Little time remained before the approaching Roman ship captured the Paralos. The four fugitives became frantic. They had no idea what to do. If the wind were blowing—or if they had a rowboat! Then maybe they could escape. Alexios even considered swimming, but he was afraid of asking if the others knew how. Regardless, there was a good chance of drowning. Land was too far. Plus, they would have to swim around the oncoming Roman ships without being spotted. He also hated the idea of swimming above those depths. Sharks could be down there—or worse.
Alexios shuddered. Soon he was belowdecks again, searching for a solution. He checked the naphtha tanks—which reeked of gasoline—but they were empty.
Maybe the Romans won’t even try to capture us, Alexios thought. They’ll burn us alive to avenge their buddies back in that harbor.
Alexios was pacing over the floorboards near Herakleia—still asleep and ignorant of the terror threatening them—when he had an idea. If he could pry up the floorboards in the hold, get everyone underneath, and then cover the boards with supplies, they could hide. Later, when the Romans weren’t looking, the fugitives could escape. This assumed, of course, that the enemy would refrain from destroying the ship. But the Paralos was a beauty—flawlessly designed and also expensive. The Romans would try to recover it. Maybe they also wanted Herakleia alive. They could have killed her earlier, but they had chosen to torture her instead.
Alexios climbed the ladder out of the hold and shouted his plans to Gontran and Diaresso. The two merchants looked at each other, then ran past the horses and joined him belowdecks, snatching hammers from the carpenter’s chest and prying up floorboards. This was noisy, but Herakleia remained asleep. Under the floor they found a space sloshing with seawater. Located at the ship’s center, it could barely conceal them if they lay down. By then the splashing oars and pounding drums of the approaching ships were audible through the hull.
Alexios woke Herakleia and led her to their hiding spot, where Diaresso had already sequestered himself.
“Good job getting down there first!” Gontran shouted.
“Silence!” Diaresso whispered.
Gontran pulled some heavy sacks of flour close to the hiding spot, then replaced the nails and hammers in the carpenter’s chest. After everyone else was below, he joined them and fitted the floorboards into place. Just as he was reaching through the last gap to drag the sacks over their spot, something clanged against the hull, and the Paralos lurched to the side. The Romans had hooked them and were reeling them in.
Soon heavy feet were plodding over the upper deck, but otherwise the Romans kept silent as they examined the ship. They must have been whispering or signaling with their hands, afraid their quarry would ambush them. Within seconds the legionaries were belowdecks throwing barrels aside and prying them open while hurling grain sacks back and forth. The floorboards smashed Alexios’s face as men stomped over them. An amphora was shattered; drops of wine stung his eyes. He winced but kept still, terrified of turning away. Something would creak, or the floor would feel too soft beneath the legionaries’ sandals. His friends must have thought the same, stuffed in the cramped darkness with frigid seawater soaking them as the ship swayed.
I need a skill check, he thought. How much stealth do I have?
As a swordsman, your stealth is only at the beginner level (2/10), the voice said. Herakleia, as a princess, is a Novice (3/10). But Gontran, as a rogue, is a master (8/10). Diaresso, as an archer and bard, is a Journeyman (6/10). Therefore you are the one whom the Romans are likeliest to discover.
Great.
Look on the bright side, the voice said. Every moment you hide adds XP to your stealth skill.
Only a few more years of grinding before I’m up to a level where it makes a difference.
The Romans stopped moving. They were listening.
Alexios held his breath; he wished he could stop his heart. Then he felt a sneeze coming on. He pinched his nose, and the feeling vanished.
Someone was screaming above decks—a harsh, gruff, older voice—the voice of whoever was in charge.
“Where the fuck are they?” the man yelled as he descended into the hold. “Don’t tell me they disappeared!”
These military types all sound the same, Alexios thought.
“Droungarios, I apologize,” came a younger voice. “It appears they threw themselves overboard, leaving only the horses.”
Alexios winced. He felt terrible for Blanco, as well as Musa, Phaethon, and the nameless fourth horse they had brought with them.
“Ludicrous,” the droungarios growled. “Absolute lunacy. Even the best swimmers would drown out here. Are you telling me they committed suicide? Is that what you seriously think?”
“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t—”
“Where are the bodies, kentarch? If they’d drowned, their bodies would be floating out there right now! But they aren’t!”
“Sir—”
“Do you know what this means? It means none of us can rest—you least of all. We’re going to find these fuckers. Deploy every ship in the fleet away from this location in every direction. Tell them to light every torch they’ve got. No one sleeps until we find the bodies.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m going to hit the sack,” the droungarios said. “I’m tired of this shit. This is such an embarrassment. The entire world’s going to be laughing at us when they find out what happened. A bunch of criminals rescued that fucking whore, stole a ship, and then sank a pursuit craft filled with our boys. It’s a fucking disgrace. Are you listening, kentarch?”
“Yes, sir.”
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“We’re going to find these fuckers and skin them alive! And if you don’t find them, we’ll skin you instead! We’ll torture you to death!”
These higher-up military types aren’t as witty in real life as they are in movies, Alexios thought. In the real world they’re always either incompetent or psychopathic. Or both.
Herakleia trembled beside him.
“Yes, sir,” the kentarch said in total seriousness.
Alexios almost laughed out loud. He imagined the weaselly kentarch stomping his feet, clicking his heels, greasing his hair, shaving twenty times a day, licking his superiors’ sandals. The military was so ridiculous, stiff, and pompous.
“I’m out of this fucking place,” the droungarios said. “Don’t wake me until you find them.”
“Sir.”
The ladder thumped with each step as the droungarios returned to the deck.
The kentarch sighed. “I don’t know what else we can do. We tore this ship apart. If they’re out there on the water, there’s no way they’ll survive.”
