For Disclaimers and Author notes: See Part 1

CHAPTER VI DARKNESS VISIBLE

Choking, arid heat and haze spread like a pale sheet over everything. In crowds, breath was stolen; faces were slicked with sweat, sad eyes drifted unfocused and lips cracked from thirst. People moved listlessly, hoping to complete the day's tasks quickly before seeking shade and sleep.

The blaze of noon was only amplifying the stomach-churning odor--an enigmatic mix of human sweat, animal waste and clotting blood--of the Boarium. Mira turned up her nose as she followed Gabrielle's cloaked form through the bustle of buyers moving through the livestock and meat market. "Gods," she choked. Chickens squawked and took to the air in a trail of ivory feathers, while a fowl merchant cursed in some strange dialect. Disembodied squeals of pigs sliced through the air. Hagglers parlayed and bargained over the price of caged quail or sparrows. Children and their grandparents enjoyed snacks of the ubiquitous meat-on-a-stick. "No accounting for taste," Mira mumbled to herself.

Gabrielle led them south off the Quirinal and through the western edges of the Forum to the more ramshackle and ragged set-up of the animal markets. Mira was impressed by how quickly they had managed to make their way here, given the crowds, the various inconveniences, and dangers presented by the current state of emergency. The warrior had a focus and intensity--catching nuances of the crowds, navigating past patrols and checkpoints, moving with a determination and skill that girl had never seen her use before.

However, this wasn't what the girl found most strange about it all. Mira thought she noticed a change in the warrior's gaze, her stance, the rhythm of her pace. There was a quality there, that wasn't present before. If Mira didn't know better, she would say that Gabrielle was enjoying all of this.

Soon, there was a break in the chaotic assembly of stands, carts, tables and pens, and a dirt-covered square of sorts opened up. Crowds still passed through on various errands, but some buyers gathered and conversed, or rested on boxes and crude benches. Gabrielle stopped, indicating that Mira fall in with her by an upturned, empty barrel. The warrior peaked out from beneath her red cloak, eyes wide and alert. "We're here," she said.

Mira looked around, letting the surroundings reveal themselves. She leaned on the barrel, nonchalantly watching the crowds and trying to find the bar. At the edges of this square were several low, squat buildings, with staircases leading down into darkness. Above one of these, she could see the sign reading: 'Orion's Belt.' A man was propped beside the entrance who was either drunk or beaten senseless.

"Charming place." Mira smirked.

Gabrielle grabbed the girl's shoulder. "When we go in there don't make eye contact with anyone; don't talk to anyone; don't order a drink. Just find a quiet table and watch my back." The warrior glared at her. "Understand?"

Mira had a sardonic response ready, but decided to save it. "No staring, no talking, no drinking--just watching. Got it," she said.

"Stay where I can see you. If you notice anyone who might give you trouble, give me a signal."

"Okay."

"There can't be any mistakes in there, understand? We need to get this right the first time, okay?"

"No problem." Mira smiled. "I got it."

Gabrielle stiffened. "What?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

Mira grinned. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Gabrielle crossed her arms and scowled.

"You are!" the girl laughed. "You're totally enjoying this."

"Are you finished?"

Mira cleared her throat. "Quite."

Gabrielle pulled Mira's hood up, covering the girl's head. "Let's go."

The warrior led the way through the crowds and across the square. As they approached the bar, Mira noted the various stains and debris around its doorway, some identifiable, others not so much. A scorpion, recently slain, lay curled near the doorway, skewered by a stick that once held someone's snack. Mira heard the unconscious man snort and pass gas in slumber. She rolled her eyes as she moved down the stairs into the sour smelling dark. "Definitely a charming place," she muttered.

**********

The cart wobbled to a halt in a quieter section of the square and Eve and Analea stepped off the back of it. Hitching a ride on one of Gallus' carts seemed like the quickest and easiest way to get west of the Quirinal, the wall, and hence closer to their destination. Looking at the crowds clogging the streets around them, Eve wasn't so sure anymore.

Eve walked around to the front of the vehicle and smiled at Abito, their driver. "Thank you, my friend."

The man returned the smile, but still looked concerned. "Should I wait for you?"

Eve shook her head. "We'll be fine on our own."

"Go with the Gods, mistress." Giving her a last, reluctant glance, he urged his donkeys forward, returning to the flow of traffic.

They stood in a crude, little square near the Arch of Claudius, lined with shops and restaurants that served hearty meals to working men. Odors of their gruel and offal lunches wafted through the slow air. A couple of nearby buildings provided a welcome shade that pedestrians took advantage of, sitting on the ground and breaking bread. People walked through on their way from or to the Forum, which Eve knew lay almost a mile to the southeast. She turned to Analea, who stood peering about nervously. "Do you know where we need to go?"

Analea nodded. "I think so." She moved off into the crowd with Eve following closely behind.

Save for the odd flash of Imperial decadence, the neighborhood they moved through was far less opulent than the streets near the city's heart. Squat residences sat thin and crowded against each other. Several families inhabited each home, sharing cooking space and access to water. Men chatted solemnly on doorsteps, or leaned silent from windows. As they walked by, Eve noticed many of the dour-faced men following them with their eyes, suspicion flavoring their gaze.

When Analea led them through a covered alley between main streets, Eve stopped her. She smiled. "I think, perhaps, a disguise is in order." She pulled her robes over her head, her face, and stooped over. She indicated that Analea do the same. "Pretend you're a leper. Cover your hands." The girl did as she asked. "Good. We shouldn't have too many people eager to trouble us like this."

They continued along, hobbling in this manner to the west. After a short time, they passed through the Praetorian checkpoint near the Pantheon. The crowds let them move to the front without complaint, the guards waving them through without questions. Everyone covered their faces and prayed to the Gods.

On the other side of the checkpoint, Eve could see why there was no difficulty with the soldiers. Looking out over the slight depression leading down to the bend in the river, she could see the smoke-covered slums of Rome--their destination. Analea looked to her. Eve nodded and they continued on.

Within minutes, they had reached the heart of the slums, passing beneath the four- and five-storied tenements pushed up almost over the street, hulking over the narrow avenues. The buildings were run down and covered in soot and dirt. The streets were busy, all manner of people--of every race it seemed--walked or stood haphazardly along the filthy thoroughfares. Women, some breast-feeding, talked in small groups and scowled at various passersby, while their husbands gambled with each other nearby. Children ran everywhere, covered in filth and without clothes, laughing and crying. A man sat desolately against a building, his legs pushed out before him ending in black and swollen feet. Prostitutes leered at pedestrians or fought each other, the battles ending in loud uproars of crying and spit blood. The afternoon heat was life stealing here and some people were already succumbing to its draining effect, lying in the dirty streets or hanging listlessly out of windows. Everywhere lay the sick--moaning, lost in shallow slumber, ransacked by children or rats, or accosted by the wild dogs.

Eve passed wide-eyed through it all. Even though she had grown up less than a mile from this spot, she had never ventured here; she had heard of the desolation of the Roman slums, but had never witnessed it firsthand, until now. She sighed, feeling the weight of this slide upon her, the weak parts of her shuddering.

When will the work be done?

She knew the answer. They continued through the wretched throng, who gave them a wide berth, when they could.

Soon, Analea led them to a field where the poorest of the poor had taken refuge. Tents and mean little shacks competed for any spot of land that was available. Families of up to eight people lived in space equipped for perhaps three. Cooking fires spread nauseating heat and smells to the winds. Everywhere Eve passed her gaze, the eyes of the destitute met it.

Their destination lay beyond the field. A clutch of buildings leaned close to one another, creating a shaded alleyway. Children scattered from the two shrouded women when they approached. Analea led them further into the shade. "It's just over here," she whispered over her shoulder.

The journey came to a halt in a dark, garbage-strewn section of the alley. Analea pointed to a rusted sewer grate. "Here it is," she said reaching for the cover. With a gritty moan, the grate came free leaving a yawning hole into darkness and stairs.

Eve's eyes widened. Just like the dream....

Analea, mistaking the reaction, nodded. "The real sewer grate is further that way." She pointed down the alley. "We had this fake one built to make things easier." She took tinder and a torch she had hidden in her robes and prepared it.

Eve stood near the mouth of the staircase, looked to the buildings around her. It was all as she had dreamt. Her stomach knotted with tension.

The girl got the torch lit, turning to Eve. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," she said. As they moved down the stairs into the damp of the sewers, Eve wished she had been telling the truth.

**********

It was dark and stuffy inside the bar. Mira waited for her eyes to adjust before venturing any further down the staircase. She scowled as her nose was immediately assaulted with a chaotic spectrum of odors--the sour reek of spilt wine, the tempting musk of spiced mutton, an earthy array of body aromas. It was far noisier than the street they left behind, as well. Loud voices and the clamor of drinking could be heard from almost every direction.

Slowly, Mira's vision adjusted. The staircase descended into a large room that seemed to be the hub of 'Orion's Belt.' A long bar ran down one side and a crowd of about sixty rowdy patrons filled the rest.

Two barmaids moved expertly through the throng, carrying cups of wine on weathered wooden trays, placed there by the beefy and bitter-looking man behind the bar. The room was lit by stubby torches smudging greasy light over the various undesirables rubbing and bending elbows. There were entrances to two other rooms--possibly filled with more drinkers, shaded in obscurity. To Mira's relief, none of the shifty looking customers seemed to have noticed her yet.

She took another step, trying to focus on the contents of the other chambers. To the girl's embarrassment--and thus, horror--she slipped and stumbled slightly off the step, pitching awkwardly to the side. Thankfully her reflexes helped her regain balance--and some of her composure. Again, no one seemed to notice.

Finally, Mira's eyes adjusted to the light. Gabrielle scowled at her from beneath her hood. "Will you be careful?"

"Sorry," Mira whispered, sheepishly.

The warrior looked around the bar. She indicated a doorway to the room off to Mira's right. "Wait in there."

"Okay."

As the girl moved to go, Gabrielle caught her by the wrist. She grinned wryly. "Try and stay out of trouble, huh?"

Feeling a little better, Mira winked. "I'll see what I can do."

The room was dim and much less busy than the bar. What little light there was came from formless tallow candles pressed onto the eight tables spread throughout the muted chamber. A door near the end of the space led to another room, presumably the other drinking room Mira had seen from the bottom of the stairs. Along two of the walls were long wooden benches. Mira took a seat on one, allowing herself as much of a view of the main room as possible.

In the opposite corner a trio of men sat huddled around a table, drinking quietly. The candle on their table was out and their faces were obscured by shadow. After a short appraisal, Mira decided they were suspicious but not yet a threat.

Across from her sat a lone man. His attention was fixed on someone in the bar, and he was practically leaned out the arched windows to the room in an attempt to get a better view.

Maybe he wants to order a drink?

The man wore a leather vest with no shirt under it, just a bunch of odd necklaces and medallions and his face was scruffy, matching his uncombed and long hair. He appeared to be a large and well-built man as well, which made him a potential threat, but also attractive to Mira--in that dangerous kind of way she sometimes liked. The stuffiness of the place began to get to her. She absently removed her hood.

While admiring one of the man's biceps, Mira noticed a tattoo of some sort. She squinted, trying to get a better look but it was too small to make out clearly--just a blotch of black in the dim light. The man's attention continued to be fixed squarely upon something or someone in the main room.

What's he so interested in?

Mira followed his gaze as best as she could from across the room. The customers at the bar were hard to make out from where she was; they swayed and moved about in various forms of drunkenness and bluster. Concentrating--and rising off the bench slightly--she pinpointed the man's fixation. A tall, mustached man stood shaking his head at someone--the person the stranger seemed to be fascinated by--a shorter individual in a red cloak: Gabrielle. As the warrior, broke off her conversation and moved further into the bar, the stranger rose, put on a jacket and moved in Gabrielle's direction.

Uh oh…

For a second, Mira didn't know what to do. Gabrielle had told her to stay out of trouble. She couldn't just run out into the bar and stop that guy, could she? That would definitely qualify as 'getting into' trouble versus 'staying out of' it. She sighed and slumped back onto the bench.

