I slogged through the afternoon miasma, on my way to Somnus’s Temple. It had only been four days since the wizard had nearly escaped on his flying monster, but I had lived through ten. Six of them ended abruptly, in terror and disaster, and I found myself back in my bed, the day undone. It was a grinding existence. I wondered if I would receive some shock at the end of this day, and have to live it over from the beginning.
“Aurelius,” I greeted him, once I was at the temple. I couldn’t recall the trek through the sweltering streets. “You’re a priest of Somnus. How can I tell if I’m awake, or just in a vivid dream?”
“If you have to ask, you must be dreaming,” Aurelius assured me. “You’re dreaming right now.”
That wasn’t the answer I had expected, and doubt crawled over my skin. I needed some proof. “How can I tell? How would I know, if you weren’t here to tell me?”
“Marad, all of existence is a dream. Dreams are the only things of substance. Wakefulness is the illusion.”
Of course. What had I expected from an adept of the god of sleep? I bit back disappointment.
“Ah. Well, thank you.” I paused. “Aurelius, how long has it been since I last came to see you?”
Aurelius raised one eyebrow, so alluring in pose he looked like he’d been carved from stone. A spark of desire flared, the faintest stirring in my groin, in rebellion against the constant smothering gloam. “I don’t keep track,” he replied, “but probably too long.”
That’s actually not what I had meant, but if I could escape into him for an hour, I was more than willing.
Later, lying in each other’s arms, discussing our past lovers, I felt Aurelius suddenly tense. He pulled away and locked his gaze to mine. His eyes were wide with fear.
“Marad, no. Stop. You’re waking up.”
“What are you talking about?” I looked around the dim cell, confused. Nothing had changed.
“Oh gods. I told you you’re dreaming. The world is in your mind. When you wake it’ll cease to exist. I’ll die. Please. I don’t want to die.” His voice trembled. I took his shaking hands in my own and noticed he was less substantial somehow. Less there. Panic ran down my spine.
“How? Tell me what to do!”
“I don’t know. Try, hard. Sleep as long as you can. You’re killing us all.”
“Aurelius? Am I supposed to never wake up? Never see the real world again? I’ll die. I’ll starve.”
“Then you never should have dreamed me to life in the first place! Don’t go, oh gods, please!” He was blubbering now. He curled his head down into my chest, terror contorting his body. The world grew thin, everything began to fade. “I don’t want to die!”
I held him tight as he disintegrated, horror gripping me. What could I do? I couldn’t sleep forever. I had no choice.
“I am sorry,” I whispered into his hair, now pale platinum. “You must die so that I may live. Please know I wish this world was different.”
My eyes snapped open. The night was cold, the stars unimaginably distant through my room’s slit window, and I was alone. I shivered under my blanket.
As the sun rose, I hurried to the Temple of Somnus. A porter bumped into a solider as I walked, and the large legionnaire lashed out, smashing the man to the ground. Nearby, haggles over prices turned into shouting matches, voices rising to scream obscenities. The entire city teetered, dipping in and out of violent outbursts. Every nerve had been frayed down to its raw, bleeding quick.
At the temple I received glares of hatred when I asked if Aurelius was in. Of course he was in, where would he go? Was he safe? Everyone was safe; was I implying the temple couldn’t care for its own? All right, but could someone make sure he existed? What kind of fucking fool question was that?
Finally someone was sent to check. Yes, Aurelius was fine, he did actually exist, and could I kindly fuck off? I turned away, lightheaded. Good, everything was good. I even caught a distant glimpse of him as I left. It had been another dream.
This was the final day of the festival. Today at noon, the wizard would summon his monster. The arena would be roofed with netting, and the fight should last no less than half an hour. Every luminary of the Empire would be there.
Back in my writing room, I looked over the day’s schedule, noting which animals were to die, calculating how much replacements would cost. The final day was always the most extravagant.
The sound of heavy footsteps behind me. I turned to face them, but a hand on my shoulder shoved me away, pushed me against the desk. I felt a thick body press into me from behind.
“I’ve come for the rest of my payment,” Titus growled. My entire body tightened. His stench made it hard to breathe. “The wizard is a hit. I hope you’ve been keeping my cut safe for me.”
My fingers grew cold. He wouldn’t care that I didn’t get any extra money for a popular fight, and no matter what I offered him, I was sure it wouldn’t be enough. “I can’t,” I croaked. “Gracus only gives me so much. If I give you more —”
Titus’s hand shifted to grab my throat. He kept me pinned against the desk with his hips. I felt a firmness rising from his crotch.
“Did you just tell me ‘no’?” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear.
His word against mine, a citizen versus a slave. Keeping as still as possible, I grasped for the money pouch at my belt, overturned it on the desktop.
“Take what you want.” My voice came high and strained.
“Like you could stop me.” He held me down across the desk, pushed my face into the wood. He pulled up my tunic. I squeezed my eyes shut and grabbed the edge of the desk. Not today, not again. I heard him spit.
I gasped at the first thrust, then bit down on the pain. More than anything, I didn’t want to cry out. It would draw the guards, and I couldn’t take the burning shame of them watching from the door as Titus used my body. Couldn’t take their fucking pity on top of everything else. A whimper slipped from my lips with the next thrust, and I wanted to stab my lungs to silence them. It would be over soon.
I found I was squeezing the handle of my thin desk knife. It was small, but sharp enough to repair worn quill nibs with the slightest touch. I gripped it until my knuckles turned white, and as another small cry forced its way from my mouth, I heard in it an echo of the monster’s scream. The stench of decay filled my nostrils again, gagging me. I convulsed, and when Titus yanked my hair, I lifted my shoulder and swung my fist back, flailing desperately behind me. Warmth spurted over my hand, so welcome on my freezing flesh. I heard a choke, Titus came free of me, his pressure pulling away. I looked back.
A face caught between shock and confusion. A puncture in his neck drained his life down his chest in a bright red river. He stared at me, mouth moving but no words coming out. A staggering step back, and then he crashed to the floor. He lay still in widening crimson.
This had to be a dream.
Above the Colosseum, the winged monster shrieked and swooped. I watched from the tunnel entrance. I hadn’t woken up yet. I kept expecting to wake up. A gladiator’s throat erupted into a red geyser, the beast leapt back into the air.
I had drawn the curtains of the writing room, then chained and locked the door. Changed my clothes, taken every coin in the building as I left. I would run tonight, if I hadn’t woken up, if this was real. I would be missed too soon if I left before the grand finale. I fingered the desk knife under my belt. It was my favorite possession now.