Mark of the Thief (4 page)

She sniffed me, and I tried to convince myself it was only out of curiosity — not hunger. If she had wanted to eat me, she’d had plenty of time for that while I slept.

“Listen,” I said, continuing my ridiculous strategy of speaking in Latin to an animal that communicated in screeches. “There must be another way out. This cave isn’t safe anymore. If you don’t fly us out, we’ll both be crushed when the rest of it collapses.”

Caela cocked her head as if she understood me. If she could, then she probably also knew that I had told her a half-truth. Yes, the cave might collapse, and yes, she’d be crushed if it did. But flying me out of here wouldn’t make any difference to her. I was absolutely irrelevant to her survival. If I was lucky, she wouldn’t figure that out.

Before I dared get her help, I needed her to trust me. Or more important, I needed to trust her. So I started walking around Caela, brushing my hand along the black feathers of her neck, and then running my fingers through the short brown fur along the lioness half of her. Caela arched her back at my touch and I felt a rumble inside her. The lion was purring, and I dug my fingers deeper. She crouched lower, but did not lie down. Was she moving so I could better reach her, or inviting me to climb on her back? I took a deep breath and tried to shake any doubts from my mind. Maybe I was wrong, and the consequences for misjudging a griffin couldn’t be good. But the cracking sounds were growing louder. I knew how my story would end if I did nothing.

I continued scratching her fur until I came to her other side. Then with a whisper to the gods for help, I grabbed the hook of her wing and swung onto her back. Would the gods help me now? For surely if anyone had ridden this griffin before, it was them. The wound she had given me protested my movement, but I ignored it. Being crushed by falling rock would hurt a lot worse.

I held on extra tight, expecting she would try to throw me off, but she didn’t. Instead, she widened her wings and flew upward on a steep climb. Some mornings, as I prepared to delve deeper into the earth, I watched the birds soaring upward in the air. I often wondered what their journey must be like, so weightless, so powerful. But feeling it now for myself was so much greater than anything I had ever imagined. When we were as high as we could possibly climb, Caela arced around and then dove at a sharp angle toward the floor. Near the bottom, she straightened out and I was certain we were about to collide with the black cave wall. Only when we were upon it did I see the change in shadow. It was a tunnel, plummeting even deeper into the earth. Deeper wasn’t what I had in mind.

Caela couldn’t use her wings in here, but she had built up enough speed in the dive to carry us through the length of the tunnel. I noticed water building on the ground below us. It seemed shallow at first, but the longer we flew, the more there was. Eventually, she had no choice other than to fly directly into the water, which she seemed perfectly comfortable with. I was less enthusiastic about where we were headed. I had the swimming skills of a lead pipe, and wherever we were, I needed Caela’s help now more than ever before.

From the first moment we went completely under, the water pressed in on my lungs like a vise. Caela was moving so fast that I could see nothing other than bubbles and blurry images, and could think of nothing but how fond I’d always been of air. After only seconds underwater, I was already in trouble, but finally I saw a light above us. We were heading to the surface, and just in time.

When we finally broke through, I was so breathless I nearly let go, but with a wide lake below us, that would hardly be helpful. Now that we were in open air, Caela slowed in her flight. She skimmed the lake’s surface, letting one talon cut a line across the water.

I leaned my head against the back of her neck. “Thank you,” I breathed. “Thank you.”

Her gentle caw back at me wasn’t angry anymore. Either Caela had become mine, or I had become hers. I didn’t know why or how this had changed, or whether it would last. But for now, I didn’t need an answer. This single moment was enough.

We were crossing Lake Nemi, called Diana’s Mirror by most of the other miners. They had warned me never to look at it, and never to ask questions about Diana’s temple, which I easily spotted on the hills of the opposite shore. I couldn’t see why any of their warnings mattered. It was beautiful here, and the bulla glowed through the grip of my fingers. I took it as a sign from Diana that she approved.

