Foreign Devils (19 page)

We were all silent for a long while thinking about the ramifications of everything that had happened. Secundus picked up the ash messenger’s box. As we were preparing to leave, Father said, ‘Livia, did you give him that painting to mock him?’

‘No, Father. It was something I was proud of and I thought he might like it.’

He gave a short bark of laughter. ‘The man knows only physical beauty. Nothing in the arts would please him. If you’d dunked it in molten gold, then he would have given it some consideration, possibly.’

‘He
did
give it some consideration.’

‘No,’ Father said. ‘He gave
you
consideration. The painting was absolutely unessential.’

Secundus, Carnelia, and I gave our father kisses and made sure he was well on his way to full inebriation for the orgy before leaving. In the carriage home, Carnelia said, ‘You can lie to Tata all you want, sissy, but you can’t fool me. You gave that painting of the White Mountains to Tamberlaine on purpose, knowing the significance.’

‘Why do you say that?’ I said, raising my eyebrow at her.

‘Because he’s separated you from your husband! During your pregnancy! I know you. That’s something you’d not let pass lightly.’

I answered her only with a smile. As you know, some things are better not to acknowledge, my love.

Three days later, after Carnelia and I performed the necessary shopping and provisioning with Fuqua and Lupina’s help while Secundus and Father hammered out the details of their arrangement with Metellus, we took a carriage back to Ostia and reboarded the
Malphas
. In some ways, it felt like coming home. I’ve grown used to travel and developed my own internal inertia.

Father tearily bid us farewell – he’d been hungover and melodramatic ever since Ia Terminalia but insisted that ‘nothing untoward occurred, children, other than a great amount of liver damage!’ – and the day of our departure was no different. As Lupina and the Praetorians organized all of our provisions and baggage (and Father steadfastly ignored Tenebrae to Tenebrae’s great amusement), we embraced our father one at a time.

‘Here,’ Father said to Secundus, waving Rubus forward. Rubus carried a Quotidian box. ‘I’ve included a schedule for correspondence. My Kalends is already too bloody, so we’ll have to stagger the missives around the Nones and six Kalends.’

‘Understood, Father,’ Secundus said.

He looked at all of our faces and tears streamed down his cheeks. ‘I’ll be cursing you, Livia, before the day is out,’ he said, sniffing. ‘You’re taking everyone from me.’

‘You’ll be all right, Father,’ said I. ‘Soon you’ll be back in the west. When you see Fisk—’

‘Yes?’

‘Nothing. He knows.’

He looked at me for a long while then took Carnelia’s hands and kissed her forehead and embraced Secundus warmly. ‘I am very proud of you, my children. I can think of no better emissaries for Rume. Safe travels.’ Blowing his nose into a pocket handkerchief, he turned and walked back down the pier to the waiting carriage, his back straight.

That night, on the turning of the tide, the
Malphas
steamed out of Ostia and into Mare Nostrum toward the Eudaemon Neck where the warm bath of our sea becomes dark and passes closely between the Ægyptian and Bedoun shores. For six days now we have steamed through these waters – quite still and steamy with nothing of the mountainous swells we had experienced on the Occidens Ocean – and now we trace the sweltering Ætheopicum coast, the waters crystal blue matched by the cerulean sky.

We are accompanied by Tenebrae and his cadre of Praetorians – clearly our guide and companion from Occidentalia, despite being an informant for Tamberlaine, is the most refined of the Emperor’s private troops. These black-clad men seem brutish and dull and more interested in the
Malphas’
provender than interacting with the rest of the passengers. In addition to the Praetorians and the familiar crew of the
Malphas
, we are joined by Sun Huáng who returns to Kithai to vouch for us as we deliver the Emperor’s letter. He is a strange man and quite wary of us Rumans, as far as I can tell.

We take our mornings on deck – staying below would be almost impossible in the close heat of the cabins – and Captain Juvenus has been kind enough to provide the passengers with copious deck space for sunning ourselves and whatever exercise we are able to get on the small expanse of wind- and rain-smoothed wooden planks. There are a few small tables and folding chairs so Carnelia, Lupina, and I often have coffee or tea and take breakfast in the shade beneath the front cannon where it’s cooler and breezy, while watching the Praetorians and Secundus get in whatever martial drills they can without the benefit of a gymnasia. Our baby is wreaking hell on my appetites and I find myself always somewhat hungry – mostly for buttered toast and fruit – and we have been lucky to have many ports to call in for fresh victuals.

