PREFACE: This is the third installment in a series of loosely connected Science-Fiction stories set in a Roman-like setting. Though they can be read separately, it is recommended to read them in order. The first installment is here, in case you missed it. This story turned out longer than planned, so I had to split it. I’ll post the rest in January.
X.
Magic does not exist. Though there are those who would claim otherwise, what they call such is naught but the ravings of the lunatic, the cravings of the weak, and the dread of the craven. Others yet would name magic all which our reasoning cannot comprehend—be it the doings of nature. But then, would not the workings of our minds be magic as well? The profound hypocrisy of our kind never ceases to amaze me.
Such were my thoughts as I entered the establishment, apprehensive of so many eyes that would soon dissect me. There were countless stories of spells and wards cast about the brothels of San Sanea—to protect the ladies as much as their customers, but most of all to ensure privacy and secrecy. While I knew the rumors for the drivel they truly were, I had no doubt the Flammae did everything in their power to shield the sanctity of their nest.
It would not be easy to find the answers I sought.
I stood there and frowned as I considered the crowded room. Men were seated on comfortable couches, drinking and chatting with scantily-clad ladies. Not one of them looked at me.
Why I had assumed anyone would notice my presence—or, if indeed they did, make an issue of it—is beyond me. In retrospect, I realize I should not have worried. More important people than me were there—I recognized a few senators—and no one cared about anyone else than the one they were talking with.
“Eddo Silius. What a pleasant surprise.” I jumped and swung around. A young brunette with a charming smile and too little clothing stood before me. “Would you like something to drink? Or would you rather go straight to a room? I’d be happy to entertain you, if I am to your taste.”
I felt myself blush and shook my head.
“You misunderstand. I am not here for... Ah. Well, not for that.”
She quirked a brow as she studied me with a mocking smile.
“Indeed? What, then?”
“I am here for business.”
“Of course you are.”
“Not that kind of business! My kind.”
“Ah. Censor business.”
“Precisely.”
A lovely pout formed on her lips as she sighed and walked past me, letting her fingers brush against my arm.
“Pity,” she muttered.
I grabbed her wrist before she could move away.
“Hang on, girl. What’s your name?”
“Changed your mind, eddo?”
“Your name,” I repeated.
“It doesn’t matter here, love. You can call me anything you like.”
I was growing frustrated. How was I going to get any answers from this woman—let alone any of the others?
“Who is in charge here?” I asked.
She shrugged and waved toward a stage in the back where three naked women were dancing.
“That would be Fabia. No, silly, not the dancers.” She grabbed my chin and turned my head slightly to the right, where an older woman stood next to the stage. “There. That’s her. Don’t say I never did anything for you.” She blew me a kiss before slipping away.
I watched her go, then headed toward the matron. She must have sensed my approach, as she glanced at me appraisingly before turning her attention back to the dancing girls.
“What you want, censor?” she asked when I reached her and without looking at me.
“How do you—”
“—know you don’t want to get laid?” She snorted. Waved about. “It’s not like you can’t have your pick. And you rejected Sabina. She really likes you, you know. You could probably get her for free. More importantly, though, those who come to me usually have unusual requests. Or questions. I so dislike questions.”
“Why?”
“Because people usually expect an answer. And when I do have one to offer, it is rarely taken well. So I’d rather avoid questions altogether.” She glanced at me again. “So, what do you want?”
“I have a question.”
She grunted. “Of course you do. Let’s hear it, then, if we must.”
“Here?” I looked around. “Can’t we do this somewhere more private?”
Fabia laughed. “Want to get into my panties, sweetheart?”
I cringed. “I’m here on official business, lady, so could we cut down on the pleasantries?”
She sniffed. “Fine. Follow me.”
The woman turned and headed toward a door in the back.
“How many girls work here?” I asked as we walked down a dimly lit hall.
“Does it matter?”
“Not really.”
“Twenty-six at last count.”
Fabia stepped into a small room with red lighting. Mingled limbs danced on a nearby couch, which I steadily ignored.
“You have to count them?”
She shrugged as she crossed to another door and opened it.
“They come and go as befits their mood. It’s not like we’re holding anyone against their will. Some come back, some never do. It’s the way of things.”
“Seeking a thrill,” I muttered.
“Aren’t we all?”
