The Children of the Company (45 page)

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Authors: Kage Baker

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And Baal-Hammon, in his persona as bull-headed monster, had served Labienus’s purposes wonderfully well. How far his horned shadow had been thrown! Out beyond the classical world, into the feverish minds of medieval scholars and princes of the church, yea, even unto the televangelists.
The Company had profited, too, of course; its coffers filled with plunder from the sack, and its investments in Roman olive oil futures yielded heavy dividends.
Labienus felt a mortal approaching him, now, and turned to see a shabby little man in modern Tunisian dress peering at him speculatively.
“Monsieur, may I offer the services of a tour guide?” he inquired, and without waiting for a reply scurried closer. “You know where you are? Famous sacrificial altar of Baal-Hammon! Look!”
He drew a holo device from his pocket and switched it on. Hazy and transparent in the midday glare, computer-generated figures knelt to offer a swaddled bundle to their awful horned god.
“Then, Romans invaded and began their genocidal persecution of my countrymen,” said the man, changing the scene to a blurry diorama of Roman armies sacking a town.
“You consider yourself a Carthaginian?” Labienus regarded him scornfully, scanning the mortal’s genetic makeup. Some Euro-mongrel, Almerian and Balearic; he hadn’t a drop of the ancient blood in him. “Are you proud of being descended from people who sacrificed children?”
“Ancient times,” the man explained, looking a little uncomfortable. “Carthaginians had not yet heard the word of God. But Romans were
much
worse,
killed millions of children. Carthaginians at least believed they were giving them as servants to their gods. And all nations have given children to their gods, in all times everywhere!”
“That’s certainly true,” said Labienus, deciding he was amused by the mortal. “And sacrifice is relative, isn’t it? What do mortals bear them for, anyway, but to be of use?”
“It is every son’s duty to do his father’s will,” agreed the mortal solemnly.
Unseen all around them the little ghosts were standing, not merely the lost children of Carthage but of Rome and Britain, of every nation on earth, watching, an army of specters gray as ashes, silent. No need to play the cymbals or the pipes now to drown them out, no need to tell them
Hush, don’t cry! Don’t shame us!
An image flashed into Labienus’s mind, memory of an illustration by Edward Gorey: Death, in the formal costume of a governess, skull-faced, grinning pleasantly at the viewer as she holds her umbrella aloft. Gathered around her feet are her tiny listless charges, a flock of children in old-fashioned clothes. Their eyes are vacant. They stand together like so many stuffed penguins.
The mortal children had done the job their parents asked of them, gone wide-eyed into Hell in exchange for victory, good harvests, gold, status, love.
Pro patria mori
. And they were fortunate, after all, compared to the children taken by Zeus.
“What if one of those children stood before you now?” said Labienus. “What do you suppose he’d have to tell you, about eternal life in the service of the gods?”
The mortal blinked at him.
“Would you like to purchase a holocard, monsieur?” he asked.
Labienus laughed. He bought a holocard and the mortal went away.
Nothing matters but the work. Yet the work is meaningless.
History cannot be changed. Yet history is a tissue of lies.
And if one can’t leave the world, and if there is no better place, then the world will have to do for Paradise. No reason, then, not to shape the world to one’s own desires, is there? But it will take scouring fire to purify it, and seas of blood to wash out its imperfections …
So. What about this third boy, old
Adonai
revived at last?
Yet is there really a place for him now, at this end of the long corridor of time? It’s hardly an age for heroes. No sweeping religious upheavals in which he might immolate himself, like Nicholas Harpole; no British Empire whose burden he might shoulder, as Edward Bell-Fairfax had done. Only a dwindling and pusillanimous global village, bickering feebly with its colonies on Luna and Mars …
Though there will be
real
nastiness erupting on Mars …
The rotten tree must fall; what wedge might be placed, to cause the profitable trunk to topple in just the right direction? What lord with a golden voice, and absolute confidence in his ideals?
What if the woman were brought in again, in her fatal role of catalyst?
The Botanist Mendoza
…
Labienus glances up at his wilderness, distracted by something at the edge of his field of vision. He frowns.
“Damn!” He goes to inspect the window where the frantic mortal had stood. Smudged on the outer surface of the glass are a pair of handprints and … yes … that blob can only be the print of the mortal’s nose. Disgusting monkeys!
He puts his head on one side, considering. Which of his subordinates has displeased him lately?
Spoyka!
he transmits.
Yes, sir!
The reply comes hastily.
Report to room 218 with a rag, a bottle of Windex, eighty feet of rope, and a rappelling harness. Further orders to follow.
Immediately, sir!
Labienus folds his arms and gazes out at the view. His smile has returned. Room 218 is two floors above his office. To reach his window, the man will actually need ninety feet of rope. Can he be creative, or will he suffer a painful accident?
Either way, it ought to be fun to watch.
The Anvil of the World
The Graveyard Game
The Life of the World to Come
The Children of the Company
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously
THE CHILDREN OF THE COMPANY
Copyright © 2005 by Kage Baker
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
Edited by David G. Hartwell
Portions of this novel were first published, in earlier versions, under the following titles in the magazines listed:
“Son Observe the Time,”
Asimov’s,
May 1999
“The Fourth Branch,”
Amazing,
June 1999
“The Queen in the Hill,”
Realms of Fantasy,
December 1999
“Black Smoker,”
Asimov’s,
January 2000
“The Young Master,”
Asimov’s,
July 2000
“The Applesauce Monster,”
Asimov’s,
December 2001
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
Tor
®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
eISBN 9781429910460
First eBook Edition : February 2011
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Baker, Kage.
The children of The Company / Kage Baker.—1st ed.
p. cm.
“A Tom Doherty Associates book.”
ISBN 0-765-31455-X (acid-free paper)
EAN 978-0-765-31455-0
1. Dr. Zeus Incorporated (Imaginary organization)—Fiction. 2. Immortalism—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3552.A4313C48 2005
813’.54—dc22
2005041829
First Edition: November 2005

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