“Then you can make things move without touching them,” Perennius asked in a neutral voice. Calvus’ abili-
ties interested him, but he was able to discuss them without concern except for when they involved meddling in his own head.
“Nerve impulses, very easily.” the bald man said with what was only the semblance of agreement. He buffed his thumb against the two fingers as if there were something in between. “Tiny bits of the air, not so easily . . . but that too. If you mean move a sword or a key, no. No more than you could lift those mules and throw them.” He nodded toward the team. The mules, familiar by years of experience with the route, had left the road without command and were turning into the stable to be unharnessed. Calvus held onto the frame with both hands again as the wheels rang over the curb. “It’s important that you know my limitations, you see.”
“Whoa,” called Perennius to the mules. They had already stopped, and he drew back on their reins needlessly. The ostler was walking toward them, turning a sharp eye on the condition of his animals. Habit, habit. The agent jumped down to the stable yard and walked around the back of the vehicle to help Calvus dismount. “Just remember,” Perennius said as he reached a hand up to his awkward companion, “I have limitations too. I’m only human.”
“Actually, Aulus Perennius,” said the tall man as he stepped down, “you aren’t even that, not entirely . . . not at least as we would define the term, my people.” He released the callused, muscular hand that had just braced him. “That’s what makes you so valuable, you see,” Calvus concluded with a smile.
CHAPTER TEN
The crew was inarching aboard the forward gangplank of the liburnian Eagle under the eyes of a squadron of Household Cavalry. Working over the stern gangplank was a gang of a dozen slaves with their tunics knotted up around their waists. The slaves were singing cheerfully as they brought aboard the last of the provisions, grain and wine in sealed pottery jars. Their light-heartedness was in stark contrast to the attitude of the free crewmen.
“Blazes,” Gaius complained as he squinted against the sunlight, “what prison do you suppose they rounded the crew up from?”
Perennius was on the Eagle’s poop with Gaius, Calvus, and a pair of preoccupied ship’s officers. The agent watched the shuffling column with an interest equal to his protege’s and with far greater experience to draw from. The number of sailors was right or close to it. The men were more or less of working age, with the swarthy complexions and muscles of men used to labor outdoors. For that matter, they seemed to be in good health when one made allowance for the sores, scars, missing limbs and eyes, and the other similar blemishes to be expected in any group of sailors. “No,” the agent said, “they were probably all free men until last night or so when the Army swept some fishing village.” He frowned as he considered. “Or maybe some boarding houses here in Ostia. Bad in the long run. Bad for taxes, bad for trade . . . bad for the Empire, I guess, for an imperial decree to affect its citizens like – ”
he gestured to the glum file of seamen – “this. But in the short run, it had to be done.”
Gaius snorted. “You’re convinced of that?” he gibed.
Perennius looked from his friend to Calvus, standing beside the young courier and showing no concern at the conversation. “I’m always convinced that what I’m told to do is necessary,” the agent said. He laughed. “I only get into trouble when I come up with ideas myself.”
Gaius started to laugh with the older man, but the question on the surface of his mind made the laughter thinner than he had intended.
“Who are these, then?” asked Calvus. He pointed to a separate contingent marching down the quay toward the Eagle. There were scarcely twenty of them. They carried arms – spears and belt gear, with helmets and plain shields slung on their field packs – but they showed no more capacity to keep step than the sailors had. The section leader was at the left front of the short column of fours. He gave a sharp salute to the officer in charge of the detachmen of Household Cavalry. That worthy ignored the salute after a disdainful look at the newcomers.