Kushiel's Scion (54 page)
A tickle of foreboding brushed my spine as I remembered Alais' dream. Our barge passed beneath the bridge's shadow, emerging into sunlight. "I'm just saying, look about you, Gilot," I said lightly, gesturing toward the banks. "There is a world beyond Terre d'Ange, and much of it is worthy of admiration."
He looked sourly at me. "What's Tiberium done lately?"
The barge-captain muttered somewhat in Caerdicci about D'Angeline snobbery and spat into the river. I watched his sputum swirl in the oars' wake.
"Plenty," I said to Gilot. "It reinvented itself as a center for learning, for one. Even Terre d'Ange acknowledges the preeminence of the University of Tiberium. That's why Eamonn came, and that's why I'm here. If you don't like it, bear in mind, I didn't ask you to come here with me."
Gilot hunched his shoulders and looked miserable. "I'm not a scholar," he muttered.
"I know." I touched his arm. "You don't have to stay, you know."
He looked at me with obdurate stubbornness. "Oh, I'm staying!"
"Fine," I said. "Then stop being an ass."
Once we glimpsed Tiberium proper, even Gilot had to own himself impressed. It is an old city, and if it no longer possesses the power it once held, it was still vast; bigger by far than the City of Elua. We both fell silent, gazing at the sprawl of buildings and monuments that covered its seven hills.
"It's… big," Gilot said faintly. "That it is," I agreed.
As in Ostia, the wharf swirled with activity. It had originally been in my thoughts to seek Eamonn straightaway, but the scale of Tiberium overwhelmed me. The warehouses alone seemed enormous. Iskandria was the only city I had ever seen as large, and there I had been accompanied by Phèdre and Joscelin, who already knew it. Here, I was alone, save for Gilot, who was little help. I was also tired and dirty, and it was growing late; the sun was hovering low over the seven hills. I looked around for a porter or a guide to hire, but it seemed all were engaged with bigger quarry than a pair of travel-worn D'Angelines. Gilot stood numb beside me, holding our horses.
In marked contrast to our sorry state, a trio of elegant young nobles disembarked from a pleasure-barge near us; young men, laughing and talking in animated Caerdicci. I plucked at my salt-stained doublet and looked enviously at them.
"Hey, D'Angeline!" one of them called. "What's the matter? Are you lost? Looking for the nearest brothel?"
His fellows laughed. I smiled ruefully. "A decent inn would do, my friend."
"Oh, friend, is it?" The one who had spoken eyed me. He had an unruly mass of dark auburn curls and young satyr's face, with sharp cheekbones and a wide, curling smile. "You're presuming a lot."
I shrugged. "A friend until proven otherwise."
He laughed. "I like that! Did you hear that, Aulus?" He thrust out a well-manicured hand. "Lucius Tadius da Lucca."
I clasped it. "Imriel nó Montrève."
A lively curiosity lit his gaze. "Montrève. You're adopted, yes? Do I understand D'Angeline nomenclature?"
"You do," I said. "And I am."
"The name strikes a chord," Lucius Tadius mused. "Ah well, no mind! What brings you to Tiberium, young Montrève? Another impoverished gentleman scholar come to try your luck at the University? I see your dumbstruck manservant standing by."
Gilot scowled.
I grinned, unable to help myself. Despite his insouciance, I sensed no malice in this Lucius. "Something like that," I said. "Can you point us toward an inn in the students' quarter?"
He raised his brows. "My dear, we can point you toward a dozen. We're all gentlemen scholars here. Aulus, Donato, come. Let us acquit ourselves of our civic duty and lead our hapless guests to lodging." Lucius gave me a sidelong glance. "And perhaps the baths," he added. "You're a lovely specimen, young Montrève, but a bit grimy."
True to his word, Lucius Tadius and his fellows escorted us into the heart of the city proper. I was grateful for his aid, realizing we would have gotten lost in short order. While the main road, the Via Appia, was wide and imposing, the students' quarter was a dense labyrinth, situated between the University and a major forum. It was a confusing jumble of inns, wineshops, and vendors, and the insulae, the apartments where most students dwelled, rose in staggering tiers. When we arrived, the sun was no longer visible and the narrow streets were filled with blue shadows.
"There," Lucius said crisply, pointing. "Or there, or there. If you want your mounts well-tended, I recommend Lollia's place. She keeps a clean stable if you can afford it." He watched as I dismounted. "That's a good-looking horse you ride, my friend."
I slapped the Bastard's speckled shoulder. "He's had a long journey."
"Haven't we all?" Lucius said cryptically. He pointed eastward. "The nearest public bath lies yonder, past the forum. I suggest you avail yourself of it."
"We will," I promised. "Thank you for your aid, truly."