Then again, Gabrielle had also told Mira to stay where she could see her, and if she noticed anyone who might be trouble, to give the warrior a signal. That guy definitely qualified as someone who might be trouble, and at the moment, Mira was not in sight of the warrior, making it impossible to give her any sort of signal. Mira had to head into the other room--she had no choice, it seemed. She rose off the bench.

Someone grabbed her wrist, squeezing it in meaty fingers.

"Now, where is it yer going in such a tizzy, little lamb?" The voice was a somehow familiar one.

Mira turned to her right. The three men who had been sitting in the corner were now surrounding her. One of them--the biggest one--stood leering, her wrist in his hand. This wasn't good. As Mira looked closer at them, she noticed they were each in various states of bruising and swelling--black eyes, fat lips, goose-eggs, all about a week old by her guess--were the order of the day it seemed. The tall lanky one grinned with a dumb chuckle.

Suddenly, Mira figured it out. "Woah, you're those clowns from the forest." Her mouth hung open.

"None other." The older, stinkier one--the leader--grinned his slightly-less-toothy grin. "Some folks say there's no greater day than the one when old scores is settled."

Mira played along, nodding. "That's uh…that's pretty darn interesting."

"Where's your friend? Hmm?"

"Uh…she's here somewhere…" Mira swallowed. "A-and…she's coming right back, too. Any minute now."

"Damned amazing we'd run into you again, little lamb…damned amazing. And here of all places." He grinned.

"Let me hit her first, Morvan," the lanky one lisped.

"No. Me," the big one mumbled through broken teeth. "I'm closer." Although, through the shattered teeth it sounded more like: "Mmo. Mmee. Mmom mmloser."

The leader looked angrily at the two men. "Why, so's ya can muck it all up like last time?"

"H-hey…uh…why don't ya just let me go?" Mira suggested with a feeble shrug. "I mean, if…if it's gonna cause all this trouble between you guys…y'know?"

Morvan shook his head. "Oh, I don't think so."

"Yeah," said the big oaf holding her wrist. "You ain't going nowhere."

"For once in his stinkin' life, Andros is right." Morvan grinned. "Now...shall we pick up from where we left off, before we were so rudely interrupted?"

"You heard her," a voice said from behind them.

Before any of the brigands could turn around, there was a quick swoop of air and a loud and sickening thud. There, sunk through the two bones in Andros' forearm and on into the table was the tail-end of a sai-Gabrielle's sai. The big man let go of Mira even before he could roar in pain. The other two could only stare and blink at their associate's arm now stuck to the table; at the impressive weapon; at the rush of blood beginning to flow.

"She said: let go." The warrior stood just behind the large man, hood pulled back.

Morvan growled. "You again."

The lanky one took a wide swing at the warrior, which she easily ducked. She carried the evasion lower than needed, removing the second sai from her boot. Rising quickly, Gabrielle spun the blade around facing its weighty pommel out. With blinding speed and accuracy, she jabbed the blunt edge into the man's gut, doubling him up. Finishing in an attacking stance, the warrior struck an incapacitating blow to the back of the man's neck, sending him unconscious to the floor.

Gabrielle flashed a feral grin. "That's the same mistake he made last time."

Morvan's eyes darted about with an all-too-familiar desperation. He made a grab for Mira, who had still been looking with shock at the blade sticking out of the big man's arm. Snapping out of her daze, the girl side-stepped Morvan's lunge and kicked him swiftly in the chest. He skidded backward into a table.

Impressed with herself, Mira let her guard down. With his free arm, Andros grabbed her and started to pull her close.

"Hold her still," Morvan said as he approached, fist at the ready.

Mira resisted Andros as best as she could but couldn't break free, and the leader was coming in swinging. Then she remembered the sai stuck in the table, in the arm. Wincing, she pushed at the blade causing the big man to cry out and release his grip. "Sorry," she called as she dodged out of the way of Morvan's punch--a punch that landed squarely in the midst of Andros' face.

"Of all the luck," Morvan exclaimed in frustration.

Gabrielle now moved to finish off the leader, lunging in quick just behind the dazed Andros. Morvan jabbed at the warrior, who easily blocked using her sai. With a shove, she knocked the leader off balance and to the side, where he slumped over a chair.

Andros, shaking off the punch, started to grab at the blade embedded in his arm. Gabrielle reached over and slammed her fist down on his hand--and thus, the sai--causing him to howl in pain.

"Stop doing that," he whined with a woozy quality, which sounded all the more pathetic through the broken teeth.

"Yeah," Mira said, somewhat sickened by the whole thing. "Stop, Gabrielle." She looked apologetically at the behemoth. "I don't know what's got into her."

Morvan regained his balance and attacked again, this time holding a chair high above his head. Gabrielle looked to Mira. "Okay, I'll stop," she said. With a spin, she kicked Morvan in the stomach staggering him back slightly, while she simultaneously reached over and wrenched the sai from out of the table, and, much to his anguish, Andros' arm.

As the big man screamed girlishly, the warrior fell upon Morvan, who had dropped the chair behind him while stumbling back. With three quick jabs, Gabrielle had knocked him unconscious. She turned, spinning both her sai skillfully--a wicked grin on her face. She moved toward Andros who stared dumbly at the bleeding hole in his arm.

Mira noticed a crowd of men moving angrily toward the room. In their hands they carried a wide and harmful looking assortment of objects. She half-turned to the warrior. "Uh, Gabrielle…"

Suddenly, Andros slammed hard onto the table beside her, shattering it beneath him as he slipped--thankfully perhaps--into unconsciousness. Mira screamed in surprise, then scowled back at the warrior. "Hey, watch what you're doin'."

"Sorry." Gabrielle shrugged in apology. She could barely keep a grin off of her face.

"Having fun?" Mira asked.

"A lot." The warrior twirled her sais before smoothly sheathing them.

"Then you're gonna love this…" Mira motioned beyond the door as she moved in behind Gabrielle.

The angry crowd mulled about the door, yelling at the two friends. A man at the head of the crowd motioned to them. "You can't just come in here and start busting heads like that," he said. "This is a friendly establishment."

"These men are our friends," Gabrielle said dryly.

"Well you're gonna have to leave," the man said. This seemed to get the crowd riled up and shouts of "Yeah!" and "Leave!" started to ring out. The man grinned. "And for troublemakers, there's only one way out of here..."

"Ho boy," Mira sighed.

The crowd began advancing toward them. Gabrielle discarded her robe, letting it drop to the floor behind her where it covered the dozing face of Morvan. She looked to Mira. "Follow my lead."

"Wha?"

There wasn't time for questions as the warrior launched the chakram at the doorframe where it rebounded across the front of the advancing mob, startling them enough to hold their charge for a moment. Catching the returning blade, Gabrielle spun toward the door behind them. "Go, go," she said as she started to run through.

"Ho boy," Mira sighed again as she followed her friend into the room next door.

As they entered, the girl could see that the room was similar in size to the room they had been in, but this one had intimate booths rather than tables as furnishings. This was a blessing of sorts, as the lack of chairs and tables allowed for easy movement through the chamber. Although, it also allowed the crowd, with numbers large enough to enter the former room and still block the exit of this room as well, easy access to Mira and the warrior. The men began to adjust, and set their sights on the duo once again.

"What do we do now?" Mira yelled.

Behind the shifting crowd, out beyond the bar, Mira caught a glimpse of the man, the stranger from before. He stood waving to the two friends from the beginning of some kind of hall. "Gabrielle--"

"I see him." Quickly, Gabrielle broke into a run and appeared to be charging right for the mob. "Just keep running and follow my lead," she called to Mira. Again the warrior hurled the chakram at the doorframe where it cut the startled crowd back and out of the room with its rebound. However, instead of stopping as before, Gabrielle caught the weapon and continued to barrel at the men.

Mira, despite her best instincts, kept running full tilt as well. A soft "Ho boy," escaped from her nonetheless.

The warrior crossed the room in five powerful strides, leaping out through the door and at the men in the front of the crowd. With ease, she scaled their bodies, climbing up onto and across shoulders, heads and surprised faces until she had used the throng as a bridge to the surface of the bar.

Gabrielle's charge had left the crowd in such a state of disarray that Mira's way had been made easier for it, the men crouched or doubled over in surprise or pain or both. With growing confidence and excitement, she followed her friend across the same strange and inspired path to the bar.

Men grabbed at their feet, threw bottles and glass at them. Gabrielle kicked a man in the face, making her way toward the back door. A barmaid got hold of Mira's ankle, trying to pull her into the mass of angry men. The warrior, seeing this, quickly stepped on a nearby wine-skin, spraying its contents in a disabling jet into the woman's face allowing Mira to escape.

The sound of bells could be heard, ringing in from outside the bar. Men in the crowd became momentarily confused. "Praetorians," they cried. "They'll swarm the place." All out panic soon descended on them, causing a mass scattering.

"Go," Gabrielle yelled at Mira.

They quickly leapt off the bar toward the stranger, and the hall he stood in. Turning down the dark corridor, he yelled over his shoulder. "Follow me." The trio bolted down the hall past several doors, the commotion behind them growing as people scrambled to leave the bar. Mira squinted. "Why don't they follow us?"

The man called back over his shoulder. "They think it's a dead end."

"Is it?" the girl asked, a little worried.

Coming to the end of the hall, the stranger put his shoulder to an old, but still functional door, which slid open, revealing a shaded alleyway. The man smiled roguishly at Mira, causing her to blush a little. "You tell me," he said.

Gabrielle turned to him. "Thank you," she said and prepared to go.

"Wait a second," the stranger said. "I heard you in there before, asking for someone with experience dealing with the Empire."

"It's not polite to eavesdrop on private conversations." Gabrielle scowled at him.

The stranger smiled. "Nor is it to stab a man through his arm."

The bells still rang in the streets, and the commotion in the bar was showing no signs of stopping. Mira looked about nervously. "Uh...if we can continue this somewhere else..."

The warrior crossed her arms. "Get to the point."

The stranger straightened. "I have extensive experience dealing with the Empire and, as you can see, have suffered little for it. I would be willing to help you achieve your goals--" he paused, "--for a small fee, of course."

"Of course." Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

Mira scowled. "How can we trust you?"

"Oh, my dear girl, you can't." The man chuckled. "But if trust were an essential requirement to your task, I would think you might have tried a more respectable establishment, yes?" He grinned.

Mira turned up her face in a mocking impression of the grin--it covered up the blush that spread over her skin.

It became obvious from the sounds emanating from the front of 'Orion's Belt' that the Praetorians were arriving. Gabrielle pushed on the door. "Fine, you're hired. I'm...Lila and this is Sarah."

Mira didn't miss a beat. "Hello."

The stranger looked both directions down the alley. "Quintus Flavius Narses," he said. "But Narses will do." He indicated the alley. "Shall we?"

Gabrielle stepped out, followed by Mira. Narses shut the door after them and began heading down the alley, taking it north.

Mira looked to the warrior. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

Gabrielle winked and moved down the alley. Sighing, Mira followed, hoping that the sounds of the Praetorians and their chariots came no closer.

**********

There was really no occasion that the Emperor Nero didn't enjoy more in the nude--but of them all, knife-fighting would be his favorite. The olive oil slick and warm against the skin; the blade in hand, an extension of the body; circling, ever circling your opponent in fingers of firelight as if before the creation of the world, and the pigs that walked its surface. To the death or to the first cut, it was all the same in its primal charm to him, ever since he first held a knife between his fingers, long ago.

Here, now, he circled his adversary, a big slave from Egypt. The man's ebon skin was in stark contrast to the Emperor's own pale form. Both were shinning with oil, torches glaring off of their smoothed muscles.

Several Praetors and members of the German guard stood intently watching the contest. To Nero's disappointment, the match was to the first cut, but he still felt the familiar rush through him with none of its intensity diminished--a glorious nausea spilling over his body. While his opponent outweighed him by close to one-hundred libra, any advantages won in the bout had been the Emperor's, whose skill in this fighting form no one could deny. Some among the soldiers would note the Emperor's careless waste of several openings on the slave's left flank, but the keen-eyed among them knew Nero had seen the breaches and chose to ignore them, his lust not yet satisfied.

