Elements 03 - Monsters of the Earth (15 page)

After a moment to adjust to the fact that there were no flowers, Varus saw that the garden was in better condition than any room of the house proper. The rows had been weeded, and the apple and peach trees flanking the vegetables were heavy with still unripened fruit.

Varus heard tapping behind him and turned. The goats looked down from the roof at him. Their jaws rotated sideways, which he found to be disconcerting.

Lucinus bent and picked up a clod from between a pair of bean vines climbing poles. The trenches between rows had been recently watered, but the soil of the mounds on which the beans were planted was dry and crumbled easily under his thumb.

Mumbling,
“Their eyes glow and their tongues lick the air like hissing fire,”
Lucinus tossed the dust into the air. For a moment the loose soil was a smear in the morning sunlight; then an image gripped Varus’ mind and drew him into it. He felt his breath catch, but he was a disembodied viewpoint hovering above horror.

A familiar horror: he was looking down on the great crystal serpents that he had watched from the Sibyl’s side. Now they gouged across the landscape like rivers in flood, devouring their banks and whatever was before them.

“These are the Worms of the Earth,”
said Lucinus’ voice.
“They are Earth’s revenge for the destruction of her children, the Titans. If they are released—”

For an instant, Varus watched from the porch of the Temple of Jupiter Best and Greatest in the center of Carce. People in the Forum below were foreshortened, moving dots rather than human beings, while beyond to the east spread the familiar thousands of houses and apartment blocks in which he and his fellow citizens lived.

“—they will destroy life and the land on which life exists.”

Filling the far horizon, red with the setting sun, advanced a wall of crystal. Houses and hills and the bedrock itself vanished into its blazing, jewel-like facade. People were too small to matter on such a scale, but Varus’ mind echoed with screams that his ears could not hear, the deaths of thousands upon thousands, the deaths of all men and all things.

“And a wizard named Melino, who was human when he went to the Otherworld but is human no more…,”
continued the voice of Lucinus,
“will release the Worms, for he is mad and a demon.”

The blazing crystalline maw swelled over Varus’ viewpoint; then the vision shattered into blackness. Varus was in Vergil’s garden again. The goats had vanished and Corylus, his face impassive, stood with his left hand flat against the trunk of the peach tree. The staff was in his right.

Lucinus gave Corylus a superior smile and said, “You’re a soldier, aren’t you, Master Corylus? How do you like the Great Art?”

“I intend to become a soldier,” Corylus said. He didn’t sound angry, but there was no give in his voice. “I didn’t like what your magic showed me. How do we stop it, Lucinus?”

Varus had first thought his friend was supporting himself against the tree. Closer attention showed that his hand was caressing the bark lightly, as if it were the peach that needed comfort.

“You have no part in the matter, Master Corylus,” Lucinus said. He sounded noticeably more polite than he had a moment before. “Your friend and I are students of the Art, are magicians, if you prefer. Between us, Lord Varus and I may be able to retrieve Zabulon’s
Book
from where my uncle placed it when he found that his fate was near. With the
Book,
it may be that we will be able to prevent the release of the Worms.”

Corylus gave the tree a last pat and straightened. “What precisely do you expect Varus to do?” he said in the same calm, humorless voice.

Lucinus turned to Varus to protest. Before Varus could tell him to answer the question, the older man’s scowl cleared. He nodded to Varus, then faced Corylus.

“Zabulon was the first astrologer and the first master of the Great Art,” he said. “He put his wisdom and his soul into a book, which he took with him to an island separate from this world and from the Otherworld. My uncle journeyed to Zabulon’s Isle and took the
Book
from Zabulon.”

“Zabulon is still alive?” Varus said. He had never heard the name before; he wondered if Pandareus had.

“Zabulon’s body is not alive,” Lucinus said, looking at him. “But Zabulon’s
Book
lives. My uncle returned the
Book
to its owner’s hands.”

“You believe that you and Varus together can use the
Book
against…,” Corylus said. He turned his right palm up, as if looking for a word in his palm. “Can defeat the Worms with it?”