The new room was an office. She ignored the desk and dropped onto a sofa instead, tapping the cushion next to her. Spotting a chair, I grabbed it, dragged it across from her, and sat. Fabia crossed her legs, seeming amused.
“So, how about you tell me what this is about, now that you’re all comfy and safe?”
The chair was hardly comfortable, and she was well aware of it. I shifted in the seat and looked into her eyes—I needed to see how she reacted to my words.
“We have been told, in no uncertain terms, that the Sadin Codex is here.”
Fabia laughed. I had not expected that.
“Are you serious?”
“Very.”
She shook her head. “I wish you’d told me sooner, it would have saved us both some time. I’m afraid you’ve been misled, honey. The book isn’t here.”
“Where, then?”
“How in Xen’s name would I know? It’s not my business to look after it.”
Despite her words and her confident attitude, I wondered why she hadn’t stood and left. If she was truthful, what was the point of dragging this on?
The thrill of the confrontation, perhaps.
Still...
“My source is reliable, Lady Fabia.”
“Is he now? Then tell me this, eddo. How would he know?”
That was a good question. One I wished I’d thought of asking the senator.
“I assume one of your girls serviced someone at the temple and a witness saw her take the Codex.”
“So you don’t know. Just as I thought.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “What matters is that you have the book and I need it back.”
“Have you considered that your so-called reliable source might have lied to you?”
“Why in Xen’s name would he have done that?”
She shrugged. “To discredit us? To drag you into an impossible mission? To divert your attention from another, more important matter? Or a bit of all that, perhaps.”
I crossed my arms and held her gaze. “The more you drag this on, lady, the more inclined I am to believe him and not you.”
“Oh. So I should cut this short, is that it? Fine.” She stood. “I guess we’re done here.”
“Not quite, lady.”
She just stood there, watching me, her expression unreadable.
“Give me back the book, and we’ll pretend the incident never happened. Don’t, and I’ll bring the full force of the Vigilēs down on you.”
The woman tensed.
“You wouldn’t dare!” she hissed.
She wasn’t wrong on that, as no one—least of all the consuls—would want to draw public attention to this mess. But I wasn’t about to admit it.
“Cross me, lady, and you’ll find out the hard way.”
The way I saw it, she had more to lose if I wasn’t bluffing. She might not risk much personally, but it could hurt her clientele, and that in turn would fall back on her.
She dropped onto the sofa with a grunt.
“I can’t give you the book, eddo Silius.”
I frowned. “Are you persisting with—”
“It’s gone. We don’t have it anymore.”
“Explain yourself.”
She sighed as she leaned back. “Did you think we took it for ourselves, censor? What would we do with it? We’d have no use for it. Besides, no one in their right mind would want to take it.”
“Then why did you?”
Fabia grimaced and looked away. “We were forced to do so.”
“Forced? By who?”
“Before I answer that,” she said as she looked back at me, “I want your word my girls will not be punished for their part in this farce.”
“Your girls only?”
She shrugged. “I was not directly involved and only found out about it after the fact.”
“And yet did not report it.”
“Arrest me if you must. I don’t care. But I want your word that—”
“You have it.”
“Alright.” She took a deep breath. “Octubra was threatened by a customer. Nothing physical. More like promises of unspeakable torments for both her and her loved ones if she did not obey. She is one of only two who have access to the book when they work at the temple. He used—”
“How did the man know this?”
“It’s not a secret. All the girls know. And I’m sure some have told their favorite customers.”
“And so she grabbed the Codex?”
“And gave it to the man, yes.”
“Who is this man?”
“His name,” she said, “is Avvus Hirtius.”
XI.
It was a fake name, of course. But Octubra gave me a detailed description of the man, which I promptly fed into our machines. We had records of our entire population. Something was bound to pop up. Unless, of course, he was from another town. Then I would have to reach out to my colleagues for assistance, and it would become a much longer and strenuous effort.
Luckily, Licius Arsus was a citizen of San Sanea and his name soon popped up on my screen. He was a perfect match.
As I read his file, I grew concerned.
The man had ties to one of the darkest societies of Satlanea. If the Cult of the Emerald God was involved, things could get ugly.
It made sense, though.
Members of the Cult believed Siis was the one and true god, that all others were a slight—if not a blasphemy. They were aggressive in their belief and vowed to eradicate all religions other than their own.
The Sadin Codex was an obvious enemy of their faith.
