Pompeius suddenly began running down the corridor.
Narses let him go.
“At least he’s headed in the right direction,” grumbled the eunuch. “We’ll catch him later. He’ll stumble into a faint, somewhere up ahead.”
The eunuch began trotting. Ajatasutra matched his pace easily.
Again, the assassin leaned over and whispered. Still smiling:
“ ‘The Roman Empire will be in chaos for a generation,’ you said.”
Narses ignored him.
Ajatasutra, grinning:
“ ‘Much better than just letting Justinian fight his stupid wars,’ you said.”
Narses ignored him.
They reached the end of the corridor. Now, they found themselves in one of the many buildings of the Great Palace. They could hear the sound of fighting coming from somewhere in the outer complex.
As Narses had predicted, Pompeius was waiting for them. In a manner of speaking: the nobleman was squatting on the floor, leaning his head against a wall, sobbing.
Narses leaned over, seized Hypatius by his hair, and dragged the “emperor’s” brother to his feet.
“The only place you’re safe now is with me,” hissed the eunuch. “If you collapse again—if you disobey me in any way—I’ll leave you.” Narses released his grip and stalked toward one of the corridors leading to another building in the complex. Ajatasutra strode alongside. Hypatius followed.
The sound of fighting grew louder. Among those sounds, Narses recognized the heavy thundering of a cavalry charge. So did Ajatasutra. Both men picked up their pace.
“Where are we going?” whispered the assassin. “And why”—he pointed with a thumb over his shoulder—“are you so intent on hauling that creature with us?”
“I’ll need him,” growled Narses.
They reached the end of the corridor. They were in another large room in yet another building. Narses plunged through a door against the left wall.
Again, a short corridor. Again, another room in yet another building. Again, Narses led the way through another door. Again, another corridor.
Ajatasutra, though he had an abstract knowledge of the Great Palace’s layout, was by now completely disoriented.
“Where are we going?” he repeated.
“I have something to attend to,” muttered Narses.
The eunuch broke into a trot. The corridor made a bend. Once around the bend, Ajatasutra could see that the corridor ended in a massive set of double doors. One of the doors was ajar. Beyond, Ajatasutra heard the sound of indistinct voices.
Once they got within ten feet of the half-open door, Ajatasutra recognized one of the voices in the room beyond.
John of Cappadocia’s voice.
Narses hissed. “That bastard. I knew he’d come here first.”
The eunuch turned his head. Reptilian eyes focussed on Ajatasutra. “Decide,” he commanded.
Ajatasutra hesitated for only a second. Then, with a half-smile:
“You’re the best of a bad lot.”
Narses nodded. He gestured toward Pompeius, who was just now staggering up.
“Keep him safe,” muttered the eunuch. “And deal with the bucellarii.”
Narses turned away and slid through the door. Ajatasutra followed, dragging Pompeius by the arm.
Inside, they found a dramatic tableau.
Theodora was on her knees, cradling Justinian. The Emperor, though still unconscious, was beginning to moan.
John of Cappadocia loomed above her, with a sword in his hand. His three bucellarii were standing a few feet away, between John and Narses. Hearing the eunuch enter, the bodyguards turned hastily and raised their weapons. Then, recognizing him, they lowered the swords and stepped aside. Narses slid past them, heading toward John and the Empress.
Ajatasutra relinguished his grip on Pompeius and sidled close to the bucellarii.
The Cappadocian glared down at the Empress. He began to snarl something.
Theodora, her face like a mask, sneered:
“Stop talking, traitor. Do it, coward.”
John raised his sword.
Narses, hissing like a snake:
“Stop, you idiot! We’re going to need her. Alive.”
Startled, John turned away from the Empress. His sword lowered, slightly.
“Why?” he demanded. “We were going to kill her, anyway, after she hailed the new Emperor. She and Justinian both. There’s no reason to wait, now.” He scowled. “And why are you here?”
Narses strode forward.
“I swear, Cappadocian, you’ve got the brains of a toad.”
Closer, closer.
“Think, John—think.”
Closer, closer. The eunuch pointed to the Empress. John turned his head, following the pointing finger.