Mark of the Thief

  "So is yours," one of the soldiers replied.

  I raised a hand, palm out. It lacked any feeling of magic, and I was empty of any physical strength beyond what I needed to remain upright, but he didn't know that. "The emperor must know about the Praetor War," I said. "If he rescinds the order of death upon me, I can help him."

  "This isn't about the emperor's orders," a voice said from behind me. "He's thinking about my plans for you."

  I turned so fast that I nearly rolled off Caela. Radulf stood in the doorway, looking far more rested from our fight than I felt. But I didn't understand. How could Radulf be here, standing in the courtyard of the emperor's palace, as if it were his own?

  "You?" I blinked twice to be sure. "Where is Tacitus?"

  "His Highness has just returned to Gaul for a military campaign there, leaving me in charge. After five centuries of rule, with millions of my people slaughtered or enslaved, apparently Rome still has not yet conquered it enough. So the wars continue."

  "You're a general of Rome," I said. "You were a part of those wars!"

  "Was I?" He sounded amused. "Or am I the reason why Rome must still continue to battle those ... barbarians? Because perhaps Rome has a barbarian at the head of its armies? My soldiers will never betray me."

  "Maybe they're just waiting for the right time. Later today, if we're lucky."

  Radulf motioned for his men to raise their bows at Caela. "Get rid of that bird," he said. "Or else we'll cook it for supper."

  "No!" I raised a hand, hoping for enough magic to repel them, but still there was nothing. That was no small surprise. The bulla was empty.

  Caela angrily cawed back at him. Even if she didn't understand his words, she would know the cruel tone of his voice. I nudged her side, urging her to take flight again, but as she reared back, I lost my grip and fell to the marble floor. The bows arced in her direction and I kicked at her leg, urging her into the air. "Go," I said to her. "Leave me -- now!"

  Caela looked back at me, but I swatted at her again, and then ducked as she spread her wings and flew away. I was alone, once more. Probably never to see her again.

  Radulf's soldiers turned their arrows toward me. "How is your magic?" Radulf asked.

  With great effort, I got to my feet and stood tall, hoping it would hide the fact that I felt absolutely nothing. The bulla weighed less now, and hung cold against my chest. "How's your reputation?" I countered. "At least fifty thousand Romans saw what you really are. They know you killed Horatio. The emperor can't be far from here yet. How long until he learns the truth?"

  "The emperor is probably dead already," Radulf said. "There must be consequences for the bargain he made with you."

  That sent a chill through me. Warily, I said, "I proposed that bargain, not him."

  "But he agreed to it. Hardly a show of good will for his finest general. A new emperor will be chosen within days. For his sake, I hope that I like him better."

  "You've killed the emperor?" I couldn't believe it was possible.

  "A blow for the empire on the day Valerius chooses to declare war against me," Radulf said. "And as for the rest of Rome, like rulers of this empire have done for centuries, I'll distract the mob with bread and circuses. They'll do whatever they're told."

  "I will stop you," I said.

  "You'll save the empire?" He chuckled at that. "You couldn't even save yourself in the arena. And you can't defend yourself now."

  I wanted to argue that, desperately, but I couldn't. And we both knew it. Somewhere behind me, something rattled. It was a sound I had heard far too often in my life. My heart lurched into my throat.

  Radulf nodded to his soldiers. "Put this runaway slave back in his chains. Prepare the branding iron so he will never forget what he is."

  "No," I yelled. "No!" I scrambled to get away, but they brought me down before I could get much of a hit at any of them. The soldiers threw me to the floor, yanked my arms behind me, and cuffed me in manacles, then attached them to chains around my ankles. I cried out, not from pain, but from the horror of what it meant to be reduced once again to property. I had promised myself I would never return to this life, and without any meaningful fight, Radulf had stolen that promise away. Like he had taken Livia. Like he had pulled the magic from my shoulder.

  Once I was confined, Radulf knelt beside me. He lifted the bulla from around my neck and lowered it around his. I felt the loss immediately, not only the difference in weight, but as if he had taken away the last piece of my life. It would've been easier if he had taken my heart. I was nothing now anyway.