Religion, pah! Why anyone would believe in gods, I will never understand. If gods were real, would they not keep us safe and healthy? Some would argue they chose to curse us for some ages-old affront. But what would be the point when none of us can remember? If it was true, would they not leave our memories alone, so we could weep on our fate and beg for their mercy?
Besides, why should we worship the gods that cursed us? Answer me that.
No, I cannot believe in gods. I refuse to let them dictate my actions, and I despise being dragged into this sordid affair.
Regardless, I had little choice in the matter.
The suspect’s file had an address. Guessing Arsus might be dangerous, I decided not to go alone. Gaius Mantus agreed to lend me two of his men.
Together, we showed up at the fellow’s home. His servant let us in and took us to the atrium. The man sat there on a bench, leaning back on his hands and enjoying the light of the Glow shining through the glass ceiling.
He popped an eye open and studied us for a moment.
“Eddo Silius. What brings you to my humble home?”
“The Sadin Codex,” I said.
The man tensed but remained seated. He slowly straightened and swung his bare feet over the edge, letting them strike the marble floor.
“What about it?” he asked matter-of-factly.
The two Vigilēs spread out to my sides, and I saw Arsus eyeing them warily.
“We want it back. If it is returned within the day—whole and unsoiled—we will gladly pretend this unpleasant affair never happened.”
To his credit, Arsus did not try to deny his involvement. He remained quiet for a while, staring at the floor, hands clasped in front of him, elbows resting on his legs.
“I’m afraid that will not be possible,” he said blankly.
“The ‘within the day’ part or the ‘whole and unsoiled’ part?”
A slight smile formed on his lips as he turned his gaze upon me.
“It no longer is in my possession. Where it is now or what has been done to it is unknown to me. Nor do I care.”
“Are you a member of the Cult of the Emerald God?”
He shrugged. “What if I am?”
“You want the book destroyed, don’t you?”
Arsus grimaced. “You think you know us, but you do not. You have no idea what the truth is, all the things that have been hidden from us.”
“By whom? The government? I am the government, and I can tell you nothing is hidden from the people.”
That was not entirely true, I realized as I said it, but I was not about to admit this to a Cultist.
“Not by the government, you fool! By the gods.”
“Now you sound like a lunatic.”
Despite my words, I was uncomfortable. If he truly was a member of the Cult, he should only believe in Siis, so why talk of other gods as if they existed?
He snorted as he stood. The two Vigilēs closed in on him, but he made no further movement.
“Take me if you must,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. In the end, we shall prevail.”
“Where did you take the Codex? Who did you give it to?”
He remained silent.
I sighed. “Fine. Have it your way.” I nodded to the two men, and they each grabbed one of Arsus’ arms and led him out to the motorum.
Before leaving, I spoke with the servants and asked if they had noticed any unusual activities recently, but they denied it. I could not decide whether they were truthful or covering for their master.
We took the man to the Vigilium, where he was locked in a cell.
“What now?” asked one of the Vigilēs.
His name was Faustus Felius. A bulky fellow with short black hair and a thin mustache. I had worked with him a few times in the past and had enjoyed his company.
His friend, Manius Rullus, was a younger man—at least in appearance—whom I had never met before. His hair was silver with streaks of green, his indigo eyes glinting with mirth.
They both had decided to stick with me when they had learned I was going after the Cult of the Emerald God.
The three of us now sat in my office, drinking coffee.
“Now,” I said, “things get complicated. If the Codex is in the hands of the Cult, we must find the Cult, which is a challenge in itself.”
“Do you not have their members on record?” asked Rullus.
“Only suspected associates. True members don’t advertise their affiliation.”
“So we start with them.”
There were about a dozen names in our files with possible connections to the Cult. One was now in a cell, while most of the others seemed like upstanding citizens who contributed to society. Only three were proven troublemakers. And of those, one had disappeared some years ago.
Which left two.
I sifted through the documents in my archiver until I found the names I was looking for.
Marcus Antius was an antiquity dealer with a shop near the market house. His name had popped up in several investigations connected to the Cult, though no evidence had ever been found of his involvement and he, of course, had always denied knowing anything about them.
As a merchant, Nelius Malius often traveled to Drasea. He brought back various wares, including antiquities he sold to Antius. The northern region is known for making the best swords in all of Satlanea, and the man was the main provider of such weapons as well. This and his friendship with Antius were not enough to make him a suspect, but adding those to his staying at the antique dealer’s home each time the latter was investigated created a much more damning profile.
