than his well-known powers of persuasion. Much of the Suffragat’s agreement was because Rustannica’s economic woes had dramatically worsened and this attack or something much like it simply had to occur. The Suffragat could only hope that like the Rustannican general populace, the ShashidanInkai were ignorant of the desperate state of the Rustannican treasury. For if they knew the truth, the true motive behind this invasion would come to light too soon and perhaps spell an early defeat.
Because of the vast Borderlands separating the two nations, the Suffragat had long believed that the likelihood of Shashidan agents spying in Rustannica was small, lending strength to the hope that taking the mines was still a military secret. But even the Suffragat could not know for sure. Random blood signature examinations meant to ferret out Shashidan spies were regularly carried out by roving bands of centurions, but few such agents were ever found. And given the millions of people living in Rustannica, trying to randomly unmask enemy spies this way was haphazard at best. Even so, rumors of a Shashidan spy network called the League of Whispers persisted.
After putting down her wine cup, Persephone looked around the command tent. Although she was a lady through and through, she was no shrinking violet. She enjoyed the campaign’s noise, activity, and sense of urgency. In a way she even enjoyed the simpler but still comfortable surroundings in which she now lived.
This war tent and those adjoining it were large and ornately decorated. Many more colorful tents like it stood nearby, each one topped with red banner bearing the imperial eagle embroidered in gold. One dozen of these tents housed thePon Q’tar, another served as Lucius’ personal quarters, yet another as Julia Idaeus’ living area, and the fourth and largest held Vespasian and Persephone’s private rooms. The area in which the empress sat was the communal command tent, its spacious focal point connected by canvas corridors to the other tents. In this way the Femiculi, the emperor and empress, the First Tribune, and thePon Q’tar could reach the command tent without having to trespass through each other’s private quarters. This series of interconnected tents was an ingenious arrangement that the Rustannican war machine had used in the field for centuries.
Like her and Vespasian’s private areas, the central command tent was sumptuous and comfortable. Patterned rugs lay on the grass and tapestries hung on the tent walls. Supported by golden poles, the eight-part canvas ceiling rose to a high point in the center of the room. Upholstered chairs, sofas, and benches were placed about, and oil lamps hung at regular intervals from the golden roof beams. A long sideboard offered up food, wine, and other delicacies. Before a tray or pitcher could become empty or its contents stale, camp skeens immediately refreshed them. Watchful centurions always stood guard outside the command tent and the connecting tents.
Tired of studying the war maps, Persephone rose from her chair and walked across the room to gaze into a full-length mirror. Although the dress she wore was simpler than something she might have chosen at the imperial palace, she looked lovely. The light blue silk highlighted her eyes, and her gold jewelry sparkled in the soft, warm light cast by the many oil lamps. As a matter of practicality while afield, she had collected her long blond hair behind her neck with a sapphire clasp, allowing it to fall along the graceful arch of her back. She was a beautiful woman, and despite her lofty position she carried herself without pretension or arrogance.
Persephone was everything Vespasian could have asked for in a mate-save for the one flaw that had produced a crack in her heart and stubbornly refused to heal. She had gladly given him everything she had, everything she was, and everything she would ever be. In return he loved her with an ardor and fidelity unheard of during the reigns of past emperors, who brazenly took lovers despite their empresses.
Yet there was one last gift that she had yet to bestow, and she deeply mourned her failure to do so. Worse, it was the one thing that she wanted to give him most of all, and what she knew that he hungered most to receive. She had yet to give him an heir.
Persephone knew that she was a strong woman and a Vagaries sorceress without equal. Should Vespasian die, she believed that she could effectively rule in his stead. Even so, she felt unfulfilled. Despite her immense command of the craft and the fact that she was one of the most powerful people in Rustannica, her inability to do what most women took for granted often made her feel inferior and alone. Vespasian always comforted her during these times of self-doubt, telling her that it didn’t matter and that there was still much time left in which to try. But when he said such things she could sense the pain lying behind his words. ThePon Q’tar had chosen her to be his bride, and neither of them had been given any choice in the matter. Because of that she often wondered whether Vespasian harbored any resentment about not being able to live his life as he chose or with whom he chose. Another woman would have probably given him a child, she knew.
But Persephone also knew that right now it didn’t matter-nothing did, save for their loving each other and overseeing the final death blow to the Vigors. And so she would do her best to put her personal inadequacies aside until the campaign was through. If they were victorious, she and Vespasian could keep trying to have a child. And if not it wouldn’t matter, for they would probably be dead.
Just then she saw Lucius stride into the command tent. She was surprised not to see Vespasian by his side. After looking around, the First Tribune hurried toward her and took her hands into his. His face bore a worried expression.
“Are you alone?” he whispered.
Persephone nodded. “Where is Vespasian?” she asked.
“I’m glad you’re here, Empress,” he said loudly, as if trying to make sure that he was heard outside the tent. Then his conspiratorial look returned.
“There is something I must show you!” he whispered. “Stay here, and no matter what happens, let me give the orders!”
As Persephone watched him hurry from the tent, she noticed that the two centurion guards were gone. Then Lucius’ booming voice called out again.
“Bring it into the tent!” she heard him order. “The empress is waiting!”
To her surprise, three legionnaires carried a great rug into the tent. The rug was rolled up and lay across their strong shoulders. On Lucius’ order they placed it on the ground.
“Shall we unroll your prize?” one of them asked the Tribune.
“No,” Lucius answered. “I will do so myself. I had to kill three Shashidans to get it and it is to be a personal gift for the empress. Now begone!”
After giving the First Tribune crisp salutes, the legionnaires left the tent to go about their other duties.
Persephone scowled and placed her fists on her hips. “Why would you bring me a rug?” she asked. “Where is Vespasian? And what has become of the two guards who were outside the door?”
Before answering, Lucius pointed at the rolled-up tent flap. At once it came loose and fell earthward to close out the world.
“I sent the guards away!” he whispered. “You will soon see why!”
Lucius pointed at the rug and it began to unroll across the ground. As it reached its full length, Persephone was amazed to see Vespasian lying atop it. He was clearly in distress. His eyes were closed, he was bathed in sweat, and his body shook uncontrollably.
Persephone immediately realized that Vespasian was in the grip of another day terror. Before going to him, she grabbed Lucius by the shoulders. Calling on the craft, she augmented the strength in her arms and swiveled him around to face her. The look on her face was desperate.
“Does thePon Q’tar know about this?” she demanded.
“No!” Lucius whispered quickly. “But it is likely that some legionnaires on their way to the front saw him like this, and we cannot assume that word of it won’t reach Gracchus! Just before losing consciousness, Vespasian told me to hide him in the chariot and bring him straight to you. He said that no one else was to know. I did as I was told.”
Lucius looked down at his friend of so many years. In all his life he had never seen Vespasian so helpless. The sight of the most powerful mystic in the world humbled and struck down so quickly by an unseen enemy had unnerved the stalwart tribune.
“What is wrong with him?” he asked Persephone. “He talked as though this has happened before.”
“It has,” she answered. “And now that you have seen it, there can be no going back for you. I’m sorry that you had to become involved in this, Lucius, but what’s done is done. This was never our intent. I thank the Afterlife that you were there when it happened! You did well to bring him to me unnoticed.”
Persephone sat down on the rug and took Vespasian into her arms. Lucius watched sadly as she rocked her husband back and forth like the child she never had.
“Shall I call for a healer?” Lucius asked.
