Barbarian's Soul (28 page)

Linus pressed his lips together. He was still learning the rules, spoken and unspoken of the gang. Often, his mother had said, the most valuable information you need regarding your foe was found in silence. And it was true, he thought as he assessed the older boy.

Minos was the leader of the gang. His bearing and carriage made that perfectly clear, if not the immediate deference shown him by the other boys. He was thin, wiry and had no small number of scars—clear evidence of his survival skills. In the short time since he’d been approached by the group, Linus had seen Minos cut off the end of a delinquent loan holder’s nose, beat a beggar half to death for daring to ask him for alms and set fire to a basket merchant’s stock of reeds.

But it was Minos’ eyes that unnerved Linus. He’d grown up around gladiators and seen death plenty of times, but the flat, emotionless, cold blankness in Minos’ blue eyes never failed to send a shiver down his spine.

Linus forced himself to meet Minos’ gaze. “I’ve shown my prowess in a fight, my skill with my knife. I am ready to join the brotherhood.”

Minos’ smile was as cold as his eyes. “All in good time,” he said in a voice that reminded Linus of a slithering snake. “When you are a
Vipera
, you become one with the brothers. You eat, sleep, fight and die with your brothers.”

Linus swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “I am ready to do so.”

Minos eased just a hair closer but it felt as if he were looming over Linus. “Then where do you go when you leave? Where do you stay?”

Tread carefully. “I stay nowhere. I sleep where I find a dry place.”

Minos eyes did not change. “Do you have family?”

A heavy weight fell in Linus’ stomach. He was not so stupid as to admit to having siblings. Keeping his features carefully neutral he answered, “No. My family is dead.”

Linus did not lower his gaze as Minos took his time to consider his answer. He’d been very cautious that no one followed him back to the house. Cyma and Julian were no one’s business but his and he would protect them at all costs. While Bran may not relish Linus’ presence, Linus was sharp enough to realize that his brother and sister were safer in his house than the streets.

Another few minutes passed under the boy’s intense scrutiny. A test, Linus knew, and one that he evidently passed when Minos spoke at last. “You have potential, boy. Aid us in our quest and you could well see the completion of the
Vipera
mark.”

Linus rubbed his sore shoulder. “What quest?”

Minos signaled Linus to walk with him and the other
Vipera
melted back into the shadows. “An associate has put out the call for a missing person. There is a bounty of one hundred
sestarces
and ten full
amphorae
of wine for her return to Tiege, the thief who rules the fourteenth.”

Linus pushed himself to keep pace with the leader. “Is she a runaway slave?”

Minos laughed as he kicked at a mongrel pup. “No, she is a thief.”

Linus’ steps faltered. He scurried to catch up, ignored Minos’ irritated glare. “A...a thief?”

Minos nodded once. “Yes, a thief.”

“Did she steal something from this Tiege?” Linus managed to ask through a suddenly dry throat.

Minos gave a harsh laugh. “Only his pride, which is more valuable than gold to the prick. For certain, I wouldn’t want to be in the bitch’s place. Nobody crosses Tiege and dies an easy death.”

Linus nodded mutely and prayed that he wouldn’t throw up.

Chapter Seventeen

“W
hy?”

Adria hid a smile at the simple question. Oh, there was still iron in Bran’s tone and the arrogance which was such a natural part of him was still present, but it wasn’t the overbearing manner that he’d used when he’d captured her.

Captured. Oh, the brute had captured her in more ways than she’d ever thought possible. She valued her independence but there was no way to deny that the scowling barbarian in front of her had captured her heart.

Which was why she had to leave.

She had to see if anything remained of her former life, to convince herself Miriam and her family were settled. She had to find a way to dissuade Linus from the ruinous path he was on, to protect the family he cherished—the one that
she
cherished—and the only way to do so was to go back to the streets.

“It would be for only a short while,” she assured him, rubbing her hand along the muscled arm propped on his work table. Her soothing gesture was met with a heated look that caused a curl of warmth in her own belly. “I’ll return before sunset.”

