The Shadow of Ararat (59 page)

"Gaius, Abdmachus, help me remove it from this clay and ash. Krista, bring warm water from the fire, and cloths." Maxian began to break the clods away from the body.

An hour later the body of the homunculus lay naked on the table. The charred tunic and tattered boots had been cut off it, and Maxian and Gaius Julius had washed the remainder of the dirt away. The body was of a man with craggy features and a high forehead. His arms were long, and his legs a little short for his torso. The trunk of the body showed the signs of ancient wounds, long ago scarred over. Its hair was lank and dark, not quite coming to the shoulder.

"It must have been on one of the upper floors of the house when the explosion came." Abdmachus was sweeping the dirt up and piling it back into the crate, which had been pushed to one side of the kitchen. Outside, night had fallen fully on the city.

"We found it when we broke into the bottom of a chimney. It was there, packed into the bottom of the shaft, with rubble above it and deep in mud. I could feel it, though, even through the brickwork, like a dying flame. It might have been able to crawl out, if its master had not died in the fire."

"And," Gaius Julius said, "why do we care that the household was frequented by a walking pincushion?"

Abdmachus glared at the Roman. "Such a creature is well made for discreet errands, friend. It would be privy to many of the secrets of the house. If it could speak again, it could tell us much of its master's business—perhaps even what we want to know. It may be centuries old. Ah, the things it has seen..."

Maxian leaned over it, his hands gently exploring the face, the throat, the rib cage. Gaius Julius sat down on the steps leading up to the rear kitchen. Krista was sitting there as well, her face pale. She moved away to the other end of the step. The dead man affected not to notice. The Prince began to hum a little tune, and in a moment there was a basso response from the stones of the floor. Then it stopped. Maxian looked up, his eyes unfocused. When they cleared, he cocked his head at Gaius Julius.

"I can restore this thing to life. Bring me blood, fresh blood. At least a gallon."

The dead man's eyes widened. The look on the Prince's face was inscrutable, a mask.

"Ah... blood? What kind of blood?"

Maxian smiled at the fear in the eyes of the dead man. "Pig's blood will do, Gaius Julius. But be quick, there is much work to be done."

The dead man left, taking a copper bucket from the little kitchen. Krista disappeared upstairs. Maxian sat down on the step and wrapped his cloak around him. It was cold in the ground-floor room. Abdmachus sat on the chair, staring at the homunculus, muttering to himself.

A fat blue spark jumped from Maxian's fingertips to sizzle on the cranium of the homunculus before it seeped into the flesh of the dead thing. The air wavered in a heat haze around the Prince as he bent over the body on the table, his hands held a knucklebone's distance away from the head. He chanted under his breath, an ancient invocation to steady the mind and guide the thoughts. Abdmachus was his anchor, kneeling at the base of the table within the circle that they had hastily drawn in chalk and silver dust. Blue-white lightning rippled in the air between the two sorcerers, wrapping the body of the thing in a corona of light. Its limbs twitched and spasmed. Maxian's voice rose into a shout as he funneled the power inherent in the air and bricks around him into the trembling form that he was drawing forth in the body of the dead man.

Suddenly, as that immaterial form coalesced into a shining perfect geometric shape, the body convulsed and the eyes, a bright yellow with red pupils, fluttered open.

"Aaaahhh!" The throat of the creature was dry and clogged with soot. It hacked and gasped for air. Maxian's gaze darted to Gaius Julius for a second, and the old Roman, his face a mask of disgust, leapt to the side of the table and turned the body over. Soot and water dribbled out of the thing's throat. Lightning crawled across the tabletop and burrowed into the body. With each burning entry, the thing howled and twitched. It began to breathe, its airway clear at last.

"The blood," Maxian snarled to Krista as Gaius Julius turned the body back over and held it down. It had begun to thrash and its strength, even weak from near dissolution, was immense. The old Roman's veins stood out in his forehead as he struggled with his full weight and strength to hold it down. Krista hesitated but then stepped to the edge of the table. She held a heavy bladder in one hand, bulging with liquid, and a hose made of pig intestine in the other. Her hand darted out and speared the tip of the hose into the thing's mouth. The head whipped from side to side as it screamed in agony.

