Amazonia

  The Eagle Gate became a tunnel underneath the stands above, with stone arches at regular intervals until it reached the end, where twenty or so soldiers were waiting. They wore armor of gold-washed plate with a steel helm and bore red shields with a silver boss in the center. “Imperial guards,” Titan remarked, sounding intrigued. “Someone definitely wants to make sure we make it out of the city alive.”

  As they reached the exit, a young soldier with a gold washed helm barked an order and the soldiers came to attention. “Reaver Knight Amazonia, noble Titan,” he called out in a cultured voice, “I am Captain Gallus Bruttia of the Golden Eagles, here to escort you to the Caravan House north of the city.”

  “Noble captain,” Titan rumbled, “honor to you and men. Curiosity to whereabouts of Lord Paulus’s son.”

  The captain’s eyes widened, and Amazonia suppressed a chuckle. I’ll bet he’s never heard an Ogri speak Roma before. “Apologies,” the captain said after a moment’s hesitation. “No knowledge given, only orders to escort group to destination.”

  “Then the sooner we get going,” Amazonia said as she moved forward, “the faster we’ll get answers. How do you want to do this?”

  The captain arranged his soldiers around the group so they were protected by a ring of steel, then fell in beside Amazonia before giving the order to march. The area in front of the coliseum had the bronze statue of a curly bearded, long dead emperor in gladiator armor, a sword in one hand and a man’s decapitated head in the other. The now green statue was covered in layers of bird droppings. As they passed it, heading towards the intersection with the road leading north, Captain Gallus remarked, “Did you know that statue is of Emperor Cromodius of old Etrusca, who used to fight in the arena himself?”

  Amazonia nodded. “Lord Paulus said his gladiator name was ‘Crom the Mighty’. I’ve often wondered why no one’s bothered to clean the bird crap off his statue as they do with all the others.”

  Titan rumbled, “Perhaps it’s because Cromodius started the process leading to the breakup of the old empire. Power resides in whoever the people believe firmly holds it, and by lowering himself to the level of a slave, even though it made him wildly popular among the common folk, he debased the position he held. That, and letting the creeping corruption of the old empire run rampant so he could finance the games he held.”

  As they left the statue behind, Gallus remarked, “Noble Titan, I am surprised you know so much about our history. I always thought Ogri… more interested in their own affairs, than with ours.”

  Titan chuckled. “Country oafs with steppe corn hay in their hair,” he said, his words sliding into refinement as he began using the nobler form of Greco. “In truth, you are not far off the mark as the few Ogri who hire on as caravan guards are outcasts from our people. The Ogri living on the plateau known as the ‘Roof of the World’, are well educated and quite interested in the affairs of others.”

  Amazonia could see the question forming on the young captain’s face, and before he embarrassed himself by probing into Titan’s past, which he’d never shared with anyone, including her, she said, “Titan’s exceptional for an Ogri, both on the sands and off.” Az gave Captain Gallus a broad wink, making the young nobleman blush, and she grinned. “Enough about him. Do you like the games?” At his enthusiastic reply, she asked, “Now that all of us are out of the running, who do you think will be able to fill our sandals?”

  “No one could ever fill your sandals,” Gallus replied, “but I think Waldheim the Wicked is the best…”

  Titan gave her a grateful smile as the young man burbled on, Amazonia feigning interest with a few encouraging words as they reached the intersection and took the road heading north. It was an old game to her, a trick she’d learned from Dancer, when Lord Paulus had first been approached by a young nobleman who wanted to be her bed-slave for the night. Amazonia had been a gladiator and a champion, yet she was still a slave who wore the enchanted collar, and bruising a nobleman’s fragile ego came with a cost.

  However, most men loved to talk about themselves, and letting them do so gave Az a chance to get a feel for what they wanted. Some men wanted to be desired, some overpowered, and some, like Antonius, just wanted to be dominated, which Amazonia was more than happy to do. A whore’s skills… and yet, all slaves were whores in one form or another, if they wanted to stay alive.

  Dancer, who was interested in the games, deftly took over the conversation as the soldiers marched them along the paved road, the people on foot or riding sturdy horse-lizards scurrying to get out of the way. Even nobles in carriages drawn by brightly plumed runner-birds moved aside, pointing at Titan who pointedly ignored their stares. The buildings on either side were stone overlaid with white marble, the bottom level shops catering to the upper classes while the upper floors held apartments of those with the money to afford them. Graceful statues watched with sightless eyes as they passed.

  The shore of the Inner Sea, which met the Great Sea at the southernmost tip of the city, extended northward as well, curving inward with the great wall following until it reached the road, leaving the buildings on their right behind as the road and the wall continued side by side. The statues were gone as was most of the white marble, but the buildings were solid, coated with stucco molded into artistic shapes like the grape vines decorating the wine shop they were passing. The grapes were painted reddish-purple and seemed ready to be plucked.

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  Dancer began describing their last bout in the arena, with Troll and the Nomads also making comments, and Captain Gallus forgot their difference in status as he hung on their every word. Amazonia drifted back to where Fox brought up the rear. “Domina,” she said in a quiet voice, “he seems too young to be an officer of the Imperial guard.”

