The Wizard from Earth (40 page)

Satellite view is wonderful
, she thought.    She scanned the sky but could not see the spark that was their benefactor in the heavens.

Matt abruptly stopped.  She nearly piled into him and started to ask, but then she smelled . . .
Her
.

Ahead of them, blocking their path to the east wall, Lady Inoldia stepped from behind a hedge.  She was dressed elegantly, as if she too had attended the party after all.  She was smirking.  Carrot snarled.

Matt turned to retreat, but Inoldia called, “Boy, do you think you can outrace me?”

Carrot, growling, interposed herself and raised her sword. 

“Carrot!” Matt shouted.  “We have to get away!”

Inoldia strolled toward them.  She splayed her fingers – which ended in normal nails.  Carrot wondered if Inoldia was so overconfident that she thought that she could take on Carrot without transforming from human form. 
If so
, Carrot thought,
she'll learn otherwise too late
. 

“Carrot!” Matt shouted.  “Don't do this!”

Carrot didn't hear.  She growled once more, clenched the sword, and advanced.  Inoldia contemplated her serenely.

“How much have you looked forward to this moment,” Inoldia said.  “Your opportunity to avenge the death of your mother.  For years you've waited for this.  Sad, really.”

Carrot raised her sword, screamed loud enough to be heard in the great hall, and lunged.

Inoldia raised her arm horizontally, twisting her hand vertically.  Her palm flashed.  Carrot glimpsed a dart that exploded from the palm and trailed a coiled thread as it streaked toward her faster than an arrow.  She was too close, there was no time to dodge.  The dart embedded in her dress, just below the collar. 

Carrot had expected pain from the dart's impact.  She had expected a gush of poison through her bloodstream.  Instead – she felt as if her body had been possessed.

Against her will she straightened and stiffened.  She dropped the sword and collapsed.  Flat on the ground, her body trembled and shook.  She tried to regain control, but – nothing.

It wasn't pain.  It was beyond pain. 
It's the thing that pain comes to warn you about is coming next
, Carrot thought. 

“Carrot!” she heard Matt scream.

Her eyes were open but she could not move them.  She saw at the corner of her vision, Inoldia twisted to face Matt and raised her other arm and oriented her other palm – and then the Sister of Wisdom fired another infernal dart.  Matt jerked and went stiff and collapsed.  Carrot wanted to call his name, but her lungs and wind pipe and mouth were all removed from her power.

She remembered the radio.  But she couldn't manage even a whisper. 

She lay face up, unable to move except for blinks and short, painful panting.  Inoldia stood above her and smiled while pulling the coils from bleeding palms.

“So ends the battle of vengeance to which you dedicated your life,” Inoldia said.  “I too feel that it was over too soon, but what can I do?  You were simply inadequate for the contest.”

Some feeling returned to Carrot's body and she struggled to move her arms – but she could barely do more than gurgle and grimace.

Inoldia stooped over Matt.  “Wizardling, or whatever you call yourself.  Have your mentor come out of your head now, or I will crush your skull while it is inside.”

She means Ivan
, Carrot thought. 
She knows about Ivan.

After a moment, something white and small like Ivan did emerge from Matt's nostril.  But it was in the shape of a beetle, with an ovoid body and numerous crawling legs.  It scurried across Matt's face and down onto the garden path and toward the hedges.  Inoldia raised her foot and stamped hard, grinding the thing into the paving stone.

She removed her sandal and smiled at the twitching debris.  “Filthy, disgusting thing!  I do hope that's the last one I'll ever see.”

A score of soldiers arrived, bearing a profusion of lanterns.  A imperial guard colonel bowed deeply to Inoldia and she instructed that shackles be placed on Carrot, as they quickly were.  They were not ordinary shackles, though, but a kind that Carrot thought might be used to restrain large animals.  They were enough for her, she thought, as she was raised to standing and yet wobbled. 

A litter arrived and Carrot was pushed inside.  She watched Matt being shackled normally and called through numb lips, “What are you going to do with him?”