The slave lunged forward, feinting, then with a daring twist of his torso, swung his large arm down in an overhand attack with his empty fist. With a swift front roll, the Emperor dodged the punch, spinning to his feet and deftly attacking low with a wide slice of his blade.

Blocking desperately, the slave brought his knife to counter. Using his opponent's weapon as a leverage point, Nero adjusted his footing and lunged forward with a strong stab for the man's upper groin. Yelling in fear, the big slave shoved the Emperor's shoulder, pushing him away and into a spin.

Nero laughed, shifting his balance, twisting into a graceful leap and landing back where he had started the exchange, never missing a stride. As the soldiers whooped and clapped their appreciation, the two opponents continued to circle.

"Well done." The Emperor nodded. "Now, there's one place you're going to want to protect, isn't that right?" he asked the crowd, who laughed heartily. Even the slave cracked an uncomfortable smile.

As they prepared to engage once again, Octavia calmly broke through the crowd, making herself known to the Emperor. She wore a stern look and signaled to Nero that he should stop, at least for a moment.

Sighing, Nero raised his hand. "A moment, friends." He smiled. "It seems that pesky Empire I run has need of me."

Amid disappointed cries, Octavia approached the nude and oily Emperor. She handed him a scroll. He smiled in resignation. "Another disappointing little bit of paper, my dear?"

"Indeed, Caesar," the bodyguard intoned. "General Gracchus reports a difficulty with supply lines has waylaid the Ostian legions by two days, perhaps three." She shook her head. "This may prove a fatal problem when defending the city."

Nero's face hardened. "I see," he said simply. Looking at her, he nodded. "We'll talk after."

Turning, the Emperor moved back into the circle of men, standing before the slave again. His eyes flat and cold now, he motioned for the man to continue with a simple, confident wave of his hand.

They circled each other. Once. Twice. The slave moved in with a high attack, hoping to use his size to overwhelm the compact Emperor. Nero simply moved into the attack, removing all its effectiveness and leaving the slave wide open. With a two-handed, upward thrust, he passed the blade effortlessly through the man's neck.

The slave's face became ashen, slack with surprise. Slowly his hand moved to his neck, where a fierce gout of blood, then another, sprayed from him. Within seconds he fell to the floor and soon was dead.

Nero pulled a robe over his shoulders as he left the circle of silent men. "I guess it's as they say," he mused without mirth. "The first cut is the deepest."

**********

Crows call out to Her from high in the Roman pines. They beat black wings, wring black claws through the dry nettles, clack their beaks with eyes fixed on the slow moving form that wanders below. Some take flight, gliding down to lower branches, to closer trees, hoping for a better glimpse of the strange woman walking aimlessly through the cemetery.

Why has She stopped here under the sad and thirsty pines? In the uncertain blue light? Among the still graves like shadows slowly shrugging free their form?

Her resolve, Her purpose had been clear as She entered the city, taking to its rooftops and slowly traversing the incline of the Aventine. Over the houses, the gentle tenements, the gardens and shops, the squares with their sleeping fountains--and all of it passing white and plain below without a trouble to Her.

Until…

There had been no conscious decision to stop here, no fancy or phantom. She cannot recall coming to a halt, just the voices of crows, the graves and crypts slouched against the hills, the shadows of cypresses and tall pines.

And then the visions, a slowly unraveling thread pulled black and cold from every quadrant in Her breast. Faces, the nameless, frightened faces, cut down, burnt alive, trampled underfoot. The bodies stacked ravaged torso to ravaged torso, slick with ichor and swollen with rot. Carrion birds in the mornings, the corpse fires, the wet cries of the dying.

Then suddenly, the images passed from vision to memory. She had lived these somehow, somewhere. She knew that now. But when? As whom?

The soft breeze pushes Her dark locks across Her eyes. She brushes the hair aside, sighing.

The graves are silent at Her feet. Kneeling, She glances over the names carved into the stones. Her thoughts blow into ragged disarray, like fallen leaves in autumn's bluster. Of those interned here, who had lived a truly just life? A still and silent life? A life free of tragedy, of pathos? Who were these people? Did they even know? How did they expire? Were they truly at rest?

It is raining in Amphipolis.

The significance will not be lost on her, my Gabrielle. It will press upon her heart that each moment grows harder--too hard--in the sweet cage of her chest. I've seen it set there for days. It is visible now when I look back to watch her follow through the tall trees, the rain.

I wish I could cry for her, but tears are substance and no longer mine to shed. Instead I have an ache, narrow as a road, begun long ago and leading us to this place.

The graves, some of friends, of families I have known, look harder in the rain, stand taller, more defined, forcing us to take notice of them, of their purpose. Here lies Calicles, the farmer that once gave Lyceus and I rides on his half-blind donkey. There, Denera, my best friend as a child who drowned in a flood when she was eight. These are doors all opening onto the same place.

I glance behind me. She is pale in the rain. Pale hair. Pale skin. A pool kissed in moonlight. But her hair should be golden wheat blowing proudly in the wind, soft on the flesh of my shoulder or thighs. And her skin is meant to be Thracian bronze beneath my lips, my fingers, my tongue.

And once again, none of this seems right or fair. And once again, there is absolutely nothing we can do.

My family crypt--the resting place of Lyceus, of poor Toris, of mother… There is no place for me, like I was never a part of this family.

Or maybe no one thought I would die…

Disappointed them again, it seems.

Gabrielle kneels, staring at the rain falling outside. She turns, green eyes sad, lost in the torchlight. Her lips move. I place a finger there but never touch them. A tear wells up, clinging to her soft eyelids. I smile and look out at the rain falling in heavy drops, in streams. My voice is soft, like an echo.

--Those are my tears…

She weeps and it is as if we have returned to a place together, made a circle of our own. Her sobs are like the sobs I heard sometimes in the dark, when she thought I was asleep, the sobs for her parents, for her sister, for Potedeia. The sobs of a young farm girl.

The time comes, the rites are performed, the urn is left in its place. All is silent save for the rush of rain through the trees or falling to earth or stone. Her eyes are the last things I will ever see.

It is a good death…

A crow cackles somewhere nearby and Her eyes open. She notices a family enter the cemetery and draws Her cloak, hiding the weapons. The people--a man, a woman, a child--take no notice of Her.

The small boy skips through the stones. She watches him, watches the parents. Soon they are lost behind a copse of pines.

From over the curtain of trees She feels the pulse of the city, Her purpose swelling within Her. The crow cackles again. A sigh escapes Her as She moves to leave.

**********

"This is stupid," Mira whispered, unable to remain silent any longer. "Why are we just sitting around like this?"

They were halfway up the Capitoline hill and had been waiting on a set of stairs ascending to street level. Narses had led them in a widely circuitous route away from the Boarium and the Forum, then north and eventually east to their current position. Through it all, he had remained silent--never revealing where it was they were going. This in itself didn't bother Mira; it was Gabrielle's apparent compliance in it all that disturbed her.

Now they were crouching down at the top of some staircase and just watching a cluster of soldiers standing at the end of a block. "Isn't standing around more likely to catch their attention than walking by them?" Mira asked sarcastically.

Gabrielle turned to the girl and smirked. "Usually it would, but it's almost time for the change of the guard."

"So?"

"So," the warrior turned her attention back to the soldiers. "We'll be able to see if Nero has decided on a new strategy for deployment or if we can proceed as planned."

"I don't like this." Mira crossed her arms. "I don't like waiting around like this."

Narses diverted his attention from the soldiers to Mira. After a moment, he returned his gaze across the street. Gabrielle leaned back against a wall. "You know a big part of this sort of thing is waiting," she said evenly. "What's wrong with you?"

The girl slouched then cast a suspicious gaze toward Narses, motioning the warrior closer. "It's him," she whispered. "I don't trust him."

"You think I do?" Gabrielle grinned.

"No. But I don't see you stopping him from running the show."

"Maybe it's because she knows I'm right." It was Narses. He had turned around, a self-satisfied smirk smeared across his face.

"Maybe you should mind your own business," Mira growled.

Narses grinned. "I haven't made an issue of the fact that you won't let me in on just what it is you're after, have I?"

Mira laughed, gesturing to Gabrielle. "That's 'cause she threatened to nail your hand to a table if you did."

Narses stood, spreading his arms in appeal to the warrior. "If I'm just supposed to sit about and have this little mouse squeak at me, I'll just quit now if you don't mind."

"Mouse?" Mira was livid. "Mouse? I'll give you a 'mouse.'"

Gabrielle put her hand up. "Easy." She turned to Narses. "She's just concerned we may be wasting our time. A valid concern, I think."

"What is a waste of our time," Narses began, crossing his arms. "Is entertaining every little concern and whim of this…girl."

"Why I oughta…" Mira stepped with purpose toward the man, but Gabrielle got in the way. The warrior tried to calm her down. It wasn't working. "Just one punch, please, just one," the girl pleaded.

Narses grinned contemptuously at her, only enflaming Mira's ire. She thrashed about, trying to get past the warrior to the smirking man. Gabrielle, growing impatient with restraining her, growled. "Enough." Mira's mouth closed abruptly and the warrior continued at a whisper. "I need you to get control of yourself and keep quiet, okay? We can't afford to look foolish or distracted or weak in any way, so quit acting like a spoiled brat and get it together, alright?"

The girl was obviously upset, but backed down. "Alright," she said without making eye contact. She paused then spoke again. "Two things, though."

"Yes?"

Mira pointed beyond the warrior's turned back. Gabrielle glanced over her shoulder and quickly noticed the two points the girl was trying to make: the soldiers across the square were purposefully approaching; and that Narses was nowhere to be found. The warrior cursed under her breath. Taking a deep breath, she looked to Mira. "Just follow my lead."

The girl smiled wryly. "You're the boss."

Shooting the girl a look of warning that was only half-real, Gabrielle slowly turned to face the approaching group of Praetorians. The leader, a dour looking man, scowled at the two women. "You there, foreigner, are you lost?"

"No." The warrior shook her head, grinning. "No, we're just fine, actually."

The soldier did not seem satisfied. "Then where are your escorts?"

Gabrielle stiffened. "Escorts?"

Crossing his arms, the Praetorian narrowed his eyes. "Yes. Women in this district--especially foreign ones--are to be escorted by men at all times of the day during the state of emergency. So I ask you again: where is your escort?"

Just as Gabrielle was about to answer, she was interrupted by the voice of Narses who called out to them. "Dhalia, is that you?"

Approaching was Narses, though he had cloaked himself in a tattered robe and twisted his body into a crippled form. To add to the charade, he leaned wearily on a gnarled branch that served as a walking stick.

Gabrielle turned to the hunched figure and smiled. "Here is our escort, sir: my uncle Janius."

The lead soldier examined Narses carefully. "Is this true, you are the escort of these women?"

Narses squinted at the man, pausing long enough for Mira to worry, until he nodded and said: "That's right sir, they're my brother's daughters." He smiled, toothily. "From north of the Horselands, actually."

The soldier blinked oddly for a moment, then nodded. "North of the Horselands, eh? Well, that's a long way off..." He smiled at Narses. The hairs on the back of Mira's neck were standing up, but she maintained her composure. "See it that they have a safe trip." The soldiers waved them on. "Move along."

Narses bowed to the soldiers and motioned Gabrielle and Mira to follow him as he began limping across the street.

The trio carried on up the Capitoline, following Narses, who continued to plod along using his cane. "You're welcome," he said over his shoulder.

Gabrielle fell in beside him. "'North of the Horselands?'"

He chuckled. "Thrace. It's what we Romans call Thrace." Smiling broadly he added: "Or it's where we say any uncouth or coarse type is from."

Mira fell in on the other side of him. "Better watch it, she's actually from 'North of the Horselands.'"

"Oh, I had no idea." Narses turned to the warrior. "I'm sorry," he said unconvincingly.

Gabrielle appeared to ignore the subtext of the exchange. "What next? Where are we going?"

"You could tell me what it is we're attempting to do here?" Narses asked hopefully.

"Unlikely," Gabrielle said. "Do you have an extra arm somewhere that you take these two so for granted?" She flashed a dangerous grin.

