Rise of the Wolf

I shook my head. "No, of course not."

  "Then why?"

  Because I wanted her there, where I knew she was safe, where I could get her advice and enjoy her friendship. But instead of saying any of that, I panicked. "Er, Radulf has good cheese."

  Good cheese? Had I really just said such a ridiculous thing?

  Aurelia released me and stepped back. Even the small distance between us felt too far apart now, but nothing I could do would change that.

  Aurelia shook her head and looked toward Crispus. "He just lost his father, and his mother will be devastated. Crispus will be expected to immediately begin his apprenticeship with the Senate, and to manage what's left of his father's lands. Livia might want me there, but I'm needed here. I need to stay with Crispus."

  A knot formed in my gut, and my tone sounded too bitter considering how much he had lost today. "Crispus has servants to help him."

  "Yes, but what he needs are friends," she said. "I'll stay here until his father's burial is over. And I'll be there when you race, as your friend too." She licked her lips. "I'll be there at the end, to celebrate when you claim your victory. Your freedom."

  I nodded at her as she started to walk away. Perhaps if I did win my life back, I would be in a position to offer her a bargain of my own.

  Once Aurelia and I had finished talking, she and Crispus left to break the terrible news to Crispus's mother. I felt for their family and wished things could've happened differently tonight. I wished everything could be different than it was, in fact. And though the knot in my gut was as tight as ever at seeing her leave with him, I knew Aurelia cared about me too.

  Livia came to my side as we walked toward the road back to Radulf's home. She took my arm in hers and gave it a squeeze.

  "I haven't seen you race," she said. "But I don't need to. I know you, and that's enough to tell me that you will win."

  "I'll do my best," I said.

  "No, Nic. You must win. There really is no choice now."

  Her nails dug into my flesh, communicating the fear she was trying to hide. But she didn't need to be afraid. I had a plan to ensure my victory, and I would give her the details once we had a chance to be alone. But only her.

  Callistus walked along beside her, which was no surprise. He obeyed me, but he was drawn to Livia. As all good things were.

  At least three separate times as we walked along the outskirts of the city, I started to tell Livia about having seen our mother. Back in the sewers, when she found out that I'd had the quick glimpse of our mother in the circus, she was clearly frustrated with me for not telling her. I knew she would want to know now that Mother and I had spoken. That our mother was concerned for Livia's safety and had expressed her love for us.

  But Mother had also begged me not to bargain with Brutus, and I had. Mother wanted me to take Livia away from Rome, leaving her behind, which I refused to do.

  And if I told Livia about our mother, I'd have to tell her everything. I didn't want her to feel divided about the right choices for us. She shouldn't have to feel the same burn in her chest, warning that what I'd just done might be a big mistake.

  Because the longer we walked, the more I wondered if I had done the right thing in making the bargain. Livia was right: There was no choice now but to win the race. Losing it would cost me everything.

  On the third time that I started to tell Livia, Radulf began walking beside us, and I clamped my mouth shut. Maybe he knew that I'd spoken with my mother -- I wasn't sure if he could sense that through the Divine Star -- but if he didn't know, I certainly wouldn't tell him. And I was still keeping myself more than an arm's reach from him. I didn't trust him and understood that I deserved his trust even less. But since I had the bulla, and had just threatened to use it to destroy his life's ambition, I figured I had more reasons than he did to keep my distance.

  Radulf glanced sideways at me. "If you thought it was risky to trick Brutus with a fake Malice, then explain how this is a better idea."

  I thought about what Valerius had said, that Brutus would sense the absence of magic in a fake Malice. But that still didn't mean this was a better idea. So I only shrugged. My bargain with Brutus was beginning to feel like a terrible mistake.

  "Would you really have destroyed the Malice?" he asked. "If Brutus hadn't agreed to your offer?"

  "I still intend to destroy it," I said. "Even if it means destroying the bulla too."

  "You'd be right in the middle of that explosion," Radulf said. "It would kill you."

  "Creating a Jupiter Stone probably will too," I said. "So at least I'll have some say in the reason for my death."

