CHAPTER SIX
My mind and my heart are reeling as I return to my rooms, trying to decide what I should do about Marcus. I can't just turn him in, and not just because any attempt to do so would show that I was present at the illegal fights beneath the city. It would get me into at least as much trouble. A part of me still wants to believe that he's doing this for the right reasons, even though that is growing harder and harder to believe by the day.
I want him to be on the right side of this, but even if he is could we be together? He's lied to me so many times now. Can we ever rebuild trust after that?
I try to push thoughts of Marcus from my head, with little success. I need to focus on proving what Selene is doing in the city and the senate. I need to find a way to show she's using mind magic to control those around her, slowly bending powerful figures to her will. If I don't then she will get her freedom, along with power in the city.
That's a terrifying thought. Selene has made no secret to me of her desire to resurrect the empire with herself at its head. She seems almost grateful to me for removing the emperor, with me and Alaric killing him during the uprising. But that gratitude is just because it got him out of the way, leaving the path clear for Selene to seize power later on.
I don't know what kind of empress Selene would be. It doesn't matter when she would hurt so many people to gain power and keep it. If I want to stop her, demonstrating what she's doing is the first step.
But as I get back into my rooms, I realize I have something more pressing to attend to. There's a scrap of paper waiting for me on my desk, tucked into the usual reports and messages. As Ilift it, I recognize the writing on it as that of Thalia, Alaric’s main lieutenant in the resistance movement.
After weeks of near silence from them it seems the resistance are reaching out to me again. Is it a coincidence that they're doing so at the same time Marcus is? Or is there some bigger game here that I'm not seeing?
I read the note.
Meet me by your statue, around noon. T.
The sun is already rising higher in the sky, so I'm not sure how much time I have before I'm due to meet her. Should I go? After all, Alaric and his people burst into the fight I was infiltrating. They attacked the people attending, trying to subdue them and leave them for the guards. Alaric didn't tell me he was planning anything like that, just let me walk in there in total ignorance. In that one evening he showed that his people were willing to go further than I imagined in pursuit of their goal of digging out the corruption of the city.
But I can't just ignore a message like this. Even if Alaric and I don't use the same methods, I can't deny he's working for the good of Aetheria, fighting the corrupt elements within it. He's potentially a valuable ally against what Selene’s doing.
I head out of the palace, wrapping a cloak around myself so I won't be recognized as a former champion of the arena. I have a harder time passing unnoticed in the city than most people. Especially near the colosseum. I hurry down to the great promenade before the structure, where merchants and hawkers have stalls, ready to sell everything from food to souvenirs to those attending the games. The space before the colosseum is lined with statues of famous gladiators and figures from Aetherian history. There's a statue of Rowan, seeming to rise from the rocks around it. There's one of Alaric, sharp featured and handsome, imbued with illusion magic, so multiple versions appear as anyone approaches.
And there's one of me, or at least a stylized version of me. The sculptor has made me into something sensual and deadly, armed with a net and spear, almost unclothed, but hidden by carved creatures that wrap around me like a second skin. It's a statue that looks both sensual and ferocious at once, reflecting the prejudices the people of Aetheria have long held about beast whisperers. They see us as something only one step removed from being animals ourselves, prey to all our baser instincts.
Thalia is waiting for me near it by the time I arrive, playing her familiar role as a healer with a stall near the statue. Her hair is spiked, dyed so that half of it is black and half white. She wears patchwork robes today, and her blue eyes are focused on healing the leg of a young man with her magic. She's a vitomancer who used to heal gladiators in the games before a noble house bought her from the arena. She became free after the fall of the empire, and joined the fight against the corruption within the city, symbolized by the games.
I wait until she's done with the patient she's healing before going over. I can't help looking around nervously for any guards, but maybe that fits with who she's pretending to be today. I'm sure it's completely normal for people with embarrassing illnesses or injuries to be nervous about being seen as they approach a healer like her.
Thalia looks over as I approach and I'm sure she was aware of my presence almost from the moment I got into the square. She nods to me keeping her voice low.
“Good you're here. Come with me.”
I don't argue but follow her through the city, watching for any signs that we're being followed as we go. It's important to take precautions when dealing with the resistance, because the guards are only too happy to arrest them when they see them now.
Thalia leads the way into a space reserved for scholars and artists, all the way to a tower that presumably once belonged to some great magus, but now it looks as though it's become a home for an artists’ colony. I know without being told that's a cover for the resistance, a way to ensure that people won't comment about people coming and going at odd hours or about the strangeness of their appearance as they do so.
Thalia shows me inside, knocking on the door in a complex pattern to gain entrance for us both.
“This is quite the safe house,” I say as we start to make our way up through the tower. On each level, there are people who are presumably resistance members. Some are playing the parts of artists, working on pieces that combine art with magic. Others are sharpening weapons or working to decipher messages. “Is Alaric here?”
Thalia shakes her head. “He's still worried about what side you're on. Every time I suggest just talking to you, he points out you're a senator. If it helps, I think he thinks he's protecting you from any association with him.”
“While being happy for me to talk to you?” I point out.
Thalia shrugs. “I never said he was consistent. You of all people should know that.”
I should when the two of us were together for so long. After the fall of the empire, we went away together to my home. That was a mistake because Alaric really isn't cut out for small town life. Somehow, the role of resistance leader suits him much better.
Thalia leads me all the way to the top of the tower, where we have a clear view out over the city.
“If you need to leave messages for me from now on,” Thalia says. “It may be safer to send them with a bird here.”
She seems to change the way we connect on a regular basis, although she's happy enough to ensure that messages simplyappear on my desk, presumably brought by a servant with connections to the resistance.
“Why did you ask me here?” I ask her.