“Alright,” I said. “We have a lead. Let’s go.”
XII.
We found Antius at his shop, arguing with a woman over the price of a jar.
“You can’t be serious!” she cried out. “I have a dozen of these in my cellar. They’re the most common thing in the world. How can you call this an antiquity and sell it at such an outrageous price?”
“Then don’t buy it.”
“But one of mine broke!” she whined. “I need to replace it to store my olive oil.”
“Aha!” The man threw his arms in the air. “And there you have it.”
“What?”
“Well, you came to me, didn’t you? And why did you come to me? Because you can’t find this for sale anywhere else. Yes, yes, they are common enough in households all over Sanea—and possibly other regions—but when it comes to replacing one, who do people come to? Me! Because I’m the only one to have these—at least in such pristine shape. Rarity is what makes it so pricey.”
“But it’s not an antiquity!” she countered.
“Of course it is! How old do you think these are? Just because they are all over town doesn’t mean they’re not ancient. Do you remember buying yours?”
The woman scowled.
“Precisely my point! See? They are so old you can’t even remember where you bought them—assuming you ever did.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
The dealer shook his hands. “No, no, nothing like that. Just that you might have inherited them, for all you know. From your parents, or grandparents, if not even further back. I can promise these are quite old. I am an expert in such matters, after all. I have studied these things.”
That was when the woman spotted me. She brightened.
“Eddo Silius! Just the man I needed. Come! Look at these! Do you think the prices are fair?”
She hurried up to me, grabbed my arm, and dragged me to the counter.
The antique dealer frowned and crossed his arms, as if daring me to contradict him.
“I wouldn’t know, lady. I am no expert when it comes to antiquities, and—”
“But you are an expert in scams and criminal behavior, are you not?”
Antius’ face turned red as he started waving his hands at his would-be customer.
“Now look here, lady! I am an honest merchant, and I resent being called a criminal to my face. No one is forcing you to buy anything from me. I suggest you leave my establishment before I call the Vigilēs!”
I chose not to mention two of them were already here, standing behind me.
The woman took a haughty stance as she lifted her head and pursed her lips.
“You, domus, are a cad! Goodbye.” She nodded at me. “Censor.”
Then she was gone.
“A cad!” cried out the dealer. He pointed at the door through which the woman had left. “Did you hear that? She called me a cad!”
“That she did.”
“Where is the world going to, eddo, I ask you?”
I smiled. “I’m sure she’ll be back. She needs the jar, after all.”
He snorted. “I’d rather break them all into a thousand pieces than sell one to that shrew.”
“Well, be that as it may, I would have a word with you.”
“Of course. My apologies. What type of item are you looking for? I’m sure I can find something to your liking. Here, how about this set of decorated dishes? They are at the very least three thousand years old. A bit dusty, I admit, but that’s easy enough to fix. Or this lovely carpet from the mountains of Erbaram.”
“They make carpets in the mountains?” asked Rullus.
The dealer grinned. “Yes, yes, of course! The most wonderful ones, too. You’d be surprised. They have monasteries up there, you know. Dedicated to Thaan.” Antius grimaced as he mentioned the god’s name. “The monks are quite good with their hands. Look, they also made these wonderful fans. They make collars, too, and rings, and clothes, and—”
I thought it best to interrupt him.
“Please, domus. That is not what I came for.”
“No? Oh. Very well. What then? Some paintings? That could be—”
“Before I say why I’m here, I would ask you a question.”
“Of course, eddo.”
“A moment ago, you mentioned Thaan. I couldn’t help but notice your displeasure. Could you explain the reason for this?”
“Ah.” His eyes darted away from me as he fidgeted and went back behind his counter. “Well, I must have offended you if it is your god. I must make amends. Please, accept—”
“I am not offended. But I do want an answer to my question.”
He paused, his gaze still looking all around the room, as if searching for some way to escape.
“It is nothing, eddo. Just some bad experience, is all.”
“Bad experience?”
“Yes, yes. You know. Like that woman, that shrew! What nerve that one had. She would—”
“Why are you avoiding my question?”
“I am not!”
“Then look me in the eye and answer me.”