“The answer is no,” Bran said, picking up a small mallet and an even smaller chisel. “It is not safe for you in the streets.”

What a ridiculously touching thing to say. “You forget the streets are my home. I could travel from here to the Aventine with my eyes covered and never take a misstep.”

“I’ve told you no,” he replied. With short, quick, light strokes he carved a long, flowing line along the edge of a gold pendant. He held the piece up to the light and studied it with a critical eye.

“I am still a prisoner then,” she said, willing herself to keep disappointment from her voice. “I’d thought perhaps we had...” What? Begun to trust each other? “...we had moved past that.” Bran did not respond, moving Adria to lean against the door and rethink her strategy. She had to check on Miriam and the children, see if she could find out if Tiege had moved on with his decrepit life. To stop Linus from making the biggest mistake of his young life. She could not do it from within these walls.

Long moments passed with only the sound of Cyclops chewing her cud.

“Where do you go, and to what purpose?”

Adria chafed a bit. She’d not answered to anyone for years and she didn’t feel the need to do so now. But how could she answer that she needed to find out how involved Linus was with a gang of cutthroats? She decided on a half-truth. “I wish to see how my foster mother and her family are faring. I’ve never been away as long as I have these past weeks.” She glanced away. “I often brought them foodstuffs.”

Bran glanced at her. “This woman. She is your family?”

Adria gave a short nod. “She took me in when I was young and alone. She saved me from...” She’d never given voice to what Miriam had done for her.

“From what,
agara
?” asked Bran softly.

Images of her mother’s cousin laying hands on her, gauging her young body’s worth flashed through her mind. There had been men there, leering at her, making crude comments. Emotion clogged her throat. She raised her eyes to Bran. “The ugly side of Rome.”

Understanding flashed across Bran’s face, saving her from sharing the details. Adria gripped her middle, unwilling to allow the unbidden tears to start, for she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop crying if she did.

Bran laid down his tools. “Then you must do so.”

Adria straightened, astonished. But her elation slipped with his next words.

“I will accompany you.”

Damnation. She just managed to paste a smile on her face before Bran turned to look at her. “But the children...”

“Cyma and Julian will be well. Menw will see to their needs and—” He shook his head. “—Gods know where Linus is off to.”

Having the head of an asp burned into his flesh? Adria sent up a silent prayer. Once the
stigma
was completed Linus would be considered a full member of the gang. And in the
Vipera’s
eyes once a member, always a member. No one left the gang—alive. “We will be traveling into the center of Rome,” she cautioned. “You do recall you do not care for Rome.”

Bran gave her a sardonic smile. “Rome is a cesspool,” he agreed. “But for certain people,” his gaze softened as he looked at her. “I would tolerate the experience.”

Adria’s heart clutched at the tenderness in his voice. How she wished she could blurt out the true reasons for venturing out, have Bran take the situation in hand, rescue Linus and make it all right. But that was not going to happen. If Linus and Bran were to reconcile it had to occur by their own choices. She could only hope to steer them toward each other. There was precious little time and she could not afford to waste it arguing with Bran.

“As you will,” she answered, rolling her eyes at his expression that indicated he held no doubt the world revolved at said will. “I would leave before the noon meal.”

“Such urgency? It has been near to four weeks. Surely a few more hours cannot matter.”

Every moment mattered, she thought bleakly. “Please, Bran. I need to check on them.” Check on Linus.

She only hoped she would not be too late.

*****

Two hours later they were finally on their way. Adria had thought she might burst into a thousand pieces waiting for Bran to finish his noon meal. But she’d bitten her tongue and bided her time, lest her eagerness arouse suspicions.

Bran said very little as they walked, surprised her with a teasing commentary about a fruit merchant with a trained monkey. Adria gave him a weak smile and pulled the edge of her veil to cover her face. The monkey let out a screech as they passed. She shot an anxious look over her shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief when the animal, ignoring them, scampered on his leash to snatch a piece of melon.

