Wolf’s Empire: Gladiator (13 page)

The servant led me through the entrance hall and along a corridor bordering the inner courtyard. A beautiful garden and well lay at the center of the courtyard, catching the falling rain. With the exception of the small Iceni slaves scurrying about performing their duties, walking through that house was like stepping back into Rome's past. Up the stone stairs to the second story and along another corridor, the servant led me to a formal dining room lit by beeswax candles. The air was thick with the scent of cologne. Crassus was waiting for me, seated at the head of the table and dressed in a hand-tailored evening toga with designer trim. Long-stemmed wine flute in hand, Crassus was drinking iridescent Opimium Moselle, the most rare and expensive of wines imported from Galatia Smaragdus province. Before him was a plate of larks' tongues surrounded by oysters.

“Lady Accala.” He jumped to his feet. “Please come in and make yourself at home.”

I was dripping, making a mess of his expensive carpet, but he didn't seem to notice. The utility blade had been returned to its sheath in my armilla, but it wouldn't take more than a second to draw it, snap it into form, and bury it in his heart.

“Well, don't just stand there. What's wrong? Would you like some dry clothes?”

My resolve deserted me. I was a gladiator, not an assassin. The fire that fueled me had gone missing at the crucial instant, and here Crassus was, carrying on like we were best friends. I needed more, needed to hear him speak of my mother, or taunt me. A harsh word, a spark from this man to start the fire and then I could go through with it.

Crassus tried to take my hands in his, but I pulled away. “Speak. Say what you've got to say. Be frank.”

“Very well.” He dismissed his slaves and servant with a wave and then resumed his seat. He took another sip of wine, put the glass down, and flashed me a confident smile. “I've called you here because I want you to help me end the war.”

“It may have escaped your notice, but I'm not on a gladiatorial team anymore. I've been scratched.”

“Of course. That's precisely what I'm talking about. How do you think the Viridians will do without you?”

“They have a fighting chance.”

“Perhaps. My guess is that the entire Caninine Alliance will be eliminated before the final round. With you they had a chance. Don't get me wrong, I'm not attempting to flatter you, only stating the obvious. You tilted the odds in their favor. They were probably going to lose anyway, only now it's a sure thing.”

Sertorians were cocky, overconfident. I didn't entirely agree with Crassus' assessment. There was no doubt the Caninines were going in weak, the reconstruction of the civil war pitched four houses against three, meaning the alliance was going in with eight fewer players than the Talonite Axis, not to mention that they didn't have me, but that didn't mean they weren't real contenders. The way the games were structured, the way Fortune swung on the day, any one of a dozen factors could give the underdog a chance to seize the advantage.

“Is that all? You called me here to state the obvious?”

“Of course not. I called you here to offer you the final place on the Sertorian team. I want you to fight for the Blood Hawks.”

I burst out laughing. I couldn't help myself. After the day I'd had, I never expected to hear something so ridiculous. “Is this some Sertorian joke? Do you have the rest of your teammates hiding nearby?” I stepped closer to Crassus, discreetly tapping the blade release on my armilla, bracing my right hand on the table near him. It was time.

“No joke. I'm deadly serious. My interest lies in the preservation of the bloodlines that make Rome great. Powerful, ancient, noble families whose genetic contributions are interwoven into our character. Ferocity, loyalty, bravery—these are the traits that House Viridian embodies, traits that I would hate to see lost.”

“I'm sure the thought of us dead and buried keeps you awake at night.”

“You're not taking this seriously,” he said. He took a moment to offer me a small plate of larks' tongues. I knocked them from his hand and he shrugged with indifference. “Tell me, what do you think will happen when the Caninine houses lose the Ludi Romani?”

“The terms of the contest are common knowledge. Demotion. A loss of status and wealth.”