Sun Huáng spends his mornings with us on deck, as well. A young girl travels with him and a larger, lumbering man – quite powerful-looking and heavily scarred across his knuckles, on his neck and face. He presents a most forbidding aspect.

I discovered the girl’s name almost accidentally. They had breakfasted near Carnelia and me until Sun Huáng stood silently and walked a little ways from where Secundus and Tenebrae (whose relationship might have suffered a blow at the discovery of the latter’s position with Tamberlaine, but the blow had not sundered them) first wrestled, shirtless in the sun and later, panting and heaving, began sparring with short wooden sticks. Secundus was good with the ‘sword’ – practising the standard Ruman legionnaire gladuis training moves which involved a great amount of stabbing and chopping, but it soon became obvious that while Secundus was proficient, Tenebrae was adept.

Sun Huáng moved a little ways down from where Secundus and Tenebrae clacked and clattered with the wooden gladii and began a slow, methodical movement, stretching his body. First he raised his hands above his head and then performed an action that seemed almost like drawing a bow on each side, but much slower than any archer would. Then the old man moved his hands in a way that seemed like he was brushing something aside and continued to make many more slow, graceful movements, some crouching, some extending. The nearby Praetorians sniggered, and Tenebrae and Secundus had stopped to watch – which was understandable, since this was the first instance that Sun Huáng had done anything worth observing.

I turned to face the girl and hulking man who sat watching Sun Huáng.

‘I am curious,’ I said, speaking to both of them. ‘What is he doing?’

The girl, who was maybe thirteen or fourteen and just coming into her womanhood, said in a totally normal Ruman accent, ‘Grandfather is performing the Eight Silken Movements.’

‘Grandfather? You are Sun Huáng’s granddaughter?’

She gave a short nod to acknowledge it.

‘I am Livia Cornelius and this is my sister Carnelia and maid-servant Lupina,’ I said. I gestured to indicate Secundus and Tenebrae. ‘The sweaty boys out there are my brother Secundus and Gauis Tenebrae, a Praetorian.’

The girl said, ‘I am aware of these things but I thank you for expressing them. I am Min.’

‘And your companion?’ I asked, indicating the scarred man sitting quietly near her.

‘He has no name.’

‘No name?’

‘None that we know of. He has no tongue with which to tell us.’

That took me aback. I must admit here that I know very little of Kithai and its people, and I only had only begun to dig into the books I’d bought in Rume about that far land since our journey had begun.

There was an awkward silence. Finally, I said, ‘What are the Eight Silken Movements?’

Min frowned, slightly, and then stood and came to sit at our table. She offered her hand to Carnelia, who took it, and then to me. She had a dry, firm grip with rough palms. She sat down without asking.

‘The Eight Silken Movements, or the Baduanjin, are a series of martial exercises that keep the body strong and fluid,’ she said, looking from Carnelia to me. She ignored Lupina totally. ‘The Eight Silken Movements were created thousands of years ago by the Incorruptible Master Zhongli Quan.’

Secundus and Tenebrae, seeing Min sitting with us, retrieved towels and trotted over, wiping at their shimmering torsos and laughing.

‘Why, hello!’ my brother said. ‘I’m Secundus Cornelius and this fine lad is Gaius Tenebrae.’ He pulled out a chair and sat in the sort of relaxed, languorous way that only sweaty men can have.

‘Lad?’ Tenebrae asked. ‘You’ll pay for that.’

Min extended her hand, which both men took in turns. ‘I am Min,’ she said, simply.

‘Min is Sun Huáng’s grand-daughter,’ Carnelia said, her voice bright. My love, we’d been cramming sweets and meats in her since Ia Terminalia and limiting her wine and the hard edges of her bones had begun to soften some. Curiously, the hard edges of her temperament had smoothed as well and recently her company had been a great pleasure. It is possible that her frivolity and crankiness had always been in response to an unacknowledged hunger.

‘What’s your grandfather doing, if I may ask?’ Tenebrae said. ‘It looks very … elegant.’

Min patiently explained the movements again, surprised that she’d become surrounded by Rumans suddenly. Turning to me, she said, ‘The Eight Silken Movements would be very good for you, Madame Livia. Many women, heavy with child, turn to them to maintain their strength.’

‘I will consider that, Min,’ said I. ‘Thank you.’