Blinking nervously, Narses put up his hand in a gesture of peace. "Ah well, suit yourself," he said. "I'm taking you to see a friend."

"You didn't say anything about friends." The warrior stopped, hands on hips.

Narses, still leaning on his cane, bit his lip. "Remember when I said I could get you what you needed? Well...I can, it's just that it's another person that's going to be doing it, y'see?"

Mira sighed loudly. "Great. Just great."

Gabrielle didn't change her stance. "Explain," was all she said.

"Well...my friend Vlix, he can get what you need--for a small price, of course." Narses grinned. "So, rather than risk your own neck, why not let him get it?"

Gabrielle crossed her arms. "Because I don't want too many of you worthless scum to know what I'm doing and more importantly, because I can do the job better myself."

Mira beamed inside. Now this is a Gabrielle I can get onboard with, she thought.

Still hunching over, Narses sighed. "Perhaps you are right, my dear, and perhaps you are not." He grinned. "Vlix may not be the most intelligent, or most dexterous, or even the best man for the job, but he does have one thing you do not:" Narses winked. "A perfect forgery of an Omega-class worker's permit."

Mira twisted her face. "So?"

Gabrielle relaxed her posture somewhat. "It would allow access to almost anywhere, Mira."

Narses grinned triumphantly. "Exactly. So why not give the boy a shot at this? Hm?"

"What makes you so interested in helping someone else? You get a cut of his payment, too?" The warrior asked knowingly.

"A finder's fee." Narses nodded. "It's only fair, is it not?"

Mira knew what Gabrielle was going to say, but she didn't want to hear it.

"Okay," the warrior said. "What next?"

Narses gestured to a nearby alley. "We go to Vlix's, tell him what you need and then wait for him to get it."

Gabrielle bit her lip then nodded. "Lead the way." She shook her head. "And stop limping; I'd like to get there sometime before nightfall." She sniffed at the air. "A storm is coming…"

Narses nodded as he straightened and moved off ahead of them.

Mira fell in beside the warrior as they headed down the alley and then into a small market. "This guy is so up to something."

"I don't doubt it," Gabrielle nodded. "There's not much we can do until he makes his move, though."

"Uh, yes there is: we can ditch him and do this by ourselves," Mira said caustically.

The warrior looked to Mira with a sad glance then turned. "This is...this is less risky." She swallowed. "We'll still have time to try something direct ourselves if it goes wrong."

Mira grabbed her friend's arm. "You're not--?" Gabrielle turned, looking stern, but still sad. Mira couldn't believe what was happening. "You are..." The warrior broke free of the girl's grip and followed Narses through the marketplace and into another hazy Roman backstreet.

You're trying to protect me... The girl blinked ambivalently after them. But this is so wrong, I can feel it... You can feel it...

Shaking her head, Mira made her way through the crowds and into the hanging smog of afternoon.

**********

The gloom of the catacombs weighed heavy on the stuttering torchlight, holding strong against the wall, obscuring features, details. While remembering their destination from her dream, Eve found it increasingly difficult to keep her bearings without slowing down or stopping entirely. Walls that appeared to slope one way actually curved another; passages materialized from nothingness or disappeared into the thick rock; rooms remained hidden until almost fallen into. Time and again, Eve got them back on track, though it began to wear on her patience.

As they continued, Analea watched her friend. "You mentioned that you were having strange dreams..." Her voice spiraled off into the tight echoes of the passageway.

Eve didn't take her eyes off the path. "I've always had strange dreams or visions of one kind or another," she mused. "Warnings...omens... But this..." She stopped, trying to remember for sure. "This was the first time Eli has appeared in them."

Analea stopped. "Eli?" The circles of her eyes and mouth were accentuated by the stark shadows born from the torchlight.

Eve nodded. "He died before I was born; I never knew him." She stood straight, thinking. "I've never dreamt about him either. Usually my dreams are less symbolic; they just get to the point." She smiled. "But this...this was...different." She was disappointed that there was no better way to encapsulate the sensation of the dream. She motioned for them to walk again. As they carried on, Eve shook her head. "There's a definite significance to Eli's presence--to the whole dream--but whatever it is, it's lost on me for the moment. The best I can do for now is to try and find whatever it is that's down here."

"Perhaps you need to learn something," Analea suggested. "Eli was your predecessor, after all. Maybe in the vision he represents teachings or hidden knowledge of some kind?"

Eve stopped and turned, grinning. "You're good at this," she said. "I thought of that myself. Hidden knowledge is definitely part of it all. But what knowledge?" The acolyte kept any musings regarding her friends' significance to the visions out of the discussion. She looked around them, her eyes widening. "Oh no...they've changed this part of the tunnels."

Analea brought the torch closer. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Eve said, sighing. She pointed behind them. "I remember that junction from my dreams, but the tunnel should stretch on further--instead it opens into this chamber."

Analea pointed to a large wooden beam sunk into one of the room's walls. "That beam, the others, they were definitely put in recently." The girl looked to Eve. "What should we do?"

The acolyte ran a hand through her hair. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, calming herself. After a moment, she opened her eyes. "Let's keep going."

The way became difficult. Many of the old chambers, passages had been redirected, torn down, sealed, and new ones opened up into new directions. A lot of the tunnels led to the various sewer lines and Eve and the girl had to brave the stench of slow-moving filth, or carefully traverse the steady flow of rushing water in the larger pipelines.

At one point, they were forced to hide, as a small boat carrying two men--sewer workers--passed by. Eve could hear their voices echoing over the water's lapping.

"It's your turn, Democles."

"But you said you were going to do it today."

"Wha? I did not."

"You did so."

"When?"

"At the bar last night. You said you'd give me a break and you'd do it."

"Now why would I go and say that?"

"Because I was homesick and you were just being nice, I guess. I don't know why, you just said it, that's all."

"That's ridiculous."

"Well, that's what you said, Alymachus."

There was a pause. Then: "Bah! Fine. I'll dredge the body out of there..."

Eve rolled her eyes, thankful that the boat was moving along the stream of sewage and out of earshot.

Eventually, they had found their way back to older tunnels, familiar tunnels, but still the cluster of chambers from the dream eluded Eve. Their first torch coughed out and Analea lit the next in darkness. Sparks, one strike after the other, briefly illuminating the space around them, then black. Soon, the weak glow of tinder, then the steady light of the torch. Eve blinked, her eyes adjusting to the warm orange light.

She started. Before her, stretching up into the darkness stood an old support beam. Carved into its wood, smoothed by time, was a childlike carving of a fish--the carving from her dream. She moved quickly toward it. "We're here," she said breathlessly. The acolyte followed the wall, Analea trying to keep up with her as they moved along the passage.

Eve dropped to her knees and began to feel along the earth. The dirt felt cold, packed hard beneath her fingers, the palms of her hands. Analea brought the torch closer to the ground, watching the flat and formless floor. Eve blinked down, not finding soft earth or an obvious place to dig. "I don't know where to look. It all seems--"

There was a flash of red and she was suddenly in another time, another place, another body, Eli's body. Ares was before her, sword in hand, threatening. A crowd surrounded them, she saw Gabrielle among them, face bleak with concern. Without emotion, Ares drove the sword into Eve's body, Eli's body. She felt the life drain from her, faster than she could imagine...

Another crimson flash and she was back in her own body, but in another time, another place. It was night, she was on a bridge somewhere. A Roman soldier surprised her, sword in hand, threatening. Analea screamed in the distance. Without emotion, the soldier drove the sword into Eve's body. She felt the life drain from her, faster than she could imagine, as she was thrown off the bridge toward the rushing water below...

Eve gasped as the visions ended. Her fingers sank into the earth. Analea put her hand on the acolyte's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Eve nodded. "Help me dig."

They pushed aside the cold dirt, stopping when they uncovered something. There in the shallow hole lay a leather scroll case. Eve took it from the ground.

Analea gasped in astonishment. "Who would bury a scroll in such a place?"

Eve glanced over the simplicity of the case, its weathered skin. She met the girl's gaze in the wavering light. "Eli," was her answer.

**********

The stones are small, smooth; they pass through the water, pushing ripples out to the pond's edges in widening rings. They take the sun's light, the images of the passing clouds, the grove's trees--her reflection--and shake them into shimmering jewels that dance across the surface. I watch from where I am. It is as though her essence is revealed to me in that reflection--light, beautiful light, dancing there before my eyes. I look up from the water to her face. My chest feels full of tears, or stuffed with these gems of light, with her reflection, as I look upon her.

--What is it?

She is concerned. I smile, like a girl. She understands. Somehow, her eyes, her smile become deeper, more beautiful. It breaks my heart, pushing warm ripples out to the edges of me in widening rings.

--I'm so glad you brought me here, Xena...

Her eyes open--water, dirty water is all she sees spread below Her. She gasps before realizing She has had another vision, this time as She dangles above the still Tiberus. She clutches to Her handholds beneath the bridge.

The sunlight shifts slightly as a small wisp of cloud passes across it. She sees a pale object just below the surface of the water, a face. Blinking, She sees it is a statue, submerged, gazing lidless, blank from under the shallow waves of the dirty river. Soon, She notices its hands are outstretched, beckoning. She stares at it for a time, until the cloud is stripped away from the sun and the light changes, making the river keep its secrets once more.

Slowly, carefully, She crawls along the bridge's underbelly, moving across the river. Casting Her hearing out, She finds a place on the eastern side where She can climb up to the streets without being seen. As She prepares to move through the crowds, She pulls Her cloak over Her armor and Her weapons.

Faces, leering faces look to Hers. Dirty Roman faces. She passes by them, through them, silent, tall. Some look after Her, but none say a word. Perhaps She should take to the rooftops or the alleyways, but something stays Her and She continues on through the crowds.

Music fills Her ears, echoing music. It draws Her to it. A breeze blows kicking up dust, pushing locks of hair from Her face. She passes shops, up stairs, down cramped streets until She finds its source. She moves through a doorway, through musty curtains. There are voices, raised strangely. She can hear what they are saying.

"You are the one who has terrorized the farmers and armies of this land..."

There are strange weapons lying about, gathering dust. The voices continue, echoing loudly.

"The one who is born of Ares, who shall conquer the world from horizon to horizon, sea to sea..."

There is music again, slowly rising, growing.

"You are the one who has challenged the son of Zeus, and turned his greatest friend against him..."

The drums, the drums thread and pound like a pulse. She moves toward them, closer, closer...

"You, the slayer of gods, the destroyer of nations..."

She sees light, brightening now, it is just past a thin, thin veil...

"You, the one they call warrior princess..."

Closer…

"Xena..."

She finds Herself upon a stage. Actors, unhealthy, old, stand about in ridiculous costumes, their mouths open wide, their eyes blinking in confusion first, then fear. There is a loud gasp as the audience has seen Her. She does not seem to notice. The name still rings in Her head.

She stumbles back, Her cape swinging open, revealing Her armor, Meridian. Screams begin, stampeding. Bodies, so many shadows, pass before Her eyes. She cannot hear any of it.

Only the name...

Her name?

Soon the theater is empty and She is alone on stage. On Her knees now, Her cloak wrapped about Her, head bowed, hair covering Her face.

How alive, how beautiful you are below my body, warm, moving against me. I feel it against my tongue as it traces you, your hair in my fingers. I gaze at your swollen lips before I kiss them and then your eyes as I rise against you and make you say my name...

--Xena...

It is her...

She holds her head, rocking on Her knees.

It is her...The girl...the warrior...She must find her.

But Her mission--Her master's mission--it cannot wait. She pulls uselessly at Her hair...

--I'm so glad you brought me here, Xena...

Her scream echoes powerfully through the theater, filling it with the raw breadth of its anguish.

For a time, She lays there, silent, unmoving. Only the sound of Her ragged breathing can be heard.

Then, She stands, uneasily at first, but soon shakes off Her doubt, Her sorrow. It was but a game, She realized. The end of which was now in sight. Only one obstacle lay in Her path--Her master's bidding--and this was easily completed.

And then, afterward, She could track down the warrior-woman, the girl, and exorcise Herself of the visions that plagued Her--in one way, or another.