  "Maybe it won't," Radulf said. "Your father didn't have the amulets when he attempted to create the Stone. Maybe the amulets will protect you."

  Maybe not. I tended to believe that the creation of a Jupiter Stone was meant to kill whoever attempts it, with or without any amulets. It was the gods' way of protecting their magic.

  "Besides," Radulf added, "once you feel the magic of the Malice, you won't want to destroy it. You'll never want to give it away."

  "I'll be killed for having it." I eyed Radulf. "Or worse."

  "Can we please talk about anything else?" Livia released my arm and stood back. "You talk about your death as if it's some theory, some idea that has no consequences. It would be a real thing, Nic, and then I'd lose you. I'd be alone." Her voice let out a small squeak. "What would happen to me then?"

  Radulf stepped up beside her and spoke as gently as I'd ever heard him before. "You are my granddaughter and under my protection forever. Whatever happens to Nic, you will be safe. You will never again live in slavery, never again have to suffer or wonder where your next meal will come from."

  "Don't think for a minute that my worries have anything to do with my next meal or a life of comfort!" she said, the closest thing to anger that I'd ever heard from her. "I care about my brother. You must help him win that race!"

  "Then let's start right away," Radulf said. "It's still very early. If we hurry home, we can get a few hours of sleep and begin at the racetrack after breakfast. Take my arm. My magic will take us there."

  Livia obeyed, but I folded my arms and stepped back.

  "Do as you're told," Radulf said to me.

  "I'll ride Callistus back home," I said. "That's how I'll start practicing."

  I had expected him to argue, but he didn't. Radulf only mumbled, "If you wish. Obviously, I cannot force you to do anything." Then he closed his eyes, and without another word, he and Livia vanished.

  I stared at the empty space where they had stood, incredulous. It was the closest I'd come in years to feeling free. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I wasn't hiding from anyone, or running, or expecting to be caught. Was this how other Romans felt all the time?

  I turned to Callistus, and something about the look in his eye reminded me that while I had some independence, it was not the same as freedom.

  "Well, boy, I can tell your opinion of what I've done." I patted Callistus on his neck and continued walking with him. I was glad he couldn't answer me, because I knew what he'd say, and at the moment, it wasn't exactly favorable to either my intelligence or my wisdom.

  Four days. I had to be insane to propose that bargain with Brutus. Even now, I was sure I could hear him laughing with the other Praetors at how lucky they would be after the race, hauling me before them on my knees and demanding the key to the Malice.

  A key that I had, obviously, but could not use. I hadn't worried as much about the Malice before now. It was easier to believe the key had died along with Horatio. Well, it hadn't. And now, Livia was right: The Malice was no longer a theory, but an amulet, which I would either find and destroy, or which would destroy me as the Praetors forced it from my grip. The consequences of failure were terrible, and very real. I had to recall every word Horatio said to me two months ago, or whether he had done anything that could have given me the key. I needed that key as much as I needed to draw my next breath. Maybe mor
e.

  Finally, I swung into the saddle on Callistus's back. He had the power of forty horses, so I figured testing him to his limits would also stretch mine.

  "Run," I whispered.

  And he did. He shot forward so quickly that I nearly lost my hold on his saddle. Rather than continuing on toward Radulf's home, he turned around to keep us on the outskirts of Rome. Where the new city wall was not entirely built, Callistus ran into the open land, out to where I had longed to go as a free person.

  Wind whipped at my face and dried my eyes to the point that it was necessary to close them at times. Finally, we were in flat, open fields, and I geared up in the saddle and narrowed my eyes enough to give him some direction.

  Callistus had the same power in running as I had felt in the griffin as we flew. Yet because Callistus traveled by land, I was more aware of his grace at such high speeds. I leaned in the direction I wanted him to go, and he obeyed my cues.

  Only minutes later, a quick glance back told me that the city walls were much farther away than I had expected. Callistus showed no signs of tiring yet, and maybe he would never need to stop and rest. I wondered if he would take me to the farthest limits of Rome, and what I'd find when I got there.

