The Imperium Game Read Online Free Page A

his business partner. In the changing room, he ignored the waiting bath slave, dropped his clothes to the floor, and strode on, good Roman that he supposedly was, as though nakedness meant nothing to him. Actually it made him rather nervous, but that was the way it was done here, and he knew full well that if you wanted to be Emperor, you—if no one else—had to do things the way they were done.
    He watched the elderly slave scuttle forward to pick up his clothes and hang them on a hook, then went on into the warm bath. Gratefully, he waded down the broad steps into the tile-lined pool and relaxed back in the tepid water up to his neck, ignoring the other men after a quick look around. The one he was waiting for had not yet arrived.
    But soon, he told himself and stared up at the vaulted ceiling and its inlaid stars. His contact would come. They would conclude their business, and then he would go on making money until he could jettison this stupid Game and be done with armor and Praetorian Guards and the idiot gods forever.
    The sound of water lapping against the sides of the pool echoed through the room. Micio closed his eyes and floated on his back. At some point the low murmurs of the other men ceased.
    Finally, he stood up and gazed around at the lavish blue-and-orange mosaics, realizing with a start that he was alone. Blinking, he heaved himself out of the water and perched on the tiled side of the pool. It was far too early in the day for the Baths to be empty. The facilities were available to everyone above the level of slave; this room should be crowded with men, playing roles that ranged from senator to freedman.
    Shivering, he pushed himself up and walked around the pool to reach the door to the hot bath, his feet slapping wetly on the slick tile.
    In the room beyond, the heated water beckoned his goose-bumped flesh with lazy curls of steam. Rubbing his hands over his arms, he hurried down the steps into the pool, then stopped thigh-deep to let his skin adjust to the much higher temperature.
    “Well,” a familiar voice said from the other side of the room. “I was beginning to think you were going to renege.”
    “You’re in the wrong goddamned room!” Micio advanced another step into the fragrant, steaming water. “We agreed upon the warm bath!”
    “Details, details.” The dimly seen figure waved a careless hand. “All unimportant as long as we come to an agreement today.”
    Leaving the steps, Micio started to wade across, but the water was deeper than he remembered and he was forced to dogpaddle toward the opposite side. It was a damn good thing no one else was present, he thought angrily, since he could lose authenticity points for this; the male nobility were supposed to be extremely fit and athletic.
    When the side of the pool was close enough, he flailed at the tiled edge and finally got enough of a purchase to pull himself to safety. Spitting out a mouthful of water, he coughed, then squinted up at his partner. “Let’s get this over with.”
    “Of course.”
    “My final offer stands.” He coughed again, then rubbed at his eyes. “The next Emperor may prove to have a scruple or two and not be nearly as cooperative as I am.”
    “Five million credits is too much.”
    “This deal is cheap at the price.” Micio felt the urge to cough again, and suddenly realized the air smelled funny—acrid, hot. He looked up and saw a thin curl of smoke. Hurriedly he started to haul himself out of the water.
    “Not so fast, my Imperial friend.” A sandalled foot kicked him in the side of the head.
    Stunned, Micio lost his balance and fell backward, windmilling his arms as the hot water closed over his face. For a terrifying second he couldn’t tell up from down in the water’s diluted gravity; then he struggled back to the surface.
    As he sputtered and gasped for air, it became apparent that something was definitely wrong. “What—”
    A hand clamped down on his arm and extracted him from the water,