.” He spat out the word like a mouthful of wine that had spoiled and turned rancid. “My Sourcerors aren’t stupid. They’ve lost faith that he’ll ever be found. And I’ve come to realize that… that life is short. Time is the most precious of all gifts. And time is being wasted on this fruitless search.”

“
Time?”
Hosius snorted. “Time is meaningless. We may have to wait a thousand years before the Belus is born. But the boy could be among us right now. And if he is”—he pointed at Eusebius—“it’s your duty to find him.”

Eusebius grunted, and his forehead, slick with moisture, creased with lines. “As if that were an easy task. Finding one boy.” He shook his head and sniffed loudly, sneering. “It’d be easier to find a virgin in a brothel.”

“Now you
must
be joking.” Hosius threw his head back and laughed heartily. “You’re telling me that finding one person in all the world is a difficult task? Were you expecting it to be as simple as asking your portly bureaucrats to finish off a herd of goats in one sitting? You are familiar with the concept of
duty
, are you not? It’s your duty. It’s my duty. It’s the duty of the entire Order to find the boy born from a woman undefiled.
You know that.
If we don’t, then all is lost. Only the boy can prevent the Drestian from fulfilling his destiny.”

“So you say,” Eusebius muttered dubiously. He dropped his arms and widened his stance as if he was preparing to get knocked off balance. His combative posture wasn’t lost on Hosius. He slipped away from the dining table, giving him more space to operate. Then he cocked an ear toward the back of the room and listened, but he heard nothing. It wasn’t time. Not yet.
Be patient
, he said to himself.
Be patient.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that there are those who don’t share Constantine’s belief that the Order should be backing the boy,” Eusebius went on. “They believe we’re betting on the wrong chariot.”

“The
Drestianites
?” Just saying the word caused Hosius immense discomfort. “They’re fools who defy Constantine because they thirst for power.”

“But what if they’re right?” Beads of spittle were forming at the corners of Eusebius’s wide mouth. “You know what The Warning says! They may be defying Constantine, but that doesn’t make their interpretation of The Warning any less valid.”

“Interpretation?” Hosius said incredulously, stepping closer, keeping his eyes on Eusebius’s hands. “This isn’t a matter of interpretation. I think you’re forgetting the consequences of siding with the Drestian.”

“I’m no Drestianite,” Eusebius said, his voice rigid. “And I’m fully aware of the consequences. I’m simply telling you why some in the Order—including three of my own—have defected to join their ranks. They believe it’s only the Wisps who have cause to fear him.”

“Wisps?”
Hosius asked, unfamiliar with the term.

“The Drestianites have taken to calling non-Sourcerors Wisps, presumably to account for their shorter life expectancy. I do not believe it’s intended to be complimentary.”

“Charming. But that doesn’t explain why your Sourcerors are not searching for the boy.”

“The Protectors,” Eusebius said, his face darkening. “They blame us, you know, all Sourcerors, even the Drestianites, for damaging the Source. They don’t believe it was man’s iniquities and savagery that caused it. They think tha—”

“We Sourcerors have wounded the Source by tapping into it and using it for our own selfish devices.” Hosius spoke rapidly, a habit derived from reporting to the Emperor, a man with little patience for long-winded dissertation. “They think that if they kill every last Sourceror, the Source will be healed and man will live in a state of blissful magnificence for all eternity in some lovely garden utopia. Yes, I’m familiar with the Protectors. They think we are demons birthed from some ancient evil abyss. But they are merely—what did you refer to them as?—
Wisps
. Are they not?”

“You’re utterly misinformed. They may be Wisps, but they’ve killed two of my Sourcerors since our last meeting. They’re no longer content to simply meddle in the Order’s affairs. They’ve begun targeting all Sourcerors, regardless of their Fortress… or their abilities.”

“That only demonstrates their recklessness,” Hosius replied, a trace of anger creeping into his voice for the first time.

“You’re still not getting it.” Eusebius’s jaw tightened in frustration. “You don’t know what we’re up against. If the Protectors stood in front of us and fought with honor, we’d have nothing to fear. But they’re cunning, resourceful and completely immoral. Nothing’s beneath these animals. They killed my people while they slept, strangling them with cords. Then they cut out their hearts. It’s said they eat them like cannibals.”

“And that frightens you?” Hosius said lightly, placing the amphora on the floor. “If the Emperor knew you were afraid of the Protectors he’d have your head.”

“He can have it!” Eusebius growled and threw his hands up to his face. “You’re boring me. The Warning bores me. The quest for the boy bores me. What’s the point of all this? The world is changing. You must understand that searching for a boy born without a father wouldn’t be viewed favorably in certain quarters. What would the church think if they discovered us? Constantine can’t protect us when he’s dead. We’re already forced to operate in secret, and it will only get harder when he’s gone.” He went silent for a spell, a scornful look passing over his face. “You don’t really expect us to find this boy…
do you?”

“Excellent points, governor,” Hosius said mockingly. He smiled, but his eyes remained guarded. “We should all just give up. Let’s just pretend The Warning doesn’t exist, shall we? You’re hiding from reality because you fear… what? Excommunication? Exile? The Protectors? The Drestianites? For your own safety and that of your Sourcerors? You’re a
coward
. The Emperor honors you, and what do you do? You cower in your Fortress like a frightened child scared of his own shadow.”

With a pair of twisting veins rippling across his temples like half-coiled snakes Eusebius shouted with primal rage: “You’ve insulted me for the last time, you sanctimonious cripple!” He raised one arm to shoulder height, his long bony fingers pointing at Hosius.