The Bones of the Earth (The Dark Age) (36 page)

“
But the Legion prevailed and destroyed their camp. You should have seen the survivors running away! When they broke and fled, we were relieved. It was touch and go there. But that’s where professionalism and training pay off.” He downed another cup of wine.

Are all Romans blabbermouths?
Javor wondered. Photius, Valgus, now this man. He was tired and hot, and he knew that he would pass out if he drank another cup of wine. He did not want to be at the mercy of a man like Rutius, no matter how intimidated he was by the name of Antonio D’Osta.

“
I’d like to go up to the room, now,” he said. Rutius nodded and stood up a little unsteadily, calling for Timon. The boy struggled to carry Javor’s pack up a flight of dingy stairs to an equally dingy room that was barely big enough for a straw bed and a three-legged table for a water jug, a bowl and a towel. A chipped shutter sagged on one hinge.

“
This is the best room?” Javor said, looking out the window. He saw a grimy, dim courtyard with a dried-out looking olive tree.

Timon dropped Javor’s heavy pack in a corner. “Nah. This is my room. I like legionnaires. I moved to the ‘best’ guest room. This one doesn’t smell bad, and there’s not much street noise.”

“
And you’re giving me this because you like legionnaires?”

Timon shrugged. “Antonio D’Osta was like my uncle. You sure he’s okay?”

“
Yes. He has a couple of new scars and fewer teeth, but otherwise he was fine.”

Timon left without another word. Javor shut the door—a flimsy, warped piece of grey wood that provided no security. Javor propped his pack against it, then washed as well as he could. A little refreshed, he pulled a slightly cleaner tunic out of his pack and fell back on the straw bed.

He didn’t trust Rutius nor this place, but he needed rest. He felt excited, scared, tired and very, very alone.

He missed his old home, his village at the feet of the mountains, the quiet fields and the noisy people. He missed his parents, his friends. He even missed Photius.

What happened to you, Danisa? Where did you go? How will I ever find you?

The back of his throat constricted and tears poured down his face. He cried as quietly as he could until he fell asleep.

Chapter 20
: Finding the order

Javor took four days to find the Church of St. Mary Chalkoprateia. Four days of wandering the biggest city in the world, dodging wagons and ill-tempered horses, sweating in the sun and breathing in dust and stink.

On the fourth morning, the smell from bakeries brought back the memory of his mother. Ketia’s loaves: small, rounded, delicate—like her.
She was her bread.
His vision blurred until he shook his head and took a deep breath.

He used the smallest coin he had to buy a sweet cake made with honey and wondered why the baker looked so happy about the transaction, yet seemed to want to hide the fact.

Stepping out of the bakery, he caught the eye of a man unlike any he had seen: the size of a young child, but with a long, thick beard that reached his waist, and a deeply lined face. He wore a ragged greenish cloak, and the hems of bright red trousers peeked from behind its edges. The dwarf shrugged and disappeared into the crowd.

An hour later, he found the church. St. Mary in the copper market was a large building: not grand by Constantinople standards, made of large multicoloured bricks, in the typical cross-shape typical of churches in the city. He asked a woman in a long gown with a hood and cloth that covered most of her face if it was indeed the Church of St. Mary Chalkoprateia; the nun smiled as if it pained her, told him yes, bowed and hurried down the street.

The building exuded a sense of ancient power and dignity. But something about it didn’t seem like it would be a place for Photius.

Something made him turn around. For a moment, he thought he glimpsed the small, bearded man disappearing around the corner of a building across the wide, cobbled street, but he couldn’t be sure. That other building was plain, squat and square. Large patches of plaster had fallen off its bricks. Javor’s hand went to the amulet hanging under his tunic.

Something about that old building felt … important. Javor stepped across the street, dodging manure. A small wooden door opened to a very dim corridor. He took a careful step ahead and jumped when the floor creaked under his feet. He took another few steps in and the shadows behind him deepened. “Hey!” came a gruff voice. “Who goes there?”