‘It is a martial training?’ Tenebrae asked, leaning back into his chair. Shirtless, he was an impressive spectacle of a man – well muscled and yet still slim and lithe. ‘Ia damn us all, it’s hot here,’ he said, moving his chair some to get out of the sun.

‘Yes,’ Min said. ‘Many of Kithai’s greatest warriors, like my grandfather, perform the Eight Silken Movements when they can do nothing else.’

‘Your grandfather? A great warrior?’ Tenebrae did not laugh at her but his disbelief was evident in his tone. He towelled off his chest and stared at the old man appraisingly.

‘At home, he is known as The Sword of Jiang.’

‘A swordsman?’

‘No.’

Tenebrae said, ‘You misunderstand me, possibly. I ask: your grandfather is a renowned swordsman?’

Min looked at Tenebrae with a level stare. ‘I understood you quite well, Mr Tenebrae. My grandfather is called The Sword of Jiang.’

‘Maybe
I
misunderstand, then,’ Tenebrae said, brow furrowed. ‘Does that mean your grandfather is a swordsman?’

‘He is a great warrior, sir. If that means using a sword, then he will use a sword.’

‘Do you think he would be interested in a little sparring?’ Tenebrae asked, sitting up.

‘I think that would be a very bad idea,’ Min said.

‘Why?’ Secundus asked, interested now.

‘He does not like Rumans and would make a lesson of you.’

That last sentiment hung in the air for a while. Tenebrae poured himself a glass of water from the ceramic pitcher and gulped it down in a trice.

Secundus said, ‘Come, Gaius. There is still more
armatura
to be done. We haven’t worked the spear and shield yet.’

‘Excuse me,’ Min said, before they could rise. ‘I am curious as to something. You Rumans have … as you call it … Hellfire. Guns and pistols and cannons.’ She inclined her head to indicate the forward cannon at the front of the
Malphas
. ‘Yet you continue to exercise with sword and spear. Why?’

Tenebrae said, ‘The gun is a relatively new thing to us, and Rume was founded on the haft of a spear and the hilt of a sword. Thousands of years have not changed that.’

‘Hounds bay,’ Secundus said. ‘Gulls dive. We cannot deny our natures. A Ruman’s hand is born for a weapon.’

‘And,’ Carnelia added, ‘Hellfire is expensive. Becoming proficient in it is for patricians and wealthy equites and does nothing for the waistline,’ she said.

Min sat taking it all in, as immovable as a rock buffeted by waves. ‘I think we are not so different,’ she said and stood, bowing. The large nameless man rose and joined her and she disappeared inside the ship to the Kithai Embassy’s cabins.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that,’ Secundus said, then put his hand on Tenebrae’s shoulder. ‘Shall we?’

Captain Juvenus invited us to dinner that night in the Captain’s Mess and we accepted, graciously. A warm summer squall sprang up and filled the air with falling raindrops, each one as warm as bathwater.

It was hot inside the ship, too – the
Malphas
’
daemons
which gave power to the dynamos and heated our meals and rooms could do nothing to cool us in these hotter climes. The Captain’s dining room did have steam-driven rotating ceiling fans that stirred the air, yet the air itself was so warm and moist that it did very little to cool us. A sodden informality had descended upon us like a malaise – men did not wear the jackets of their suits and often abstained from ties, and the women – there were only four of us on board; myself, Carnelia, Lupina, and Min – eschewed the heavier confections, those with flounces and any extra fripperies, settling for simple cotton peasant dresses with enough undergarments to satisfy the needs of modesty. I dare say Tenebrae and Secundus would strut about shirtless if convention would allow them.

After we had taken our seats and Juvenus invoked Ia in a short and simple prayer, Secundus said, ‘I have bad news from my father, Gaius Cornelius.’

Carnelia looked alarmed and Tenebrae stilled and looked at us all at the table. Whatever this news was, he was already privy to it.

‘The Medieran Ambassador in Passasuego was murdered, along with all his family and retainers.’

An involuntary gasp came from me. ‘Passasuego? Do you think—?’

Secundus nodded his head. ‘Father – and Tamberlaine’s – agent says that Beleth was involved and that Fisk and Dveng Ilys were in pursuit.’

I exhaled. My worse fear had been averted, but the news was still terrible.

‘They have established a blockade in the Bay of Mageras and are mobilizing their fleets. We are to be on alert.’