"Yes: your empire still stands," Alexandros said, "though your name stands best as a festival day and a text for schoolchildren. Do the notables of this time raise statues to you in their entranceways?" The edge of a sneer had crept into Alex's voice.

Gaius smiled broadly, hooking his thumbs in his belt. "Why, my lad, you are right. The great houses of the city do hold statues of me, or my nephew, in honored places. A great tomb of colored marble stands near the crossroads of the city, erected in my name. My memory maintains, as great as yours."

Alex matched stares with the old man for a moment and was reminded, briefly, of a pugnacious childhood friend he had not seen in a long time. There was something familiar in the old man's eye and face- but then he laughed and bowed.

"My pardon, I am your guest and have been inconsiderate. Pray, show me the rest of this place and tell me the story of its building."

Gaius inclined his head, accepting the apology.

Maxian lay still on the floor, wrapped in a blanket. Krista crouched next to his head, lifting it a little to slide another folded blanket underneath. The Prince's breathing had grown stronger since they had entered the house, and he could move his arms and legs. She wiped sweat from his brow with the edge of her sleeve.

"Thank you," whispered the Prince. His voice had not yet recovered.

"No matter, my lord," she said softly. "Without you we are all dead."

"Perhaps: " Maxian searched her face, seeing worry and strain there. He realized, again, how much he needed her assistance and support. For a moment, he nearly blurted the words out, but something held him back. A distance had grown up between them since the death of the Valach woman, Alais, at Dastagird. Maxian knew what had happened; old Gaius had taken great relish in relating the story of the struggle in the final chamber of the fire temple. But he had never mentioned it to Krista, or she to him.

"Is everyone else inside?"

Krista nodded and folded back the sleeves on her tunic.

"Yes, the rest of us can still come and go- it just seems to seek you out. The Engine is fine. I've ordered the other servants to move it back into the cover of the trees and set a watch. There will be hot food in a little while, and the plumbing still works." She smiled and knelt at his side, taking his left hand in both of hers.

"What about Gaius and Alexandros?" Maxian squeezed her hand.

Krista shook her head, giving him a despairing look. "They're wandering around, trying to see which is the bigger dog. I took care of everything myself."

Maxian shook his head a little, frowning. Bright white sparks floated across his vision at this, so he stopped and lay very still. "Go get them and bring them here," he whispered. "We've no time for their bickering."

"You've thought of strangling him while he sleeps, I suppose."

Gaius turned in the darkness, barely able to make out the outline of Alexandros' head. A thin slat of light fell from a broken roof tile, high above, and provided the faintest illumination. The boy's golden hair was white in this light, and his face was hidden in shadow, unreadable and distant.

"Many times." Gaius' voice was very quiet, though they were far from the kitchens, where the Valach and Armenians were setting up shop, or the upper bedrooms, where the Prince Maxian lay with his concubine. A cool, musty dampness surrounded them as they lay on a pallet on the floor of the root cellar of the old house.

"On the road into the East, my thoughts often turned to poison- save that he could doubtless smell it, or feel its effect and cure himself. Sometimes, I thought that the quick stab of a knife into the back of his skull might be enough. But the little witch watches him all the time. This makes it difficult:"

Alexandros laughed, a low musical sound that made the skin on Gaius' arms prickle. "Never more in my life," Alex said, "have I hated anything more than another having power over me, controlling my life, pointing my destiny. Such a man was my father, and now this Prince of yours. I had seemed to escape this, only to come home again."

Gaius snorted and sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. "He is not my Prince. He is the unwanted friend who rouses you from sleep for some dreadful party or careless escapade that brings the aediles. These are fancies, though, that cannot stand the light of bitter truth."

Alexandros sat up as well and pulled on his tunic. He sprang to his feet, limber as the youth that he still was. Gaius watched him out of the corner of his eye, feeling envy creeping in his soul. He is a pretty boy, thought the old Roman, and, now, will always be.

"Our truth is that he is life." Alexandros, despite the bitter tone, was smiling. "Life is precious to us- to me, at least. Perhaps you are old enough to lay down this burden again?"

"Hah!" Gaius rose as well, though he did not spring anywhere. He stood, using one of the broken columns to steady himself. His sandals had gone missing, and he hunted about with his foot, stubbing a toe on a brick. He grimaced at the pain, but it subsided quickly. An unexpected side effect of his condition, he supposed. "I have never sought release from this life. It galls me, as it oppresses you, that I- we- must serve another. Yet, this is the lot we are given. I put to you a thought: " Gaius paused, hearing a noise on the narrow stairs that led down from the upper floor. A sound like light footsteps. He raised a hand, and Alex looked up at the stairway as well. The sound did not repeat.

"I put to you," he continued, "that our situation being fixed, we must put all our labors to exalting the position and situation of our master- yes, a cold word, but a true one! As he improves, so do we. Is this not so?"

Alex made a face, but nodded. "You think like a Persian palace servant," the youth said. "But, still, you are right."

"Good," Gaius said briskly, "I will take that as a compliment. Now, our present circumstances are limited, so we must convince the Prince to allow us more freedom of action, both to pursue the goals that he knows he holds and those that he does not."

"What?" Alex raised a hand, glaring at the older man. "You speak like an Athenian jurist- many words with little meaning."

Gaius raised an eyebrow, his lips forming a smirk. "I am- I was- a rather successful one," he said. "This is what I mean, plainspoken boy! Today, our Prince desires one thing: to defeat this curse upon his people. We will bend all our effort to helping him win out. Tomorrow, however, when this affliction is past, then other thoughts will come to him. I say that we help ourselves most by working toward both goals- that of today, and that of tomorrow- now. Let us spare no time while he dithers and struggles with his conscience."

Alex stared back at Gaius for a moment, but then understanding stole up on him a bit at a time. Then the youth smiled back at the old Roman, showing his fine white teeth. "Not just a jurist, but a wise councillor."

This time they both heard the sound of steps, light but unmistakable, on the stairs.

Both men turned to look up at Krista as she appeared in the doorway. "My lords," she said, seemingly oblivious of the dankness of the chamber, "the Lord Prince wishes to speak with you."

Gaius bowed a little, indicating that Alexandros should precede him up the stairs.

The Prince lay in one of the beds in the upper rooms. The wooden frame had nearly rotted away, but enough of the pallet remained for him to lie down on a bed of rugs and quilts that the servants had carried from the Engine. A brace of beeswax candles burned steadily on a table at the head of the bed. Gaius entered the room and drifted to one side to lean against the wall, as was his wont. Alexandros chose to squat on the floor by the foot of the bed, watching the Prince with his deep blue eyes. Krista occupied the lone chair, her legs crossed and a small black cat cradled in her lap. Maxian was still pale and drained looking, but some color had returned to his cheeks.