The Gate of Fire (72 page)

Krista, hearing the words said aloud that she had chanted to herself for the past three days, felt a chill wash over her like the exhalation of a tomb. A memory of the Prince's face came to her, his dark brown eyes smiling, the white flash of his grin as they lay close together in a tangle of quilts and sheets. The vision of him, haggard and bleeding, in the crypt of the magi, silhouetted in fire and smoke. His dark, intent countenance leaning over the table of parchments and scrolls in the house in Constantinople. His face wreathed in lightning and thunder as he summoned the walking fire. She put a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, blinking to keep tears from trickling down her cheek.

The Duchess continued to speak, for Nikos had asked some question.

"...there will be only those whom we can trust, and no thaumaturge has answered my plea. The Prince is still a man, and he must sleep. Krista can provide all pertinent information about this house at Ottaviano. We will strike by night and swiftly, within the next week. It will take time, even with fast horses, to reach the villa, so you must be ready to leave within a day."

Thyatis nodded, and her attention turned inward, measuring time and distance in her mind. The Duchess turned to the tall, lean man at her side, her hand creeping into his. "And you, my Lord Jusuf, shall leave as well—but for the east and beyond, not upon this errand."

The Khazar sat up, his face intent on Anastasia's. "My lady—are you sure? With me on the team, there will be three strong blades, not just two."

The Duchess shook her head, though Krista could see a great sense of loss hiding behind the older woman's calm appearance. "You must return to your people, as we have discussed. Time seems to press upon me, and if things go wrong here, you must be far away. Kahrmi and Efraim will remain and go in your place."

Jusuf bowed his head, accepting her judgment. Krista hid a puzzled frown; the Duchess was playing some other game, as well—which was not surprising. Nikos and Thyatis, however, were not involved, which was a little odd.

Anastasia sighed and put the little oil lamp down on the table by the head of her bed. It was very late at night, again, and she did not look forward to sleep. The day had been long and arduous, not only for the chilling tale that Krista had brought, but for the tension and outright anger among Thyatis and her men. Thyatis was hurt that Anastasia would not, could not, tell her the full story. The others felt her displeasure and echoed it. It was very tiring.

The Duchess removed the silver pins from her hair one by one, letting the black cloud drift down over her shoulders. Tomorrow would be worse; she would have to go the offices and speak with the Emperor. Galen had settled back into the business of running his Empire with renewed vigor, and a number of massive public projects were in the offing. For each of these things, he wanted to know who would benefit and who would not. The Emperor had a good head for the politics of his state, and he relied on Anastasia for current information about all of the players in his great game.
Such a meeting would be a major effort at another time, but now? With this other matter obsessing her every thought?

The door creaked a little as it opened, and the Duchess turned, expecting to see the shy face of Betia with her combs and brushes. Anastasia smiled wanly, seeing that it was Krista. The young woman did have Betia's basket in her hand, along with a flask of oil and clean cloths. A little black cat that had recently made itself a member of the household padded along behind her, its curious yellow eyes examining the corners of the room for mice.

"You needn't do this," Anastasia said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You've promoted yourself from my maidservant. I have Betia to take care of me..."

Krista settled on the bed by Anastasia's side and smiled, running her hand through the older woman's hair. "The little blond shrimp? She is occupied elsewhere, I think. I told her to make herself scarce."

Anastasia turned a little, arching a thin, elegant eyebrow. "Were you mean? She is very sweet, you know..."

Krista made a sour face. "She almost squeaked in fear when I sent her off. But she does seem to have a good heart. I know this place is lost to me now." Anastasia touched Krista's cheek, seeing the frightened, wide-eyed little girl she had brought into her service for a moment. That child was gone now, leaving a skilled, tough young woman.

"I am so glad you came back." Anastasia smiled sadly and dabbed at her eye. There was something in it. "I feared you were dead a dozen times over. Then I thought you would choose to stay with the Prince."

Krista shook her head, letting curls of her thick dark hair fall in front of her face. Disappointed at the lack of fat brown mice or other playthings, the little black cat sprang lightly up onto the bed and nosed around among the pillows.