“It's a death sentence, Accala. The cry of a great house falling is seen as an opportunity for lesser houses to strike. The emperor will certainly not come to your aid, and the other houses will distance themselves from House Viridian to preserve their own standing. Already your allies regret teaming up with you. Better to keep half your power under a hostile ruler than lose all of it by backing the wrong horse. House Viridian's prospects of survival are dim at best, but with your help, the destruction of your people need not be an inevitability.”

“Go on,” I said. I let him keep talking. Every suggestion was an outrage, an added offense. The fire was building and soon it would explode.

“I have poured honeyed words into my proconsul's ear. I have told him of your brilliance, your bloodline, your abilities. Imagine how effective it would be if you publicly stood with us. Showed the Caninine Alliance and all their citizens that there was nothing to fear by cooperating? Fight with us. Preserve your house. Outside of the arena, not one more Viridian life need be lost.”

“Why would you want me on your team? No one cares if I live or die,” I said. “I'm just a woman who had some success in the arena.”

“On the contrary. I've watched the footage of all your matches. When you dress in Viridian armor, when you raise your discus and proclaim that you're fighting for the green and gold, you cause quite a stir. The Viridian legionaries on the front lines of this war revere you. We've found graffiti of a female gladiator with a wolf's head drawn all over battle sites, not to mention cameos containing your official arena hologram. You've become more than a woman or a gladiator. You're a symbol.”

“So you want me to aid you in one of your propaganda campaigns? To become a Sertorian collaborator?”

“‘Collaborator' is a strong word. You'd be an ally. Technically a slave.”

“A slave?”

“My slave. Technically speaking. For your own protection.”

“To submit to your commands?”

“It's no more than you offered Marcus when you accepted him as your lanista.”

“I trust Marcus.”

“It would be for only a short time, until you survive the trial period and pass the initiation. After that you'd be a fully blooded member of House Sertorian. You'll regain your freedom and be reborn into new life.”

“The very notion is ridiculous,” I said. “You're ridiculous for even suggesting it.”

“Ridiculous? In fact Proconsul Aquilinus and I think that you are a vital ingredient in our future plans. A prominent Viridian gladiator, especially now that the audience feels you were robbed in the arena today. Your house and its allies will lose and you can help them adapt. All the poor, lost plebeians and nobles who don't know how to behave will look to you as a role model. So I beg you to think of your countrymen near the fringe of Viridian space who are beaten and starving, your military forces close to defeat. We both know that the emperor called the armistice just in the nick of time. Is saving them more suffering ridiculous?”

He paused, studying me, but I wasn't going to be led into any of Crassus' insanity. He was a trickster, a conniving con artist who'd talked me into working with him once before. Now that the stakes were so high, I wasn't going to be tricked again.

“Or is it that I'm not putting enough on the table to entice you?” he said. “Do you think I can sweeten the pot? Listen. Proconsul Aquilinus has two advisers in whom he places absolute faith. I am one, the other is my rival Licinus Sertorius Malleolus, a man you have given every indication of wanting dead. I delivered his name to you some time ago, and yet he still lives.”

“The Ludi Romani was to have been my chance.” No point in telling Crassus that he too was on my list. He was about to find out firsthand.

“It still can be. If you joined the Blood Hawks, you would have to serve under him, and me, but during the course of the match, at a discreet and appropriate moment, I plan to see Licinus dead.”

“Good for you.”

“On the back of his bombing of Olympus Decimus, it is Licinus' voice that has convinced Proconsul Aquilinus to seek the ascension of our house though the exercise of military power. As a result, House Sertorian has raped, burned, pillaged, and looted your worlds.”

“Why don't you show those images in your propaganda campaigns?”

“Believe me, I find them as detestable as you do, especially when there are other more civilized ways to accomplish the same outcomes—reason, education, political persuasion. It need never have come to this. I am a member of the aristocracy. We understand that while House Sertorian will eventually reign supreme, we must still learn to live with the other houses. I prefer to dangle the carrot in front of the donkey. Licinus prefers to beat it half to death with a stick. By the end of the Ludi Romani, only one of us will be left alive to help Proconsul Aquilinus shape House Sertorian's destiny. If you join with me, the pleasure of ending his life will be yours. You'll be saving your people and, call it a fringe benefit, indulging in a satisfying personal revenge. What do you think?”