Maxian's hands seized the sides of the head, holding it still, though the neck muscles bunched and he was nearly thrown aside. Krista, her face an impassive mask, shoved the hose deeper into the thing's throat. It bit at her, and Maxian's fingers dug into the corners of its eyes. It shook again, its feet frantically beating a tattoo on the tabletop. Krista squeezed the bladder under her right arm and the hose filled with a thick red fluid. The blood surged into the mouth of the homunculus and filled its throat. Its screams were cut off by a horrible gargling noise, and blood spattered out of the mouth. Krista lunged in, her face twisted in disgust, and snapped the jaw up with one hand, while the other kept the hose from flying out of the mouth. Gaius Julius cursed; pig's blood had sprayed across his face and chest.

The Prince's fingers danced in the air above the corpse, and the flesh around the mouth suddenly crawled together around the hose, fixing it tight. Krista put her hand over her mouth and staggered back, overcome at the sight. Gaius Julius, lying fully athwart the corpse, gagged and turned his head away. Satisfied that the hose would not come loose, Maxian's fingers sank into the bone and sinew around the skull, and the thing, with one last convulsion, lay still. A white-hot glow spilled from the thing's eyes for a moment, and then the Prince withdrew his fingers, the bone melting back into place where there had been gaping holes a moment before.

Gaius Julius rolled off the bloody body and fell heavily onto the stone floor. He began retching in great heaving motions. Against the wall, Krista was huddled, her face in her hands. Only the Prince and Abdmachus still stood. Maxian laid a hand, gently, on the side of the homunculus's throat. The flesh peeled back away from the hose and it slid out onto the tabletop, dribbling the last bit of blood. The creature breathed then, in a great shudder, and its eyes flickered open. Red pupils stared up, meeting Maxian's calm brown eyes.

"Greetings," the Prince said, the ghost of a smile on his face. "I am your new master."

The thing threw its head back against the tabletop, but this time no sound issued from its mouth, only a long dry hiss of despair.

A light tapping came at the door of the kitchen that led out into the garden at the center of the house. Gaius Julius looked up from where he was tiredly mopping up the pools of coagulated blood and offal that covered the stone floor. The tapping came again. He could barely make out through the mottled glass pane that was inset in the door panel, a white hand. He looked around. Everyone else was asleep upstairs, save the Prince and the Persian, who were questioning the homunculus in the study.

The dead man loosened his dagger in its sheath and walked to the door. He reached for the latch, but stopped.

There's no gate in the back wall,
he thought.
How did they get into the garden?
Then he shook his head and laughed softly to himself.
I'm already dead, what do I have to fear?
He lifted the latch and swung the door open.

Three figures stood in the doorway on the pale-blue hexagonal tiles that covered the arcade around the garden. Their faces were shrouded in deep hoods of dark-green wool. A second cloak lay over their shoulders and dropped to their feet. The one in the middle leaned on a staff of pale-white ivory as tall as a man. A delicate white hand circled by thin bracelets of dark metal held the staff. Gaius Julius licked his lips in sudden unease. The fingernails on the hand were long and tapered to sharp points. The nails were a deep blue-black, like the carapace of an Egyptian scarab beetle.

"What... what do you want?" His voice was faint and he rallied suddenly.
Who was he to fear phantoms in the night? He, who had destroyed the power of the Druids? He, who had built an Empire?

"We wish," the central figure whispered in a low, husky voice, "to have words, friendly words with the lord of the house. He has spoken to one of our friends. He gave a token."

The hand vanished into the deep folds of the robes and when it reappeared, it held a gold coin wrapped in the links of a brass chain of fine links. Gaius Julius nodded, his eyes narrowing. He took the coin and turned it over. The front was stamped with the image of Augustus Galen, the obverse with a crude depiction of Maxian himself.
A commemorative,
the dead man thought.

"I'll take your message. Wait here."

The old man climbed the flights of stairs up to the third floor. Butter-yellow light spilled out of the study onto the landing. Gaius Julius stepped into the doorway. Within, the homunculus was seated on a stool at the center of the room, clad now in a simple tunic of muddy brown wool. Its shoulders were shrunken and its body seemed compressed in on itself. Maxian sat on the edge of the table he used as a desk, and the Persian was prowling around behind the creature. Krista was bundled up in a quilt and blankets on the window couch. Her eyes were closed and she seemed asleep, though Gaius Julius did not credit it for a moment.