“You did your best, sir,” came a third voice.
“Jesus, I’m tired,” the kentarch said. “How long have we even been up?”
“They alerted us at dawn.”
“That’s right. Fuck me, what a day. But you heard the droungarios’s orders. Keep us grappled to the Paralos. The rest of the fleet needs to begin searching nearby for swimmers or bodies.”
“The men won’t be happy, sir.”
“What can I do?” the kentarch said. “Everything Droungarios Maniakes said is true.”
Alexios almost laughed. Droungarios Maniakes was indeed a manic.
“It’s an embarrassment,” the kentarch continued. “Petty criminals have dishonored Rome. It’s our duty to bring them to justice.”
“That’s absolutely correct, sir. I’ll get on it.”
“Thank you, dekarch.”
More shaking and thumping as the dekarch—presumably—ascended the ladder. But the kentarch remained belowdecks. The floorboards creaked as he stepped back and forth, shoving sacks aside, prying open more barrels and containers. For a moment Alexios sensed that the man had stopped to listen again. He suspected that the fugitives were still hiding here. Then he climbed the ladder, and soon drums were pounding as oars lashed the waves—five different rhythms for five different ships rowing away, with the lead vessel still presumably attached to the Paralos.
You have leveled up to Stealth Novice (3/10), the voice said.
Alexios pumped his fist. Nice.
Part of him still felt sorry for the sailors who had been chasing them since dawn, but mostly he thought it was hilarious. He and his friends were hiding almost in plain sight.
Imperialists don’t hire goons for their brains, he thought.
Aside from several men patrolling the deck, all was silent. Alexios had been tense for some time, but soon he relaxed. The other fugitives shifted their weight, and the wood creaked.
Before long, it even sounded like Herakleia was sleeping again. Her breathing had grown deep and steady. It was unbelievable that anyone could sleep through a situation like this, but her exhaustion must have been greater than her fear. The other three fugitives remained awake, however, breathing softly, holding still, listening.
Alexios’s thoughts drifted to Dionysios’s death. Why had the old monk been so foolish? It seemed like he had allowed Narses to kill him.
Alexios shook his head. It made no sense. In the outside world, ideas like “death drive” could explain that behavior. People unconsciously wished to destroy themselves and everything around them because for their entire lives the material world had been letting them down, one way or the other. Either that, or they destroyed themselves from a refusal to accept that the dominant mode of production which had enriched them for their entire lives might be collapsing. Eventually these people took revenge on everything, even their own bodies.
Alexios shook his head. I’m using Dionysios’s critical methods to criticize Dionysios.
The problem with the death drive explanation was that the old wizard liked living in Romanía. Alexios’s own learning had barely begun. After just a few days with Dionysios, Alexios was seeing through new eyes. To be sure, living for so long in the less-than-ideal modern world had prepared his mental soil for these philosophical seeds, but the few that Dionysios had tossed into Alexios’s mind were already bearing fruit. What more could Dionysios teach? So much could be built from the fundamentals alone. Alexios also still had the manual, and could further hone his knowledge studying it.
I’ll find that guy and kill him, Alexios thought. Whoever that guy was who killed you, Dionysios, I swear I’ll find him.
More time passed. Alexios may have fallen asleep and then woken up again. Who knew? His stamina was low, and this affected his intelligence. At some point whales sang in the depths, though he was unsure if their songs were dreams. Another vast creature was also groaning in the deep. Then footsteps pattered on the deck, stirring Alexios from his half-sleep. Something clanked. There were muffled voices. Then heavy wooden things clattered. What was happening?
Drums were pounding. Oars splashed the water. The ship was turning. They must have been taking the Paralos back to Konstantinopolis.
Damn!
If they returned to the City, the legionaries might find them. Now only a flicker of the divine farr was burning in Alexios’s heart. He was unsure of how to recharge without Dionysios’s guidance. Help workers, and then somehow that was supposed to juice him up. But who was he supposed to help? Was he going to convince the regular Roman soldiers to kill their officers and join the uprising? No. That was suicide. He might as well try to convince the wooden floorboards above his head to join the uprising. So what could he do?
Alexios wanted to talk with his friends, but was whispering worth the risk? The pounding drums and splashing oars were loud, and the fugitives seemed alone belowdecks.
“Gontran,” he whispered. “Diaresso. Herakleia. Are you awake?”
“Yeah,” Gontran gasped. “Yeah.”
No answer came from either Diaresso or Herakleia.
“I think they’re taking us back to Konstantinopolis,” Alexios whispered.
“Seems like a safe bet,” Gontran whispered back.
“So what do we do?”
“No idea. Wing it, I guess.”
“Gontran, do you ever plan for anything?”
“Nope. But everything always works out in the end.”
“Are you going to say that if we wind up in one of those dungeons like Herakleia—with no one to rescue us?”
“I’ll worry about that later.”
Alexios groaned. Maybe this is a waste of time.
“I’ve got a problem,” Gontran whispered.
“What?” Alexios said.
“I need to piss.”
“God damnit, Gontran—”
“What am I supposed to do? Do you want me to just piss myself and lie here for eight hours in my own piss?”
“It’s better than getting killed!”
“Listen. I’ll sneak out there. I’ll be careful. It doesn’t sound like anyone’s around. I’ll piss in a corner or something, then I’ll come back.”
Diaresso stirred from sleep, and whispered: “I must make water also.”
“Great,” Alexios said. “We’ll have a piss party! What could go wrong?”
“You don’t always have to be such a downer,” Gontran said.
“Quiet!” Alexios whispered.
“No,” Gontran said. “I gotta piss. I swear this’ll be the only time I do it.”
“Yeah, it’ll also be the last time you piss at all!”