Lucius shrugged. "Don't go noising it about. I've a reputation to uphold." He raised a hand in farewell. "Good luck to you, D'Angeline! Perhaps we'll see you in the lecture halls."
"Ass," Gilot muttered as Lucius and his companions departed.
I glanced at him. He was swaying in the saddle, glassy-eyed. "Come on," I said. "Let's see if this Lollia has a room to let."
She did, and we took it. I was glad to have a place to rest, glad to have our horses stabled and content. The Bastard eyed me with reproach, then sank his muzzle into a bucket of oats. We unloaded the pack-horses, staggering under the weight of our baggage, carrying it up several flights of stairs. By the time the transaction was fully concluded, the twilight that had settled over Tiberium was deepening to darkness.
"Baths," Gilot mumbled, his face sunk into his pallet.
I closed my eyes. "Tomorrow."
Behind my eyelids, darkness swirled; an abyss, dragging me downward. This time, I didn't fight it. In the city of Tiberium at last, I let sleep claim me.
Chapter Thirty-One
I woke hungry.
There wasn't much to be had at the inn, but we broke our fast with bread drizzled with honey and a handful of dried dates. The innkeeper Lollia assured us that the vendors would open ere long. Thus fortified, Gilot and I ventured out in search of the baths.
In the morning light, Tiberium was no less imposing, but one could see that it had fallen from its former glory. The buildings and monuments that marked the height of the empire were in poor repair. Still, if the tiles along the arching colonnades of the Great Forum were chipped and dirty, the space itself was still impossibly vast.
We found our way to the baths without difficulty. It was a huge structure, built to serve the needs of hundreds or mayhap even thousands of citizens. Early though it was, they were already doing a lively trade. The price was surprisingly reasonable.
"Oh yes," the attendant assured me with a pointed sniff. "It is in everyone's interest to make the baths affordable."
"I take your meaning," I said dryly.
After days at sea without a proper bath, it was pure bliss. Gilot and I indulged in the fullest, beginning in the steam room. We sat on benches, sweat streaming, grinning at one another through clouds of steam. Once we had sweated out days' worth of grime, we moved to the caldarium, plunging into scalding baths and sluicing away the sweat. There attendants poured olive oil over our skin and scraped it off with curved metal strigils.
"It's an odd way to bathe," Gilot said. "But not unpleasant."
Suitably scalded and scraped, we soaked in the warm waters of the tepidarium. It was a social place, with dozens of men chatting amiably. Most were Caerdicci, though not all. In the background, we could hear thudding and shouting coming from the palaestra, where others were taking exercise.
We finished in the proper Tiberian style, plunging into the cool waters of the frigidarium. I had to own, it was refreshing. It wasn't half as cold as Montrève's spring-fed lake, but after the warmth that had preceded, it was a shock. Gilot and I whooped, splashing one another like boys. An older gentleman walking past shook his head at us.
"Ah, students," he said indulgently.
I tossed back my wet hair and grinned at him. "Not yet, but I mean to be. Do you know, messire, how one goes about seeking entrance to the University?"
He paused and drew up a stool. "Have you chosen a Master with whom to study?"
"No," I said. "I've only just arrived."
"Well, that's your first step, young D'Angeline. The next is to convince him to accept you. Or her; there are a few women licensed to teach." He smiled at me. "I suspect you might do well in that area."
I flushed. "I have letters of reference, messire."
"Letters!" The gentleman chuckled. "They'll test you on your own merits, lad. Luck to you." He heaved himself to his feet. "Tell them Deccus Fulvius said you were well-spoken," he said over his shoulder as he left. "It can't hurt your cause."
Gilot and I clambered out of the pool, and attendants toweled us off briskly.
"Thank you," I said. "Tell me, do you know that man?"
My attendant's eyes bulged. "Deccus Fulvius? How not?" Seeing my ignorance, he continued. "He is a senator, my lord, one of the most powerful; or the richest, at least." Glancing around, he lowered his voice. "He is one of the Restorationists."
"Restorationists?" I asked, bewildered.
"Those who wish to restore Tiberium to its glory as a republic," he whispered.
"Ah." I nodded. "Thank you."
By the time we returned to the antechamber and donned our clothes, there were food vendors strolling about and hawking their wares within the baths. It seemed strange to me, but the Tiberians regarded it as normal. We bought sausages and boiled eggs, venturing out of the baths and eating them as we went.
"So what's that about, Imri?" Gilot mused. "That Restorationist business?"
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "Tiberium was a republic, long ago. The Senate lost power when it became an empire. Even after it all fell apart, it's never regained its stature. I imagine there are some, like this Deccus Fulvius, who'd like to see it restored."
Gilot shrugged. "Precious little to quibble over."
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