**********

A rickety cart slowly squeaked its way down the narrow servant's road cutting behind the long row of senatorial mansions just off the Forum. In the lengthening afternoon shadows, the solitude, it was easy to forget how close one was to the bustle of Rome's heart. The driver turned off of the road and guided it behind one of the larger homes. As they came to a stop, the donkeys pulling the limping wagon shook their ears at the onslaught of a swirling cloud of gnats.

Virgil looked about before lowering his hood. "You can come out now," he said toward the back of the wagon.

Gallus and Seneca poked their heads out from under piles of rags and baskets of supplies. The older man spit stray pieces of hay from his mouth. "There has to be a better way to travel about the city," he complained.

"I'm sure Nero could think of worse ones for you." Virgil laughed. "You need to remain unseen."

Gallus leapt over the side of the cart, turning to the two men. "We're lucky that he has up to this point," he said grimly. "We're lucky that checkpoint we passed through was busy enough that we were just waved on and not searched."

Virgil shrugged it off. "We have your servants' permit. That would have been enough to avoid inspection."

"Perhaps." The young senator sighed. "They keep moving the checkpoints around. It's not a good sign."

Seneca made his way, with some help from Virgil, out of the cart. He stared off into the distance to the west. "There's a good sign--at least as far as the weather is concerned." He pointed.

Across the afternoon sky a great shield of dark cloud rolled in from the west. Still miles away, the coming storm was no less imposing despite offering an impending end to the city's long and damaging drought. At the far horizon it clashed with the flat white expanse of summer sky, slowly edging closer to Rome. Virgil whistled. "That's going to be a doozey."

Gallus nodded then motioned toward the mansion. "Shall we?"

The three men moved toward the servants' entrance to the home, where they were greeted by an attractive young servant girl, clad in a scant toga. "Welcome," she said warmly, leading them into the home.

Seneca nudged Virgil as they followed the girl. "I see Darius' predilections remain unchanged?" he whispered.

Virgil smirked. "Look around."

The walls of the mansion were adorned with lush tapestries, culled from various corners of the Empire, each depicting spirited scenes of sexual congress. Statues of couples engaged in courtship and more intense expressions of affection stood on pedestals throughout the home. Several odd devices, whose uses were fairly obvious, stood on display as well. Also--Seneca took note--all Senator Darius' servants fell into the same demographic category: young, nubile, female.

"They're barely clothed," Seneca said. "He could leave something to the imagination."

"My imagination," called a rich voice from a nearby room. "Is fixed on aspects more tantalizing than wardrobe when it comes to my house maidens, dear Seneca."

"As are other parts of you, I'm sure," Seneca deadpanned.

The servant girl led them into the room. Reclining on various couches and chairs were several middle-aged and older men who Virgil recognized as senators devoted to the reinstatement of the Republic. Buzzing around these men in hushed tones were their aides. In the midst of them the corpulent Senator Darius smiled, a goblet in hand, standing over a map of Rome and the outlying countryside. Beside him stood four stern and capable looking men, garbed in the robes of Roman generals.

Darius narrowed his puffy-lidded eyes momentarily then raised his goblet, smiling. "Indeed." After sipping momentarily at his wine, Darius waved a chubby arm at the three generals. "Introductions are in order: these are Generals Otho, Galba, Antonius and Taemon."

Virgil's jaw dropped. "Taemon? Of the Italica?"

"The very same." Darius nodded.

"But the Italica is fiercely loyal to the Emperor," Gallus blurted.

"The Italica is loyal to me," General Taemon corrected as he stepped forward. "And I am loyal to Rome, Senator."

Exchanging a quick glance, Virgil and Gallus became visibly uneasy. Seneca rubbed his jaw.

Obviously titillated by the controversy and confusion he had helped create, Darius pursed his lips. "As you may or may not know, after I had acquired their services, I had the legions Britannia, Germania and Hispania march toward Rome. Taemon and the Italica were sent north by our esteemed Emperor to stop Otho, Antonius and Galba from reaching the city," he said. "The outnumbered--but not out-skilled--Italica met them before the river Padus." General Taemon nodded at the senator's compliment. Darius continued. "But in the usual prudence and tact of Roman generals, and with a bit of help from me, the three were able to come to a mutually beneficial understanding."

"Oh?" Gallus asked.

The fat senator smiled broadly. "It seems money can't buy you love, but it can get you one hell of an army." Darius giggled not unlike a chubby woman.

Seneca nodded though seemed not entirely convinced on the matter. "Four Roman legions and their generals make a formidable army indeed," he said. "That's over twenty-four thousand men--more than double the amount of Praetorian and Urban Cohorts at Nero's immediate disposal."

"Indeed." Gallus stepped forward. "But what of the legions Augusta and Claudia that are to arrive from Ostia by dawn."

Darius grinned with mischief toward the generals. "Yes, what of them, indeed…" He nodded to the battle-scarred General Otho.

"Waylaid in Ostia for at least two whole days," the General said in a loud monotone. "Difficulties with lines of supply."

Virgil blinked at the map then to the soldiers. "And how far out of the city are your armies?"

"Less than a day's march," the cold-eyed General Galba answered.

The poet and Gallus exchanged a look. Darius waved his flabby hands over the map. "Our time has come, my friends." He said then focused on Seneca. "Our time has come."

The old man crossed his arms. "Taking the city by force will not win you back the Republic of old," Seneca said evenly. "Blood and fire only breed distrust and violence."

"A speedy victory with minimal bloodshed will make us seem as liberators," Darius argued.

Gallus crossed his arms. "And how do you propose such a victory?"

"Indeed," Virgil concurred. "The Praetorian guard will fight to the last man if so ordered."

Darius smiled once more, deferring to the generals to elucidate. Taemon crossed his arms and glanced over the map of the city. "As you know, currently the Praetorian force has split into two sections: one half remaining in the fortified camp in the north of the city, the other half now stationed in the temporary headquarters at the library off of the Forum." He pointed to another section on the map. "The Urban Cohorts are mainly based in the southwest and are being used for more menial tasks." Taemon regarded the various forces within the city. "The various armies, while separate, can reinforce each other in less than a half-hour--more than enough time to prove effective.

"The key to our victory is keeping the three forces separate long enough to organize the surrender of the Praetorian camp in the north. With them goes the entire defense of the city."

Seneca blinked. "And I'm sure you'll tell us how you plan to do that?"

"With a large diversion, here." The general pointed to the area between the Forum and the Aventine hill. "It will cause the dispatch of Praetorian forces from the library and Urban Cohorts from the southwest thus scattering the city's supplemental armies long enough for us to organize an arrangement with the head of the Praetorians in the north."

Gallus seemed impressed, though still a little uneasy. "And you believe he will surrender?"

Taemon nodded. "As Senator Darius has pointed out, Roman generals are renowned for their prudence and tact. I know General Otis; he has no special love for the Emperor and will not stand outnumbered four-to-one if he has no need for it."

Virgil nodded. "And with his surrender, the entire Praetorian force becomes our allies."

"An army of twenty-four thousand becomes close to forty thousand strong," General Galba nodded.

Antonius smirked. "Even if the Urban Cohorts rallied against us, they would be outnumbered ten-to-one by the finest soldiers in the Empire."

"Rome would be ours," Darius grinned.

"I believe you are somewhat mistaken, my friend." Seneca walked slowly over to the representation of the city, pondering its lines and the pieces upon it. "According to this map, these plans, Rome would be theirs," he said, gesturing to the four generals.

A tense hush spun through the room. Many of the seated senators and their aides shifted uncomfortably, though some stared intently at the soldiers waiting for a response. Senator Darius coughed uncomfortably and shook his head at the old man. General Antonius cleared his throat to answer but Otho beat him to it.

"It is not our plan to rule Rome in place of the Emperor or the Senate," the scar-faced general said sternly. "Only to restore order."

"Under whose authority?" Gallus asked, falling in beside Seneca. "Ours?"

Otho raised his chin. "It is our mandate to do so, yes."

"You mean it's what you've been paid for," Virgil retorted with a smirk.

Otho's face reddened, a large and dangerous-looking vein throbbing along his temple. General Taemon stepped forward. "Like you, dear poet, we are honorable men who bear the safety and welfare of Rome gently upon our hearts," he said with as much diplomacy as possible. "We would only control the city as an instrument of your esteemed wisdom and will--not as usurpers."

"You see." Darius smiled, spreading his arms with a flourish. "Nothing to worry about," he mewled.

Seneca looked unsatisfied. "I disagree."

"Oh, now is not the time for your debates," Darius said waving the old man off. His bearing intensified. "We move in two days, with or without your approval."

General Taemon nodded. "Otho and Galba will hold a final strategy meeting here tomorrow to finalize the details of the operation." He looked to Gallus, to Virgil, to the old man then turned to leave with the other generals. Most of the senators rose, some left, others moved to talk with one another.

"This is a mistake," Seneca said quietly.

Virgil sighed. "Agreed."

"But one we are all doomed to be engulfed by," Gallus whispered. "No matter our feelings on the matter."

Darius approached the three men, focusing on Seneca. "Do try to make the wise choice for once, old man," he said. "If not for you or for Rome, then for your friends' sakes."

With a dangerous gleam in his eye, Virgil stepped closer to the large senator. "He only speaks what we all feel."

"Yours is not the first mind he has poisoned, poet," Darius spat caustically. "Is it, old man?"

Gallus quickly grabbed the poet, who had lunged at the senator. Virgil barred his teeth. "Your arrogance will doom everyone."

"Oh, have another drink, Virgil," said the senator, smirking contemptuously.

Virgil thrashed about violently as Gallus did his best to contain his rage. Darius turned his back and walked away. Seneca looked on sadly at the whole thing. He put his hand on Virgil's shoulder. "Let's go."

Soon they had left, to much whispers and mutterings, and stood around the run-down cart. Gallus pat one of the donkeys. "It was thanks to monomaniacs like Darius that the Republic dissolved in the first place."

Seneca nodded. "Although, it was as much the fault of idealists and dreamers like myself."

Virgil cursed under his breath. "He went too far," the poet said, looking to the old man.

"He was telling the truth." Seneca smiled sadly.

"The teacher is not responsible for the actions of the student," Gallus said.

Virgil nodded. "And a man's past is not his prison," he said.

The old man moved to the back of the cart. Gallus helped him up into it and followed behind him. Virgil raised his hood and leaped into the driver's seat.

Seneca smiled. "There are those who would argue with you both," he said. "But for my part; I hope you are right."

The cart moved along the servant's road and into the afternoon, kicking up dust and pebbles, as it headed westward toward the darkening horizon.

**********

"So here we are," Mira said caustically, "Waiting around again."

The three of them--the girl, Gabrielle and Narses--were scattered throughout the stifling fourth floor domicile of Narses' friend, Vlix. The apartment was in a rundown five-storey tenement in the Trans Tiber, one of the rougher sections in the north of the city.

They had met the strange Gaul, who immediately made Mira feel uncomfortable with his suggestive and tooth-deficient leer, and explained what it was they needed of him. Narses had tried to keep his interest in what the warrior and the girl were planning as understated as possible, but the gloating sneer that smudged his face made his feelings quite clear.

Mira had scowled at that. "Looks like a cat with a fish's tail hanging between his lips," she had whispered to Gabrielle.

Vlix had explained that he would need about three hours to procure the passwords stressing as well as he could how treacherous his task would be. Gabrielle had assured him he would be paid for his troubles and did her best to explain that he should not take any unnecessary risks; knowing his capture would likely mean theirs eventually as well. The Gaul had made it pretty clear how flexible his ethics were, especially in relation to money or physical discomfort.

He had now been gone for three and a half hours and the three of them were beginning to worry, and for Mira, worry manifested as anger.

Gabrielle pushed a strand of straw-colored hair from furrowed brows. She fell in beside a window and squinted out, remaining obscured from any unwanted observers. Her eyes scanned several points along the street, over nearby buildings or behind windows. She followed the rise and descend of a nearby series of scaffolds to the large construction project sitting at the end of the block, before she turned her head back to her friend. "Sit tight," she said without emotion.

"That creep is late," Mira whispered, looking toward the hallway as she got up and moved to the warrior's side. "It's at least a candle-mark later than he said he would be."