Talking was near to impossible when they entered the Forum, the bustle and noise of the crowds swallowed any conversing they might do. Despite all the activity they drew a fair share of attention. Adria could see the speculation, the question, the wariness in the eyes of passersby at the unusual duo—a well-dressed Roman lady and the forbidding-looking barbarian. If they only knew that beneath the fine clothes was a girl as plebian as themselves.

She inhaled the sharp, bitter air, glanced at the raw sewage puddled along the side of the street. The scent of spices, rotting food and sweating people assailed her senses. The crush of people set her nerves on edge. What was wrong with her? This was her home, she lived among this chaos. But now she thought she might scream if one more person brushed against her arm.

“Bollocks,” she muttered under her breath, garnering a raised brow from Bran. She pulled the smothering veil out of the way, sent him a stiff smile, then glared at the knot of people blocking the shortcut to her district. She recognized the intersection. Two streets to the west and one would be in the heart of the
Vipera’s
domain. It was very close to Tiege’s and she knew the master thief used the vicious gang for some of his dirty work. A sinking sensation went through her. Dear Gods, how could she have forgotten the connection? Linus was in even graver danger than she realized. She craned her neck to see if she could locate the source of the jam.

“Isn’t he magnificent,” purred a cultured voice to Adria’s left.

She turned and looked at the two patrician women seated side by side in sedan chairs. They were ogling Bran and giggling behind bejeweled hands.

“I wonder at the price for such a fine specimen?” asked the older one. Old because the face powder sank into the deep creases that lined her haughty face.

“I don’t know,” giggled the second woman, reaching a hand out to stroke the curled hair of her handsome litter bearer.

Adria looked at the slave’s face. Impassive, eyes staring forward, he endured being treated as a pet rather than a person. She glanced back at his mistress, whose appraising look had never left Bran.

“A pouch of silver says he’d serve you well in stud,” wagered the matron.

Had Bran heard? Adria glanced up at his profile and the muscle ticking in his jaw. Oh, yes. He had heard.

How dare they compare Bran to some rutting animal. As if he had no pride, no identity past an object to be used. A sickening realization gripped her stomach that this was the way all slaves were treated. Oh, some may have benevolent masters, but at the end of the day, they were still chattel. A new respect for the depth of Bran’s control overcame her as the matrons made another crude observation. As a freeman and a foreigner, he may keep his tongue stilled, but Adria would not.

She approached them, took a moment to enjoy the women’s startled expressions as she leaned in between the two sedans. “The truth, my ladies,” she said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper, “is he shares his charms with me, as he is a man of free will, not an animal.” She gave them a false look of pity. “You cannot imagine how wonderful it is to not have to force someone to satisfy you.”

Adria spun on her heel, the women’s choked words of indignation ringing in her ears. She rejoined Bran who looked at her with a mix of astonishment and pride. “Come,” she said, grabbing his hand as the blockage began to break up. “It is not much farther.”

***

If he did not know better, Bran would swear that Adria carried Celt blood in her veins. She was a true warrior in heart and spirit and he could almost envision her driving a war chariot, spear arm raised, battle cry upon her lips. He smiled to himself. Of course, he’d never have the type of thoughts he held of her for other warriors. Not even Beatrix.

He wanted to get her back to the house, get her beneath him, make love to her until they were both senseless. No other woman had ever tempted him like this one, and if he could, he’d spend the rest of his time in Rome with her in his bed. His eagerness faltered.

The time for his departure was rapidly approaching and so was the end of his time with Adria. A wave of uncertainty washed over him. He’d managed to survive so much—enslavement, the arena, the worry and fear for his sister and clansmen, becoming a surrogate father. The thought, unbidden and irrevocable rose in his mind that he would not be able to survive the rest of his life without his beautiful thief.

“You look terribly grim,” Adria said, drawing him out of his daze. “I know that this part of Rome is not as prestigious as the Palatine but beneath the—” She expertly bypassed a gutter of liquid waste and gave him a sheepish look. “—the grime it is a strong community.”

“This is where you grew up?”

Adria looked around and sighed. “After my parents died, yes.”