"Too bad," Galen said, finding another stylus and turning back to his ledgers. "The other five are lost, then, and we have one, while the other was destroyed in Constantinople."
"No..." Maxian turned the papyrus over, looking at the design from another angle. "This diagram does not depict our telecast, nor, if memory serves, does it describe its lost companion. See—" His finger traced a line of spiky symbols on one of the outer rings of the device. "These are quite different." Maxian raised an eyebrow, smiling at his brother.
"Where did Emperor Heraclius find his? Where did we find ours?" Galen scowled at Anastasia, who blinked at him in surprise, then marshaled herself. Luckily, Helena had once told her—though the Emperor should have remembered for himself. But he is tired and there are many other, far more pressing concerns to distract him, thank the fates!
"Builders excavating a new foundation for the temple of Zeus Skyfather, in Pergamum, uncovered the device lost in Constantinople. Builders in... Spain, near the Pillars of Hercules, found the one we possess." Anastasia indicated the papyrus with an idle finger. "If the prince's memory serves, then there was at least one more, in the distant past."
"We can find it," Maxian stated, nodding to himself. "Even if the remains are broken or scattered."
"We can?" Gaius Julius said, raising a white eyebrow. "How?"
The prince grinned again. "I know another trick... I can make a talisman, an... echo of the telecast we have here. Someone can go to Egypt with my amulet. If they are close to the sister device, the talisman will guide them. Time-consuming, but Martina believes at least one telecast was in the hands of the Ptolemies. If so, then the device was probably moved to Alexandria."
Anastasia looked to the Emperor, eyebrow raised. "Lord and God, if the prince can make such a talisman, it will be on our fastest ship within hours... a cohort of Praetorians aboard, with reliable guides."
"A ship?" Maxian rose in his chair, looking at the Duchess as if she were a simpleton. "For another telecast, I will go myself! Pegasus will have me in Egypt in two days. A ship, indeed!"
The Duchess' jaw tightened as she bit down on intemperate words. He is the prince, fool girl!
"Maxian, are you ready to fight the dark man?" Galen was watching them both, fist to his mouth, eyes narrowed. "If you go to Egypt on your steed of iron, he cannot help but know you are there."
"How?" Maxian turned on his brother, almost sneering. "We fly by night, we keep to the desert... the Persian army is trapped before Pelusium. They will not be able to interfere. He cannot fly over them!"
"Duchess," the Emperor said, watching Maxian with a cold expression. "Explain the situation in Egypt to my brother."
Anastasia bit the inside of her lip, tasted blood, then smiled formally. "Caesar Maxian, our situation in Egypt is precarious. The province has only recently come into Western hands. There is friction between the civil government—still Eastern—and our army. Caesar Aurelian's attention is wholly focused on holding the Persians out, and—to be blunt—there are factions within Egypt who would welcome Persian rule in the place of Rome. Also, these Greek rebels out of the Decapolis have many friends behind Aurelian's barrier. The cities of Petra and Palmyra had—have—enormous trading concerns in Egypt, substantial investments, agents in every port and town."
"She means," Gaius Julius said, leaning towards the prince, "once you enter Egypt, you will be noticed. The cities, the towns, are thick with Persian informants and sympathizers."
"We will not enter the cities," Maxian said, exasperated. "The ancient ruins are avoided by living men—and the telecast will be in a ruin, not the forum of Heliopolis! Gales, please, I can be to Egypt and back in a week, two at the most. I will find the telecast and deliver it to Aurelian. Think of the advantage we'll have then!" He turned to the Duchess, face eager. "Another eye to watch the enemy! We'll be able to converse instantly... if need be, I can mate the two as I did before, letting Aurelian step back across the Mare Internum as if he were in his apartments on the Palatine!"
Anastasia felt her face warm, her skin prickle, her heart race. The prince smiled, urging her to agree. Flustered, she closed her eyes, blocking out his limpid brown stare. "Wait," she said, raising a hand. She put the tips of her fingers to her forehead. A sense of vertigo ebbed and she felt her heart slow from a sprint to a walk.
Breathe, a voice echoed out of the past. Center yourself, focus yourself. You are one, indivisible, infinite... The Hunter's prayer filled her mind and she felt the strange sensation fade away. She opened her eyes, studiously looking only to the Emperor. Galen raised an eyebrow.
"Lord and God, what the prince says is true," the Duchess said, measuring her words. "His iron servant is swift and can carry him across many leagues. His powers are great and finding the telecast in Egypt—if one still exists—may be easy for him. But Egypt is vast and there are many ruins. I fear this search will take time, perhaps little, perhaps much."
"And in that time?" Galen met her eyes, shaking his head minutely.
"In that time, Lord and God, the Persians discover the prince is in Egypt. They may even discover we possess a flying machine."
"So?" Maxian interjected, irritation plain in his voice. "What if they do?"