As we flew back toward dry ground, I began to wonder again how much time had passed since I had first entered the cave, and what surely had happened since then. Radulf would’ve blamed Sal for the collapse of the cave entrance and probably punished him. In turn, Sal would punish the other miners for not making the entrance stronger. They’d report my death to Livia and then tell her not to mourn since she should’ve been expecting it.

Livia.

If it weren’t for her, I would have begged Caela to keep flying forever. To a place without mines or chains or whips. Somewhere I had any chance for a future. If such a place still existed in this world, I knew Caela could find it.

But I wouldn’t leave without Livia — I had promised that to my mother, and it was a promise I intended to defend with my life. Left alone at the mines, Livia would be swallowed whole.

I wrapped one hand around the bulla again and pressed it to my chest. My heart seemed to beat just to get closer to it. Or maybe it was still beating
because
I was close to it. This was no ordinary bulla. I understood that now, though I couldn’t figure out exactly what made it so different. Was it the reason I had survived when hit by that rock underground?

I had to return to the mines for Livia; there was no question of that. But if Radulf was still there, I would have to give him the bulla, and that infuriated me. I hated that Radulf would be able to take this from me. I hated that it would become his simply because he was a general and I was nothing.

Once I got back, I would give the bulla to Radulf, then beg him to fulfill his promise to take Livia and me to Rome. I would ignore what I had overheard of his threats to the empire, and pretend he hadn’t smiled when I told him I might not return from the cave. Even if we were his slaves in Rome, it was better than working in the mines.

By now, Caela was flying us over a grassy knoll on the west side of the lake. The gray mines already seemed far away, only a memory of another life, another me. It was a good thing I had already decided to return for my sister, because if I hadn’t, nothing else would’ve convinced me to go back.

Suddenly aware of how hungry I was, I began scanning the valley for any sign of food. As if the gods had granted my wish, almost instantly I spotted a large patch of wild strawberries, ones so fat and red I could see them from up here. How could they feed us nothing but tasteless crusts of bread each day when so much fresh fruit was this close?

“Put me down, Caela.” I pointed out the strawberries. “Over there.”

Rather than take my orders, Caela merely tilted her body and literally dropped me off. Luckily, we weren’t too high off the ground, or it might’ve hurt worse, and the second I landed, she speared forward, probably hunting for food of her own. I was glad for that. It meant Caela wouldn’t be eating me. More good news.

I ran down the hill where she had dropped me and dove into the patch. I ate greedily, stuffing whole handfuls of berries into my mouth and swallowing almost without tasting. Although it wasn’t often, Sal sometimes got strawberries. He ate them right in front of us, and we privately grumbled that he wanted us to see him eating so that we would understand how far beneath him we were. Since I would probably never have this chance again, I ate until my stomach ached with pleasure. Was this how the wealthy felt after every meal, ill with happiness? I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to live a day without hunger gnawing at each step.

If I could have, I would’ve stayed forever in that strawberry patch without a worry in the world. I stretched out on the ground to soak in the sun and to rest from the ordeal in the cave. I tried to feel for Caela’s scratch again, but couldn’t quite reach it. Finally, I gave up trying.

As my eyes grew heavier, I realized there might be another option than giving Radulf the bulla. I had fought the griffin, not him, and nearly died in the cave because of it. The bulla was literally the only thing in the world that was mine. Maybe I could claim that I’d never found the bulla, that if it ever was in the cave, it was lost to the ages now. With that thought, I tucked the bulla beneath my tunic and twisted it around so it hung under one arm and fell to my side, where it was less noticeable. The bulla lay against my skin with a comfort and familiarity as if it had always been with me. And if I was successful in keeping it hidden, it always would be.

The foolishness of attempting to hide the bulla was only outmatched by the likelihood of failure. So in the end, if I had to give it back, then I hoped it was cursed, just as Caesar’s whisper had suggested inside the cave. Only then could I tolerate losing it.