“I need the help of a second magician to reach Zabulon’s Isle,” Lucinus said. “I need the help of Lord Varus. Then perhaps I can use the
Book
—but more important, I can keep the
Book
away from Melino, who was my uncle’s assistant before me. My uncle sent Melino to the Otherworld, but Melino betrayed him and stayed for a hundred years.”

“Why?” said Varus. “Why did Melino stay?”

Varus had entered the Otherworld himself. It was not a place for those born in the Waking World; it was not a place for humans.

“He sought power,” Lucinus said. “He sought a ring which holds a demon, and found it, but he became a demon himself. Now Melino has returned to release the Worms. If he gains Zabulon’s
Book,
he will release them, and the Worms will destroy everything.”

“You say Vergil was a great magician,” Varus said, voicing the question he had turned in the silence of his mind until he was comfortable with the words. “He chose to return the
Book
to the place he had found it. Why should you reverse the decision of a greater magician? And why should I help you?”

“Because the world will end!” Lucinus snapped. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Even so,” Varus said calmly. “Your uncle was greater than you, and I believe he was wiser than you. Why should I act against the decision of Vergil, whose pen case I am not worthy even to carry?”

Corylus smiled. Lucinus must have seen the expression—and understood it—because he immediately calmed.

“My uncle was great beyond your knowledge, and wise beyond you or perhaps any man,” Lucinus said. “When he felt his fate near, he planned to rejuvenate himself. So that no one could steal the
Book
while he was weakened, he returned it to Zabulon’s Isle. He planned to retrieve it when he was young and strong again. But—”

Lucinus shrugged.

“—something went wrong with his spell. He vanished, and his works vanished. And now it is up to lesser students like myself and you to save the world, because my uncle cannot.”

Corylus looked at Varus. Varus nodded. This had to be his decision.

“My friend and I will discuss the matter,” Varus said, “and perhaps discuss it with others whose wisdom may be greater than ours.”

“There is very little time,” Lucinus said. He whispered the words. “I don’t know how much, but not long.”

Varus gave the older man a smile not dissimilar to the expression on Corylus’ face when Lucinus had raised his voice a moment before. He said, “We will arrive at a decision. If it involves you, we will inform you. Good day, Master Lucinus.”

Corylus gestured Varus ahead, toward the door and the cart waiting beyond. That probably wasn’t necessary, but it was simple courtesy to accept physical protection from a man as skilled as Corylus.

It was very good to have friends.

*   *   *

A
LPHENA WAS MAKING
a real effort to be ladylike, but she refused to have the curtains drawn on the way to Bersinus’ party. There wasn’t a great deal to be seen in a litter sliding through the streets of Puteoli at night, but she felt less confined with the sides open.

She smiled in a mixture of amusement and self-mockery. Since she was wearing a long dinner dress of silk even thinner than the gauze side curtains, she couldn’t do anything but walk away in a dignified manner if some disaster beset the vehicle anyway. The fabric was so strong that she couldn’t tear the skirt off with her bare hands. Though … she supposed she could whip the dress over her head and flee in bandeau and panties.

The thought made Alphena giggle. She wished Hedia was with her so that she could watch the older woman’s face go as stiff as a smiling marble statue when her daughter explained why she was laughing.

Attendants shouted in the near distance, alerting Bersinus’ servants that the wife and daughter of Senator Gaius Alphenus Saxa had arrived—and probably boasting a little as well, like gladiators greeting one another in the arena before a match. The litter rocked awkwardly as one of the four bearers lost the pace when they slowed to avoid running up the back of Hedia’s vehicle.

Mother would have him flogged,
Alphena thought, but on consideration she realized that Hedia wouldn’t resort to physical punishment. Instead she would have the bearer transferred, probably to farm labor, and demote the lead man on the team, who had failed in his duty to properly train his subordinates.

Alphena had flown into rages when something went wrong, and often enough when
nothing
went wrong. Hedia was quieter, colder, and altogether more effective. Alphena was learning a great deal from her mother now that she had started watching events instead of simply blazing into a fury at them.

Alphena wouldn’t discipline anyone this time. She would note the incident quietly to the bearer and the foreman. If it happened again … well, she would do something.

