Path of Smoke Read Online Free Page A

unpacked his lute. “I suppose I will be.”
    Fel descended the stairs that led to the domina’s dusty undercroft. He’d worked there once, stoking the hypocaust. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but really, it hadn’t been so long. Breaking his back for hours so that the domina could enjoy a heated bath. Until the day that a lean shadow had wandered in.
    You’ll get more heat if you leave some roasted pumpkin seeds in the corner. That’s where the salamander sleeps.
    He took his place among the musicians, who had arranged themselves near the impluvium. Orchids danced in the water as they played. Babieca’s fingers knew the melodies, and his concentration wandered. He watched the lovely, rich people seated on couches before him, exchanging gossip. They picked their teeth, cleaned their ears with tiny silver spoons, and pressed forward with their ragged alliances. Beneath the uncertain lamplight, he saw a flash of bracelets, a tall wig on fire with opals, naked feet and blurred mouths, like the lares gently disappearing on their shrine. All the duplicity and beauty in the city of Anfractus seemed to be gathered here, a storm whose perfection could destroy him.
    At one point, a spado joined them. He sat on the edge of the impluvium, framed by orchid shadows, and sang. His voice was ermine. High and aching, it was beyond anything that Babieca’s poor instrument could produce. It filled him with a strange sense of grief, although he couldn’t say exactly what was sad about it. The song was in a language that he didn’t understand. The speech of the founders, perhaps, or something from beyond the forest. He caught one word, a word that seemed oddly familiar. But before he could remember where he’d heard it, the people were clapping, the spado politely inclined his head, and the word vanished.
    He saw Domina Pendelia, heading toward them. Most likely, she had some demand. She wanted them to wash plates or clean up someone’s puke in the fountain. Babieca had no desire to become a good investment, so he ducked through the peristyle and into the garden. Two women lingered by the statuary. One said something soft beneath her breath. The other laughed. He stepped behind the fountain and unlatched the hidden gate, which led to the narrow alley behind the domus. The shadows were cool against the stone walls, and moss tickled his fingers as he leaned against one, adjusting his sandal. He was beginning to feel sober, which was terrible. He’d need to launch an attack on the domina’s undercroft, where she kept the wine. If he could distract Fel, he’d probably be able to steal a small amphora. She’d never miss it.
    Babieca heard footsteps. He started to reach for his sword but then remembered that he hadn’t brought it. Only miles were allowed to bear arms at the domina’s party. There was a throwing knife, tucked into the hollowed-out sole of his right sandal. He wasn’t much good at throwing it, but in the dark, it might pass for a bigger weapon. Aside from brandishing his cock, it was the only option. He bent over to retrieve it but slipped on a paving stone and fell to his knees. Cursing, he tugged on the knife, but it was stuck.
    â€œPreemptive falling. That’s a good strategy. They might think you’re asleep.”
    He sighed. “Just help me up.”
    Morgan offered her hand. She helped him to rise, then brushed off his tunica.
    â€œYou look a fright.” She wore a green stola. Her hair was caught up in a series of ivory pins, and Babieca stared at them, as if they were something unreal. He’d never seen Morgan in anything but a rust-colored cloak and a suit of leather armor.
    â€œYour shoes,” he said, marveling at them. “Are those cork heels?”
    â€œI don’t want to talk about it.”
    â€œReally? I’ve got nowhere to go, and I’m certain there’s a story behind this.”
    â€œI’m