Pile of Bones (17 page)

“That isn’t an explanation.”

Babieca smiled. “I’ve never tried this with Morgan, if that’s what you’re getting at. She’s more of an annoying older sister.”

“I—” He looked at Babieca again. Then his expression changed slowly, as it had in the apodyterium. “—don’t care what the explanation is. I just realized that.”

Babieca kissed him. Roldan was slightly taller, so he had to stretch slightly to meet the auditor’s lips. They were soft,
a bit worried around the edges, but in a way that reminded him of gently frayed cloth. He smelled of Domina Pendelia’s raspberry soap. Babieca kissed deeper, and Roldan squeezed his hand. His tongue was a hot wire, a lock-pick, a string whose snap produced the unlikeliest note. Roldan’s other hand grazed his neck, returning to the site of earlier fascination. Still kissing, Babieca wormed halfway out of his tunica, pulling away for a second to yank the fabric over his head. Roldan smiled. He didn’t smile often—not in the way that he was smiling now—and seeing it made Babieca want to crow.

Roldan touched the fur on his chest, lightly and with a kind of disbelief, as if he were running his thumb along the edge of some weapon. He was shaking slightly. Babieca fought with the auditor’s tunic, pulling it down to reveal the plane of Roldan’s throat. He kissed his way south, tonguing the small nipple, which drew a shudder. Roldan had very little fur, just a few innocent curls that Babieca nuzzled, inhaling the smell beneath the soap. They were pressed against the wall now. Roldan, surprisingly, reached down Babieca’s tunica. He touched the coarse hair between his legs, then farther down, teasing his cock. Babieca smiled as Roldan took hold of him. In the curve of his friend’s hand, he felt strangely at ease.

They shed their tunicae, not gracefully, but with extraordinary clumsiness. Roldan nearly fell over with one leg still trapped, while Babieca’s sandal got caught in reams of fabric. They laughed while it was happening. There was no shame in being odd to each other, in cavorting around with a single nude leg or a stuck sandal. There were no false notes, only quiet little surprises, like the rose-tinted mark on Roldan’s thigh. A daub of extra color, which must have dropped from Fortuna’s paintbrush when she wasn’t looking.

Roldan lay on top of him. That was a surprise as well, but Babieca didn’t mind. It was sweet to be pinned in this way, held in place by one of Fortuna’s inevitabilities. Roldan’s chest was warm and steady against his own. Babieca moved his hips. They rocked back and forth on the stone pallet. The heat of their bodies was startling. Sweat stood on his
forehead, while his feet made dark prints on the bed. Roldan’s hair was slick. Babieca grabbed some, pulling him into a kiss that was feather tongues, hot babble, cinders.

They were a crossroads. Roldan ground against him, until Babieca died suddenly and sharply. It was such a remarkable surprise that he bit Roldan’s lip, harder than he’d intended. His muscles clenched as he held the auditor, dazed and swimming in fire. He buried his head in the curve of the man’s neck, heart racing, feet trembling like strings on the verge of suicide. Roldan said something that he couldn’t quite hear. Then Babieca felt him die. He slumped forward, breathing hard, trembling as if he might fly apart. Babieca held him close. Roldan laid his head on Babieca’s chest, and they stayed like that for a while.

“That was”—Roldan was still trying to catch his breath—“quite friendly.”

Babieca laughed. “I thought so.”

“You said something.”

“What?”

“As you were dying, you said something. A word.”

“I didn’t have much control over my tongue. I’m not sure what I said.”

“‘Carl.’”

The voice made them both jump. Babieca looked down. A mechanical fox had emerged from the bed and was staring at both of them. Her gears moved quietly in thought. She didn’t have a proper expression, but he would have bet money that she was amused. He’d heard of the foxes, the basilissa’s wondrous automata, but he’d never seen one.

“Are you—”

“Sulpicia,” the fox supplied. “My brother and I attend the basilissa.”

“What are you doing in this room?”

“I was searching for Eumachia, and someone locked me in. The door, as you’ve no doubt noticed, is tricky. I was investigating the bed, to see if there might be a hidden mechanism somewhere, and then you came in. I decided to conceal myself until I knew what your intentions were.”
The links of her tail clicked against the ground. “That became clear immediately.”

“Did I really say ‘Carl’?” Roldan stared at the fox distractedly. It didn’t seem to bother him that she was a network of wires and bright bolts. He looked directly into her swiveling black eyes, as if their spark of life were obvious.

