Wolf’s Empire: Gladiator (96 page)

As I stared into Licinus' mind, that other presence—Proconsul Aquilinus—stared right back at me, challenging my right to be there.

Licinus was just another piece on the board. My true opponent was, and always had been, Proconsul Aquilinus. He was there in Licinus' mind, sitting in the back of his head like a spider in a web, directing the tribune's action, pulling strings of fear and desire to achieve his desired outcomes. The puppet master.

“You can't trust anyone, you know,” he said to me. “You have to do everything yourself if you want to run an empire.”

His words drew me. He was summoning me to meet with him, to parlay. “A temporary pax. I have one final offer to make you.”

I reached back with my mind to the temple arch. There were still thousands of Hyperboreans in the process of merging with the queen. More time. He was offering an asset I was short on, and I couldn't see the downside right now.

“Stop firing on the canyon, stop trying to take the mountain, and I'll come,” I said.

The order went out, and the remaining ships held their fire and began circling back into formation around Licinus' trapped command bomber. In my body, I was standing alone on a vast plane of burning ice once more.

Aquilinus drew my mind toward him again, and suddenly, just as with the queen, I found myself elsewhere, away. Now I was standing in a vast chamber that I recognized at once—the emperor's palace back in Rome—and opposite me, sitting upon the imperial throne, was Aquilinus Sertorius Macula.

We were not in Licinus' mind but somewhere else, the center of the web, a place between the many minds the proconsul had spread himself out over. I could see him opposite me now, clear as day. The little man with the shining eyes. He wore a purple toga, the emperor's colors. Rich tapestries hung from the walls, the gentle breeze blew white silk curtains, and outside I could see Rome, but not as it was now—as it once was in the ancient days. It was gleaming, covered in white marble. So beautiful that it made my heart ache.

“Not many people get invited to my inner sanctum. You should feel privileged,” he said, sipping from a glass of wine in his hand. “Come, you've proved yourself. I'll meet your demands. Let us talk as equals and make a civilized covenant.”

The contrast between my last two weeks of icy hell versus the opulence of this chamber threw me. It commanded all my attention with its sensuality, its comfort and ease. It might be an illusion, but it was a good one. My mind and body sighed to stand within it. Fruit trees, warm breeze, and real yellow sunlight, not what passed for light and warmth on Olympus Decimus.

“This is how things are back on Mother Earth,” he said, motioning to the vast chamber. “I sit upon the throne already by way of my proxy, Bucco Numerius. As you have come to see, I am many people in many places. He is the regent, but I am in him. I pull his strings.”

“You are a little man pretending to be bigger than he is,” I said. “A petty puppeteer.”

“You know that's not true,” he said. “You can sense my greatness. As it stands, you have uncovered one of my secrets, found your way to this place. The aliens have given you some impressive power, more than I possess, I admit it, but you cannot hold it for long. Your newfound power will be short-lived, and it has earned you the right to negotiate with me directly, nothing more.”

“We have nothing to negotiate over,” I said.

“The way I see it, we have reached an impasse. You stand in my way, but I have a nuclear weapon. You can't imagine that I won't revisit its fire upon this world.”

“You'll only end in destroying Lumen. He's close to death already. If you burn this world there won't be anything left. No Lumen, no ambrosia.”

“Perhaps, but know that if I can't have the ichor, then no one will, not even the Hyperboreans.”

“Without the ichor, you'll lose the throne. You were premature in launching your coup.”

“In no small part thanks to you. You have inconvenienced me, but my web extends to many fronts. I've been playing the game of houses for a lifetime, and you are still a child. I play the game on multiple levels while you see only what's directly in front of you. Why do you think your father agreed to my terms?”

“Because you threatened to destroy everything he had fought for during his life.”

“That is simply not true. Look around you.”

The room was suddenly filled with people: senators, merchants, citizens, all bedecked in fine robes, all followed by barbarian slaves carrying treasure behind them. The robes depicted the eight houses, even House Viridian.