“I think that if you try to ride a wolf like a donkey, then she will turn and rip out your throat,” I said.

“That sounded like a no.”

“It was. It sounded like a joke at the beginning, and it still does. I wouldn't spit on if you were dying of thirst, and you want me to come fight for you as well as advertise how gods-be-damned glorious House Sertorian is?”

“Think logically, not emotionally. Did you understand the options presented to you? That you can save your house? And have your revenge? I can explain it again if you like, the way they do on the broadcast game shows—highlight the prizes you can win if you play. In fact, I've staked my reputation on my ability to convince you to join with us and smooth the way for House Sertorian. Proconsul Aquilinus is quite taken with the idea now. I can't permit you to refuse. Please reconsider and speak again; we both know there's only one sensible choice available to you.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “You're absolutely correct.”

The knife was out in an instant, but I lost time flicking the blade into its active state. He was able to get up from his seat. I spun and rammed him into the wall, the knife at his throat, but he managed to get a hand to my wrist, stopping me from plunging the weapon home. I struggled against him, but his fingers pressed the nerves in my wrist to the bone, causing me great pain.

“I have something you must see,” he said. “Stay your hand.”

He went to reach for something in the pocket of his robes and I used the opportunity to try to force the blade into his body, but he squeezed my wrist tightly again, and this time I let out a small cry of pain. “Please. I must show you,” he pleaded.

“One last thing to sweeten the pot?” I growled.

“Something like that. I'll take it out slowly, without making any move to defend myself. After you've seen it, you can do what you want with me.”

“That's a crude pickup line from the likes of you, Gaius Crassus.”

But he was so earnest and I was so surprised to hear the pleading tone in his voice that I indicated he should go ahead. From his pocket he drew a shiny metallic object and then reached out slowly to place it on the dining table beside him.

It gleamed in the candlelight. A pin, platinum, in the shape of an arrow with three golden apples forming the clasp. My mother's pin. The one she never let out of her sight. The same pin I'd dreamed of night after night as my mother used it to scratch out her urgent, unintelligible message.

“Where did you get it?”

“We found it in your brother's hand.”

“Aulus?”

My grip must have weakened in that instant, for Crassus shot an uppercut with his free hand up under my ribs and then knocked the knife clear of my hand. It went skittering across the stone floor. He stepped back and held up his hands to indicate that he was done.

“He lives, Accala. Aulus Viridius Camillus lives, and we have him. If you join the Blood Hawks and carry out my instructions, when the tournament is over and House Sertorian stands victorious, I will release him to you.”

The fire overwhelmed me in an instant. I slapped him in the face, hard and fast. “Liar,” I shrieked, preparing to hit him again. This time he moved like lightning, catching my hand in midair.

“I speak the truth,” Crassus said, releasing me. “And if you attempt to strike me again, the deal is off. It's your choice.”

It couldn't be true. I picked up the pin with trembling fingers and then almost dropped it as a shock ran right up my arm. It was the strangest feeling. Somehow, holding it, I could feel my mother's presence.

“I have never lied to you, and I never will.” Crassus plucked his cameo from his robes and placed it on the table. A holographic image was projected into the air above the cameo, and for the first time in almost two years, I saw my brother. At first I thought it was a single static image, then I noticed the time code counting forward. He was frozen, unmoving. As I examined the hologram up close, I saw that Aulus was behind a transparent surface that was smoky and spotted—the same dirty ice that I found myself trapped behind in my nightmares. I leaned in close; there was something else strange about his appearance—three black streaks, burn marks, on the right side of his face. Two on the cheek, one running across his eye to his forehead.

“Radiation burns from the bomb blast,” Crassus explained. “Your brother survives but is currently frozen in a state of suspended animation while his body heals.”