“That was what I heard,” Sulpicia replied. “You said it clearly. ‘Carl.’ Then you spilled your seed.”

He blushed and looked down. “What is Carl? Why would I say it?”

“This isn’t the first bed that I’ve been trapped under. You people say all manner of nonsensical things before you spill.”

“But—Carl?” He frowned. “Is it a place? A name?”

It sounded oddly familiar to Babieca. He could even hear himself saying the word, his mouth settling upon it with familiarity. For a second, the contours of the room shifted. The tapestry and the trash were gone. He saw high windows, and a ceiling with no impluvium. There was a balcony, though, overlooking a road paved in smooth black stone. He was sitting in a strange little chair, made from tight bands of cloth. On a small table next to him was a glass bowl filled with ashes. The image hovered before him, then disappeared. He blinked. Roldan and the fox hadn’t even noticed. He was putting his tunica back on, while Sulpicia studied one of her paws. Babieca wiped himself on the tapestry, then dressed.

The door opened. Felix stepped in, holding a lamp in one hand, a sack in the other. He looked at Roldan and Babieca. Even beneath the mask, his expression was clear. Babieca was a little surprised by what he saw. He’d expected Felix to be annoyed, even angry. But his eyes held disappointment. The expression vanished as quickly as it appeared. As a meretrix, he’d probably been trained to keep his emotions in check, to perform when the need arose.

That was what made the flash of naked disappointment so unusual. Babieca recalled the way he’d looked at Roldan, the way he’d taken every opportunity to touch him. He’d assumed that the meretrix was just playing a role, trying to use Roldan’s desire against him. But perhaps it was more than that.

“I see you two found a way to pass the time,” he said. Then he looked down, and his eyes widened beneath the mask. “Sulpicia. Were you here the entire time?”

“Lamentably.”

The meretrix sighed. “At least you both stayed put.”

“What about Morgan?” Roldan asked. “Have they taken her to the tower?”

“Yes. She’s to be questioned by the arquites.” His jaw tightened. “The kind of questioning that normally involves sharp edges.”

“Those games won’t start for a while,” Babieca said. “They’ll wait until the fear sets in before beginning the interrogation.”

“If you’re talking about the sagittarius,” the fox replied, “she’ll be under heavy guard. How do you intend to free her?”

“I”—Babieca gave Sulpicia an apologetic look—“don’t mean to offend you, but you’re the basilissa’s attendant. Logic dictates that we shouldn’t trust you.”

“Actually,” Roldan said, “logic dictates that Sulpicia shouldn’t trust us. We’re uninvited guests in her home.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Both of you are right.” Sulpicia crossed her paws. “Neither of us should trust each other. But my brother saw what happened in the oecus, which means that I saw it as well. Your friend saved the life of Basilissa Pulcheria. She does not deserve to be tortured for that.”

“You serve Latona,” Babieca protested.

“No. We serve the sisterhood. All machinae do.”

“Fine.” He pointed at the meretrix. “I’m just going to come out and ask, then, since nobody else has mentioned it. What’s in Felix’s sack?”

“I suppose you’ve been waiting all night to make that joke.”

“We’re only a few hours past twilight, so it hasn’t been that long. But if we keep debating this, the shadows will grow. Maybe your pretty mask will protect you against the night horrors, but I’d just as soon get out of here, before another pack of silenoi arrive.”

Felix drew a cithara from the bag. It was slightly larger than Babieca’s, and certainly not as dented. The wood had been brightly polished. He took the instrument, dragging his fingers across the strings. They were a bit unfamiliar, but they had a nice tone.

“You’re a trovador,” Felix said. “Or nearly one, at any rate. You must be able to do something with this.”

“You want me to serenade the guards? Even if I appeal to their romantic side, I doubt they’ll let us walk away with Morgan.”

“Distract them. Hypnotize them. Obviously, we can’t just walk up to them with weapons drawn. They’d take us apart. But a half-drunken musician isn’t a threat to anyone. They’ll let you get close. Just be sure to pick the right song.”

“I’m practically sober.”

“Of course. A trovador would never let wine cloud his judgment.”

Roldan missed the edge in his voice, but Babieca caught it. For a moment, he thought of hitting the meretrix, but the effort didn’t seem worth it. Roldan was oblivious to the awkward equation they now formed. Ignoring both of them now, he watched Sulpicia’s mechanical ablutions with great interest.

