Lycon’s tone gave Vonones the same feeling as would the sight of a lion in the grass—its body taut, its haunches raised slightly, and no part of it moving but the tip of its tail, quivering like the trigger that would shortly launch the beast upon its prey. But after blinking up at his friend, the merchant’s gaze returned to the sizzling bronze that N’Sumu’s bare finger had cleansed.
Chapter Eleven
Lycon was running—running a hopeless race, for he knew his pursuer could run faster by far than he could. He wanted to risk a backward glance to see how close behind it was, but he knew that with that glance he would die.
The problem was these hedgerows. It was impossible to run when he had to crawl through all these hedgerows, one after another. Their branches already were slippery with blood, and their thorns tore at his flesh as Lycon plunged through. He told them he couldn’t run any faster, but Domitian danced easily ahead of him—leaping over the hedges on his scrawny legs—and N’Sumu raced alongside him, laughing at him past his deformed smile.
“Old man! Old man! Old man! Old man!”
He had to keep running. He was too slow, too old—and he desperately feared the thing that pursued him.
There sat Vonones. The Armenian’s stout chest had been folded open like a broken loaf of wine-soaked bread, and his hands kept fumbling inside his chest cavity in search of his missing lungs.
“Why didn’t you kill it?” Vonones asked in a tone of betrayal. He held out a dripping bag of coins. “Didn’t I pay you well?”
“I have to get through this hedge!” Lycon explained, plunging forward into the next thorny barrier.
Pamphilus, the first man he had ever killed in the arena, wagged his head back and forth upon its broken neck, and said: “Here’s the door.” But Lycon had seen the retiarius’ net swimming through the air, and he bolted headfirst through the hedgerow instead.
The lizard-ape was waiting for him this time, and Lycon cursed himself for having paused to talk with dead men while the lizard-ape had vaulted the hedgerow. The lizard-ape had Domitian’s face, and N’Sumu and Lacerta were carrying his bright-blue palanquin back and forth about the grain barge.
“You should have killed me when you had your chance,” said the blue-scaled Emperor. His long talons reached out for Lycon’s face, and needles of agony drove into the hunter’s skull.
* * *
“Lycon! Lycon! Wake up!” Zoe was shaking him. “You’re having another bad dream! Wake up! Please!”
Lycon opened his eyes, gaping at her stupidly. The nightmare was still full in his mind.
“What . . . ?”
“A bad dream, Lycon.” Zoe’s face was taut with concern. “You’re having another bad dream.”
Lycon blinked into the darkness, recognized the familiar surroundings of their bedroom. He was sweaty and he was cold, and the familiar shakiness was returning.
“Can I get you something?” Zoe begged. She was slimmer than since they had married and more lovely than Lycon had ever remembered.
“Wine!” he muttered thickly. “Yes, wine. Bring me more wine.”
Zoe slipped out of bed and opened the door. The lizard-ape was waiting for her there, and it tore off her face as casually as a man pulls off his hat.
* * *
“Zoe!” Lycon’s scream pierced the night.
“Lycon! Wake up!” Zoe was shaking him. “You’re having another bad dream! Wake up now!” At her breast, Glauce was wailing out her protest.
This time Lycon swung his feet to the floor and sat up—rubbing his face as if to scrape the nightmare from his eyes. Zoe anxiously massaged his shoulders and back, trying to ease the tension there. Lycon considered the opaque greyness within the apartment light shaft beyond his bedroom window, decided it was close enough to dawn. Pulling away from Zoe, he stood up and began to dress in the darkness. He would not risk sleep again this night.
“Where are you going?” Probably there would be no more sleep for Zoe, either. She was crooning to their daughter, trying to soothe her as well.
“Over to the compound. Vonones will be there soon, and maybe there’ll be something to report from the Watch. Maybe something from our men who are still positioned between here and Portus. It was N’Sumu’s great idea that we concentrate our search here in Rome.”