  "Can you feel its magic?" one of his soldiers asked.

  Radulf's smile was wicked, but not convincing. "The powers come on slowly. It will take time."

  "All hail General Radulf," the soldier said to the cheers of the other men.

  "What shall I do with you now?" Radulf asked me. "I can't return you to the mines. You can't work the venatio. So there are really only two options."

  "Kill me, then." I spat the words at him. "I won't join you."

  "Your willingness to die is admirable," he said. "But will you sacrifice her?"

  He nodded permission at a soldier who went out the door and returned with someone in his grip. Livia.

  My heart pounded as my sister was brought forward. It felt like years since I had seen her. How much older she looked. How much healthier she already appeared.

  The curls in her hair hadn't changed, nor the gentleness in her eyes. This was undoubtedly the real Livia and not some image projected by Radulf, because she reacted the moment she saw me. Her eyes filled with tears and she rushed to my side on the floor.

  "Nic! Are you injured? Why are you still in chains?"

  I wasn't still in chains. I was back in chains, and this time they seemed to burn my flesh like never before. I pulled against them, hoping to find some new strength, but the chains held strong. I hated them, and hated myself in them.

  Radulf stood and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "As I've been telling you, Livia, your brother is in more trouble than he realizes. Help him understand."

  Lines of sympathy were etched in Livia's face. In her gentlest tone, she said, "It's time to stop fighting. General Radulf will be our pater familias."

  "Don't call him that!" I yelled. He was not part of our household, much less the head of it. He would not be honored with such a term.

  "He saved me from the mines. He'll save you too if you let him."

  A burning smell entered the courtyard, and I craned my neck to look for its source. It was one of Radulf's men, carrying the branding iron, white-hot at the tip. Blood rushed to my head as I stared at it, wide-eyed and scarcely able to breathe.

  Radulf kept his eyes on me. "They say you can feel the burning forever, even into the next life. Maybe it's cruel, especially for someone so young, but that's the penalty for an escaped slave. Is this who you are, Nic? Nothing more than property?"

  "What do I care if you use it?" I growled louder to cover up the shaking of my voice. "You'll only kill me anyway."

  Radulf crouched down beside me. "Stop this stubbornness. Who am I?"

  I gritted my teeth, resisting with everything I had against the truth that had pricked at me ever since our first meeting. The branding iron came closer. I heard it sizzle and tried not to think of how it would feel pressed against my forehead.

  He grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him. "Who am I? What should you call me, Nic? You know the answer. Now say it!"

  Yes, I knew it. It had been the last word on my mind each day and given me nightmares as I slept. The word tasted like acid in my mouth and burned as I spoke. "Grandfather."

  Radulf motioned the branding iron away, then stood again and smiled down at me. "When did you know?"

  "That night we fought at the baths. You spoke my father's name. At first I thought Livia must've told it to you, but I'm certain she's never known his name."

  "I know it now," Livia said. "I've learned so much about both him and Mot
her. Pater taught me."

  "I told you not to call him that! He's an enemy to us."

  She straightened her back. "Don't talk to me like I'm a child! He's been good to me. And to you too."

  I snorted. Maybe he hadn't told her about trying to kill me on more than one occasion. Of course, I'd hardly been an ideal grandson to him either.

  "You don't have to love me as a grandfather," Radulf said. "But the blood that runs through my veins also runs in yours, and you cannot deny who you are forever."

  "Yeah?" I snarled. "Watch me."

  "Our family has the ability to do more than rule Rome. Don't you see, Nic, we can rule the gods! With your help, we can defeat the Praetors, and from their knowledge, succeed where your father failed. We will create a Jupiter Stone, which will make me immortal."

  "It will make you insane." I cleared my dry throat. "Or, more insane, if that's possible."

  Radulf shook his head. "Insanity would be living under the iron boot of this empire when it's within my reach to control it. We can achieve this immortality together!"

  "Why should I believe that? After you tried to kill me?"

