"Of course not," Varus said. He was suddenly angry when he realized that Manetho might be looking for an excuse to send a rival to brutal labor and an early death. "Don't ever suggest something like that to me."
It had been bad enough to imply that the young master might be savage and unreasonable rather than the philosopher he strove to be. It was much worse to use him as a weapon against a victim who was not only undeserving of such punishment but even innocent.
Varus got to his feet. He said, "Open the-"
Before he got the rest of the sentence out, three servants were throwing open the shutters. His whole entourage-the day and night shifts together-was here in the library or in the corridor outside.
He bent to pick up the tablet which had slipped from his fingers, wondering just how far he'd gotten in his dictation. He had thought he was too tense to get to sleep and that focusing on scholarship would calm him. The plan had apparently worked better than he had hoped.
"Permit me, your lordship!" said the girl who had snatched the tablet from the floor. She put it in his hand, pressing his fingers as she did so. She must have been sleeping at the foot of his couch.
Varus didn't remember her name, though he had seen her repeatedly in the past several days. He couldn't imagine why she had been assigned to him. If in fact she had been: in a household as large as Saxa's, it was quite possible for recently purchased servants to float for weeks or months without being given specific duties.
He straightened abruptly without trying to hide his look of irritation. Just as he didn't want to be a tool of vengeance between servants, he disliked the notion of some illiterate girl using his favor to elevate herself among her fellows. She didn't even speak good Greek!
"I believe I'll go to the baths now," Varus said to Manetho. "Or-are the baths in our gymnasium warm, by any chance?"
Saxa's little exercise ground was fully equipped, though it had rarely been used before Varus invited his friend Corylus to visit. The attached bath had a steam room and a cold pool only big enough to sit in rather than swim, but that would be sufficient to relax the stiffness of a night spent sleeping awkwardly.
Manetho smiled. "When I learned your lordship was here," he said, gesturing to the bookcases, "I ordered the furnace to be stoked. The water should be ready now."
You just redeemed yourself, Varus thought. And after all, it was possible that the deputy steward hadn't had any evil motive in talking about punishments.
Aloud he said, "Have a fresh tunic brought there for me," and started for the door. Manetho whisked out ahead of him.
Frowning, Varus added, "Manetho, do you know what happened to the slaves whom my father freed, ah, yesterday?"
"They were enrolled in a section of their own," Manetho said. "Master Lenatus was appointed as the decurion who will lead them."
"Ah," said Varus, lifting his chin in understanding. His face was blank as he started downstairs toward the gymnasium at the back.
It would not do for the Emperor to hear a rumor that Gaius Saxa was raising a private army of former slaves. On the other hand, Saxa's new clients had to be dealt with in some fashion, and keeping them in Carce under Lenatus was probably as safe as any choice could be. Besides, they might come in useful again…
Varus thought of a wizard with the power to lift crystal mountains and to scour swathes of forest to bubbling rock. The Emperor wasn't the worst threat which Saxa and the world faced at the moment.
Instead of hanging its sail from a single spar, the Atlantean ship had two booms joined separately to the mast. When they began to flap like wings, Corylus looked up to see howe they were attached to the mast.
There was no joint: the booms grew out of the mast the way branches spread from a tree bole. Corylus laid his palm against the mast and felt the wood bunch and flex as though he were touching the flank of a running horse.
"Cousin?" he said. "Is this ship alive?"
The sprite turned from the bow, where she had been looking out to sea. "I suppose it's alive the same way a crystal is," she said. "Does that matter?"
"Perhaps not at the moment," Corylus said, a trifle sharply. The sprite's lack of curiosity disturbed him, but he had met no few human beings who also disregarded the world unless it had some immediate application to themselves. The soul of a tree which had been dust or ashes for untold thousands of years had a better reason to lack a sense of wonder.
They were far enough out over the sea that Corylus could barely see the land they had left. They had slanted upward until the keel was-he looked over the railing-about a hundred feet above the water, but they were no longer climbing. There was nothing ahead or to either side, as best he could tell.
The ancient wizard grinned at him. It didn't seem to need a talisman like those he had seen the Atlanteans in visions use when they propelled their ships.
The ship's wings beat with slow, powerful strokes like those of a vulture gaining altitude on a gray day. Corylus said, "How long can we fly before we have to land? Or-"
He knew he was being optimistic, but that didn't cost any more than anxiety would.
"-can we soar without flapping?"
The sprite looked puzzled. "How would we do that?" she said. "But we can fly as long as the sun shines. Why would you want to stop flying?"
There was no useful answer to that-because of her disinterest and his ignorance, they were talking at cross purposes-so Corylus said, "Will we get home-to my home, I mean-before sunset, Coryla?"
She shrugged. "You humans worry about time," she said as she returned to where Corylus stood at the railing just forward of the mast. "I don't know when we'll reach the waking world. I don't know if we ever will."
She slid her hand through the sleeve of his tunic and began fondling his chest. He took her wrist and firmly placed her arm at her side; she pouted and turned her back, but she didn't move away.
Corylus looked up. There were no clouds, but the sky itself had a pale cast that suggested haze. The sun remained bright, though not hot enough to make him wish for better shade than he had available.
"I should have thought things through before we left the beach," Corylus said. "Does, ah, your friend know how long we must fly to get back?"
The sprite turned and glowered for an instant. Then her mood broke and she said, "I don't think he cares any more about time than I do, cousin. You humans are hard to understand."
She walked toward the bow but threw a glance over her shoulder to show that she wasn't stalking away; he followed. "But there was nothing good about that island, not for me and certainly not for you. I'm glad you left. And-"
She raised her eyebrow.
"-what would you have done when another Cyclops came? Though I might have asked the Ancient to help. Even though you're not as friendly to me as you should be, cousin. Don't you think I'm pretty?"
"At another time I'd…," Corylus said. "Well, I might find you very pretty. But not now, please, mistress."
The Cyclops had almost crushed him to death, and in this place he wasn't sure he was alive to begin with. Is my body lying on the floor of Tardus' library, turning purple and cooling?
He grinned at the thought. So long as he could imagine things being worse, the way things were didn't seem so bad. Any soldier could tell you that.
"Well, I think you're being silly," the sprite said with a pout, but she wasn't really angry this time. "What else is there to do?"