Without knowing why, Javor ran forward. “Hey, you! Wait!” said the voice. Javor ran faster and turned right at a branching corridor, then hesitated where the corridor branched again.

The guard’s footsteps thundered closer. Javor stepped into the left branch and felt the amulet tingle, so he turned and ran down the corridor on his right.

The amulet guided him. With every turn he made at its prompting, he felt more confident, while the sounds of sandals slapping on the wooden floor, weapons and armour jangling, grew softer.

Soon, he had turned so many corners that he no longer had any idea which way he was headed or how to get out.
How big is this place?
The amulet did not warn him of danger. Eventually he saw light spilling around a corner.

He heard voices, too, speaking a very formal kind of Greek that he had trouble understanding.

He peeked around the corner into a wide, splendid chamber with a high ceiling, lit by torches in brackets on the walls. The walls were covered in colourful pictures showing heroic men with swords, gleaming in bronze armour and scarlet capes.

He could see a guard standing at alert, holding a spear and a shield, beside the entrance to the dark corridor he was hiding in. At the far end of the hall was a high oaken door. More guards stood on either side of it. At the other end of the hall, high windows made with coloured, transparent material let the daylight in. It was the first time that Javor had ever seen glass.

In the middle of the room was a broad table covered with papers and parchments that kept rolling up at the edges. Around the table stood a group of men in long, rich clothing, heavy bracelets around their wrists. At the end of the table sat a man in a gold-covered chair; he had long grey hair, a long grey beard and a thick silver chain around his shoulders. His black robe was trimmed with silver. He held one hand under his chin and Javor could see jewelled rings on his fingers. At the other end of the table was a smaller, plainer chair, on which a serene woman sat. She had short, fair hair, which she didn’t cover with a scarf like all the Roman women that Javor had seen so far. She wore white robes and a long scarf of yellow and red over her shoulders. She did not say anything, but watched the speakers intently.

A young man with long black hair and a thick moustache was gesticulating as he argued about something, while a bald man in a deep blue robe argued back, leaning over the table to try to keep the parchments from rolling up again. Two young men,  with short-cropped dark hair and dark eyes, wearing matching grey tunics, held more rolls of paper; they could have been brothers, Javor thought. And to one side was a small man wearing unusual clothing for Constantinople: a plain white shirt with an open collar, tight black trousers like an Avar’s, and high black boots. At his left side a long, thin sword in an ornate scabbard hung from a wide leather belt over one shoulder. He had dark skin, almost like Anbasa Wedem, short, curly black hair and a thin moustache. He watched the arguing men with a disdainful smirk.

“
Tell him to shut up, will you, Austinus!” pleaded the bald man, smoothing out the parchments. “His ruinous scheme is madness!”

“
We have to do
something
, Philip,” the man with the moustache countered. “Bayan is uniting the northern barbarians and Slavs, and the Emperor’s attention is focused on defending the eastern frontier against Persia.”

“
Let the legions deal with military matters! They defeated the Slavs at Sirmium…”

“
Bayan’s actions that concern me are well beyond the Danuvius—“

“
Then they are well beyond the concern of Rome.”

“
Need I remind you that events beyond its borders destroyed the Empire in the West? There is some design behind the Avars’ movements. Look here, Austinus,” he pointed at one of the parchments on the table. “Look, where are they moving to? Strategically, it makes no sense to go westward, into the mountains! What could they hope to accomplish? Obviously, there is another plan. The Khagan Bayan is being directed by another leader or force …”

“
Don’t go on about your fairy tales again, Spiridon!” cried bald Philip, giving up on flattening a parchment, which obligingly rolled up and fell on the floor. Philip put his hands on the small of his back, stretching and grimacing as he stepped closer to Austinus, the man in the chair. “We have wasted so much time gathering intelligence in the North, with nothing to show for it! There is nothing there but barbarians scratching out an existence on the mountainsides and in the forests.”

“
How many stories of dragons have come back from the North, Philip?” Spiridon demanded. “How many, when the dragon was at one time found only in the far East?”