  "I was teaching you, and testing you." He smiled. "And only occasionally actually trying to kill you. But we will work together now." His hand slipped to the mark on my back, which felt like dead space now. "I pulled the magic out, but I could have done more. If I'd wanted to take the rest of you, I would've succeeded."

  "And what good do you suppose that mark does me now?" I asked.

  "You are still my grandson, Nic." I gritted my teeth and turned away from him, but he continued speaking as if I had just pledged him eternal loyalty. "How did you create that storm in the arena? You must have the key."

  I knew for a fact that Horatio hadn't given me anything, nor did I understand what he meant when he said he had given the key to me, and kept it for himself. But to Radulf, I only said, "The bulla must've given me the power to call that storm. Though on you, it looks rather childish."

  "Yes. Well, don't worry, Nic, I still have plenty of use for you."

  "I'd rather eat cow dung." Or better yet, feed it to Radulf.

  "Then Valerius wins the Praetor War. Eventually, he will beat us to the Malice of Mars, and find a way to obtain a Jupiter Stone. With them, he will bring the entire world to its knees. There will be nothing beyond Rome, for Rome will be everything."

  I wanted to accuse him of lying, to spit the truth back in his face. More so, I wished everything he said could be a lie. But in my heart, I knew it wasn't. I was caught in the middle of a war between two sides I could not support. If I joined Radulf, a city I had come to love would be destroyed. But if I joined Valerius, there would be nothing left in the world but an empire that had kept me and so many others in chains.

  Radulf leaned in to me. "I will train you to become as powerful as I am now, and as powerful as your father once was. He was a great man, Nic. It does not honor his memory for you to live in chains. Or die in them."

  "Then let me go." I held my chained hands out to Radulf. "In the name of my father, release me. Now."

  Radulf requested the key, which was set into his palm. He stuck the key into the lock and released my hands first and then my legs. I scrambled to my feet as quickly as possible, to get away from the chains.

  I held out my hand to Livia. "Let's go."

  She only stared back at me as tears welled in her eyes. "Let's stay, please, Nic. Our home is with Radulf now."

  "Not every chain is made of metal," I told her. "The worst are made of comfort and false promises. You're no more free here than you were in the mines." But she would not budge, so with my heart heavy and torn, I started to walk away.

  Except that with a nod of his head, Radulf had his guards raise their swords to block my path. I stopped short of them but refused to look his way. Speaking to my back, he said, "I admire your courage to leave -- truly, you are your father's son. But you must know that I can't allow it. If you try to leave, ever, there will be consequences for those you love." Radulf's hand went onto Livia's shoulder.

  Livia's eyes widened when she understood Radulf's threat. And only then, too late, did she understand that our family ties weren't nearly as strong as his desire to control an empire. And to control me.

  "I will win the Praetor War," Radulf said. "At any price."

  He drew his own sword, but it was still in the air before I raised a hand and yelled, "Stop!" Radulf locked eyes with me, and I hated the glint of triumph in his. But there was nothing more I could do. I would not test Radulf against my sister.

  "We will join your house," I muttered.

  "We will join your house ..." He raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to finish the phrase.

  My hands curled into fists. "We will join your house, Grandfather."

  "And you will become part of the Praetor War, as you always were meant to do."

  With that, he thrust Livia toward me and replaced his sword. I wrapped my arms around her as she cried on my shoulder.

  "We had better leave before Valerius arrives with his victory celebration," Radulf told his men. "I must gather a few things, and by then, you will have my grandchildren in the wagon ready to travel back to my home."

  As soon as he left, Livia whispered, "That threat -- he couldn't have meant it."

  "He did mean it, Livia. You have to accept what kind of a person he really is. That's the only way we'll ever escape him."

  "How? We have nothing. Without him, we are nothing."

  I shook my head. "That's not true."

  The soldier who had spoken before motioned us to walk forward. "You two follow me. Any tricks and I'll poke the person walking beside you."

  Livia took my arm where I had received the burn in the arena. "What happened to you?"

