Wolf’s Empire: Gladiator (30 page)

Publia ran her hand across the glass of the mirror, and it turned matte black, offering no reflection.

“Just wait,” she said.

She massaged the substances from the phials into my skin, and then she passed the wand over the muscles of my face. It vibrated with heat.

“You see,” she said, “it is not unpleasant.”

The wand felt like it was turning my muscles to jelly, but the experience was warm and, indeed, not unpleasant. I felt small hands on me and looked down to see Iceni slaves applying lotions to the rest of my body.

“Close your eyes,” Publia said. “I'll need to soften the area around them.”

I welcomed the darkness, pretending I was floating in light-filled water. The humming of the baton was melodic now, almost soothing.

“No silk purse, but certainly not a sow's ear,” she said when she was done.

Publia's voice woke me with a start, and my eyes snapped open. I'd drifted off. How long had it been? What had she done to me while I slept?

“Come, let's have a proper look at you,” she said, calling Gaia Barbata to my side.

Publia waved her hand over the mirror, and for a second, I thought the glass had turned transparent and I was looking at someone standing on the other side, but no, it was my own reflection. My hair had been braided into thin strands and pulled back tight to resemble the plumage of a bird. The shock of white hair I'd always known was replaced by a vivid vermilion streak. My eyes had been subtly widened, lips made more full and luscious, cheekbones sharpened, my strong Viridian jawline softened. My skin was naturally buoyant and elastic, but Publia had pulled and stretched it so that instead of natural curves and soft rises and hollows, my face was now like a porcelain bowl, perfectly smooth and flawless. Beneath the robe, the hard lines of my fighting body had been rounded out and my skin had taken on a shining, plastic hue. She'd turned me into one of the Sertorian dolls I saw swanning about the baths.

“It was too much to hope for, but look!” Publia exclaimed. “A masterpiece!”

“Put me back the way I was. Right now!” Even my mouth and the muscles of my face moved differently.

“Are you completely mad? I have given you a great gift. You'll be a hit! A palpable hit!”

“You look just splendid.” Barbata was also pleased. “A vast transformation.You can express your gratitude to Publia now,” she said to me, her fingers tugging at the bracelet on my wrist.

I forced myself to smile, but it wasn't easy. Just like Publia's, the muscles of my face were trapped beneath tight-stretched skin. “Thank you.”

“Good. It's the shock of sudden improvement, I expect. Look again,” she said. “I thought of changing your eye color, but your natural green has been eliminated from the Sertorian gene pool. It actually provides a perfect contrast to your new look. We don't want to do too good a job. Leaving that one aesthetic imperfection is a masterstroke. I shall be the talk of Aeria Sertorius, the ornatrix who made a mangy Viridian shine! Who would have thought it possible?”

I gazed in disbelief at my new appearance, amazed at the speed of the transformation. They'd dressed me in a crimson undergarment and the black, body-hugging Sertorian uniform. The only thing worth appreciating was my mother's gold and platinum pin, which shone brilliantly in contrast to the black leather. There was both a shocking newness and all at once a familiarity, as if I'd seen this version of myself somewhere before. Then it hit home: the billboard back in Rome. The fighter who had stood in the chariot beside Crassus. The New Gods. That's what the billboard had read. I looked just like her, I
was
her. The realization was horrifying. How far in advance had Crassus planned on having me here? Undergoing this procedure? Knowing how I'd appear? His propaganda campaign was much more advanced than I'd suspected. I had already been packaged and presold to the empire as a Sertorian. As I was led out of the salon, the Sertorian harpies were whispering again, but I didn't see any smiles now. Was I so hideous that I wasn't even worth a joke? A true mock hawk now, a wolf dressed as a bird.

“They are jealous of you,” Gaia Barbata whispered reassuringly.

I glared at her, not appreciating the joke at my expense. I looked farcical, obscene. Passing men and women stopped and stared at me. No smiles, no whispered jokes. I was offensive to the eye.

“You could at least show some gratitude!” Publia cried out as Barbata led me away.

The truth was, despite my displeasure with the changes to my appearance, overall I felt great. Somehow the ornatrix's treatment had reenergized me, and washed away that unclean and vulnerable feeling.

