kill her and run. He did not want it to happen. Nalademus would be furious if she was not taken alive.
Most of the crowd were on their knees, so Voltan crouched down, head bowed. He heard her approach, and felt her hand upon his head.
'I forgive you,' she whispered, then moved away, returning to stand before the crowd.
'I must leave you soon,' she told them. There were cries of 'No!' but she stilled them with a gentle gesture. 'I will be taken,' she said, 'and led out to face the jeering mobs and the stake of fire. I know this. I have seen the vision. But do not fear for me. It will happen because I allow it to happen. And if the Source decrees that it is my time to leave this earthly existence, then I welcome it.' An eerie silence settled upon the group. Some began to weep.
'There is a man here…' she began. Voltan tensed, and eased his hand inside his toga, curling it round the hilt of his dagger. '… a man who does not understand the mysteries of life, or the meaning of joy. For this man I have a message. Go from here to the marketplace of Stanos, and stand by the stall with the yellow canopy. You will not have to wait long, and you will learn a great truth. And now, my friends, I must say farewell. May the Source bless you and keep you.' She turned and walked slowly from the chamber.
Voltan stood very still. The crowd began to file past him and he joined them. There were several exits and soon he found himself wandering down through the narrow streets below the hill, and walking towards the Stanos district. He moved warily. It was surely a trap, and she would have agents ready to spring upon him as he reached the stall with the yellow canopy. He did not fear them. He was Voltan, and even with a dagger he could kill any who attacked him.
There were few people in the marketplace, and many of the stallholders were packing up their wares. Ahead he could see the yellow covering above a stall selling jewellery items, mainly of green jade. Scanning the people close by Voltan approached the stall. None of the men he could see were armed, and most were strolling with wives or lovers. He stood at the stall, looking down at the items on display.
A young woman, her hair blonde, her eyes pale blue, approached and began examining a tray of pendant earrings. There was something about her that touched a chord in the former gladiator, and he wondered if he had met her before.
'Excuse me,' he said. She looked up at him, and his mind slipped back through the years, to a moment in a courtyard, when he said farewell to a tearful girl.
'Yes?'
'Have we met?' he managed to say.
'I do not believe so, sir.'
'My name is Voltan, and I… sense that I should know you.'
'I am Cara,' she said, with a smile, 'and, believe me, sir, I would remember.'
'Where are you from, Cara?'
'I live with my grandfather.'
'Perhaps I know him,' he said. 'Perhaps I saw you when you were a child.'
'Perhaps you did,' she agreed. 'My grandfather is a famous man. He was Gladiator One, and he now trains the fighters of Circus Occian.'
Voltan felt as if he had been struck above the heart. 'Your grandfather is Rage?'
'Yes. Do you know him?'
'We have… met.'
'Then you should come and see us. We live in a large villa now. But we have few guests.'
'Perhaps I will,' he said, unable to take his gaze from her blue eyes. She gave him another smile.
'And I have seen you before, sir. An hour ago.' Lifting her hands she drew the outline of a tree in the air. Then she smiled again and swung away. He watched her walk from the marketplace.
Swiftly he returned to the temple, and sent a servant to fetch the file on the man Rage. In the fading light he read through it, then pushed the papers across the desk. Rising he walked to the window, and watched the dying sun fall behind the hills.
He had been nineteen when he left Stone, to join the eastern campaign with Panther Nineteen. Palia had wept and begged him to stay, but thoughts of warfare and glory had filled him. Once on campaign he found himself thinking of her often, and the times they had shared. Not just the carnal times, but the moments holding hands beneath the trees, or sitting arm in arm on the bench beneath the rose bower. He still held the memory of the scent of her hair.
Voltan had been away a year, and on his return had rushed to the house of Rage, praying that Palia had taken no other lover. He had been greeted by strangers, who told him that Rage no longer dwelt in Stone, but had moved to a distant part of the empire following the suicide of his daughter. Voltan had stumbled away, bereft and lost.
He stood now in the darkness, remembering the girl by the stall, her bright smile, her blue eyes. Voltan's throat felt tight, and there was a weight in his chest.
'I have a daughter,' he whispered.
He remembered the sign she had made, and, for the first time in his life, fear touched his heart.
Tomorrow would see the greatest cull in the city's history. Close to a thousand names had been gathered from agents, spies and informers. The lists had already been despatched to the hunt teams, and Voltan had no way of knowing whether Cara had been named. He heard a tap at the door, and a figure slipped into the darkness.
'All is ready, lord,' said the man. 'So do we kill the emperor tonight?'
'Aye, tonight,' said Voltan.
Chapter Nine
The acquisition of power, Jasaray had always said, was not without risk. This thought came to him as he opened his eyes and felt pain at his temple. Lifting his hand he found a lump there, the skin split. He was lying beside the marble bench at the centre of his maze. He struggled to sit, remembering the man who had stepped from the shadows and struck him. I should be dead, he thought. Dragging himself up he groaned as fresh pain throbbed from his skull. Perhaps he believed he had killed me, he thought, sitting down on the bench. It made no sense.
As he sat down he saw that his pale toga was drenched with blood. I have been stabbed! Wrenching the garment open he examined his chest and belly. In the moonlight he could see no wound, and there was certainly no pain, save from the pounding in his head.
Think, man!
Jasaray calmed himself. He had known for some months of the peril he faced, as Nalademus and his Knights grew in power. Yet with his armies in the east he had been unable to confront his old friend and force the issue. So he had waited patiently, allowing Nalademus more and more power, while at the same time organizing subtle troop movements, bringing several loyal Panthers closer to the city. The first of them was camped only five miles from Stone, ready to march upon his order. At this moment Jasaray wished he had given that order, but he had decided to risk another few days. Then he could march nine thousand soldiers into Stone, arrest Nalademus and Voltan, and disband the Stone Knights.
'It could prove a costly delay,' he said, aloud.
Why am I alive? And where is the assassin? Why had he been struck, but not killed? And from whence had come this blood?
Jasaray had been walking alone in the maze. His attacker had been waiting there, armed with a cudgel. Not a knife or a sword. Was the man merely a fool? Or would he return and bludgeon Jasaray to death?
At the far edge of the maze the tiger roared. Did that signal the return of the killer? Jasaray pushed himself to his feet and left the open centre of the maze, moving into one of the darker lanes. The assassin would have to be very good to find his way to Jasaray now.
The tiger roared again. This time the sound was closer. It must be a trick of the maze, thought Jasaray, the sound distorted by the tall, thick bushes. He walked on a little way, but the blow to his head had left him dizzy and weak, and he sat down on a small wooden bench, set in an arch cut into a hedge.