"The Prince was a fine young man," she said softly, "but this is my home. There is a doom over him that poisons everything he touches. He must be stopped."

The Duchess sighed. She felt the same way. This was one of those days that felt like the whole of the world was crushing her into the ground. "Do you think that he is right? The Emperor told me about the curse that only Maxian can see—is it real? Must such steps be taken?"

Krista shrugged and flipped the stray tendrils of hair out of her face. Behind her, the little black cat found a corner of turned-up quilt and wormed itself under the covers, making itself a cave.

"My lady, I know that
he
believes, and that poor Abdmachus believed. I have not their powers or skills, so I have not seen anything myself, but they are dead set upon it. Those others, Gaius and Alexandros, they want only continued life and power. They are the real danger to the Emperor; how could they stand to live as ordinary men after a taste of the Imperial drug?"

Anastasia rubbed her face with one of the cloths soaked in oil. Her makeup came off at the touch, and she continued until it was all cleaned away. She picked up a silver-backed mirror and squinted at it. In the hazy reflection she seemed to still have her looks. She put the mirror down. "Are they real? These men—are they, in truth, these ancient legends come alive again? They are not mountebanks or some deluded fools..."

The young woman nodded, her eyes dark with memory. "They are. It seems impossible, but..." Krista shrugged her tunic off one shoulder and showed Anastasia the thin, puckered scar she had gained in the collapse of the Egyptian House. "The Prince has brought me back from the edge of death twice. These others, he plucked them from the halls of Hades itself. The strength of their legend gives them life and power and the lever the Prince desires."

Anastasia sighed, thinking that on another day this would be a wonder past compare.

Krista touched her cheek and turned the Duchess' head away. There was a rustling sound as the girl picked up a comb of ivory and horn from the basket.

"Tell me the good things that have happened while I was away." Krista began combing out the Duchess' long, dark hair. It would take a good hour, for the flood of deep blue-black spilled to Anastasia's lower back. Krista smiled to herself, remembering how nervous she had been the first time she had done this. It seemed an eternity ago, something that had happened to a wholly different person.

"Well," the Duchess said, sighing after a moment, "I made Petro take out all of the gladiolas that used to line the northern edge of the big garden and put in roses and lilies instead. He was furious, and we had a huge argument about it. He swore to leave and never return, to die before committing such a sacrilege—but he is a slave, of course, so eventually he gave in. But now they look beautiful, and he thinks it was his own idea..."

Under the covers, the little black cat settled into his nest, putting his head on his paws, and went to sleep.

Krista found Thyatis in the gymnasium right after breakfast. The redheaded woman was reviewing corselets of mail laid on the big wooden table in the armory. The room smelled of oil and metal and sweat, and here, among the racks of spears and swords and tools, Thyatis seemed most at home. The sounds of the Khazars engaged in a furious training session echoed through the doorway to the fighting sallé. A great clatter of metal on metal made quite a din. Krista paused in the doorway, unconsciously fingering the spring-gun strapped to her left forearm. Like Thyatis, she wore a short linen kilt held up by a stout belt, a long knife slapping at her thigh in a wooden sheath, high-laced boots of kid leather, and a loose blouse of fine dark green wool with long sleeves.

"Lady Thyatis? Do you have a moment?" Krista was unsure how to deal with the "peasant girl." When they had last parted, Thyatis had been little more than a sell sword the Duchess used to tidy up the Emperor's dirty laundry. Krista had been, by her own admission, a petulant servant girl with a sharp tongue. The intervening year had put its mark on both of them. Thyatis seemed larger somehow, more complete, more real than she had before. Krista just felt older.

Thyatis turned, her gray-green eyes narrowing as she took in Krista's costume. "No," she said simply, and turned back to checking the links of the chainmail.

Krista almost backed up a step, feeling like she had been slapped in the face. "Your pardon, Lady Thyatis, but—"

"No." Thyatis turned, her face grim and set. She shook her head. "You will not go with us to Ottaviano. You will stay here, with the Duchess."