“He's a present for the new emperor,” Inoldia said.  She smiled almost benignly.  “And as for you, you will be a present for the Mother.”

Carrot had never subvocaled, but she had an idea of how it was done by having observed Matt do it so many times. 

“Matt!” she attempted.  “
Matt!
”

There was no answer as Carrot was borne out of the palace grounds and toward the waterfront.

42.

Matt tried calling to Carrot over their radio link as her litter departed the palace grounds, but then he began to drift in and out of consciousness.  He had the strangest dream, of a world with buildings taller than trees, coaches that traveled among the clouds and stars, and printing presses that effortlessly provided all the material needs and comforts that anyone would ever need.  In his dreamworld, words and pictures flew silently through the air while inside the ghost in the machine was another ghost who was a machine . . . .

He awakened with a start and opened his eyes to darkness.  He was in a sitting position and tried to move his arms and legs, but they were shackled.  He seemed to be confined in a closet, one that was shaking and rattling.

"Ivan, where are we?"

"We are in a locked box on a rickshaw, descending on Golden Street, approximately fifty meters east of Victory Square."

"Where's Carrot?"

"I do not know.  I lost her transponder signal eighteen minutes ago.  Hermanset occurred eleven minutes ago, while she was in transit down Golden Street.”

“Herman has a way of setting at the worst time.  Well, let me know if you make contact with Herman or, uh, Ivan Lite.”

“Yes, Matt.”  Coinciding with a slowing and twisting of the vehicle, Ivan announced, “We have entered Victory Square and are heading east.”

Matt had guessed the first part, having heard innumerable times during his visits the clatter of rickshaw wheels upon the bricks of the Square.  When the sound changed pitch, he knew they had entered the older part of the plaza.

"Ivan, I have a really bad headache.  Can you turn it off?"

"Yes, Matt."

"Thanks.  Much better, I can think now.  Okay, so Inoldia has a taser bio-engineered into her palm.  That's an old trick, but new on this world, I guess.  Lucky you're electrically sheathed.”

“All neural implant matrices have been electrically sheathed by law since before the end of the twenty-first century.”

“So Inoldia doesn't know about you or Ivan Lite.  By the way, how did you manage to print that mentor-bug model so – “ Matt had an odd sensation, and felt his face.  “Part of my nose bridge is missing.”

“Yes, Matt.  I used the bone mass to form the mentor model as it would have taken several minutes to print a model independently, and your life was in imminent danger.”

Matt considered.  “You made the right decision.  And Inoldia seems to have been fooled by the mentor design we got from the murals, so good job there too.  And, uh, since I don't need a third nostril, you are going to fill the hole, right?”

“I have been in the process of doing so.  It was originally twice as large as it is now.”

“All right, carry on.”  Matt made a conscious effort to keep from rubbing the depression in his face.  “Well, now what we need to think about is escape, then get Carrot, then – “

Abruptly, the vehicle stopped.  The doors were flung open and soldiers unlooped his shackles – a procedure that reminded him of Palras – so that they were free of the vehicle.  He was then pulled out of the rickshaw and shoved through the damp night air across the empty square toward the columned facade of the Imperial Senate Building.

They passed the steps to the gallery and bore straight ahead to a corridor that was lined with reproductions of the murals in the palace.  Matt was shunted into a small room.  He heard a voice droning from the doors of the other side.  Valarion was making a speech in the Senate Chamber.

A soldier drew his short sword and placed it under Matt's chin.  “You will be quiet unless spoken to, prisoner.  I have been authorized to kill you if you speak out of turn.”  Without waiting for Matt's assent of understanding, the soldier re-sheathed his sword and faced the chamber doors as if nothing had happened.   

But then the outer doors opened and an officer entered.  He wore on his helmet the purple plume of the imperial guard, and the stripes and eagles to indicate the rank of colonel.  He looked Matt over sternly, then locked eyes. 

“I presume that you care about the girl,” the colonel said.

Matt had an idea of what was coming.  “Yes.”