"Lord Prince, there are..."

"We are here," came the husky voice from behind him, "as the Prince requested."

Maxian looked up in surprise, hearing the strange voice. Gaius Julius had jumped away from the door and spun, the dagger in his hand. A woman stood in the doorway, and the old Roman backed up as she entered. Two other women followed her. Maxian stood up, stepping away from the table.

The woman was tall, almost as tall as Maxian, with pale-ivory skin and deep-red hair, almost black, that fell behind her to her waist. A delicate net of silver held back the hair from her high forehead, and shining drops of ruby glittered at her ears. Her cloak and hood fell back from smooth white shoulders and revealed a black silk gown with buttons of white bone. She was as thin as a reed. Her lips were pale rose, and the beauty of her face was all the more striking for the strength of her features. The Prince met her gaze and saw that her tilted eyes were so pale a blue that the iris was almost invisible in the white.

"You gave a token and a promise, O Prince," said the woman, gliding into the room. Under the hem of her gown her feet were bare. "We have come to speak of it."

Maxian stood, his hands clasped lightly behind his back. The other two women still stood in the doorway, each possessed of a lush distracting beauty. One had hair like flax, golden and long, the other like a raven's tail, glossy and black. Their robes were slightly parted, and the Prince glimpsed the edge of white thighs and the curve of full breasts under tightly fitting silk. Beside their mistress they seemed but faint reflections of her full radiance. Pale stars to a moon bright in a night sky.

"So I did. Did the one carrying the token speak of my proposal?"

"That one did." The woman drifted to the table, her long fingers languid as they touched the scroll that was open. "You seek assistance in a mighty endeavor. We can give it, if I ken your purpose."

She turned back to face Maxian, her face lit from within by a slow smile. The Prince nearly shuddered at the promise radiating from those eyes. His breathing slowed and he flexed the power that was coming more easily to him with each day. In the unseen world, barriers rose around him, Krista, and Gaius Julius. A whirling sphere of unseen fire already surrounded Abdmachus, who had backed up to the wall next to the window couch.

The woman laughed, a sound of delicate crystal tinkling in a breeze. "O Prince, you seek alliance, or mastery. We will not fight you. You are too strong. If we cannot be friends then we will disappear, water before a blade. If we wish it, none can find us. That one who spoke before mentioned trust to you and you to that one. Do you wish to gain our trust? Our friendship?" She stood close to the Prince now, who had turned to keep her in full view.

"Can you earn my trust?" Maxian's voice was clear and steady, though the room had grown steadily darker. The two women at the door had entered now and stood on either side of it. The fire in the braziers had died to coals. Behind him, the Prince heard Krista move slightly in her blankets. "Can you earn my friendship?"

The woman bowed, her hands spreading in obeisance. Curls of her burgundy hair spilled over the white of her neck. "What is the price of a Prince's friendship? What would please you, O Prince? Gold? Jewels? Murder? Me?"

Maxian laughed softly, just enough to cover the sound of Krista hissing in anger behind him.

"I am not Antony," he said in an amused voice. "Trust and friendship are a long road, O Queen. A first step must be taken to reach the end. I will give you a gift, and you shall reciprocate. If each finds the gift appropriate and worthy, we will take a second step."

"Well said." The Queen's voice was mellow and filled with honey. "What will you gift us?"

"Respite from pain, O Queen."

The woman stepped back, her eyes flashing. Her lips curled in anger, revealing perfect white teeth. "What do you mean, man? What do you know of pain?"

Maxian stepped to the table and picked up a small black box that had been sitting next to the candles. He snapped it open, the only sound in the deathly quiet room, and drew out a small glass vial. In the light of the candles, the contents of the vial gleamed a murky red.

"I am a healer, O Queen, and know many arts. I felt the sickness in the one who spoke with me. I feel the pain that seeps along your bones like acid. This, if taken in moderation, can ease your pain for a full moon. In time, if we come to trust one another, I will provide you with the method of its manufacture."