"Why?" Krista's voice trembled on the edge of open rage. "No one else here knows the land, the buildings, the enemies, the Prince, as well as I do! I brought you the news of his location; I sent the messages that tipped the Duchess to what he plans! I will go, and I will see this thing finished."

The noise of training in the gymnasium stopped, and it was very quiet. Thyatis put down the heavy shirt of mail and turned to face Krista. "You know the Prince too well." Thyatis' voice was steady and calm and utterly final. "I watched you as you told your story yesterday. You love this Prince Maxian, for all that you have betrayed him to the Duchess."

Krista flinched at the words. She was sure that the Prince had let her go unpursued, unmolested, because he loved
her
and would not try to keep her if she wanted to leave. He had been true to her, and she had repaid him now with this: a hunting party armed with steel and iron. Thyatis stepped closer, her voice dropping in volume.

"If we are in the heat of it and the Prince lies under my knife, or yours, could you bring yourself to drive the point into his heart? Could you stand to see me or Nikos spill the red life from him? I do not think you could. He is in your heart, and you are in his. Should you think of him now, a smile would come to your face. You are here"—Thyatis gestured to encompass the house and the city—"because of duty and honor. But when the die is cast and spins upon the table, you may still choose love."

Krista tried to speak, but words did not come to her. Memories of the Prince were still strong in her mind. The thought of him lying dead, or dying, bleeding out his life on the floor of the kitchen at Ottaviano, filled her with horror and dread. She raised a hand and batted at the air, causing Thyatis to step back. Odd, dark motes danced in the air before her eyes, and Krista felt a sharp pain in her gut.

"I will not risk my men on the balance of your heart." Thyatis turned away, the line of her jaw stiff.

Krista gasped silently, feeling some great pressure closing on her. She put out a hand to the edge of the door and struggled to keep upright. This was far worse than it had been on the mountainside. She struggled for breath. "I"—she wheezed, and Thyatis stopped, her slim hand on the haft of a spear—"I will... I will kill him." The pressure eased a little, and Krista could draw a ragged breath. Air in her lungs had never seemed so sweet. "I will kill him." Her voice was stronger. "I must kill him, Lady Thyatis. I will drive this knife into his eye if I must, but he will die by my hand."

Krista pushed away from the wall, feeling stronger and able to breathe freely at last. The black haze in the air was gone. She felt giddy and almost euphoric with relief.

Thyatis looked her up and down, a quizzical frown on her face. But she shook her head. "No. I will not take you."

Krista stiffened and turned on her heel. If the pigeon-brained peasant refused her help, she would find another way. She had to end this thing and soon.

"The Duchess already said no." Thyatis' voice echoed down the hallway, but Krista ignored her.

Foam curled away from the knife-edge prow of the Tyrean coaster, sending up a fine, cool spray. Dwyrin sat, his legs hanging over the side of the ship, one arm casually wrapped around a stay. He had stripped down to sweat-stained woolen breeches and had been barefoot for days. A new layer of calluses was growing on his feet, joining those added by marching the length of the Empire. The coaster had found a quartering wind and was doglegging its way south from the rocky cliffs of Creta, now a day behind. The Tyrean crew were truly lax fellows, rarely leaving the shade of a big awning that stretched over the back half of the ship. Nicholas was back there now, testing his luck against theirs at bones.

Dwyrin spent most of his time watching the sea. It cheered him up to see the waves sparkle and dance under the sun. The sea was alive, too, and many a day passed with dolphins or short-backed whales accompanying them on their journey south. Once past the coast of Creta, the Tyrean captain had agreed to sail by night as well as day, since the sea was open and free of reefs or islands until they reached the Egyptian shore. They were making for the way marker of the great Pharos at Alexandria. Then they would hug the coast of the delta and make their way northeast to the ports of Judea.

Dwyrin lay back, resting against a coil of rope that was stowed in the prow. The cool wind of their passage made the hot day quite bearable. He considered taking a nap, but kept his eyes propped open. As they neared the mouth of the delta, they might encounter other ships. With luck they would see one of the massive grain haulers. That would be a sight!