The Dark Lord

house.

'A cheerful child,' the Duchess said, face lighting with a smile. 'His colic is gone?'

'Yes.' Warmth seeped into Helena's voice. 'Sometimes he even sleeps through the night.'

A baby boy was crawling on the soft grass, head covered with dark, flat hair. Another little boy, blond, perhaps two years old, was rooting about in the stream. His arms and face were covered with mud. Watching over both of them was a young girl of five or six, amber colored eyes watching the infant's every move. There was an air of sharp attention around her. She was dressed in a pale gold tunic, indigo hair spilling over thin shoulders. In the afternoon glow, her tresses gleamed like spilled ink.

'They seem to get along well,' Anastasia said, a catch in her voice. There should be another little boy on the grass... 'Who is the girl?'

'Kore,' Helena said, sounding both pleased and possessive. 'A refugee from the East. She served in the Bucoleon and escaped with Empress Martina. I found her on the Palatine, lost and crying. She is very diligent. They don't get away with anything!'

'I'm glad.' The Duchess turned away, blinking to clear her eyes. 'I'm glad you came today.'

'Really?' Helena made a disbelieving face. 'Were you going to tell me about this little plot of yours?'

'Yes,' Anastasia said, nodding. 'I need your help.'

'Against my husband? I think not!' The Empress twitched her gown into line across her knees. 'You had better have a good reason just for me to ignore what I heard today!'

'I do. Listen, Helena, I owe you a great deal, but I must ask another favor.'

'I'm listening.' An eyebrow rose skeptically. The Empress popped another grape into her mouth.

Anastasia fell quiet, clasping her hands. She stared off into the distance, across the garden, oblivious to the marble columns, the brilliant paintings on the walls, the unobtrusive servants waiting in the shadows, just out of earshot. Finally, she said, 'My heart is troubled, Helena. I thought things were difficult enough, stepping back into this nest of snakes, taking up my old responsibilities.' She shot a glance at the Empress, who had curled her feet up and was leaning back, stuffing grapes into her mouth. 'You wanted me to cast aside the mourning cloak! You wanted me to bend my wiles upon the enemies of the Empire again! This is all your fault.'

Helena made a muffled sound, and waved her hand in a get-on-with-it motion.

'Listen... you are a dear friend, and I am loath to keep secrets from you, particularly ones so involved with your husband's affairs. But... these telecasts are more than just a convenient window, more than just a toy. They are dangerous.' Anastasia bit her thumb, worrying. How much to tell? 'I wish... I wish we did not even have this one. By itself it is mostly harmless... but see how these men want another, and then another? There's the danger. In greed, and the desire for power... for a weapon to solve all their problems.'

'So?' Helena wiped her mouth. She sounded vexed. 'We need power, we need strength, we need an advantage! Persia presses us hard—you know how desperate our situation is. Aren't you loyal? The Empire needs every scrap of help it can get.'

'I am loyal,' Anastasia said mournfully. 'To the Empire, to your husband—who is the Empire. To you, and your son. But... there are some things we should not disturb! There are—ah, I don't know what to say to convince you!'

'Huh. You're eloquent today.' Helena curled a lock around her fingertip, closely examining each shining brown hair. 'Let me try.'

The Duchess gave the Empress a jaundiced look, but lifted her hands in surrender.

'Very well.' Helena rubbed her nose. 'First, there is more to you, my dear, than meets the eye, which is saying quite a bit since you are our master of spies and informers. Oh, don't look so shocked... anyone with half a wit can see the number of exceptionally fit young women passing through your house. No one believes they're your playthings—you are too partial to boys! I was watching Betia today, before you came. She and Thyatis were sparring. The little one is quick, very quick... where do they learn to fight like that?'

Helena laughed softly, watching the pained expression on Anastasia's face. 'Don't tell me, silly. I don't need to know. But it is very beautiful, calming even, like watching water reeds bend in the wind. So, you are obviously mixed up in some kind of mystery cult, like half the women in Rome...'

The Empress ticked off a finger. 'Unlike those idlers, however, you are probably in charge, or close to being in charge.' A second finger rose. 'This brings you privy knowledge and your cult is ancient, isn't it... old and powerful, investing so much in these young women, over countless generations. Just watching Thyatis move opens such a vista of possibilities...' A third finger rose.

'And because of this, you know secret things. Real secrets. Not gossip, not rumor, not stupid little lies about common, stupid people.' Helena's face fell and sadness leaked into her eyes. Anastasia realized the Empress was speaking about herself and her correspondence.

'Helena...' The Duchess took her friend's hand. 'I can't tell you these things...'

'I know.' A bitter light flashed in Empress' eyes, but then softened. 'Real secrets have to be kept, don't they? Not passed from hand to hand like an unwanted birthday present. So—there's something more to this telecast than just an ancient wizard's toy. Something dangerous. Dangerous to the Empire, or dangerous to your... friends?'

Anastasia's jaw stiffened and a bleak, exhausted look entered her face. 'Dangerous to the world, Helena. Dangerous to everything that lives.'

The Empress drew back a little. 'Really?'

'Yes.' Anastasia felt her stomach roil, even with such a sideways, oblique admission.

Helena took another grape—fat and juicy, red skin stretched taut over a ripe interior—and rolled it between her fingers. 'You're not worried about Galen, are you? He has no time for these 'diversions' and 'toys.'' The Empress managed a reasonable imitation of her husband. 'You're worried about Gaius Julius and his spidery old fingers.'

No, Anastasia thought, I'm worried about your little brother-in-law and his reckless, blind hubris. But she said, 'Do you want him to have even one atom more power and influence than he has today?'

'Not at all.' Helena shook her head, drawing the stole around her shoulders as if the garden had grown cold. 'I do not like the way he looks at me.' The Empress stared out at the garden again, where little Theodosius and his babysitter were rolling on the grass, squealing with laughter. Her face was very still. 'Each day, Anastasia, I pray Maxian remains without child.'

The Duchess closed her eyes, turning pale. But Helena was looking the other way.

'If that day comes,' Helena continued, voice cold as a German forest, 'either the child or the prince will have to die. You may think me foolish—you may say Aurelian has a squalling brood—but the red-beard is not under the influence of that man.' The Empress turned back to Anastasia. 'I do not want to murder an innocent,' she said, 'but I will. So, I understand you and your fear.'

Anastasia nodded. 'My agents watch Gaius Julius every moment. His agents watch me and they watch you. So far, nothing untoward has happened, but it is a distraction. He is ambitious.'

'My husband,' the Empress said, voice lightening, 'is very pleased with Gaius. He seems amused by the man, and impressed by his ability to solve problems, to deal with the minutiae of the Imperial process. Galen needs such an aide, an ally.'

'Has Galen told you who Gaius is?' Anastasia was curious.

'Yes.' The Empress' mouth thinned to a hard line. 'He was excited, happy even. He is so pleased. You'd think Maxian conjured him up as a name-day present!' Helena realized her hands were clenched to fists. She forced them open, staring down at thin, half-moon bruises on her palms. 'He wants to discuss literature, the histories, all the politics of the old Republic. Every day I have to come up with a new excuse to keep the snake from my dinner table. I'm sure he'd try for my bed next.'

'Oh.' Anastasia felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. 'How nice.' How Roman.

The Empress looked at Anastasia with a calculating, appraising expression. 'We need each other more than I thought, Duchess.'

'Yes...' Anastasia met her gaze. 'We do. Secrets for secrets, then.'

The Empress nodded, watching her son again. The little dark-haired girl looked up, saw them and waved.