Wrath of the Storm (Mark of the Thief 3)

And the birds responded to my call by diving at the Praetors with their sharp beaks and claws. They weren't as sharp as Nasica's nose, perhaps, but they'd still do. The men cried out, attempting to wave off the birds, but found themselves pecked mercilessly in the process. With another whisper from me, several of the birds responded by leaving their droppings on the heads of the men as they scattered. I doubted birds had any sense of humor, but if they did, then I hoped they were enjoying this scene as much as I was. Each time droppings landed on someone's heads, the groans became louder. Weapons clattered to the ground as the Praetors ran in every direction, more than one yelling about bird droppings in either his mouth or eye.

For my part, the scene was so funny, I nearly lost my hiding place behind the Senate columns, bracing my side against the ache from holding in so much laughter.

Once the prison entrance was abandoned, I peeked out from around the column, ensuring that I was alone.

At first I thought I was. The Praetors were all gone, and to avoid the cries of prisoners, few citizens ever wandered this way. Then somewhere in the background, laughter rang out, startling me. I glanced back and saw it was only a handful of senators in the distance, the first arrivals of a new workday. I adjusted my hiding place around the column to avoid them and then checked the area one last time.

Before anyone else came, I ran forward. Compared to the other elaborate buildings in the forum, the carcer was square and rather plain. Of course it would be. No one needed to be impressed by the place Rome held and executed her prisoners.

Or at least, the lesser prisoners were executed here. That would not be Radulf's fate. Brutus would ensure his execution was as brutal and public as possible. A public beheading in the center of the forum perhaps. I had little faith in Aurelia's bribe to do anything beyond make Nasica wealthier than he already was. Saving Radulf was up to me.

The carcer appeared to be empty when I entered. All the guards had been with the Praetors outside, probably warned to watch for me. The prison was just as simple on the inside, with no frescoes or statues, or anything as grand as the other forum buildings. Overall, the room appeared to be little more than aged layers of stone and brick with a single altar toward the back.

I followed the sound of water toward that altar. But before I got there, I saw a metal grate on the floor with a nearby rope attached to an anchor in the floor. Below me came the sounds of moans and cries, maybe from other prisoners below, not too different from Atroxia's constant cries. Maybe from Radulf too, I didn't know.

I glanced around again, just to be cautious. I could defend myself from anyone who might come, but now that I was so close, I didn't want to risk anything happening to Radulf. The floor beneath my feet could easily cave in if I became careless in a fight.

Once I was certain I was alone, I studied the grate again. Nearby was a long metal bar the prison guards must use to pry the grate up, and even then it probably took at least two men to do the job. Thankfully, I wouldn't need the bar, or anyone's help. Well, I'd need the Malice, but that was different. I leaned over and picked up the grate, then tossed it aside.

Then I quickly lowered the rope into the hole, and while doing so lay on my belly and called out, "Radulf, I'm here to get you!"

The moans went quiet, and from the silence, a voice squeaked, "Nic?"

"Take the rope."

More silence. Then the voice said, "I can't hold on to it."

I had never known anything from my grandfather but strength and power. This weakened, sickly man was a stranger to me. No doubt it had cost him dearly to lose his magic, but I also had to remind myself he had been within a whisper of death only two days ago. Though I had brought him back from the edge, he still needed time to regain his strength. A sewage-infested hole was hardly the place for that.

"Livia is expecting me to return with a grandfather," I teased. "So if you can't hold on, then get me another old man to pull up instead. Preferably one a little stronger than you."

He grunted in annoyance, which I took as a good sign. A moment later, I felt his weight attach to the end of the rope, and he told me to hurry, which was definitely my plan too. I stood and began pulling, one tug at a time. Thanks to my years in the mines, I was already strong, but with the combined magic of the Malice and the bulla, I might as well have been lifting a feather out of that hole.

When he was about halfway up, I stopped lifting. Dozens of footsteps were rushing into the carcer. They weren't heavy, as the footsteps of soldiers or Praetors, and the sounds were accompanied by some laughter. Young voices.

Even if they were no threat, this was a bad position to be in. If I lowered Radulf to the ground, he might not have the strength to take the rope again. If I kept him suspended below, then my hands weren't free to use magic -- they were still holding the rope. So I whispered to Radulf to hold on and readied myself for whoever might come. However, I never could have prepared myself for the faces I saw. In some ways, they were my own.

Twenty or thirty boys about my age had come into the carcer, all barefoot and in rags similar to those I had worn for years. These were Roman slaves. They were who I had been only months ago, maybe who I still was on the inside.

One boy was pushed to the front of the group, licking his lips like they were coated in the sweetest honey. He was nervous, and probably afraid of me. He looked at me, then his eye traveled down the rope into the open grate. It was obvious what I was attempting to do, one of my more serious crimes thus far. Maybe at the moment, I was more afraid of him.

"You're Nicolas Calva," he said. "Your family is from Gaul. I'm Donnan. My family was brought here from Gaul a year ago."

I stared at him, still cautious. Did Donnan think that fact would make us friends? Or that I'd be less likely to defend myself against him and these other boys simply because we'd been born within the same defeated borders?

That was ridiculous. None of that mattered to me. And yet my awareness that I could have been standing where he now did mattered a great deal. I could defend myself, and I would if necessary. But I would not attack.

Keeping my eye on Donnan, I began pulling on the rope again. Radulf wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. "What do you want?" I asked.

Donnan's eyes darted toward the hole, and he licked his lips again. "Our masters sent us here to fetch the general."

"Go tell your masters they'll be crusty old corpses before I let the general return to them."

Donnan nodded. "They told us that's what you'd say, more or less. Our masters said that if we leave this building without General Radulf, we will all go to the games this afternoon."

I knew what that meant. They wouldn't go to the games as audience members in the amphitheater. They'd go there as entertainment for the people, and as supper for the animals of the venatio.

Sincerely hoping to help, I turned to Donnan. "Once I have the general up here, then you can come out with us. I will defend you from your masters. I will help you escape."