  I looked at the wound. It had started to heal, but not entirely. And the pain was so minimal that I had almost forgotten about it. It was still healing, despite Radulf having pulled so much magic from my shoulder. Despite Radulf having taken the bulla. It was healing anyway.

  "I know about the bulla," Livia said. "Radulf told me the jewels in it come from the gods."

  I couldn't suppress a grin. "There are jewels in it, yes. But not from the gods." The ones with the glow were sitting inside Aurelia's crepundia. While still on the lift to enter the arena, I had switched them. There was nothing in the bulla but Aurelia's cheap imitation stones and a fading scent of magic.

  "Radulf is making a mistake by bringing us into his home," I told her. "Before I leave, I will know exactly how to defeat both him and Valerius. And I will get that bulla back."

  With that thought, my smile widened. The bulla was only part of my magic. The rest was in the Divine Star. And even now, as my strength began to recover, I felt a prickle in my shoulder. Caesar's power had awoken within me once again.

  My battle had only just begun.

  Readers often ask about the inspiration for a book or character. Mark of the Thief began when I happened upon a random fact: Emperor Julius Caesar used to claim he was a literal descendent of the goddess Venus. Historians believe he created this part of his image to make himself seem more powerful, but I began to wonder, what if he had been telling the truth? What if he really did have special powers, if he was a sort of demigod?

  That led to other questions, with answers that took my imagination into exciting possibilities. Slowly, ancient Rome came alive in my mind -- but now in a time filled with magic, competing forces between good and evil, and a journey where the least likely of all -- a young mining slave -- rises to save an empire. My stories often begin this way, by asking questions that I can't wait to answer.

  But though my stories begin in this simple way, bringing them into readers' hands is a much bigger process, one I could never do alone. So for that, I am forever grateful to Jeff Nielsen, my husband, best friend, and true companion, and to our three children, for their support, encouragement, and willingness to split the last square of dark chocolate. Few things are a truer act of
love. Thanks also to my amazing agent, Ammi-Joan Paquette, whose wisdom and knowledge greatly outdistance her years. Heaps of gratitude to everyone at Scholastic -- it is a privilege to work with each of you in your various areas of expertise. Finally, warmest thanks to my editor, Lisa Sandell, who does far more than help me shape a story for publication. You are mentor, advisor, teacher, therapist, guidance counselor, and above all, a true friend. You are gold.

  One final word -- to all those who were my teachers, even in the subjects where I clearly wasn't paying attention -- if you've ever wondered whether you made a difference to any of your students, here's at least one answer: For me, you made all the difference in the world.

  JENNIFER A. NIELSEN is the acclaimed author of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Ascendance Trilogy: The False Prince, The Runaway King, and The Shadow Throne. Jennifer also wrote Behind Enemy Lines, the sixth book in the Infinity Ring series, as well as the forthcoming novel A Night Divided.

  She loves chocolate, old books, and lazy days in the mountains. Born and raised in northern Utah, she lives there today with her husband, three children, and a dog that won't play fetch. You can visit her at www.jennielsen.com.

  ALSO BY

  JENNIFER A. NIELSEN

  THE ASCENDANCE TRILOGY

  The False Prince

  The Runaway King

  The Shadow Throne

  Copyright (c) 2015 by Jennifer A. Nielsen All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Nielsen, Jennifer A.

  Mark of the thief / by Jennifer A. Nielsen. -- First edition.

  page cm. -- (Mark of the Thief ; book 1) Summary: When Nic, a slave in the mines outside of Rome, is forced to enter a sealed cavern containing lost treasures of Julius Caesar, he finds himself in possession of an ancient amulet filled with magic once reserved for the Gods, and becomes the center of a conspiracy to overthrow the emperor and destroy Rome.

  ISBN 978-0-545-56154-9 (jacketed hardcover) [1. Magic -- Fiction. 2. Slavery -- Fiction. 3. Amulets -- Fiction. 4. Rome -- Antiquities -- Fiction. 5. Insurgency -- Fiction. 6. Rome -- History -- Empire, 30 B.C.-476 A.D. -- Fiction.] I. Title.