"Then, Caesar, they will try and capture or kill you." Anastasia did not meet the prince's gaze. "But you are very strong. I doubt they will be able to succeed."
The prince made a sharp huh! sound and looked to his brother again. "Gales?"
"You are not going," the Emperor said, giving Maxian a quelling look. "I do not think you are ready to fight this creature again, not one on one. When that day comes, I want every advantage to be in our hand. We must know this thing's name, its strength, its motive. We will fight on ground of our choosing and we will win."
"Madness—" Maxian stood up abruptly, though Gaius Julius made a faint-hearted effort to catch his arm. "Then send your ship—which will take weeks to reach Egypt—and have your legionaries grub in the dirt—more weeks will pass—and then, then you find the device and who can make it work? I can! And I will be here, in Rome, cooling my heels in the baths or at the races!"
"We have weeks," Galen said, expression hardening as the prince's voice grew more strident. "We have months. Armies—Persian or Roman—do not leap leagues in a day. Aurelian will hold Egypt until the Nile rises, and then where will the Persians be? Unable to advance for months more, while they wait for the river to fall. By then we will know where the main Persian army is, and how things stand in Thrace and Constantinople. These troubles in Britain will be resolved. Our new fleet will be gathered, the Gothic Legion ready to move by sea wherever we need. You..." Galen stabbed a finger at his brother, "will have finished your fire-drakes and if the gods favor us, we will know the intention and true strength of the enemy."
Maxian's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, fists on the tabletop. "What happens if the Persian sorcerer comes against Aurelian now, today, with full force? Will you hold me back then?"
"I will," Galen snapped, a flush rising in his face. "Aurelian can hold Egypt!"
"Like Constantinople held?" Maxian shouted. "You are a fool; you have no idea what powers are at play here!"
"Enough of this," Galen said, his voice very cold. "My decision is made."
The Emperor stared at Maxian, his face like granite, until—after a very long moment—the younger man looked away. "Securing another telecast is not critical, but it would be a boon. Duchess, send your ship and someone discreet and efficient. Maxian, you will make this talisman. I pray we find success, but this is a diversion from our real task."
The prince stared at the floor. Anastasia could see a vein pulse in his neck.
"Maxian?" Galen stood up, absently tugging his heavy tunic straight. "Aurelian will be fine. He is an able commander and well served by brave men."
Maxian did not answer. Galen watched him for a moment, then turned back to Anastasia and Gaius Julius. "You know what to do. Be quick about it."
"Yes, Lord and God," they said, bowing. The Emperor gathered up his notebooks. Maxian continued to stare at the floor, grinding one fist into the other. Galen waved the Duchess and Gaius out of the room. They left quickly, avoiding looking at the two brothers.
In the hallway, Anastasia motioned to the Praetorians to close the heavy, bronze embossed doors. The guardsmen did so, though no sound had issued from the room.
"Very wise," Gaius Julius said, sotto voce. He seemed pensive. "Do you need anything?"
"For what?" Anastasia's eyebrow arched in suspicion. She drew the cloak across her chest automatically. Just being this close to the ancient made her feel queasy.
"For this 'quiet' expedition to Egypt." He seemed very serious. "You've your own ships, I know, but if you need men, supplies, guides, money—let me know."
"Why would you help me?" Anastasia lifted the cowl of her cloak, settling it over her hair. The high-piled, ornamented coiffure was striking, but also inconvenient and heavy.
"I think the boy is right," Gaius said, still speaking quietly, as if they were two friends at a dinner party, sharing some confidence. Anastasia realized, with a start, the old man was worried. "The Emperor is tired, stretched thin. We need the speed these devices offer. The speed to know, the speed to react. Such a thing could be the difference between victory and defeat."
"They may not be there anymore," the Duchess said, warming—against her better judgment—to the twinkling-eyed old man. "Thousands of years stand between Pharaoh Kha'sekhem and ourselves. Time for many misfortunes to befall such a device."
"I know." Gaius Julius managed a half-smile, still worried. He looked back at the closed door. "But such a prize..."
Yes, Anastasia thought, bowing politely and turning away. But not one you will ever have!
—|—
The Duchess frowned, stepping down from the litter, a brace of handsome young men kneeling on either side to help her descend. Her courtyard was crowded with two large, overly ornate litters, an even dozen bearers lounging in the shade of her vine-covered walls stuffing themselves with bread rolls and sausage and a clutch of Praetorian guardsmen drinking her wine. She dismissed her own litter with an irritated wave, then turned to enter the Villa of Swans.
"Mistress!" Betia was at her side, a quiet ghost suddenly made flesh. Anastasia glared down at her maid. The little blond girl was dressed in a too-short tunic with bare feet, and her face glowed with perspiration. "The—"
"Empress Helena is here," the Duchess said, disgusted to see the Praetorians eating a picnic lunch in her foyer—eating from her silver plates and cups! "With her usual circus troupe..."