“You know that this is what I want for the empire,” he said, motioning to the luxurious chamber. “You think they're coming to my side just for the promise of ambrosia? I already had most of them on side. I promise wealth and prosperity for each and every citizen. A new economic golden age. I've made no bones about that.”

“Empty words. You promise an iron fist wrapped in a velvet glove. A galaxy subjugated to your will, crushed of the hope of freedom.”

“What freedom?” he sneered. “There's never been freedom in the empire. Not even in the days of the republic. Even then the equestrian class would vote on behalf of the citizens they ruled. There is no such thing as freedom, nor as justice. These are pipe dreams that an empire encourages to maintain order. A dictatorship is no different; it just achieves the same outcome by different methods, only with one major advantage—efficiency. What I say will come to pass without discussion or obstacles. I promise a future without gods, without houses. The pax I promise will be permanent because I am asking the people to sacrifice their dearly held pipe dreams in exchange for tangible realities—money, comfort, more slaves, and now I offer them godhood. Who are you to stand in the way?”

His words were not words. I saw them as black and red barbs, spider bites appearing on my body. He was not a bird of prey; there was no nobility there. He was a spider disguised as a hawk, a dark and bulbous creature hiding in the shadows. Poisonous barbs, sticking web. But his web couldn't catch me. As the queen shed her clothing, I must keep shedding my mortality. The power I'd been given was easily lost, and Aquilinus knew it. I must keep even, balanced, celestial.

“You offer to satisfy their urges, but an empire is held together by shared ideals. You give them things they don't need, that they only think they want, in exchange for intangible principles that are priceless, beyond value. It's like the shiny bead trick we used to perform on barbarians with no concept of individual ownership when we'd occupy their worlds. Empire must be a common goal, a shared dream of greatness. Anything less is slavery, no matter what's been offered in exchange. You seek to become not Jupiter but Hades, ruling over an empire of lost and tormented souls. A land of the dead where everyone's choices are formed for them, their lives beholden to whatever whim you dictate. Life is there all the time; the power of the gods is there for any to wield and utilize to improve themselves and the empire, but you're working to help them forget that they ever held that power. Not godhood—you offer them slavery.”

“And what do you offer them?”

“I offer them peace.”

“A peace cannot be sustained without the fear of war. The emperor whom you fight for used planet-killing battleships to maintain his peace.”

“I have seen inside his heart. I know of his love of the people. I have seen inside yours.”

“What matters the intention of the giver if the gift is good?”

“It's everything, because there's no such thing as a free gift. A gift comes with obligations, expectations. The spirit with which it is given is everything. The reason we go to war, the reason we grant power, the reason we give gifts—these things shape the empire and decide its continued survival. There is nothing else. Intention is everything, and yours is bad.”

“I admire you. I desire you, Accala,” he said. “You know that, you've felt it. I've felt you reciprocate. The attraction Crassus felt for you was mine. That was my passion, my interest. I find you remarkable, fascinating. You alone have stood against me. You are splendid, a rare bird. Even more, you could still stand with me as the empire falls to its knees in submission. An empress.”

He waved his hand, and suddenly I was standing there resplendent in imperial robes. Empress Accala. The rainbow colors of the other houses interweaved around the central stripe of imperial purple. And part of me wanted it. There was a chord he was strumming somewhere at the back of my brain that made everything he was saying make perfect sense. Like all the weight of the world would vanish in an instant if I just gave in.

“I've felt you by way of your proxies,” I said. “You're little more than a rapist.”

“I am an emperor, and I offer you the best deal of all, the greatest trade in exchange for one small sacrifice. Your family and your house restored to their former glory. That would be my wedding present to you. House Viridian absolved of its sins against me, your family honor and fortune restored. You can return to your estates. You will have the platform of the empress, and I will not constrain your powers. You may talk about what you will, lobby for what you will.”

He was not lying. I could sense his conviction.

