Return to Me - By Morgan O'Neill Page 0,32
weapon — and nothing else. If he were holding them as the crazed heat poured into their bodies, he would be jolted, too.
Honorius was delighted with the knowledge gained by his experiments and soon felt confident in his ability to use the weapon effectively. He glanced at the three people who stood before him: the brilliant inventor, mathematician, and astrologer, Theophanes, a man who had studied with Hypatia of Alexandria at the Great Library; the chief court magician Anthemius; and the old witch Dipsas.
Theophanes had wisely, though unnecessarily, warned Honorius of the need for secrecy regarding all of the strange objects brought to Ravenna by Africanus, for it was clear they had come from a land far advanced in the arts of science and weaponry. Such power could greatly benefit the Western Roman Empire; however, it could also prove its bane should spies uncover the true nature of what they had found. Both he and Anthemius were convinced they could learn more, if given the time for a complete study.
Honorius had already decided to grant their requests. Unlocking the secrets of the objects could allow him to build weapons of great power. Such glory! And if he succeeded, he would be remembered for all time, alongside Alexander of Greece, Gaius Julius Caesar, and Hannibal Barca.
Honorius the Great, Military Genius! The emperor who used lightning bolts to vanquish the barbarian hordes and reconquer the world!
But first, there were so many unanswered questions.
“Dipsas,” Honorius asked, “what did you mean when you said Magnus’s uniform comes from a place where soldiers are not soldiers?”
“I have pondered my vision, O Great One, and I believe I understand more of this strange land. The soldiers are not real. They are players in a great theater, actors — ”
“Actors?” Honorius scoffed. “They are no better than whores! Even we cannot believe that wretch Quintus Magnus would stoop so low as to consort with such scum!”
“My lord, they are not considered scum in that place. Truth be told, they are worshipped like gods.”
Honorius laughed and decided she had to be telling the truth; to make up such a ridiculous tale would be the height of stupidity, given the seriousness of his quest. He was about to question her further, when he heard, “A thousand pardons, O Serene Highness … ”
He turned and saw in a small mob of people standing by the doorway: Rutilius Namatianus, accompanied by the royal dungeon master, several guards, and a bedraggled woman in chains.
“Send in the slave, but the rest of you … you are dismissed,” Honorius ordered.
When the woman hesitated, Honorius crooked his finger at her. “Come in. Do not be afraid,” he said affably. “We would ask you but a few questions, and, if you tell us the truth, we will be charitable and free you from your confinement.”
Her gaze still fearful, the woman shuffled forward.
“Come now,” Honorius said, “dear lady. Tell us, what is your name?”
She glanced at his advisors, then at Dipsas. The witch smiled at her.
“I am Silvia,” the slave said.
“Good, good.” Honorius smiled. “Now, Silvia, we know it has been a long while, but think well on this. What can you tell us of Gigiperrin and Quintus Magnus? Where did they go four years ago? Do you know where they hid? We recall another kitchen slave disappeared that night as well. Did she accompany them? Where did they go?”
Silvia looked confused. “I don’t know, I don’t know. Please, my lord! I’ve told the jailers over and over, I told them I never knew what happened to Gigi or Magnus or Vana. Please, you must believe me!”
She started sobbing. “Please, Venerabilis, it was late at night. My shift was over and I slept through it all. I know nothing, or I would gladly tell you!”
Honorius watched her agony. She was telling the truth. Torturing her would reveal nothing. And, besides, he had grown tired. He thought of beautiful Baha waiting for him in bed, and decided he was done here.
“We believe you,” he said. “We shall set you free.”
Silvia’s blubbering continued. She hadn’t heard him, hadn’t understood. He was growing bored with this.
His anger flared. “Silvia!”
She gulped and stared at him.
Honorius moderated his tone. “We shall set you free,” he repeated.
Chains rattling, she slowly got down on her knees and kissed his hem. “Dominus, thank you.”
Honorius raised her up, then let go and touched the lightning bolt to her chest. The slave’s puzzled expression dissolved into abject shock as he unleashed the jolt, which went straight to