“If you confess to the crime and cooperate with the investigation, there will be leniency.  You and her shall be returned to Britan unharmed.  Otherwise you may expect the full force of Roman law without mercy, unto death.  Do you understand?”

Matt realized what a tiny thread he and Carrot were hanging by, and looked away.

“I understand.” 

The colonel frowned.  “Your voice seems somewhat nasal.  Is that your accent?”

“I have a cold.”

The colonel promptly exited the room the way he had come.  A short time later, Valarion's speech paused and the door to the chamber was opened, and Matt was escorted inside.  He stood on the circular floor of the Senate Chamber, beneath a blaze of lanterns, with rows of benches filled with senators in ascending concentric circles amid columns and balustrades whose Greek-style design had found its way across the millennia and light years. 

To one side, standing behind a podium, was Valarion, still in his ceremonial uniform from the party. 

“And this is the ringleader of the operation,” Valarion said, gesturing to Matt among his guards.  “He was apprehended in the palace gardens, attempting to assist the assassin in her escape.  His name is allegedly 'Matt,' a hearkening of course to the mythology of the Star Child.  He comes of a place called Seattle, claimed to be in Espin but in fact located to the west of Britan and in alliance with the Britanians.”

Matt expected angry glares and cries of rage, but instead the senators merely blinked.  He saw how rumpled their robes and tired their faces were, and checked the time.  It was after midnight, and they probably didn't appreciate being awakened and summoned at this late hour for this spectacle.  More so than even he was, they were probably aware that Valarion's proceedings were a farce and they wished only to be back in bed. 

One senator, however, was wide awake and well-groomed.  He sat on the first ring of benches and spoke in rumbling tones: 

“So General, do you think that Archimedes had knowledge of the plot to assassinate the Emperor Hadron?”

Valarion replied,  “Archimedes was host to both the ringleader and the assassin in his home.  He provided them with rooming and material needs while they were in Rome.  And now he has escaped detainment and refuses to turn himself in for questioning.  So I am afraid that it is all appearing as highly suspicious.”

The senator looked down at the papers, and Matt realized that it must a script that had been written by Valarion beforehand.  As he had not time to do so after, the 'questions' and 'answers' regarding the details of the assassination must have been written by the general before the assassination.

The senator rumbled on,  “What would be the motive of Archimedes to kill Hadron?”

Matt noticed the use of the former emperor's personal name rather than title.  Valarion was wearing a robe with purple fringe, as according to Roman Law all generals and admirals were accorded senatorial rank, but it was evident from the body language of the other senators that he was already being given the deference of de facto emperorship.

Valarion had bowed his head, as if in deep contemplation, and now he raised it solemnly.

“I have a theory as to the motive of Archimedes,” he said.  He looked across the faces of the senators, feigning an expression of sympathy.  “But first let me say that I realize that this accusation may offend many, who may regard Archimedes as an esteemed teacher whose value to Rome is proven both by his public works and his once-untarnished career as a military engineer.  But please recall the evidence is overwhelming that he was complicit in a plot to kill Hadron.”

Matt expected then to hear a listing of the 'overwhelming' evidence.  It would of course be false, but at least it would have followed the form of the law.  Instead, Valarion continued:

“Now, what possible motive could a scientist have in the murder of an emperor?  I think first of all we must recognize that Archimedes may not have realized that he was getting himself involved in a murder plot.  He is an old man, and sometimes old men are more easily misled and deceived than those of us in our prime.  Also, being hardened in his ways, he tended to become disdainful of those who interfered with his work in maintaining the infrastructure of the city, a labor which he had come to think as of supreme importance, taking priority over the needs of statecraft.”

“So you are not suggesting that he was intentionally . . . a traitor?” read the senator.

Having noticed the focus of Matt's eyes on the papers, Ivan had used the compound camera lenses in Matt's face to zoom in on the top page and invert so that Matt could read the line as it was printed:  '
So you are not suggesting that he was intentionally [BEAT] a traitor?
'

“No, no, not at first,” Valarion said.  “But we all know that he had disagreements with Hadron, and he was often heard to complain of how inefficiently the city is run under the care of the imperial government.  It is not hard to imagine that over the years, he came to believe that he himself would make a better emperor than all of us – as if knowing how to construct an aqueduct or fix the sewers is all there is to the affairs of state.”