  Some of the slaves who had worked with me in the mines had come from lands so far away that little of what they described sounded familiar. There were some men with dark skin who talked of jungles and harsh deserts and survival where water was scarce. Others with fair skin came from the north, with cooler summers than we had in Rome, but winters with snow that could bury a person inside their home for weeks at a time.

  I knew nothing of their lives before coming to the mines, or how I'd survive with Livia and my mother if we eventually went into those strange lands. Truly, although it was firm in my mind that I would have to leave Rome if I was ever to find peace, I didn't know where in the world could be any more beautiful.

  We had been riding south, I realized, with the scenery passing so quickly that it took me a while to realize where we were headed, and I didn't like it at all.

  "Turn around," I said aloud to Callistus. "Let's go back."

  But he wouldn't, even after I gripped his reins and tried to turn him. I wouldn't force him with magic; indeed, the last thing I wanted was to put him at risk from anything the bulla could do. But he was clearly willing to risk my safety.

  The mines were ahead. The same ones that had taken five years of my life in exchange for filth, starvation, and harsh labor that had all but killed me. My former master, a pig named Sal, was now in charge of the household for Senator Horatio, another reason I doubted Aurelia would return to her home any more often than necessary. But a new master had taken over at the mines, and would likely know my face and the story of how I had run away. I wouldn't go back there ever again. I couldn't.

  Fortunately, it wasn't long before we left the road to the mines as Callistus turned us toward the shores of Lake Nemi, the one we miners had called Diana's Mirror because of her temple on the northern shore. But now I understood Diana differently, her powers, her anger and jealousy. Going near the lake was only slightly preferable to the mines, which was only slightly preferable to having my teeth knocked out by wild boars.

  That is, until I saw why Callistus had fought me to come. For when we got down to the shoreline, I saw the flutter of a golden wing behind a rock, and recognized it at once.

  I leapt off Callistus's back and went running around the rock --

  -- to the griffin, who nearly sideswiped me with her paw and lovingly curled me into her at the same time.

  To Caela, whom I had dearly missed and thought about almost as often as I thought about nearly anything else.

  I wrapped my arms around her neck and dug my fingers into the fur there until the lion half of her purred. With the bulla's ability to communicate with animals, I filled her with my love and every memory of how I had missed her these past two months. Then she crouched low, inviting me to ride. It was no accident that Callistus had brought me here, so wherever Caela wanted to go, I would ride with her.

  I swung onto her back and told Callistus I would return soon, and before the words were out of my mouth, Caela and I were in the air.

  I had forgotten what it was like to fly with Caela. During my last ride on her back, I had been half-dead from Radulf, furious with Crispus and Valerius, and heartbroken from my failure to save Horatio. I barely remembered the ride.

  Until now.

  Caela soared over Lake Nemi, beneath a moon bright enough to make the water look like black glass, only smoother. The mountains around us were equally dark, but the shadows of their ridges came in the form of tall cypress trees and the outline of Diana's temple, lit from within by candlelight. As we came closer to it, I also noticed a woman standing near the temple, watching me. Waiting for me. Now I was nervous. Caela had not taken me on a pleasure ride.

  Caela landed beside the temple, and the woman, a vestalis, walked up to us and stroked the griffin's neck as if they were old friends. She whispered something to Caela, who promptly dumped me off her back by arching it and then shuffling her wings. Then Caela flew away without so much as a glance backward.

  I stood and called after her, but the vestalis touched my arm. "Don't worry, Nicolas. She'll return when I call for her."

  My eyes narrowed. "You have magic?"

  She smiled. "You may have the power of the gods, but I have their ear, and that is enough. Do you remember me?"

  Humbly, I nodded. This was the same vestalis who had granted Aurelia and me asylum in Caesar's temple. With her hair nearly as white as her robes, she was old enough to be my grandmother but still as beautiful as I imagined the goddesses to be. There was a kindness in her expression and in the tone of her voice, but a firmness too -- she would have little patience for fools.

