Abdmachus had been shuffling through the notes that he and Maxian had made, and he pulled out a parchment book, complete with a leather binding. He opened it and turned to the third or fourth page. Clearing his throat, he read aloud in a carrying voice: “To the Republic of Rome, to the Senate, to the People and to the Law of the City of Rome, I swear that I will serve faithfully, to obey my officers, to follow commands, to keep ranks and to stand when others may flee. Upon my honor, the honor of my family and my blood I do so swear.“

He put down the book and nodded his head slightly, paging forward through the chapter of the Annals Milita-tum. Maxian frowned.

“This is the oath,” the Persian said, “that Augustus instituted during his reorganization of the army in the sixteenth year of his reign as princeps of the Republic. The previous oath, by my notes here, was taken to an individual Legion and hence to the commander of that Legion. With this change and oath, made before the standard of the Legion as tutelary representative of the city and the state, Augustus attempted to impress upon the troops that their responsibility was to the Republic, to the Senate, and to the Emperor rather than their own commanders.”

“Did it work?” Gaius Julius asked in an envious voice. Abdmachus shrugged, saying “I have not read the military histories of the Empire, but the discipline and elan of the Roman army is known throughout the whole world. In battle they stand fast against terrible odds. They have rarely mutinied and they do not pillage or rape their own lands.” Maxian spoke, his voice thoughtful. “The oath is followed by the branding-it might be enough to fix the ritual upon the mind and body of the soldier. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of Roman citizens must have taken the oath throughout the history of the Empire. Many are given grants of land, spreading them willy-nilly throughout the Empire. They have children, and their children must carry the oath-binding down through the generations as well…”

Abdmachus flipped to another set of pages and read: “The sons of the man who has completed his service, and accepted either the grant of land or the payment of cash monies to begin business for himself, are compelled as well to take service with the Army of the Republic after the passing of their sixteenth birthday. To those who complete their service as well, these same benefits and exemptions will accrue.“

The Persian closed the book, his fingers tapping on the binding.

“Many generations might take the oath, then,” he said, “with each one becoming more firmly fixed than the one before. Over hundreds of years, the minuscule talent for the power that lies in each man and woman, bound by this oath, would accumulate and feed into the thing that we know today. Each stone that they laid, each cloak that they weave, even the wine that they ferment-all are touched by a little bit of the power and it grows, it grows monstrous…”

Maxian sat down heavily in the chair. His mind whirled to accommodate the prospect of a pattern of sorcery grown, man by man, woman by woman, over six hundred years. Millions of citizens living and dying, each adding to its power. Growing like a fungus in the darkness under the shade of the state, until it swallowed the world. My gods, the raw strength inherent in such a structure of forms! A voice in the back of his mind gibbered in fear-there was no way that he could overturn such a power!

He shook his head sharply and stood. “Bring me more bodies-these ones alive. I would know the strength of this thing.”

On the cold table, Krista moaned slightly and turned over, away from the Prince.

Maxian ignored her. “Gaius Julius, I need soldiers, both those newly inducted-if there are any left in the city, and those who have served their term as well. The sooner the better.”

OUTSIDE OF THE CITY OF VAN, PERSIAN-OCCUPIED ARMENIA

H

Ah, bugger the lot of them.“ Thyatis slid the long-glass back into the leather case it rode in and slid off of the crest of the rocky slope. Nikos and Timur, who were lying up under the shade of a boulder at the bottom of the dry streambed, looked up as she crawled into their little shelter! She fit herself into the last free bit of shade under the overhang. Nikos passed her a wineskin filled with brackish water from the last well. She drank deeply, spilling a little water on her chin and chest. Wiping it away left a trail of tan mud.

“Pah!” She snarled and rubbed the mud away. “A desolate country. Well, my loyal followers, there’s too much to see and too little to do about it. There must be five or six thousand Persians between us and the gates of the city. Either of you have any suggestions about how we’re supposed to get in there?”

Timur laid back against the cool stone and closed his eyes. He was only a scout; this was a matter for the commanders to hash out. The wind whistled through the high chalky walls of the streambed and cooled them a little with its hot breath as they sat in the shade. Timur was filled with a sense of homecoming, though he knew that it was false. This high plain, dry and desolate save around the fringes of the great lake that crouched at its center, was only enough like his homeland to inspire memory, not to reveal to opened eyes the towering peaks of the Altai or the Khir Sahr. His leg ached, another sign that he was not home. If his leg had been good, would he be here?

“Are you sure that we have to meet this fellow in the city?”

Thyatis nodded, her face filled with disgust. “Yes, I’ve only the passcode to identify myself to him, not to his contacts in Tauris. Without him, we’ll have to try to get into Tauris by ourselves without any local assistance. We need to get in there and find this man. If he’s already dead, or fled from the city, then we can break off and head south to meet the army, but if the chance remains, we take it.”

Nikos nodded. “How do we get in, then? This is some barren countryside-we won’t be able to sneak up close to the walls. We haven’t even seen a local, so there’s no one to take a message inside or show us some secret way into the city. We know nothing about the Persian commanders, so unless you’re willing to take the time to scout them out, we can’t try faking our way past their patrols to get within a throw of the city.”

“True… I do love your optimistic nature, Nikos. Timur, open your eyes and answer me some questions. You were out for hours last night-what did you find?”

Timur’s dark eyelashes fluttered and he blinked a little.

“Beki jegun, there are two wadi,” he said, “dry stream-beds like this one-that run down from the hills to the lakeshore on either side of the town. The southern one is larger and deeper. It seems to run close to the south wall of the city, so-perhaps-some few of us could make our way down it to the point closest to the walls. From there a brave man might be able to make it to the wall and over, if the city men do not spear you as you attempt to climb the rampart.”

“That’s not a very good chance,” Nikos said. “There might be a commotion and we don’t want either the defenders of the city or the Persians to know that we’re here. We have to get in, and out, quietly with this guy. If no one knows we were here, I’ll call it successful.”

Timur shook his head. “Beki arban, that is a fool’s hope. The land is dry and the sky clear. Eventually the Persian scouts will cross our path and see the wagon tracks. Then they’ll know we were here. Then they will hunt for us.“

Thyatis slapped her thigh, causing a cloud of dust to puff up. “Both of you are fools and so am I. There’s a perfect way into the city-sitting right there, bright and blue as the sky. The lake. We can take a boat into the lakeside part of the town after full darkness.”