  “I’m guessing his family bought him an officer’s commission,” Az replied, equally quiet. “If Emperor Konstan institutes the reforms Lord Paulus talked about, I’m also guessing he’s going to be out on his arse in a year’s time.”

  The soldier marching close beside them muttered, “From your lips to Jupiter’s ears.”

  Amazonia glanced at him. He marched with a firm gait, but Az could see grey mixed into his dark hair and a jagged scar on his cheek. Bells of Hades, I wonder if any of us will even be alive in a year’s time.

  After a time, stucco gave way to bare stone as they approached the inner wall of the city and the north gate, decorated in carved images of grapes and rows of bushes bearing steppe corn. The statue of a bearded man with a scroll loomed over the gate’s arch, with words carved into the wall above it. Amazonia recognized the script as Roma but had no idea what the words meant.

  As they approached the gate, a soldier on the wall above sounded a trumpet blast. At once, the gate guards began herding people away from the opening as those on the other side prevented anyone from entering, clearing the passage as their company strode through to the other side. Ahead of her, Troll chuckled. “I could get used to this.”

  “Once we leave the city,” Dancer replied, “the next gate we enter will probably have archers on it, all of them raining arrows down at us.”

  “Oh, aren’t you filled with sunshine and joy.”

  Amazonia and the rest of her Chaldean’s grimly chuckled, Gallus smiling uncertainly as they reached the wooden bridge over the channel cut to let the inner and the great sea flow around the city like a moat. Az wrinkled her nose at the smell of rotting seaweed. Then she blinked. Beyond the bridge, to either side of the road were row after row of short trees in full bloom, their white blossoms covering the branches like snow. Az realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it. “What in Hades’ name…”

  “An orchard, unless I miss my guess,” Titan said in a dry voice.

  Captain Gallus glanced back with a puzzled expression. “Mountain breadfruit trees, which Emperor Konstan ordered planted back when he was the general in charge of the old empire’s eastern provinces. He wanted the city to have its own sources of food in case of a siege.”

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense to have the orchard outside the walls?” Titan motioned towards the outer wall ahead of them. “Should an enemy take your first line of defense, they’ll be able to hide among the trees and avoid your archers.”

  Captain Gallus puffed out his chest. “Our emperor has already thought of that. There’s an alchemical powder which is spread over the area after the fall harvest, which helps the trees grow faster, but also reacts violently with banefire. The city has catapults on the inner walls, and should a siege be imminent, casks of the stuff will be delivered to each one.”

  Titan was nodding. “Wait until the enemy has moved his forces past the outer wall, then unleash the fires of the sun. I’m impressed.”

  Captain Gallus beamed like a schoolboy as they left the bridge behind them, the stink of rotting seaweed replaced by a flowery scent. Troll, glancing back with a head motion towards the young man, rolled his eyes. Az gave him a quick grin that the Gaul mirrored before both schooled their faces once more. Dancer’s face took on a wistful expression as he breathed deep of the air. “It’s hard to believe something as beautiful as these trees in blossom could also be so deadly.”

  One of the Nomads said, “There is a snake in the Khitian wastes…

  “Beautiful as a jeweled necklace,” the other Nomad said, “with a bite so deadly…

  “That a man bitten will only take three steps…

  “Before he begins to convulse and die.”

  “Which is exactly the place we’re going,” Troll grumbled. “I can hardly wait.” Both Nomads smiled mysteriously as they continued onward.

  The outer wall stood higher than the others, it’s gate even wider with more guards and scenes of battle carved into the stone. Again, a soldier on the wall gave out a trumpet blast and the guards moved the people, dressed in homespun clothing or modest tunics and dresses, aside to let them pass.

  On the other side, there was a clear area an arrow’s flight from the walls before the buildings began again, inns and wine shops and other services travelers might need before entering or leaving the city, the wooden signs above their doors showing images of cups or beds or a smith’s anvil, and many more. Quite a few had busty women holding tankards or more slender ones holding wine cups. “You’ve got a lot of taverns out here,” Amazonia said, pointing at a sign with a woman holding a foaming tankard in each hand. “Do people prefer to do their drinking outside the city?”

  Captain Gallus hesitated. “That is a brothel,” he finally said, cheeks reddening as his eyes looked down towards the paving stones. “One of Emperor Konstan’s first decrees was to close such establishments inside the city, as a way of improving the populace’s morals.”

  “He did it as a favor for the provincial governor’s support during the rebellion,” Fox said. Captain Gallus looked back at her and Fox’s expression turned sardonic. “Brothels bring in a lot of revenue, which the governor now collects, while the emperor gained favor with the stuffier of the nobility. The brothel owners sold their buildings to the rich men fleeing from the chaos that the old empire’s become, rebuilt here, and brought in new business the governor profits from, which in turn reinforces his loyalty to the emperor. The Imperial government turns a blind eye and everyone remains happy.”

  Amazonia arched her eyebrows as she glanced down at Fox. “How do you know all this?”

  “Domina, the Caravan House where we’re going is the most upscale brothel in the Eastern Empire, and I used to serve its owner before serving Lady Jhadra.”

  “A brothel?” Titan’s eyes narrowed as a dangerous edge entered his voice. “Does emperor mean to give insult?”