The man scowled. “What am I being accused of? I am a simple antique dealer. I have never done anything wrong in my entire life!” His eyes went wide. He stepped back and pointed a finger at me. “Oh, no! Oh no, no, no! I see where this is going. It’s about those crazies again.”
I quirked a brow. “Which crazies would that be?”
“Those ones from the Cult who worship that insane god of theirs, what’s his name?”
“Siis,” Felius said helpfully.
“That’s the one!”
I crossed my arms, keeping my eyes locked with the man’s.
“What of them?”
“You people keep thinking I’m with them, but I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I have nothing to do with those crazies! I would rather burn my store to the ground than deal with any of them!”
“Then why does your name keep popping up every time the Cult is involved in something fishy?”
“I knew it! It’s happening again! I can’t take this anymore. What am I supposed to say to keep you people off my back? How can I convince you?”
“Well, you could start by answering my questions. You still haven’t answered a single one of them.”
He grunted as he let himself fall into a chair. “Fine. Fine. I’ll answer. Ask your questions, then. Might as well get it over with.”
“Why does your name keep popping up in our investigations of the Cult?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s it?”
He shrugged. “That’s all I have.”
“Alright. Then tell me why such distaste of Thaan?”
“I distaste all gods, eddo. Even Siis, if that wasn’t clear. And even Xen.”
“That is unusual.”
He jumped back to his feet. “Yes, yes, it is! And that is the odd thing, don’t you think? Why should it be so unusual?” He waved his hands around. “What are we to be thankful to the gods for? What is so great about our lives? About not remembering a damn thing of our youth? Of the people we loved? Of those we’ve lost? And why can’t we die? Is that such a good thing? It doesn’t feel like it. And I’m supposed to be thankful? Well, I’m not, and that’s that.”
I stared at him, a bit stunned that he had so well voiced my own thoughts on the matter. I could not blame the man—certainly not for this. None of this meant he was innocent. It could be an act, of course. However, I was inclined to believe him. I was aware I had a bias because of our shared views on religion, but I didn’t care.
Still, I had a job to do.
“What can you tell me about the Cult of the Emerald God?”
“That they are crazies!”
“So you deny knowing anything about them or their activities?”
“How many times must I repeat it?”
I sighed. “Very well. Before we go, can you tell me where we can find your friend, Nelius Malius?”
He groaned. “Of course you’d ask about him! You always do, don’t you? Damn predictable, you lot. Well, I don’t know, so there you have it.”
“I thought you were friends?”
“Do you know where your friends are at every moment, eddo? No? I didn’t think so.”
He had a point.
“So he’s not staying at your place?”
“Not at the moment, no.”
“Very well. Thank you for your time, domus Antius.”
The three of us headed out.
XIII.
“He was good.”
I looked at Rullus. “What do you mean?”
“That act of his was almost convincing.”
“So, you think it was an act?”
“You don’t?”
“I don’t know,” said Felius. “The guy seemed harmless enough.”
“Appearances can be deceiving. Besides, I don’t like what he said about the gods.”
I pondered this for a moment. “But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Members of the Cult will do anything to blend in. They don’t want to stand out or draw attention. Yet Antius’ beliefs are far from the norm.”
“Maybe he’s a genius.”
“Maybe he is,” I reluctantly conceded.
“So what now?” asked Felius.
“We need to find Malius and hope he can lead us to the Cult.”
“And how are we going to do that?”
I thought about it as we got into the motorum.
“He’s an arms dealer—”
“That’s not at all concerning.”
“—so maybe we can track him down through the sales he makes.”
“Are they registered?”
“They should be. He runs a legitimate business, as far as I know. But we’ll have to drop by my office to access the data.”
I entered the coordinates, and the motorum headed off for the Praeneum.
XIV.
Theus Maximus was a retired senator... At least, that’s what everybody said. No one remembered those days—not even Maximus himself—but old curia documents had surfaced that mentioned some of his contributions to Satlanean society.
The man lived in a luxurious estate outside of San Sanea that had been spared by the flames. He enjoyed a life of quiet solitude in harmony with nature.
I had dealt with him a couple of times in the past and had found him kind, serene, and wise. I marveled at his ability to live so peacefully despite our people’s plight. When I once asked him about it, he had smiled and shrugged.
“What would you have me do? Cry and cower in fear? What use would that be? Would it change anything to our fate? I would rather enjoy what I have than mourn what I have lost.”