“You might not thank me now, but you will,” Barbata said. “Remember, use every weapon at your disposal.”

“Some of us prefer to fight fair,” I said. I was thinking of that billboard again, of Crassus and his machinations.

“This is a blood match, a death race. There is no fair, only life and death, and make no mistake, your Viridian friends will be gunning for you. If you're as smart as you pretend to be, you'll work that out.”

When Crassus saw me, he was at a loss for words.

“You look…”

“Like something from a ridiculous pantomime,” I said.

“No. You look most appropriate,” he said, recovering himself. “Most appropriate. Your external transformation is remarkable. But for your green eyes, I'd have sworn you were a pure-blood Sertorian. I knew you had potential.”

“The stylist kept them this color. She said they were an aesthetic imperfection that enhanced my beauty, if you can believe such claptrap.”

“Oh, but she was right,” Crassus said, reaching out to touch my face. I didn't pull away. His skin on mine was electric, his hand warm. Gods, but I needed a night of comfort and rest. In Crassus' room with the animal skins on a comfortable bed. No harsh lights to awaken me. And what other pleasures could we seek together?
Like two eagles with locked claws, falling through the empyrean.
The image of me mounted atop him, our fingers intertwined, sprang into my mind with such powerful intensity it took all my willpower to pull away from him.

“Accala?”

“Are we done? I need to rest,” I said flatly, looking away. My face was flushed, my heart palpitating. Crassus was red-faced, maybe even aroused, and definitely puzzled. Good. For a change he was the one off balance. Perhaps my new appearance could be put to some use after all.

“You need to be careful,” Crassus said. “You've been making great progress in the gladiatorial rounds, but Licinus has his eye on you and I'm sure he's got something up his sleeve to make things difficult.” I didn't care. I was beyond fearing any of them. The only thing that frightened me was the face looking back at me in the mirror, and the thought that I was running out of time to steal the secret of the Sertorians' super-powered performance.

XVI

I
N THE FINAL ROUND
on the last day of the week, it turned out Crassus was right—I faced Licinus in the gymnasium's arena.

“You want on the team, now's your chance, Mock Wolf. Lose and you die.”

“That's ridiculous,” Crassus argued.

“That's the deal. Let's see what she's got.”

His war chain was like a winged serpent, chasing me about the arena, but whichever way it turned, I countered with Orbis. He could not score a hit on me, but the chain came at me so fast that I couldn't make a cast with my discus. It came down to the last minute and, unable to decisively score, Licinus tapped the controls on his armilla, and his armor began to generate a powerful electrical field. The energy ran out through his chain. The air around it crackled with the intensity of the charges. I tried to advance, but each time, the chain licked my armor and sent a shock into my body. The closer I drew to him, the more intense the shocks became. I could win only by moving into close range and striking with Orbis but then I'd expose myself to the fatal amount of electricity generated by his armor. He would not let me win and join the team. He'd see me dead first. I spotted a gap and raised my arm to throw. He repeated his last move, but I was ready. The chain snaked around my casting arm, the electricity flowing painfully into me. As he went to pull me to the deck, I ran forward suddenly, stealing his momentum. He pulled up in surprise and was forced to take two steps backward. Shaking Licinus' weapon from my arm, I stopped in front of him, as close to the electric field as I could bear, Orbis raised.

“Strike! Strike!” he yelled furiously, but I held my ground and refused to advance any closer to the crackling field that was already damaging me with each passing second. The alarm signaling the end of the match chimed. Stepping away from the Sertorian, I couldn't believe I had done it, and that Licinus' charged armor hadn't killed me. What was happening to me?

“You failed!” Licinus yelled at me.

“I did not. You said that if I lost, I would be out,” I said. “I have not struck you down, so I cannot claim victory. But at the same time, you have not struck me down, and so I have not lost. Ergo I cannot be thrown off the team and must be included in the tournament.”

He leaped to his feet, furious, ready to strike me, but Crassus intervened. “It is not a Sertorian solution, but it is a solution, and is that not why we value Accala? Her fresh perspective, her will to attain power that brings about innovation.”