Matt read the next question:  '
You are suggesting then [BEAT] that he actively plotted [BEAT] to become emperor?”

“You are suggesting then . . . that he actively plotted . . . to become emperor?”

Valarion replied,  “Only in his dreams could Archimedes become emperor of Rome.  He had of course no base of popular support.  But then came two young people into his life – going by the names of Arcadia of Britain, and Matt of Seattle.  They promised him that if he gave them access to the Emperor via his personal friendship, they would provide him with the material support necessary to wage a political campaign against the Emperor.”

In spite of his circumstances, Matt inwardly smiled at the irony.  Archimedes may or may not have fantasized himself as emperor but he would certainly never imagine that a political campaign could topple an emperor.  Archimedes knew full well that both 'democracy' and 'republic' were empty words in Rome. 

“How do you know this conspiracy to be fact?”

“We have sworn affidavits from several witnesses to conversations which occurred at the house of Archimedes.”

“Sworn affidavits from witnesses to conversations that never happened,” Matt subvocaled. 

There might have come raised voices and muttered conversations in reaction to Valarion's assertions, but there was only silence.  Matt looked at the faces of the senators again.  He sensed that they weren't necessarily bored – after all, Valarion was maneuvering for power over the Empire and could soon have swords to their throats too – but they were drained of spontaneous emotion.   

Senator 'Prompter' continued mechanically,  "Did these culprits from Britan and Seattle act alone, or are they part of a larger conspiracy?"

Valarion replied,  "Just as Archimedes was only a tool, these two young people were unlikely to have contrived so intricate a conspiracy on their own.  Instead, the leaders of Britan and Seattle sent them as part of a team.  Their assassination of the Emperor was nothing less than the first step in plunging our city into chaos and discord in prelude to military attack.”

Valarion went on to describe what his spies had discerned about the malicious alliance between Seattle and Britan.  A soldier brought out a stand and set up a map, and with pointer in hand, Valarion indicated the location of a large island to the west of Britan, emblazoned with the designation, SEATTLE.

“Heretofore, we have not been aware of the existence of Seattle, as it lies well beyond our frontiers and they have the practice of destroying any ship of ours that has ventured into their realm.  But they have been well aware of the existence of Rome, and have been preparing for some time to mount an invasion.”

The series of charts that followed showed the relative naval strength of Seattle versus Rome.  Instead of the ferries and kayaks that Matt had long watched dotting Puget Sound on Earth, 'Seattle of Ne'arth' possessed a formidable array of triremes and even quadremes (i.e., three-level and four-level galleys, according to Ivan) bristling with catapults, grappling hooks, and mounted crossbows capable of launching – said Valarion – two meter long arrows of 'flaming death.' 

Out of curiosity, Matt checked the archived satellite photos of the region of the planet immediately west of Britan.  The seas were island-less.

But that didn't stop Valarion from describing the heinous barbarity of the rulers of the Seattlean Empire.  As reported by his 'vast' intelligence network, the Seattleans had enslaved nation after nation.  They had razed peaceful cities and eradicated proud cultures.  They had reduced countless peoples to slavery.  Their soldiers were known to laugh maniacally as they threw babies into the air to be skewered with spears and cooked alive over fires, after which the freshly-roasted carcasses of the innocents were feasted upon. 

(Without any regard for table manners
, Matt thought.  But the rest of the audience seemed not to find it as ridiculous as he did.)  

And now the Seattleans had targeted Rome for conquest.  With its formidable navy, it was entirely possible that Seattle could prevail against Rome on the seas.  As almost solely a maritime power, however, Seattle lacked the sizable army necessary to successfully control the land of even the island of Italia, let alone the provincial territories of Rome.  Hence, the Seattleans had allied with the Britanians.