Maybe I’ll go back to walking in sturdy sandals, but as an eccentric noblewoman rather than as a tomboy.
Alphena suppressed her giggle, because the litter had stopped and settled onto the ground on its four feet.

Alphena swung her legs out and stood before the servants, her own or the host’s, tried to help. She was glad to have done it gracefully this time. Through practice she was getting much better at entering and leaving a vehicle.
It’s one of those tasks which a lady has to learn,
as Hedia would say.

The first litter had stopped just ahead of Alphena’s. Mother had gotten out of it and was embracing a man in his late twenties who wore a scarlet tunic trimmed with cloth of gold. Though he took a great deal of trouble with his appearance, he looked soft. Alphena was accustomed to judging gladiators.

“Bersinus darling, it’s so good to see you again,” Hedia said, disengaging herself. “Why don’t you introduce my daughter Alphena to the company?”

Hedia gestured, the motion as graceful as a wave rippling up the sand. Alphena stepped forward, suddenly unsure of herself.
I’d rather be facing a demon. Again.

Five well-dressed men and a woman of at least thirty—the only other woman present—stood in an arc close behind Bersinus. He said, “Delighted to do anything you ask, my dearest Hedia. Lady Alphena—”

For the first time, their host actually looked at Alphena instead of being aware of her only as another figure in the entourage of the ravishing Hedia.
Which Mother is, which she certainly is.…

Though when maids under Hedia’s careful direction had held mirrors so that Alphena could view herself, she’d been rather pleased.
Very
pleased, though she could scarcely admit that even to herself.

Her silk dinner gown was a chestnut so dark that it looked black under most lights but was, Hedia told her firmly, exactly the color of Alphena’s hair. It was tailored more closely than was usual for a dinner dress, a
synthesis,
in order to emphasize her figure in a good way. Hedia said that a looser garment would make Alphena look fat rather than trimly muscular, and that some men liked muscular.

Gold threads in the fabric gave it a luster that wasn’t really a color but—again according to Hedia—perfectly complemented Alphena’s gilded sandals, her earrings of gold filigree, and her half cape of cloth of gold. Finally her hair, which had required an hour for three specialists to coil, was pinned with tortoiseshell combs whose engravings were gold filled.

In any other company, Alphena honestly believed she would stand out. And even standing beside her mother, Alphena seemed to be worth their host’s attention once she actually came to his notice.

“This is my wife Olivia,” Bersinus said, gesturing to the woman. Olivia would probably have been a frump in most gatherings, but she was doubly unfortunate in this one. Her sour look suggested that she was aware of the fact.

“—and my brother-in-law Olivius Macer. The family has large holdings around Capua, as you may know.”

Alphena eyed Macer. While his older sister looked frumpy, he had the coarse athleticism of a feral hog.

If the Olivius family were landowners, it explained the marriage. Florina had gathered information on Bersinus as her mistress had ordered. According to Florina, he was the son of a freedman who had made his considerable wealth as a building contractor. Olivia was socially a step upward even if her younger husband didn’t need the dowry.

“Next is Sextus Scribonius Lantinus, who’s staying in his family’s house on the Bay this summer—,” Bersinus said, gesturing to a languid youth closer to Alphena’s age than to Hedia’s twenty-three years.

“My father is Scribonius Murena, of course,” the youth said with a carelessly affected gesture. “Senator Murena, that is.”

“—and his friend Kurnos.”

From the look Kurnos gave her, Alphena was pretty sure that the young Greek was at least as interested in women as he was in his employer. The only use
she
could imagine for the fellow was as a fencing target.

Alphena smiled:
he’s eminently suited for that.
Kurnos misunderstood and smirked back at her.

“Marcus Vipsanius Castor”—a portly man nodded; at fifty he was by far the oldest guest present—“has the house beside ours here,” Bersinus said. “I invited him tonight to, ah … I invited him tonight.”

Castor smiled with amusement. “I’m in grain, my dear,” he said. “I believe my friend Bersinus thought it would be as well to have the older generation represented tonight. At any rate, I was pleased to accept his invitation to meet the noble Hedia and her daughter … who is even more charming than I expected.”