"An allosaurus," Calvus agreed. They were both looking across the courtyard. The fresh scarring near the gate was evident even in twilight. "The dragon is an allosaurus, that is."
"Umm," the agent grunted, accepting the datum. Hydra, chimaira, allosaurus ... it didn't much matter. After a moment he said, "Blazes, I wonder if there's some truth in the old stories after all. Hercules and women turning into trees and everything? Well, we'll handle it, however things shape up."
The door swung open again. Both faced around quickly. The agent took a half step to see past Calvus. Sabellia stepped out. Her eyes were reddened but dry. "Our gear's in with the animals," she said, nodding to the block of stables. Four more doors were barred shut than had been when the party looked in from the hillside. "I'll get a meal together. Those - others were just boiling porridge."
"Right, I'll give you a hand," said the agent. He looked away from Sabellia as he spoke. "Need to see to the horses, too, it seems." They began walking toward the stables in parallel, though they were not precisely in concert.
"I was raised to believe in an ordered, understandable universe, Aulus Perennius," Calvus called after the agent. "I think that I am coming to believe in heroes as well."
CHAPTER THIRTY
"Blazes, this is going to be awkward," said Gaius as he held up the mesh gauntlet. Even with the fireplace niche stoked high, the lighting of the common room was more an occasional absence of shadow than good working illumination. The room's volume and blackened stone saw to that.
"I'm coming too," said Sabellia. She did not raise her head or her voice.
"Awkward, but the only thing I see working with that many of them, Guardians, and the way the land lies," Perennius said with a shrug. He lifted the facemask from one of the sets of parade armor.
"Listen, there's three horses!" the red-haired woman said loudly. "You're not going to leave me here!"
"You stay here, like you've been told," Perennius said. Sabellia's mouth opened for a retort. The agent overrode it, shouting, "There aren't three bloody sets of armor, are there? Just what the hell good do you figure to do getting wasted the first time they shoot? You didn't see what that does to a man. Believe me, it's quick and it's final, just as final as it comes."
The woman's set look gave way to dejection though not despair. "Oh, I know, Aulus," she said softly. "It's just ... there's another of the gang there, you say, the ones who killed Quintus. I - I'd like that one. God, I wish you'd brought another suit of this. God I do."
"You don't know what it took to get just these," the agent remarked. He held the mask to his face where it covered his judicious expression. The difficulty had been less the intrinsic value of the parade armor than the question of how the prefect would report the loss of the armor to his superiors. The masks were cast of bronze to a pattern of plump-featured male beauty, then silvered for dazzling effect. The back-piece laced to each mask covered the rest of the wearer's head. Because the back-pieces were of brass rather than bronze, they could be polished to a sheen that the sun would turn golden.
For present purposes, the look of the armor was not as significant as the fact that the ensemble cased the whole head of the person wearing it. There were two tiny holes for the pupils of the eyes, and an air passage replacing the nostrils and septum of the large, hooked nose. Calvus had said that the mask might work, but at no point should metal touch the wearer's skin.
"Here, give me that," Sabellia said. She had already trimmed backing pads for one set of greaves. Now she whet her knife, using spittle and the stone that was a part of Perennius' baggage even when he was travelling light. The greaves were silvered also. The low-relief figures of Mars and Goddess Rome on them were parcel gilt to set them off. The prefect had parted with them and the helmets only for an equal weight of solid silver from the pirates' loot. Perennius did not know whether the man planned to use part of the massive bribe to square his superiors in Palmyra, or whether he simply intended to desert and keep the whole amount for himself.
Sabellia began cutting deftly at the piece of hide. The agent's own attempt had been too small to cover the interior of the mask. The blank Perennius had cut did not allow enough overage to fill the mask's face-following concavity. Sabellia trimmed with only an occasional glance at the arrogant metal visage turned up beside her.
It struck Perennius how unusual the group was in its attitude toward the valuables to which they had fallen heir on the bloody strand. The agent had promptly appropriated the wealth to the purposes of the mission. It had not even occurred to him to do otherwise. Gaius had accepted that without comment, both because his protector had so decided and because his own longings were
toward a sort of heroic glory which had little to do with wealth.
Sestius had been after the security which grew from land and family. The centurion would not have been averse to abandoning the mission and dividing the bullion, but he was too good a soldier to press for that; and anyway, wealth was not his first priority. Sestius had gotten another kind of security, but that had been awaiting him in any event—on his farm or wherever his choices took him. Sabellia's hopes might have been directed prosaically on her man, or at some higher spiritual plane on the religion which she had emphasized only when they entered the valley of cultists. Perennius was inclined to doubt that the woman was as simple as either of those focuses would imply; but whatever was in her secret heart, it was not a love of wealth for itself.
And Calvus. In this at least, Perennius thought he saw himself in the tall woman. Objects and occurrences were good or bad depending on how they affected the success of the mission.
But as surely as Perennius recognized that, he recognized that a more human side was developing in the woman's character. Just as he knew it was appearing in his own. "Blazes," he muttered. His three companions looked at him. Calvus was smiling.
The footsteps up the stairs were quiet, but they would have awakened Perennius even if he had been able to get to sleep. They paused.
"Come on up," the agent called. He did not turn his head.
"I thought you must be asleep," Sabellia said as she walked out onto the top floor of the watch tower.
Perennius was wrapped in his cloak with his back to one wall of the parapet. The high curtain of clouds had thinned enough that the moon was a noticeable glow in the heavens. There were no stars. The agent shook back his cowl when Sabellia settled carefully on the dewy stones beside him.
"Thought it might be a good place to get some sleep tonight," Perennius said. He looked at the woman, then motioned around the tower with his eyes. "Reminds me too much of back when I was a kid on guard duty, though. I just dozed, waiting for Franks to hit the palisade."
The cloak Sabellia wore was the one a pirate had given her while she gathered herbs and poison. The brown wool was the same soft shade as her hair, since the light was too faint to show colors. "It's going to be dangerous tomorrow," the woman said. Her sandals peeked out beneath the hem of the cloak. Her hands kept the garment tight about the rest of her body.
Perennius shrugged. "It's always dangerous," he said. He met her eyes and added, "I'm sorry about Quintus. I - wouldn't have had it happen that way if I'd planned a little better."
"I think he wanted to do something himself," the woman said, letting her eyes drift up toward the empty sky. "He was jealous, you know."
"Listen," the agent said. The statement had touched a sore point. "I may not be the best damned leader going, but I am in charge. I don't expect a lot of crap from centurions under me!"
"I don't mean that, Aulus Perennius," Sabellia said.