Caela eventually returned to my side, and nestled in the brush beside me where she immediately fell asleep. I curled into her soft feathers, surprised by how calm I felt when she was nearby. Miners are never allowed enough of anything, especially sleep, and with the fragrance of ripe berries, warm sun, and my full stomach, my eyes were quickly lulled closed.

That was where they found me.

T
here were a few moments of disorientation while the guards from the mines yanked me back to reality. I immediately yelled for Caela, but other guards already had her in ropes and were trying to control her thrashing about.

Privately, I was angry with myself for falling asleep. Hadn’t I learned by now that sleep was dangerous? Those who let down their watch for an instant were the ones we never heard from again. And yet, I had done exactly that.

I should’ve noticed the creak of the wagon as it approached the berry patch. I should’ve heard voices, or footsteps jumping to the ground. Had I really been that deeply asleep? Or was this group of guards so cunning that I could never have hoped to escape?

They weren’t all that smart, I decided, as the first guard swatted me back to the ground with the side of his arm. I recognized him from the mines. His brutality made Sal look like a nursemaid. These men were rats. Getting caught was my fault, which probably meant I was a rat too. But they were ugly rats, and that was worse.

“Trying to escape?” one guard asked. “You must think you’re pretty clever.”

If I had been trying to escape, I wouldn’t have lain out in the middle of a strawberry patch. And no, at the moment, clever was the last word I’d have used to describe myself.

“I was helping General Radulf.” I rubbed the back of my hand against my mouth where he had hit me, but when I pulled it away, I couldn’t tell if it was strawberry juice or blood. My mouth stung, though, so I didn’t get up. I didn’t want to risk him hitting me again.

“The griffin is getting away,” one of the men shouted just as Caela angled her body sideways, slapping the man to the ground with her long tail.

“Then kill it,” the guard standing over me ordered.

“No!” I cried, earning a kick to my side.

But the man who had been hit was preparing to obey the order. He reached into the nearby wagon for a bow and a handful of arrows.

I stood and yelled at Caela, who was squawking with fury. “Stop fighting them! Caela, stop this or they’ll kill you!”

Either she couldn’t hear me or she didn’t care. The man nocked his arrow.

Ignoring the threats of the guards, I ran between the man’s bow and Caela, and put a hand on her side.

“You have to stop fighting,” I told her. “Caela, please, you won’t win here.”

She came down to all fours and was staring at me again. I was sure she could understand me, which was no surprise since she had once belonged to the gods. But understanding my words wasn’t the same as obeying them. She cast an angry glance toward the guards, then screeched so loud it made my ears ring. But she stopped fighting. The bow was lowered and the other men surrounded her with more ropes. I could only hope she would allow them to safely take her. They grabbed me next, rougher than was necessary considering I wasn’t fighting either.

“Be careful, you brutes!” a voice said from behind me. “Don’t hurt him!”

At first I had to twist to see who was speaking, but it was a boy not much older than me. He marched to my side, forcing the guards’ hands off me. He was tall, with curly golden-blond hair trimmed neatly around his face. I had no sandals at all to compare with his fine leather pair, and my tunic was plain, oversized until I grew a little more, and torn in the back where the griffin had scratched me. The boy’s fine clothing was perfectly white with purple trim, and for good luck, around his neck he wore a golden bulla. It wasn’t too different from the one hidden beneath my tunic, though I doubted his bulla glowed.

“Crispus, you shouldn’t have run up here! Stay back from that animal!” Another man came forward in a similar white-and-purple toga. Only senators, or their sons, were allowed to wear those robes, but what was a senator doing out this far from Rome? I noticed his shoes next: high buckskin boots colored black, rather than the red ones or sandals other, lower-ranking citizens wore. He had kind eyes, and thinning blond hair that seemed to be graying sooner than it should. His face was a series of worry lines, though he also seemed to have an easy smile.