"It's hard to get anywhere quickly out there," Gabrielle said. "He might be held up at one of those checkpoints."

Mira shook her head. "Or maybe he's already caught and spilling his guts out to a tent full of Praetorians who are on their way right now."

The warrior tilted her head to look outside, a smile upon her lips. "Maybe."

"Don't joke," the girl whispered angrily. "For all we know, Narses and his buddy could be totally selling us out to the Romans as we speak." Mira ran her hand through her hair. "I can't believe you're putting our fate in the hands of these...thieves."

Gabrielle leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "Some of my best friends have been--and are--thieves," she said, narrowing her eyes at the girl.

"Ha. Ha," Mira said without mirth. "I'm serious. This is a bad idea."

The warrior shut her eyes for a moment then turned to look outside again. She sighed. "I'm starting to think you're right."

Mira moved closer. "What should we do?"

Gabrielle closed the shutters. "We'll give Vlix another half a candle-mark, then we'll go out on our own."

Mira smiled with satisfaction. "Good."

"What is?" It was Narses, he entered the room holding a large tray upon which was a small feast of cheese, olives, fruit, nuts, bread and some water and wine. He grinned. "I thought you might be hungry."

Mira scowled. "Such the perfect host," she drawled accompanying it with an eye-roll.

He placed the tray upon a table and grinned. "It's easy when it's not your home or food," he chuckled. "Please." He indicated the tray. "Help yourself."

The warrior and the girl looked from the food to Narses, both crossing their arms. He feigned hurt. "Oh come now," he said and reached for an olive. With a wink, he popped it into his mouth.

Gabrielle walked over to the tray and gathered some food and water. Mira remained with arms crossed. "He only ate an olive, you know," she said.

The warrior smiled. "We should be okay," she said. "He knows we don't have any money on us."

Narses laughed. "Also, Vlix doesn't seem to keep anything around the house that is the least bit lethal."

"How lucky for us," Mira said scowling.

Gabrielle sipped at her water. As she placed her empty cup on the table, she gave a quick tilt of her head. Suddenly, the warrior shot to her feet. "Open the door," she ordered Narses.

The thief looked confused but moved to the door and opened it. He gasped in surprise as Gabrielle moved him out of the way. Lying in the hall desperately trying to stand was Vlix, two arrows embedded in his back. The warrior crouched, giving a quick scan down the hallway as she lifted the gravely injured man to his feet and into the room. "Clear off the table," she yelled at Narses, kicking the door closed. "Mira, watch the street."

Gabrielle gingerly placed the injured man on his stomach after Narses had removed the food. She started to tear away his shirt and immediately saw the extent of his injuries--both bolts were mortal injuries. She looked to Narses and shook her head. The thief had an ambivalent look on his face but then crouched closer. "H-he's saying something," he said in a hoarse whisper.

"What is it?" Gabrielle said leaning closer. "Did you get the passwords?"

"Th-they're…coming…" he hacked.

The warrior looked to the window in time to see Mira turn with a fearful look. The girl nodded when she realized Gabrielle knew what she had seen. "At least twenty," she said.

"Get to the roof," Gabrielle ordered the two of them. "Now." She readied herself to lift the injured Vlix, but soon realized the Gaul had died.

Mira shot past her, letting Narses enter the hall first. The girl turned and looked expectantly at Gabrielle. "Come on," she said.

"Get to the roof and get away from here," the warrior said. "Go back to the mansion and wait for me."

Mira crossed her arms. "Where are you going?"

"I'll draw them away from you."

"But--"

Suddenly there was a crash behind them as an arrow shattered the window. Just as suddenly, the arrow--bound for Mira's right eye--appeared in Gabrielle's hand. The girl stared wide-eyed at the bolt point just inches from her eye.

"Go." Gabrielle tossed the arrow aside and pushed the girl into the hall toward the stairs leading up. Still in shock, Mira ran without thinking and disappeared up the staircase.

The warrior drew her katanna and readied herself in the middle of the hall. The sound of heavy armor and quick-moving footsteps ascending the staircase filled her ears. Scouts, she mused silently. Four…

Four Praetorians stepped onto the third floor and rounded the corner, short swords drawn. Having seen Gabrielle, the last one yelled down the staircase, "Here," and advanced with his three comrades. Shouts and more heavy feet could be heard ascending the staircase.

The warrior raised her blade into a high attack, horizontal to the ground and crouched into a low stance. Unfazed, the soldiers formed a tight wedge and continued to advance, their steps causing the old floor to creak menacingly.

Without ceremony, Gabrielle slashed downward through the first soldier's neck, sending his head from his shoulders and soon, spurts of blood all over his comrades and the hallway. The body slumped in front of the others, obstructing them slightly. One managed to stab at Gabrielle's abdomen. The warrior thrust her sword upward, blocking the blow in a shower of sparks and leaving the soldier exposed to her next attack--a quick spinning slash that found the soft flesh just below his breastplate. The soldier fell to his knees, clutching his spilling entrails in shock. Not resting, the warrior stabbed forward piercing the next soldier's abdomen and slashing out through the side of his torso as he screamed in pain.

The final Praetorian stepped into a more defensive posture, sword placed at his side. Gabrielle feinted high, then spun full around and aimed her attack low at the soldier's bare knee. The katanna found no resistance from bone, flesh or cartilage as it separated the man from the lower half of his right leg. With a crash, the soldier crumpled to the floor where Gabrielle dispatched him with a swift downward stab that sank the katanna's tip into the wood of the floor.

Standing, the warrior could hear the sound of many more soldiers taking the stairs, drawing closer. Sounds like… twenty… Taking a breath, she slipped into another stance, ready for combat. Slowing her breathing she hoped that Mira had escaped. She sighed. This isn't a good idea…

Sheathing her blade, Gabrielle turned and ran for the apartment just as the first soldier rounded the corner. Slamming the door behind her, she leaped over the heavy couch and shoved it back toward the entrance, barring it. Pounding and eventually slamming began on the other side of the door.

The warrior cursed as a volley of arrows came through the window forcing her to drop prone. The bolts embedded deep in the plaster walls and a wooden beam where she had been standing. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea either…

Crawling on her belly, Gabrielle made her way to the far wall, where the window was. She looked back toward the door. It would only be a matter of time before the Praetorians forced their way into the room. She looked up at the now open window. There were at least two, maybe three archers out there and that meant they would be able to get at least two or three shots off if she decided to climb through the window. She sighed.

The warrior's eyes darted intently from the window to the door, the door to the window. Growling, Gabrielle twisted up into a crouching position just under the window. She closed her eyes and began slowing her breathing. There were shouts and voices from the street below. The pounding and yelling from beyond the door grew louder and more intense, the door beginning to inch open.

Gabrielle opened her eyes and prepared to leap out the window.

**********

The Emperor Nero lounged upon a long divan, eyes closed. The ornate couch sat in the shade on a low hanging balcony at the Domus Aurea, overlooking the Imperial gardens and out toward the Forum. Nero was listening to the wind rustle through the leaves of the nearby trees. The smell of far off rain entered his nostrils and he smiled. He sipped at a goblet of milk sweetened with honey and returned it to a nearby table, covered with food. With a smug grin, he reclined with a happy sigh.

Without announcement, Octavia stepped onto the balcony, a scroll held tightly in her hands. "Caesar, news from the way station south of Perusia."

The Emperor put a hand to his forehead and sighed. "What now, my dear?"

"It would appear that the Italica has joined with the three traitorous legions," the bodyguard said. "They are camped within a day of the city."

Nero met her concerned stare with one of disinterest. "And?"

"Caesar, with reinforcements from Ostia waylaid for at least two days, Rome is vulnerable," she said sternly. "You are vulnerable."

Nero relaxed, lying back among his plush pillows. He stared out over the city. "Sweet Octavia, by this evening the citizens of Rome will have far more pressing concerns than a bunch of toy soldiers," he chuckled, selecting a grape from a tray beside him and popping it into his mouth.

The bodyguard relaxed somewhat at this and nodded. "Preparations continue, Caesar," she said. "The Vigiles and Urban Cohorts have reported that all will be as you have ordered before sunset."

"And this storm?"

"The Sibylline performed a secret augury for me. According to them, it shouldn't be a problem."

"Ah, excellent." Nero smiled. "You see?" He turned and winked at the German woman. "And our little party? Will all be ready for that?"

Octavia nodded with stoic aplomb. "I am ready, Caesar."

"Good. Good." The Emperor put his hands behind his head and looked out at the darkening horizon. "Let's hope our special guest is just as keen as we are."

**********

Gabrielle sprang up through the window and onto the window ledge. Freeing the chakram from her belt, she hurled the weapon at a Praetorian archer perched on a roof across the street. As soon as the blade left her hand, the warrior cart-wheeled along the ledge, just out of the path of two arrows that entered the now empty apartment.

The chakram found its mark, shattering the archer's bow and several bones in his wrist before it arced on a return path toward Gabrielle. With another cart-wheel, the warrior returned to the front of the shattered window to catch the returning weapon.

Inside the apartment, a loud and decisive crash signaled the entrance of the Praetorians from the hall--they spilled into the room and, spotting the warrior on the ledge outside, headed for the window. Grinning mischievously at the fast-approaching soldiers, Gabrielle delayed her escape for a breath then, chakram in hand, broke into a run along the ledge. In her wake, two arrows found their mark in a Praetorian's chest and throat staggering the dying man back into his comrades.

The warrior kept her eye on a series of scaffolds to the east of the tenement that seemed to continue along for several city blocks. That might work… She increased her pace, calmly batting away an arrow with the chakram and dodging another, which splintered against the wall behind her.

Suddenly, a window shattered just in front of her spraying glass against her body. A Praetorian leaned out, attempting to grab the warrior with his thickly-muscled arms. Gabrielle shot into a crouch, avoiding capture and with an angry growl, took hold of the man's wrist and yanked him out the window. He looked back up at her in shock as he plummeted toward the fast-approaching ground below.

"Archers," she remembered out loud and hurled the chakram at one of the determined bowmen across the street. The incoming weapon caused the man to duck and misfire his bolt, which flew harmlessly wide and low. Gabrielle rolled forward along the ledge, avoiding the second archer's arrow. Turning, the warrior kicked another Praetorian who tried to gain footing on the ledge, sending him back into the room with a spouting face.

Gabrielle caught the returning chakram and sprinted lithely along the narrow shelf. There was another twenty-five feet before it came to an end and then the long jump to the scaffolding after that. The warrior sighed. It's a living…

Glass erupted to her right, the shards slashing her arms. A soldier grabbed hold of her ankles and tried to pull her into the building. Losing her balance, Gabrielle prepared to slice at the man with the chakram then remembered the timing of the arrows. Dodging at the last second, she was able to avoid the first bolt completely, but the second sliced across her bicep before breaking against the wall. Blood began spilling steadily from the wound.

"That's it," Gabrielle yelled. No longer resisting the soldier's yanking, the warrior lunged forward and into the room, forcing herself on top of the stunned man. With three quick strikes to the face, she rendered him unconscious. She looked around the room to the doorway. "Slight change of plans…"

Lunging to her feet, she bolted for the open door and rolled into the hallway. There was a rushing sound followed by a wet thud as a crossbowman launched his arrow into his sword-wielding companion on the other side of the door. Gabrielle launched the chakram at the swordsman rebounding it off the wall beside him. The ricochet disarmed the soldier and subsequent rebounds bludgeoned him into submission. The warrior had already disabled two more men before catching the weapon and running down the hall.

Further along, a door swung open and screaming spilled out into the hall. A woman holding a baby fled her apartment and the warrior could hear a commotion inside. The woman stood mouth agape as the bloodied Gabrielle pushed past her into the apartment.

Passing through the cluttered abode, the warrior readied herself as she approached the main room. A Praetorian, back turned, peered out a window--apparently still looking for the warrior on the ledge. Laughing menacingly, Gabrielle ran straight at him and kicked him out the window and down to the street below. More screams came from behind her. Soldiers began pouring into the apartment. Turning, Gabrielle sprang out through the window and onto the ledge once again.

Soldiers had stepped onto the ledge to her left and to her right, and others were about to appear at the window behind her.