“We shall see,” said Licinus. He backed off, but he was still seething with anger when he gathered us together. “The trial period is over.”

“So that's it, then? I'm officially part of the team?”

“Not quite, Mock Hawk. There's one more hoop to jump through.” Licinus raised his voice, addressing the entire team. “Tomorrow, in accordance with Sertorian tradition, the two weakest members of our team will face each other in our time-honored initiation. Lurco Giganticus and Mock Hawk will fight in a battle to the death. The strong shall live, the weak shall perish.”

I looked to Crassus, thinking he would come to my defense, that this was another of Licinus' excesses, but he didn't offer any support. Lurco didn't look impressed either. He strode past me, bumping me with his shoulder as he passed. “You're easy meat, and after the bout, I'm going to have them bring your corpse to my cabin so your spirit can feel me in the afterlife.”

“This is madness,” I said to Crassus when we were in private. “Whichever of us dies, you'll be a person short for the team.”

“Cutting the weak link is the Sertorian way,” Crassus explained. “We're stronger without the weakest among us. Besides, we're so far ahead of the Caninine teams they couldn't beat us even if we were down to five.”

Now I saw what was going on. This whole time a contest had been under way. Licinus building Lurco up, Crassus focusing on my survival, until they faced us off, the two outsiders against one another. I expected my session with Crassus in the domed room, but this time he put me off. “I've got a meeting to attend, and besides, we're finished with our sessions. You need to rest for tomorrow's match.”

“You're reporting to Proconsul Aquilinus?” I asked.

“Yes, why?”

“No reason. I … miss our sessions, that's all. I thought you might bring tisane.”

“I'm sure something can be arranged,” he said, putting an arm around my shoulders.

“We'll see,” I said, pushing it away.

“You're always running hot and cold, Accala. It doesn't serve you well.”

He clapped his hands to summon my body slave. “Alba will take you back to your quarters,” Crassus said curtly, and then strode off to carry out his official business.

Finally, this was my chance. My battle to the death with Lurco was something to worry about later. It was time to put my plan into action.

*   *   *

A
S USUAL,
A
LBA TOOK
me back to my quarters. Since our altercation, Julia had been giving me a wide birth, which suited me, and thankfully she was absent again, conducting weapon repairs with the other immunes. The Iceni went to lock me to the lead, but as she brought it up to the bracelet, I offered my wrist, black foil wrapped tight about the chain to prevent a connection, and touched it to her lead. I gave the lead a pretend jerk to let her think I was secured. Satisfied, she bowed and left.

Discarding my clothes, I dressed in one of Julia's Vulcaneum uniforms stored in her locker and snatched up her spare toolbox.

The journey to the officers' quarters was much easier than I had expected. The Sertorians looked disdainfully upon Vulcaneum members—people of no house deserved no consideration in their eyes—and so I was, for all intents and purposes, invisible. There were no guards, only the locked door. A quick swipe of my armilla over the code panel and I was in. So far, so good.

The apartment was lavish, like Crassus', but with floor and walls decorated in black and gray slate, the space demarcated by pillars of solid ruby. The moment the door slid shut behind me, I gave the room a quick once-over, making sure to put everything I touched back in its proper place. Nothing. Not a thing that matched the theory I'd devised. Nothing that would account for the enhanced abilities of the Blood Hawks. My heart was racing, I was risking my brother's life for nothing. I had to get back to my cabin before I was missed.

Licinus must have forbidden Iceni cleaners from entering his quarters, because everything had a thin veil of dust covering it. The dining table was made of solid onyx, and as I passed it on the way out, I saw a thin line that would normally have been imperceptible but for the gathered dust.

I ran my armilla over the surface of the table, and a rectangular section of stone slid back smoothly, revealing a cavity containing a small casket about two feet long and one foot high. It also had a code key panel set into the front of it and I swiped again. There was a click and the lid opened. An internal light came on, and rows of small phials were raised up from the casket. They contained a black-green liquid. Written on a small copper plaque inside the casket was a string of numerical latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates and an identifying line of text—
AMBROSIA BATCH DLXIX.