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“I respect you. You are a shining star that should not be put to waste, a delicacy that should not be hastily devoured. I do not fear you, because I know the empire and its people. Uncertainty is what they fear. They would endure any level of tyranny in order to maintain the status quo. I promise them stability.

“I can offer you much. All that you wanted. You know the Sertorians don't place limitations on their women. You could shine. You could shape the empire as you wish, the only constraint would be on overthrowing me. You would have to swear loyalty, be subject to me, your master, your husband, but in all other respects, you would be free. I've seen into your heart aboard
Incitatus.
Through all my limbs I saw your heart, your desires, your passion. I know that you are more like us than you care to admit.”

Then I saw the trick. It was my power that was lending this illusion its believability, my mind that was adding richness, texture, sensuality to this fantasy. He was just making the container with his words and then letting me fill it with my mortal desires. He had altered my mind and body, and now he was banking on those seeds he had planted to bring home a harvest. That was how his game was played. But he didn't know what had happened to me in the tunnels. He was only beginning to understand that I was not his creature anymore. That I was not Accala Viridius nor Accala the Mock Wolf. I was something else. All those things and much more.

“You had my pin once. Do you remember the design?” I asked.

“An arrow with three gold apples.”

“It's the seal of my female ancestors, passed down from mother to daughter. My mother once told me that the apples were meant to represent the story of Atalanta, who swore that she could only marry a man who was fast enough to catch her. In exchange for promising to make a sacrifice to her the goddess gave Melanion three golden apples to slow Atalanta down as she couldn't resist stopping to pick them up.”

“It's one more children's story to be eradicated when the New Gods come to power.”

“The old stories have meaning. The pair wed, but Melanion was so distracted he forgot to make his sacrifice, and the goddess transformed them into beasts. My mother told me that the arrow represents independent thought and that a woman in our family should never marry a man who would try to drop shiny baubles and steal away our ability to reason and exercise the intellect. I'm afraid all you've got to offer is rotten fruit.”

“If you will not serve, then you will be my slave,” he said. He waved his hands, and shackles appeared around my wrists and ankles, a heavy chain around my waist. Orbis, my weapon, was gone.

“You see? This is my place of power. You are weak here.”

I saw much. That he was not just a play god. He possessed power and more. There was a greater power behind him, something that he wasn't fully aware of, a dark womb from which he grew and fed. As the queen was Minerva but not Minerva, my mother but not my mother, so Aquilinus was Hades but not Hades. It was the energy of darkness, of the underworld. As Minerva shone, Hades drew darkness to himself and from that darkness fed those who followed him. Aquilinus had been feeding off of evil for so long that it had eroded his humanity and left something terrible in its place.

“I'm not here for me. I don't hate you, nor do I fear you. I am here in service to Rome. I am Minerva's spear delivering justice. You are the cancer that threatens to smother the heart I seek to save.”

“You are a woman, weak on your own. The powers that be, the people, will never accept you as more than that.”

“They already do. Don't you sense it?”

I could hear them chanting my name across the empire. Daughter of Minerva. Lady Justice, Lady Liberty.

“Can't you hear it?” I asked. “They're already turning on you. No more half-truths and false words. There's nothing you can tempt me with, no threat that holds water. I see through the illusions you cast.”

The chains vanished at my merest thought. Orbis reappeared in my hand. I reached out with my mind, and I could see his web stretching out from his throne. Seven lines. Six to the teammates, one to Bucco Numerius.

“You said you were many people in many places, but that was a lie. There are seven. That's the extent of your power,” I said. I waved my hand and the illusion of the galactic capital vanished, replaced by a large metallic hold.
Incitatus.
This was Aquilinus' private chambers. His body was floating in a tube of ambrosia in the center of the hold, surrounded by hundreds of machines. Wires that ran from his body led out to a series of boxes that had names stamped upon them: Crassus, Licinus, the Corvinus brothers, Barbata, Mania, Bucco—seven victims. Only two boxes—the ones with the names Licinus and Crassus—were lit up. The others were now dead, including the emperor's nephew, who I saw now had been assassinated on the Senate floor.