Air and Darkness by David Drake Page A

and outcasts. Most spoke bad Latin or none at all, and the Illyrian cousins weren’t alone in having shaky Greek. There was a potboy, a gardener’s assistant, and a spare litter bearer.
    What they all had in common was the willingness to face any bloody thing, so long as they had a leader who would tell them what to do. For these men, uncertainty was a worse enemy than demons. They were willing to follow, and they had decided that Alphena was able to lead.
    Which I was, Alphena thought. Which I am.
    â€œI’ll wait for the information that my colleagues will want,” she said calmly. “It will take some time to get the reports together, even with everyone available to write them down. We’ll leave in an hour, though, if we can’t leave sooner. I don’t want to risk class breaking up and Corylus and his teacher being gone.”
    She took a breath and added, “You can alert your colleagues now, but there’ll be a delay.”
    â€œRight,” said Drago as the cousins turned toward the stairway. “We’ll make sure everybody’s dressed for business.”
    â€œNo!” Alphena said. “No, no weapons for now. We’re just making a visit to scholars in the Forum in broad daylight.”
    â€œAw…,” Rago said in disappointment. Being caught wearing a sword within the religious boundary of Carce meant a death sentence even for a freeborn citizen; the slaves of Alphena’s escort could expect even less consideration. And what good would swords do against magic?
    â€œWait,” Alphena said to the cousins’ backs. “Come back for a moment. We have time.”
    Rago and Drago came up from the stairs. They watched her uneasily, afraid they’d done wrong but not sure how.
    Florina and the breakfast servants stood in a silent row. They were thrilled to watch others deal with a crisis but terrified that they would be dragged into it as well.
    â€œAren’t you afraid of magic?” Alphena said to the Illyrians.
    Everyone was afraid of magic. Corylus’ servant Pulto was as brave a man as ever faced a German ambush or a charge of Sarmatian cavalry, but he trembled to admit that his wife, Anna, was a witch from the Marsian region.
    â€œI guess,” Rago said. “I’m scared of lots of things.”
    â€œBeing crucified,” said his cousin, nodding in agreement. “Bloody near happened too. Near happened twice.”
    â€œThing is,” Rago said, “Drago and me likes fronting for you, lady. I guess that’s the same with the rest of your outside crew, right?”
    â€œYeah,” said Drago. “You tell us where to go, lady, and we’ll go there ahead of you.”
    Alphena swallowed. “All right,” she said. “For the present, that’s to the Forum. I don’t think we’re in any danger except for the chance that we’ll be bored to death by speeches. You may go.”
    Grinning, the cousins trotted down the stairs. Alphena took a deep breath as she watched them go. How can they trust me?
    â€œI’ll dress to go out now,” she said to Florina. “With traveling shoes but not army sandals.”
    Pandareus will know what to do. And Corylus. Corylus will take charge.
    *   *   *
    â€œ T HIS WOMAN COMMITTED ADULTERY, you say!” Corylus thundered from the north end of the Rostra. “The sacred laws of our forefathers, the founders of Carce, demand that she be punished!”
    Pandareus and his class, save the absent Varus, watched below the steps. A pupil of Fulvius Glabrio was declaiming to his immediate left. Corylus had been taught to project his voice by centurions on the frontier where lives depended on their troops hearing orders in the crash of battle. The Forum, though crowded, wasn’t much of a test for him now.
    â€œWell and good!” Corylus said. “Her punishment is to be flung from the Tarpeian Rock, that awful