“You’re right about the lack of time,” Felix said. “I’m safe because of my gens, but you and your friends are vulnerable. We’d best move quickly.”

“I get why the fox wants to help us, but what’s your game?”

“I’m just trying to keep the balance.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you’d better sing for your life. Now let’s go. I can take you as far as the tower, and then—”

“You’ll run away. I remember from last time.”

“We all have something to lose, Babieca.”

Was he talking about his reputation? Or did it have more to do with that look of disappointment from earlier? There was no time to figure it out. Morgan would be facing pincers and sharp hooks if they didn’t get to her before the arquites.

“All right,” he said. “Take us to the tower.”

Sulpicia followed them to the doorway.

“Are you coming with us?” Felix asked.

“Naturally. This promises to be interesting.”

“You’re somewhat conspicuous,” Babieca said.

“You certainly didn’t notice me under the bed while you were rutting.”

“It’s settled,” Roldan replied quickly. “We’ll go together. And that’s the last time that anyone uses the word
rutting
.”

They followed Felix’s lamp through a warren of passages, which eventually led them toward the atrium. Their path widened, and after stepping through a gap in the wall, they found themselves at the entrance to the Tower of Sagittarii.

“This is where I leave you,” Felix said. “If you make it out of the tower, a friend of mine will meet you at the entrance to the arx. She’ll ensure that you have safe passage beyond the city. May Fortuna smile on you.”

“And on you, Felix.” Babieca returned the blessing ironically.

The meretrix turned and went back down the passage. For a moment, they could see his lamplight bobbing, like some peculiar spirit. Then he was gone.

“I have an idea,” Sulpicia said. “Auditor, lift me.”

“What?”

“You heard what I said. Lift me, and watch the tail.”

Gently, Roldan lifted Sulpicia from the ground. The fox settled against his chest, reminding Babieca of a cat.

“I will pretend to be injured,” she said. “Don’t be alarmed if you see sparks. It should prove to be a fitting distraction.”

“Sparks?”

“I just told you not to be alarmed.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Babieca said. “Pull down your hoods. If anyone recognizes us from the banquet, we’ll be pincushions.”

They climbed the spiral stairs—Babieca holding the cithara, Roldan holding the machina to his chest with great care. Sagittarii lounged on the stairs, dicing, playing stones, or gazing out the small windows. A few fixed them with
suspicious looks but relaxed when they saw Sulpicia in Roldan’s arms. They’d learned to associate the foxes with the basilissa, which meant that anyone bold enough to pick up the machina was probably not someone to be questioned.

The top floor was guarded, but not excessively. After the silenoi attack, many of the sagittarii had been diverted to the battlements. Four archers were milling around the statue of Fortuna. The arquites was not among them. Morgan was chained to the wall. She saw them, and her eyes brightened, but she said nothing. Babieca saw that they’d already begun to work her over. Her right cheek was bruised, and she had a split lip. Nothing permanent, though. That was the job of her commander, the arquites, who would take great delight in extracting further details from her. Babieca had never met her, but she had a reputation for cruelty.

Suddenly, Sulpicia began to tremble in Roldan’s grasp. She pawed at the air, her black eyes spinning faster and faster. Sparks flew from her mouth, and a few of her joints. The fox made a sound that chilled Babieca, like a screaming spring, going beyond its limits. Not knowing what else to do, Roldan dropped her on the floor. Her gears twitched and smoked. Then her brass carapace gave a great shudder and was still. Babieca stared at the fox’s body in horror, not sure if this was truly a performance or some kind of awful malfunction. She’d been right about its potential as a distraction, though. All four sagittarii had gathered around the smoking fox, staring down at her with similar expressions of panic and confusion.

“Don’t just stand there!” Babieca cried. “Find an artifex! If the basilissa’s pet dies, we’ll all be fucked. Run!”

Two of them ran down the stairs, cursing. The other two remained.

“Hey.” One of them was looking at him strangely. “What are you, trovadores? Why would the fox—”

“I don’t have time to answer pointless questions. Haven’t you ever seen a case of mechanical apoplexy before?” Babieca knelt before the still-sparking Sulpicia. “She’s out of tune, like a bad instrument. We need to calm her gears,
and music is the only way.” He had no idea what he was saying, but his tone seemed to work. They both drew closer. “If I can achieve the right pitch, I should be able to fix her.”