“
Fairy stories! Half-mad dirt farmers claiming that every forest fire started by a careless shepherd was in fact the work of an evil …”

Dragons! That’s a sign.
Javor squared his shoulders and strode out into the hall. The men around the table froze, mouths open and eyes wide. The guard at the corridor jumped back and dropped his shield. He lowered his spear and tried to look threatening. The other guards yelled and ran forward, spears ready. Javor ignored them. He stopped a few paces from the table, and the spearmen stopped just short of driving their points into his flesh.

Everyone else started to talk at once: “Who is this! What do you think you’re doing?
Domestikos
, should I kill him now? Just give the word and I’ll run him through!” But the man in charge said nothing, until

“
Well? What do you want?”

That wasn’t what Javor had imagined the leader of Photius’ order would ask, but he went ahead with the answer he had prepared. “I am Javor of the Sklavenes, from the North, and I am a dragon-slayer!” He immediately felt foolish, especially when the thin, small man laughed loudly.

“
That’s quite a claim, young man,” Austinus said quietly. “But you haven’t answered my question. Why did you come here?”

“
Yes,” shouted the thin man. “Why aren’t you out killing more dragons? And throw in a monster or two while you’re at it! Hah!”

“
I
did
kill a monster, before I killed the dragon,” Javor said to the thin man. “Actually, several monsters. Not to mention I don’t know how many Avars.”

“
Impressive,” Austinus replied. “But I hate to repeat myself. Please tell me what you want here.”

This is not going the way I wanted it to,
Javor thought. “I came here for … for answers. I want to know where the dragon came from, where the monster came from that killed my parents, and why they keep following me.”

“
If something is following you, then it only stands to reason that it is nearby now, doesn’t it?” the thin man sneered. “What is it, another dragon?”

“
Umm, well, yes, actually …”

Another laugh. “Really? Well, it must be an awfully small dragon. I can’t see it! What about you, Nicolas—do you see a dragon?” he said to one of the guards. “Or maybe it was a kitten that he ran from! Where is it? Here, puss, puss!”

“
Why did you come
here
?” Austinus repeated.

“
I am looking for the order of mystical knowledge that sent Photius to my home.”

“
Photius? And who is Photius?” Austinus asked.

“
Isn’t he one of you? He told me to seek you, to find his order at St. Mary Chalkoprataeia!”

“
Photius is a fairly common name in Constaninople,” said the woman in white.

Javor reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out the ring that Photius had given him. Then, it had seemed plain, just a dull gold metal circle; but now, he saw markings on its face. He handed the ring to Austinus, who seemed to recognize it. “He also mentioned the name ‘Geser.’”

The thin man laughed again, like a barking dog. “That old fool! The nerve, using the name ‘Geser.’”

“
So you did know him! This is the right place!” Javor felt he could breathe again.

“
Quiet, Malleus,” said the woman in white, in a soft voice. She glared at the thin man. “Very well, we know Photius. What do you know of him?”

“
He showed up in my village four months ago, telling stories that I didn’t believe … until they came true. The next day, a monster came to the village and killed my parents, and many others, too.”

Malleus laughed again, but a glance from Austinus silenced him. “That sounds fantastic, boy. What happened to the monster?”

Javor hesitated. “I killed it.” He carefully drew his great-grandfather’s dagger. “With this. It used to belong to my great-grandfather, who was a Legionnaire at one time. Photius said this knife was magical.”

Austinus stood up, eyes fixed on the blade. He nodded at the guards, who lowered their spears and stepped back.

“
Oh, come now, Austinus. You cannot possibly believe this story!” said Malleus.

“
I will not tell you again, Malleus: be quiet. Well, Javor, you have explained how you found us. Now, what happened to Photius?”

Javor put the dagger back in its sheath. “He called the monster that killed my parents Ghastog, and led me to a cave where it lived. When we found Ghastog, I was able to kill it with this dagger. We were leaving the cave when a dragon attacked us, but Photius scared it off. My people didn’t want me to stay with them anymore because they were afraid that I would attract more monsters. So Photius took me to Constantinople.”

“
I can see that you are here. But where is Photius?”