Though I could see the wisdom in his words, my mind refused to let go of this evil that had befallen us. My recent discoveries did not help alleviate my sorrow, quite the contrary. I wish I could be like him, but I can not.
“Why are we here?” asked Rullus as the motorum stopped in front of the villa.
“I recognize this place,” said Felius as he peered through the window. “It’s Theus Maximus’ home.”
“Correct,” I said as I stepped out.
All I had told the two Vigilēs was that I had found a new lead.
While looking up Antius’ sales history, I had noticed a detail that had previously eluded me. Our suspect had been a student of Maximus’ in the past. Under which circumstances I did not know, as there were no further details in the file. I had jotted down all the names and addresses we had come to get, but I suspected the former senator would be of greater help and decided to start with him.
We walked up to the door and rang.
A woman soon opened and motioned for us to step in.
“I wish to speak with enno Maximus, if he is willing.”
She took us to a waiting room as I spoke.
“Of course, eddo,” she said. “I shall inquire. Please wait here.”
We sat and waited.
After a long while, a young man came to fetch us.
“Please come with me. The master will receive you in the tablinum.”
It is strange how we still think of youth when there is no such thing among us anymore. The boy had likely lived a hundred years, if not more. Did that not make him old?
Still, I could not think of him as anything but a child because of his youthful face. I wondered if perhaps he had once been Maximus’ son. No lineage records remained. Though some knew brothers or sisters, none of us remembered our parents. Did they still live among us, as childless as we were parentless?
Not only are we a dying people, we are also an orphaned people.
We followed the boy to a larger room with comfortable couches and a low table in the center. Maximus stood and came to greet us with a smile.
The man was tall, with short black hair that had been graying for a thousand years or more. He had a square jaw and piercing blue eyes. His tunic was made of blue silk. The sleeves were embroidered with a stylized ‘Q’ which had always puzzled me. I had never asked about it, as I always assumed he would not know its origin.
“Eddo Silius! It is always a pleasure to see you.” He clasped my shoulder. “Apologies for the delay. I am ashamed to admit I was asleep. But please, come! Sit! Your friends are welcome to join us, of course.”
He motioned toward the cushioned seats in which we settled with gratitude.
“It should be me apologizing,” I said. “For waking you.”
Maximus made a dismissive gesture. “Nonsense! I should not be sleeping in the middle of the afternoon. It serves me right, if anything. In fact, you did me a service, so I thank you for your timely arrival.”
The woman who had met us at the door came in with a tray that she set down on the table. It had a jar—much like the one at Antius’ shop—, four silver cups, and a plate of cookies.
Maximus himself bent down to serve us—which did not surprise me but stunned the two Vigilēs speechless.
“So,” he said as he worked the jar, “what owes me the pleasure of your visit?”
“Business, I’m afraid.”
He chuckled. “It is always business with you, eddo, is it not?”
I smiled apologetically. “We are looking for a man you once knew. Nelius Malius.”
Maximus frowned as he grabbed two cups, stood, and handed them to the Vigilēs. Felius and Rullus took them in awed silence.
“Nelius. Yes. Of course I remember him. Pity what happened to him.”
“How do you mean?” I asked as our host gave me my cup and sat back down with his.
“He married a Drasean woman... What was her name? Athinea, I believe. Yes, that was it. Athinea. Beautiful lady. He brought her here a couple of times. What no one knew—not even Nelius—was that she belonged to the Cult of the Emerald God.”
I nearly choked on my drink—which would have been a shame, as it was a delicious strawberry-flavored nectar.
“Come again?”
“Oh yes. A priestess, even. When Nelius found out, he was not too pleased. They argued. But she... persuaded him. I suppose love blinded him to an extent.”
“Persuaded him? You mean, he became a Cultist?”
“I believe so, though we never discussed it. I saw little of him at the time. But then tragedy struck when his wife was beheaded by a band of rovers. She came back, of course, but she no longer was the same. She rejected Nelius and disappeared. I don’t think he ever recovered.”
“Have you seen him again since?”
“Oh yes. He still visits me often.”
“Do you know where we can find him now?”
Maximus set his cup down and looked at me.
“What is this about, eddo?”
So I told him of the stolen Sadin Codex and how my investigation had led to him.
“This is not about your friend,” I concluded. “I only hope he can help me find the Cult.”