  "I warned you back then not to cause trouble," she said. "You didn't listen."

  "I did listen. You should've warned the empire not to cause me trouble."

  Her smile was brief. "Perhaps so. I worry that more deaths are coming."

  She probably didn't know about Valerius. I had tried to save him. And failed, just as I had failed with Horatio. Every death cut at my heart. If the Praetors struck out against Crispus, or Aurelia, or Livia, or my mother, it would be too much for me to bear. And if I lost the race in four days, all of them would suffer for it.

  "You must find a way to stop this," the vestalis said.

  I wanted that more than anything right now, more than even my own freedom. "How can I do it?" I asked, absolutely certain that if anyone had the answer to that question, it was her.

  She grabbed a torch that was placed against the wall of the temple. "Come with me, Nicolas."

  Since the day I had stolen the bulla, my life had felt like a deep hole in the ground. I'd tried everything I could think of to get out of the pit, but instead, it only deepened the hole. If the vestalis had any way to help -- even a pebble that might raise me higher, then I would gladly follow her.

  As it turns out, it wasn't a pebble exactly. But it was close.

  I followed her behind the temple to a large field on a slope that was scattered with loose rocks, each about the size of my fist and all of them as white as Callistus's fur.

  "The Jupiter Stone is here," the vestalis said.

  I shook my head. "I won't create one of those, not for the Praetors, or Radulf, or even you, my lady."

  She closed her eyes and nodded in approval. "You must never create one for the Praetors. They will use it to control the gods. And if you create one for Radulf, he will use it to destroy the gods. And you must not create one for yourself. For it will destroy you."

  I looked sideways at her. "What about you?"

  She smiled. "I am not asking."

  "I don't have the Malice," I replied. "Without it, I can't create a Jupiter Stone, even if I wanted to." And I definitely didn't want to. Creating a Jupiter Stone would require me to challenge a bolt of lightning, and I knew how that encounter w
ould end. There were whole body parts I'd rather lose before I wanted to create a Jupiter Stone.

  "The time hasn't come for you to create the amulet," the vestalis said. "Only to find the stone intended for that purpose." Then she motioned toward the rocks. "One of these is the Jupiter Stone. The others are merely rocks. You must learn to tell the difference between them so that when you are returned here -- and you will be -- you will know which stone not to select for your captors."

  "My captors?" I asked. "Who will that be?"

  "The captors you choose." Then she shrugged. "Though I cannot tell who that will be. You have not chosen them yet."

  I wouldn't be choosing anyone -- that was the whole point of my bargain with Brutus. I had no intention of letting things get to the point of my capture.

  "How do you know all this?" I asked. Because I wanted her to say that she really didn't know, and that she was just good at making guesses.

  Her smile dimmed as she motioned again to the rocks. "Find the Jupiter Stone, Nicolas. And bring it to me in the grove."

  Then she walked down a hillside, taking the light with her. The only light, I realized, as the air around me became black.

  I didn't want to use magic to produce a light. Using the bulla, I'd likely start a fire and burn the temple to the ground. That would hardly endear me to Diana, who probably already hated me enough. And using the Divine Star would alert Radulf to where I was. Above everyone else, except maybe Decimas Brutus, I didn't want Radulf to know I was looking for the Jupiter Stone.

  So I worked in darkness, using the moonlight to guide me. The vestalis had given me no hints to know when I had found the Jupiter Stone, but I assumed, like the bulla, it would be one of those know-it-when-you-find-it moments.

  There were hundreds of rocks here, none of them any different from the next. I picked up one, waiting for some recognition in my hand, then set it behind me and moved on. I did the same with another, and another, and dozens more. After a couple of hours of this, my back ached from being slouched over, and my hands were as gritty as they'd ever been in the mines. I was exhausted and also beginning to wonder if my method of hoping I recognized the correct rock was foolish. Maybe I'd left the Jupiter Stone behind an hour ago, and if I searched the rest of the year, it would produce nothing but a permanently hunched back and frayed hands.