Page 58 of Scorched Earth
Austornic’s jaw tightened, the boy chafing at being reduced to his age. Marcus remembered what it had been like when Cassius had done the same to him before the Senate. Yet he also was aware that part of the reason Cassius kept getting the better of him was that the Consul had been playing the game for longer.
“I want you to think,” he continued, seeing Gibzen again approaching the black tower. Climbing onto the scaffolding and down into the pit. “I want you to come up with ideas and strategies. But you will bring themto me.I’m not Hostus to take credit for your work, because I don’t need to step on your back to make a name for myself. You can question me when it is appropriate. You can disagree with me as long as you agree to obey. But if I catch you meddling behind my back, putting the lives of my men at risk, I will lock down your legion until such time as I can send you back to Celendor. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. Understood, sir.”
“Good.”
“By your leave, sir, I’d see to ensuring my men are in order to begin their duties.”
Marcus nodded, watching the boy salute and then depart, full well knowing that Austornic’s desire to prove himself smarter than Marcus would only have grown on the heels of the speech.
Going to the edge of the pit, he scowled at Gibzen. “What are you doing? I told you to get out!”
“I’ve never felt anything like it,” his primus mumbled. “It’s like glass. You should touch it.”
Marcus didn’t want to touch it. Didn’t want to risk climbing onto the precarious scaffolding when he could barely walk in a straight line, but all of Gibzen’s men were watching. If he showed even a hint of weakness, they’d smell it.
Taking a deep breath, he climbed down onto the scaffolding, immediately feeling a temperature change from the raw earth at hisback. He eased across it to Gibzen’s side and reached out a palm to touch the tower.
Only to jerk back with a curse. The black rock was as cold as ice. Pressing his palm against the stone again, Marcus drew in a breath. The noise and stink of Aracam fell away and his blurred vision came into focus. The pain in his skull retreated, and for the first time since he’d fled through the xenthier stems, he felt himself again.
Almosthimself.
Withdrawing his hand, Marcus stepped back and the pain resumed.
“Beautiful, isn’t it,” Gibzen murmured, but that that wasn’t the word that came to Marcus’s mind as he looked up at the black length of shiny stone.
“Tell Rastag to let it be,” he said. “It’s not worth our resources. Now get out of this hole, primus.”
Gibzen obeyed, falling in next to Marcus as they walked through the city, saying nothing every time Marcus bumped into him.
To break the silence, Marcus asked, “Have you made any progress finding our traitor?”
Gibzen gave a sour grunt. “More challenging than anticipated. Seems as though Titus used his father’s gold to pay for a few things, including company. Talk is that several of our boys won the coin off the house in one of Aracam’s better brothels but had the wherewithal to have it melted down. Our cause ain’t aided by the fact the Fifty-First is being paid with new mint and they’re giddily spending their wages. Losing, more accurately, because the pups are bad at cards and can’t hold their drink.”
Marcus exhaled a long breath, adding the Fifty-First’s conduct to his list of troubles. As if he didn’t have bigger concerns than his men impressing all their bad habits on the boys. “Find another angle, then. Reasonably, it’s someone who works guard duty on the command tent, which means he’s probably one of yours.”
“I’ve lost more than a few in recent months.” Gibzen’s feet splashed in a puddle as they walked. “Might be whoever you’re looking for is already dead.”
Titus’s voice filled his head.He hates your girl, Marcus. Hates you breaking the rules. Can’t say I’m shocked he risked his own brothers, but it wouldn’t have been to ruin you. It would have been to give you a chance at redemption.Not how one would speak about a dead spy. “I don’t think we’re going to be that lucky. Look to those who have voiced anger about Teriana.”
Gibzen barked out a laugh. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, sir, but that’s about everyone. Got any other ideas?”
A wave of frustration rolled through Marcus, not because of the jab at Teriana, but because if this had been Agrippa, he would have figured out a solution himself rather than asking Marcus to do his job for him. “I gave you a problem, Gibzen. Solve it.”
They had nearly reached the gate when Quintus approached.
“A word, sir.”
Unease filled him. “Where is—”
“Sleeping.”
“What do you want?”
Quintus stepped closer. “She’s sick with worry about her people being stuck in a prison run by Hostus.”
A vise of guilt tightened around his chest, but Marcus didn’t answer.