“Assuming he can, I am not sure he would be inclined to do so. Besides...” He glanced at the two Vigilēs, then back at me. “Have you considered how many men you would be up against?”
I had tried not to think about that and resented him mentioning it. He must have read my expression, because he leaned back with a sad smile.
“Very well, eddo. I shall arrange a meeting.”
I straightened in my seat.
“So, you are in contact with him?”
He stood. “I will ask him to come here. You are welcome to stay in my villa until he arrives. But I must warn you, I will not tolerate any violence under my roof.” He glanced at the Vigilēs. “Is this understood?”
The two men jumped to their feet and nodded.
“Of course, enno,” they said in one voice.
“Splendid. Flavius will show you to your rooms.”
XV.
Nelius Malius was a skinny man with a balding head and a sickly demeanor. He constantly bobbed his head as Maximus introduced us and explained my mission.
The wait had not been long. A little over twenty-four hours. I had considered going back to San Sanea, but no one knew when our man would show up, and I did not want to be away when he did. Part of me worried he would run when he found out I was after him.
Instead, he just bobbed his head and stared at me.
After a moment, he clicked his tongue and scratched his neck.
“I will help you,” he said. “I will show you where the Cult is hiding out. I will take you into their lair. You. Not them.” He bobbed his head toward the Vigilēs.
The two men tensed.
“I don’t like this, eddo,” said Felius. “It smells like a trap.”
Malius shrugged bonelessly. “It is not. If I bring too many strangers in, it would raise suspicion. Besides, you will be busy elsewhere.”
“We will?” asked Rullus, sounding confused.
The arms dealer bobbed his head. “If you want to stop the Cult, you will need more men. The three of you will not be enough. You will need many more. You must fetch them and lead them to the place I will tell you.”
I cleared my throat.
“Domus Malius. While I appreciate all this help you are offering, I must confess my surprise. I had not expected this. May I ask why you are doing it?”
He bowed his head and stared at the floor, looking like an exhausted man who had carried a heavy burden for far too long.
“I once was married to a woman,” he finally said without meeting my gaze. “She was the one who drew me into the Cult, much to my shame. I did not believe in the things they believed in, nor did I approve of the things they did, but I condoned them all the same out of love.” He sighed a weary sigh. “Then she died. It was not the first time she died—nor was it the last. The truth is, she had died many, many times before.” He looked up and into my eyes. “I believe all the Cultists have. Way too many times. You know what that does to your mind, don’t you eddo? Of course you do. I can see it in your eyes. We all know. How could we not? Death does not kill us, but it kills us all the same. Inside. Little by little. It chips at our soul until it becomes so brittle anything can make it crumble to pieces. And then... Well, then, there would not be much left of a soul, would there?”
He looked away, quiet for a moment. None of us dared break the silence. I suspect we all had much on our minds. His words could only revive old pains. Pains we all live with but bury deep to avoid them turning our lives—or what is left of them—into agonizing nightmares.
I looked at Maximus and read a great sadness in his eyes, the likes of which I doubt I had ever witnessed before. Did he think of those days he could not remember? Of the life he once had? Of the family he knew nothing of? Those thoughts were my own, that much I know.
“She always was damaged,” Malius said softly as he bobbed his head. “I knew that. We all are, after all. But that beheading took another, perhaps larger chunk of her soul. She grew colder, more distant, more cruel. She cast me away like I was stinking trash she could no longer stand... And perhaps I was.” He laughed a sorrowful laugh. “You know what the irony is? It drew me deeper into the Cult. Because...” He grimaced and straightened in his seat. “Because I couldn’t accept that she rejected me as she did. And, I suppose, part of me hoped I could save her. Ha! Save her! Me? I’m even more broken than she is. In a different way, granted, but still.” A sigh. “I never saw her again, but I remained a servant of the Cult.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, trying hard to keep my voice from quivering. “And now, you believe she is beyond redemption?”
He frowned. “No. I cannot believe that. I must hang on to hope. If there is no hope, then what do we have left? Madness?”
“Then why help us?”
“The Cult must be stopped. It has become too big of a threat. And Athinea must be extricated from that cesspool. Only then might I be able to save her.”
“So we shall help each other,” I said. “Very well.”
We spent the next two days making arrangements.
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Text (c) 2023 by Alex S. Garcia.
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