"Uh oh…"

Swords at the ready, the Romans began to close in.

**********

When they got to the roof, both Mira and Narses were relieved to find it unoccupied.

Narses headed toward the southern end. "Listen, we're going to have to use the rooftops," he said oddly.

"And?" Mira asked sarcastically.

"It's quite dangerous to use the 'Thieves' Highway,'" he said, obviously mocking her. "I can't baby-sit you along the way, you know?"

The girl just scowled at him and broke into a run toward the edge of the roof. At the peak of her sprint, Mira launched herself forward off of the building and over the wide chasm of air over the street below. Without breaking a stride, she landed on the building opposite and continued on toward the next. Narses marveled momentarily, then with a shrug, followed. They continued this way, until Narses called for them to stop and climb down the side of a building.

As they descended using the building's many balconies to the street below, Mira squinted down at the thief. "Why'd we stop here?" she asked.

"We need to find some faster transportation," he said.

"Again I ask: why?"

Narses never stopped looking at what he was doing. "We're going to need it if we want to rescue your friend."

Mira stopped for a moment, letting that sink in before continuing steadily down the building.

Soon, they had reached the ground and began navigating the alleys and shaded streets. Many of the buildings were quiet and few if any people were about. Within a few moments, they had located a stable.

"Doesn't seem to be anyone around," Narses said.

Mira nodded. "Let's go."

The earthy stink of animals filled their nostrils. Narses leaned over a stall, then another before he turned to the girl. "There's a horse, here."

Mira continued along the row of stalls. Reaching the end, she turned around dejectedly and slouched toward a pen she had passed earlier. Narses looked at the girl. "You didn't find anything?"

"Oh, I found something," Mira said with a grimace. "I'm just not sure what it is."

Narses leaned over the stall the girl had indicated. He immediately burst into laughter. Despite herself, Mira joined in.

"It's a camel," Narses said. "From the Land of the Pharaohs, no doubt."

The strange and smelly animal continued to chew its meal, indifferent to their laughter. "Well, I'm not riding that thing, I can tell you that," Mira said.

Narses crossed his arms, still smiling. "Oh, yes you are."

"No way."

"You are."

"I'm not," Mira said. "It has a hump and it smells."

Narses sighed. "I think it's fair to say that we're operating under the usual Thieves' honor system here, yes?" he asked.

The girl nodded.

"Then finders' rights apply, right?"

Mira growled and kicked at the straw-covered ground. "Damn Thieves' honor system," she muttered and moved to find a saddle for the strange beast.

Narses grinned. "You're lucky it only has one hump."

"Don't tell me these things come in multi-hump versions." Mira rolled her eyes as she collected the strange beast's tack and gear.

Within minutes, Narses led his mount from the stables. Pausing, he turned around, squinting into the dark building. "Sarah?" he called out.

"Come on, ya dumb fleabag." Mira pulled hard on the camel's reins, but the beast was moving slowly and stubbornly from the stable. "Let's go."

Narses swung himself up into the saddle and taking the reins prepared to leave. He turned. "Come on, stop fooling around."

"'Fooling around,' he says," she muttered, rolling her eyes and yanking harder on the animal's lead. It snorted defiantly at the girl.

Soon, they were riding through the shaded and quiet alleys, heading back to Vlix's tenement. The camel, once it started, seemed to enjoy the ride through the streets. Narses leaned over so Mira could hear. "Once we arrive, I'll cause a diversion," he said. "Be ready to get Lila out of there."

"Don't you worry about me," she said.

The gruff thief considered her for a moment then smiled with uncharacteristic warmth. "Alright, I won't."

They continued along, drawing closer by the second. Trying not to concentrate on the camel's smell, Mira looked over at Narses, wondering if she might be wrong about him.

**********

Gabrielle kept the soldiers at bay with her katanna on one side of her and the chakram on the other. She threatened the soldiers at the window with a brandish of the circlet and they stepped back into the room. With her two weapons and position on the narrow ledge facing into the apartment, the warrior had a not entirely hopeless defense. However, the fact of the matter was, the warrior was at quite a disadvantage.

"Surrender," one of the Praetorians on the ledge to her right said firmly. "And we will not hurt you."

One of the Romans to her left took a step toward her and Gabrielle raised the chakram for a backhanded throw. She narrowed her eyes to fiery green splinters. The soldier stepped back, slowly.

The warrior indicated her bloody arm--which she knew looked worse than it actually was. "Too late," she said, smiling wryly.

"Surrender now," the Praetorian repeated.

The warrior closed her eyes. She sighed and relaxed her body. With slow and deliberate movements she sheathed her katanna and placed the chakram at her side. She put her hands up.

"A wise choice," the soldier nodded. He moved to secure the warrior.

With a quick turn of her head, Gabrielle winked at the man and took a step backward off the ledge. The warrior dropped straight down for two floors with the soldiers staring open-mouthed. At the last possible moment, her hands shot out and gripped the second floor ledge and swiftly pulled herself up. As the Praetorian commander shouted orders above, Gabrielle sprinted along the narrow shelf toward the scaffolding as before.

An arrow clacked into the wall behind her. Still some left… She built up speed as the divide drew closer. Her ribs ached, but Gabrielle's powerful legs pushed her forward at great speed and finally, with a war-cry, she leaped between the tenement and the large collection of scaffolding across the street. Leaning forward in mid air, she outstretched her arms. Within a second she had reached the other side, grabbing a thin metal crosspiece and swinging herself around fully until she could land in a crouch. The warrior expertly caught a speeding arrow that had been fired at her chest and discarded it, making her way through the complex maze of beams and piping.

There were shouts from across the street and soon more soldiers appeared from down the block, approaching the scaffolding in a steady jog. Several chariots also sped in, equipped with javelin throwers. Gabrielle squinted down at the scrambling troops. All this for lil' ole me?

The warrior began climbing up into the large span of construction as Romans began to climb after her. Pausing, she looked at the positions of several of her pursuers then took the chakram from her belt. She hurled it down at a ladder that had three soldiers climbing it. The blade skimmed along the metal rungs in a shower of sparks as it ricocheted into the lead climber's helmet, knocking the man down upon his comrades and spilling them all from the ladder.

The chakram rebounded out and over the street.

Gabrielle climbed steadily, hoisting herself up to a board walkway and breaking into a run. Spilling into a front roll, she avoided another volley of arrows. She winced as both her wounded arm and her ribs protested against the acrobatics.

Across the street, the chakram ricocheted in a shower of plaster, spinning upward and down the block.

The Praetorians scrambled up the structure gaining ground on the warrior. They fanned out along the foundations in an attempt to cut off her escape to the street. Gabrielle cursed under her breath as she leaped over a drop.

The chakram arced out over the flat roof of a squat tenement, bouncing off of a rusty pole and on a new path.

Landing hard, Gabrielle grunted as hurt shot through her chest forcing her to slow momentarily. She growled as she swiftly turned to swat two more arrows from the air. The warrior broke into a run again, this time noticeably slower.

One of the Praetorian archers notched another arrow and took aim at the fleeing woman. "I have you now" he smiled. He didn't hear the rush of air fast approaching the back of his head until it was too late. After shattering the man's skull, the chakram arced back out over the street and toward the scaffolding.

A soldier climbed onto the level just in front of Gabrielle. The warrior grabbed a bar above her and swinging forward, kicked the Roman in the stomach with both feet. He spilled down the ladder and onto three more men, toppling them all in a heap to the ground.

The chakram returned to her hand and the warrior replaced it on her belt, dropping down through the ladder hole, swinging onto the lower level.

Landing with a dull thud, she surprised two soldiers who turned quickly to attack. Gabrielle thrust the index and middle fingers of both her hands into either side of the first one's neck. The man seized up and began gasping for air, a trail of blood leaking from his nostril.

As the dying man fell to the floor, the second soldier lunged forward and grabbed the warrior in a bear hug. Swinging blindly, she managed to knock the man's helmet off before he squeezed her against him, trapping her arms at her sides. Gabrielle screamed in pain as her entire chest seared in the strong man's grip. Desperately, she slammed her forehead into the bridge of the man's nose causing blood to spray across his face, but he still held her in his brutal clutches.

Over the blood rushing in her ears, Gabrielle could hear an incoming arrow. That one's cocky, she thought and shifted her weight causing the soldier to sway and finally spin. There was a wet thud and the man stiffened, loosening his grip. Gabrielle freed her arms and double chopped the Roman in the neck. He let go of the warrior and teetered toward the edge, grasping at his back and finally stumbling off the scaffolding and down to the street below.

Looking about the structure, Gabrielle realized that she may have been out-maneuvered as soldiers were now above and below her.

From the street there came a familiar shout of an unfamiliar name. "Lila!"

"Mira." Gabrielle looked down to the street and saw Narses upon a horse, drawing the chariots and some archers away from the bottom of the structure. She also saw Mira riding awkwardly on a camel. Without wasting time, the warrior began descending the structure toward her friend.

A group of soldiers were going to head her off before she could escape and they readied their short swords and daggers as they assembled. Gabrielle increased her pace toward the group.

The first Praetorian went for a high attack but she feinted low, forcing him off balance and she spun into a deadly roundhouse kick that slammed into the man's temple. Even with his helmet, the blow was a mortal one and he was dead before he hit the street below.

From the spin of her kick, the warrior dropped into a crouch to avoid a quick slash from the next soldier and freed her sai from their scabbards. She jabbed the blunt pommels into the man's groin and guided him from the structure. He bounced off a level below before crashing to the ground.

Spinning the weapons in her hands she thrust up into a quick attack to the exposed flesh of the next Roman's underarm. The man fell with blood spraying from the small, though deep wound. Gabrielle spun now into an overhand sweep--again with the blunt ends of the weapons--that caught the final soldier in the jaw, shattering his teeth and spilling him off of the scaffolding. The warrior paused to sheath the weapons before continuing toward the edge of the structure.

On the street below, Mira had somehow managed to turn the camel around but was now being chased by a chariot. Gabrielle could hear the girl cursing and yelling. The chariot's javelin thrower threw a projectile at the girl, narrowly missing her and the hapless camel.

The warrior ran along the edge of the structure now parallel to Mira on the street below--remaining in the direct line of fire of the final archer. A pulley crane sat at the end of the ledge, locked into place. Gabrielle fired the chakram at the locking mechanism, disabling it. She caught the blade and sheathed just before leaping off the structure. An arrow whizzed by her head as she grabbed the crane's hook and it began to lower her in a slightly controlled descent.

Mira and the camel galloped chaotically below and Gabrielle had to let go a little prematurely to time her drop properly. With a painful sounding thud, she landed on the rear of the dromedary. "These don't make for a soft landing," she said, trying to hide the pain in her voice. "Do they?"

"Gabrielle!" Mira exclaimed. The camel, however, was not as impressed with the warrior and bucked a little causing her to grip tightly on the creature's hump and clutch the animal between her legs in a somewhat undignified position.

Wincing in both pain with her ribs and disgust at the stench of camel, Gabrielle turned in time to see a Roman fire another javelin at them. Given her current seating arrangement and the 'target' she was offering to the chariot, the warrior became understandably distressed. "Turn!" she yelled at the girl.

"You actually think I can turn this thing? Woah!" Mira held fast to the reins as the camel bucked again and turned suddenly. The javelin rushed by them, harmlessly. Gabrielle pulled herself up the camel's back, getting a better grip on it. Spinning, she fired the chakram at the pursuing charioteer, sending him off the back of it.

The warrior caught the chakram and turned back to Mira with a scowl. "Could you have picked a worse escape animal?"

"It was Narses," Mira chuckled. "He made me."

"Speaking of which…"

Gabrielle indicated the thief approaching at a gallop. He rode up beside them with a grin. "Nothing like a late-afternoon ride, huh?"

The warrior only grimaced. "Where to now?"

Narses took note of the wound in Gabrielle arm. "Somewhere to wait until nightfall," he said. "Follow me."

He moved to the lead and the camel followed without protest. Mira turned to Gabrielle. "Then what?" she asked.

The warrior ignored the throbbing pain of her ribs. "Then we do this ourselves," she said.

**********

The streets winding around the Quirinal hill were blissfully quiet in contrast to the bustle and nervous tension of the nearby Forum. Eve enjoyed the playful shadows of the sun through the wind-tickled trees, skipping and swaying on the roads, the homes. She and Analea strolled hand in hand up the hill on the way to Gallus' mansion. The leaves rustled against steady breezes now, and occasionally gusts would whip up dust from the ground or the houses.

Eve felt fatigue begin to settle upon her. They had been sneaking about for hours trying to return from the tunnels and their discovery of Eli's scroll. Soldiers had patrolled the streets in small and frequent groups. Checkpoints seemed to multiply by the hour. Even the Vigiles--the Roman fire-fighters--seemed to be out in force, coating buildings in a strange oily substance. Analea had asked why, but Eve had been unable to answer.

Every corner had presented a new stress, a new worry. They were forced to hide for hours in an Artemesian temple when a large force of Praetorians set up a mobile camp in a nearby square. Analea had trembled beside her as they crouched among the devout, the supplicant.

Finally they had made it past the checkpoint near the Quirinal and were safe to return home. Eve sighed, almost happy. The breeze picked up, whipping her hair as they turned the corner that led up to the gates of the mansion. Clouds swelled black and dangerous to the west. They made the acolyte uneasy. She smelled rain on the wind.

Analea noted Eve's object of distress. She smiled. "You don't need the powers of the One God to know that it's going to rain tonight."

Eve chuckled. "No. You're right," she said.

"It's a good thing, too." Analea shrugged. "Considering the drought."

Eve nodded, still uneasy about the feverish boil of black clouds that appeared to move at an unearthly rate toward the city. Her brows knit.

They approached the large, unmanned gate to the senator's property.

"Are you worried about what the scroll might say?" Analea asked suddenly.

Eve blinked. "Why would I be worried?"

They passed through the wooden gate and moved along the shaded path leading through the grounds. Analea turned to the acolyte, a concerned expression upon her face. "Prophecy is two-edged," she said. "Knowing the future can be a blessing, but it can as easily be a hindrance, a burden…" She paused, for weight. "A curse."

Eve smiled at her. "Such wisdom, again," she said. The acolyte placed her hands on the girl's shoulders, looking into her eyes with assurance. "I do not fear what I will find."

They said their goodbyes at a fork in the road; Eve to continue up and to the mansion and Analea to move on to the stables and the other Elians.

As Eve walked alone, the birds chirped around her in oddly dissonant tones. She climbed the tall staircase leading up to the home and looked out over the city below. The thick veil of haze was lifting, allowing an un-obscured view of Rome, stretched out along the Tiberus.

Augustus had held her hand, leading her to one of the balconies at the Imperial Palace. The city was lit for the approaching night and twinkled like a gem. She was nineteen, and already a commander in the Imperial army, but still a girl in many ways. Parts of her still found it all quite breathtaking.

The Emperor gestured to the city--and beyond.

--As Empress, all of this shall be yours.

While most might mean this as a boast, a vain prancing of some kind meant to free her of her inhibitions--and clothes--Augustus told her this as a promise, an oath of his devotion to her. Perhaps this was why she could only feel love for him as a brother, a friend--choosing to lay with coarser men when needs of the flesh called.

She smirked, never passing on an opportunity to spoil his regal airs.

--And if I were to decline?

While she often hated to tease or belittle him, Augustus was weak--choosing to talk rather than fight, to make laws rather than conquer. Many among the army, the provinces complained of his gentle approach to power. She had been one of them at times.

And now, the dark stranger who haunted her dreams for months had visited her in reality, speaking of her destiny, her power--her Empire. Could he truly be the God of War?

Augustus turned, hurt somewhat, but then smiling, too.

--Then all of this shall be your enemy…

Eve continued to climb, the scroll hidden in her robes, pressed tightly against her abdomen. Soon, she had arrived upon the terrace and entered the mansion. Servants darted about, preparing for the late afternoon meal. She stopped one. "Have the senator and Virgil returned?" she asked.

The man nodded. "But they are discussing something in private and wish not to be disturbed."

Eve moved along the halls, anxious to get to her quarters. The room was stuffy and warm when she entered. She threw open the shutters, letting a gust of rain-scented air waft through the chamber.

She sat at the desk and put the scroll upon its surface. Stained by dirt and time, the roll of parchment felt brittle beneath her fingers as she gently opened its seal and unfurled the papyrus. The writing was still dark and legible, scribed in a steady hand. Eve smiled--she somehow knew Eli would write in this way. Her eyes scanned the page, passing slowly over the twist of Aramaic letters--she had not read the language for many years.

Halfway through the first section she stopped, her mouth falling open. She quickly stepped away from the scroll and moved to the window, feeling faint, needing air. Staring out at the trees, the sky, the city below, Eve panted raggedly. Somewhere, out toward the west she thought she heard the roll of thunder.

The words had read: I write this across tides, across time for the eyes of one I have known in the world of dreams: my successor, my student--the one known as Eve…

**********

--Origins, beginnings--

…The town is on fire.

Places where we played, where we laughed, they are burning, crumbling into ash. People--neighbors and family--scramble to put it out, to pull others free of the flames. Bodies line the street, every face one I recognize, I remember.

There is cheering and joy even in the midst of the chaos and damage. The enemy, Cortese, is defeated, his men scattered to the hills. We won--I won--and victory smolders impotently in my chest. It is my name the men chant in time to the thunder of drums. Only men could sing after such a day.

Amidst the dead, broken, so lifeless it churns my guts to look upon him, lies Lyceus. I look to his face for life, for a smile, but there is only death's stillness. I don't even try to blame the tears on smoke or ash.

And across the street is the cold, unforgiving face of my mother and the life I now leave behind…

Down in the empty square, Roman soldiers guide a large wagon to a stop outside a weathered, uninteresting warehouse. Two wide doors are opened and several other men leave the building and begin carefully unloading squat barrels that appear to be sealed with a strange wax. After sixty-four barrels have been safely removed, the wagon departs and the soldiers and men enter the warehouse, closing the doors behind them.

From Her position high atop a nearby aqueduct, She has watched it all. The strengthening winds flow through Her cape, Her hair, whipping them to the side in inky lashes. Her eyes narrow into slivers of blue trained at the warehouse. The tension in Her jaw threatens to shatter teeth by the feel of it.

She should be completing Her master's mission, yet She is here watching a building full of Roman soldiers, with anger pulsing through Her.

--Beginnings have always been so easy…

…The gauntlet--as I am passed along, from man to man, blows raining down, I realize that the emotion I am feeling should be betrayal. After all, these are my men. I raised them from the ranks of those I conquered. I led them from Thrace down through dry Arcadia and soon on into the Peloponesse. I gave them direction, purpose, discipline. And now these same men raise their hands against me, try to kill me? And in the name of whom? Darphus?

As I say, I should be feeling betrayal--and yet, all I am feeling is weariness. Exhaustion. Exhausted that a man's honor shrivels to nothingness before the promise of riches, of power. Tired that I have watched the same drama play itself out from one corner of the world to the other. Tired that even when I was most confident that I could avoid a similar fate, deep in my soul I knew I could not.

Steel, armor--swords are forged with hammer and fire, and such has it always been for me as well. At the end of this I shall be reborn--something new, something stronger, cooling at the edge of the fire…

The flow of water gurgles behind Her, snapping Her back to the now. Twigs, leaves, dead rats slosh by in the aqueduct, spilling across the city. She climbs down to a lower level and crouches in the shadows there. Across the square, three soldiers chat casually in front of the warehouse.

Another wagon enters the square and makes its way steadily to the building. As before, the soldiers begin unloading the sealed barrels and put them in the warehouse.

She stretches Her hearing out to them.

"--much of this do we have to handle?" one of them asks with irritation. "It's pretty dangerous, y'know?"

"Ya don't say?" Another responds with heavy sarcasm. "Yer a genius, Ferrius, no wonder you got assigned this job."

"Yeah? Well what's your excuse?"

"Shut up and unload," the third one says.

She stands, squinting at the men and their task. The wind blows a gust again.

--Beginnings have always been remarkably easy… Haven't they? Like spring born from winter's chill…

…I hear her out there, about twenty feet away crouching in the brush. She makes more noise just breathing than a whole troop of soldiers from Chin in full charge. How long can I let this go on? I should send her home. I should call her out and say: 'Look, Gabrielle, there is no way in Tartarus that I can be responsible for myself and some little farm girl. I don't have the time. I don't have the patience and most of all, I don't want you around. So just go home.'

So why don't I?

We're starting to put a lot of ground between here and her home. She shouldn't be out here. I'm heading into some pretty dangerous territory. That's the point, after all. That's what warriors do, right? That's not what farm girls, or bards, or whatever she says she is, do.

She's starting to sing to herself, for Hera's sake. Who does that when they're trying to hide? I have to end this.

I call her out. She eventually steps forward…

--I was gonna follow you, until you were in some jam. It's so cold out there, and I couldn't get a fire started. And the mosquitoes are as big as eagles.

Well, there might not be any harm letting her stay for the night…

--You know, I'm sending you home in the morning.

--I won't stay home. I don't belong there, Xena. I'm not the little girl that my parents wanted me to be. You wouldn't understand.

I guess I can sympathize.

--It's not easy proving you're a different person.

Better not let her get the wrong idea, though…

--You can sleep over there…

She's definitely leaving in the morning…

She dropped to the street, landing without a sound. Six strides got Her to the edge of the square and She watched the wagon leave, passing behind an abandoned building to the north. Two of the soldiers entered the building, while the last remained outside.

Meridian gave an anxious tremor upon Her back…

--And spring always follows winter, no matter how cold, how unforgiving…how impossible…

…The darkness weighs heavy here, pressing in through the eyes, as if after a long slumber. I am naked, cold. Steam peals from my skin and I see it rise from me as my vision adjusts in the twilight.

I do not know who I am, or where this is…

There is a word I wish to say, a name. Somehow I know if I do, things will be made clear…

--G-Gabrielle?

Two figures move in the darkness, shadows half-remembered--a man, a woman, a sister, a brother…

--I thought I told you to nix the memories, sis.

--That one isn't so easy…you knew that…

I hate being this confused. Even though things feel like they are returning to me, they hover unformed, just out of reach--faces in the dark.

I try the name again, for comfort if nothing else…

--Gabrielle…

And then I remember.

I need to stand, to get out of here, somehow. This is wrong, it is all so wrong…

--Do something!

And all is darkness again…

She frees Meridian from its scabbard and jogs across the square. She will hide behind the statue at its center before commencing this improvised strike She has undertaken. Crouching with Her back to the statue's base, She pauses to control Her breathing. She looks up at the sculpture--up into its face. A face She recognizes: first from another statue in the temple, where She fought the warrior woman, then…

…my legs are ruined. Iron spikes have pierced and shattered my feet. The bones in my ankles are smashed to splinters. I am nailed through my hands to this cross.

But what I hate most is that these are not the worst parts of me he has stolen or destroyed.

For that I curse myself.

He stands below me, looking up. Ironic, I suppose. I make sure not to whimper or show any sign of pain.

The cynical part of me wonders why I suddenly choose now to start denying him anything…

I keep repeating nonsense in my head, why?

…Beginnings have always been so easy… Like spring born from winter's chill… no matter how cold, how unforgiving…how impossible…no matter how far it takes me from who I am…

As I slip from consciousness I hear him laugh and think I will never be able to match his cruelty…especially by using my heart the way I do.

The pain in my arms, my legs waxes and wanes, eventually numbs to hard points of black space within me, empty and dead.

These are not the only places…

Standing slowly, She retreats, leaving the square in a quick sprint. Soon, She is upon the nearby rooftops, skimming along them to the northeast.

She is calm. She is resolute. She is surprisingly at peace.

Her master's task is the one She must focus upon. Her anger for Rome is best served by his plans, his will--it all makes sense to Her now. She need only do what it is he has asked. In the soft places within Her, She can feel the confusion leech away, wink out. She can feel it all grow cold and dark and hard.

Tonight, She will kill the Emperor Nero--or die in the attempt.

* * *
Continued...