Page 33 of Firebird (The Fire That Binds #1)

XXXII

MALINA

“Mina…”

I awoke with a start, sweating through my tunic to the sheets. In that ethereal space between asleep and awake, I swear I heard my bunica whispering.

Heart pounding, I stared around the room, half expecting to see her standing in the doorway. But then nothing, only the faint feeling of dread, of foreboding.

Shoving off the covers, I hurried to the water basin and splashed water on my face .

“Are you all right?” asked Rhea, blinking her eyes sleepily.

The one consolation for the open doorway in a windowless room was that morning light filtered in and lit the room well enough to see.

“Rhea, would it be possible to visit a temple today? I know we’ll have chores, but does Ciprian allow us to go out?”

She sat up, tucking her fine blond hair behind her ear. “It’s market day so Cook will send us to fetch fruit and vegetables. I’m sure I can get Doro to let us.” She shrugged. “He likes me.”

I didn’t know which one Doro was, but I trusted Rhea. Out of desperation, I had to trust someone.

“Which temple do you need to visit?” she asked.

My entire body trembled with the need and the knowing. “Minerva.”

Her brows lifted as she stood from the bed and remade the covers neatly. “Minerva is a powerful goddess. What favor do you need of her?”

I bit my lip, then said, “I can’t tell you.”

I didn’t trust her that much. But Rhea seemed to take no offense when she turned to me, wearing a soft expression. “Is it a serious favor?” She frowned when she caught sight of my trembling.

“Very,” I admitted.

She stepped closer and eyed the doorway before she grabbed me by the shoulders and whispered, “Then we’ll need dragon skin.”

Blinking, I asked, “What?”

She hugged me tight and tried to calm me with a brush of her hand on my spine. “I can see that you need something more than a mere favor from the goddess. You need a miracle. So you’ll need dragon skin.”

I still didn’t quite understand, so she explained it to me. I hugged her back and kissed her on the cheek, which made her laugh.

“Hurry! If we leave early, we can be done with our shopping and at the temple by noon.”

Then she urged me to get changed into a fresh tunic to wear out of doors. Thankfully, Ciprian allowed his slave women to wear som ething more modest on the streets. Probably only to keep others from trying to touch or take his possessions. But I was glad of the small reprieve.

Doro wasn’t one of the slaves who’d accosted me on the street with the bearded one that day with Stefanos and Ivo. I hadn’t seen much of him or the others I’d cursed since I’d arrived. They were probably still terrified of me, witch that I was.

Doro was tall and wide as an ox, but he had a soft, tender look for Rhea. I noticed that she covertly touched her fingers to the back of his hand as she passed him with her basket. She said that Doro liked her, but I got a quick sense that she liked him as well. They obviously had to keep that a secret from their master.

“Time to go, Doro.”

“Yes, Rhea.”

“Watch them carefully,” said Cook.

“I will.” Doro followed us out onto the street.

When I turned toward the direction of the forum, Rhea looped her arm through mine and turned us in the opposite direction. “No, this way.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the Aventine. That’s where I get the best bargains.” She glanced sweetly back at Doro, who walked in our wake. “Besides, that’s where all the plebs live. The free folk. I like walking through their neighborhood and pretending I’m one of them.”

“That is a nice fantasy.”

She whispered, “One day, I want to live there and actually be one of them.”

“How could that happen?”

She simply shrugged, but it seemed Rhea wasn’t without a bit of plotting and dreams of her own. I couldn’t imagine her planning to run away. The punishment if caught was torture and death. But I wasn’t about to discourage Rhea or destroy whatever hopes she had for a happier future. After all, I knew for a fact that Ciprian would be dead soon.

“Well,” I whispered back, “you never know what could happen.”

She gave me a questioning look, then simply laughed. “Come on. I’m going to show you where to find the juiciest peaches in Rome.”

“Peaches? That’s quite a delicacy.”

“There’s an old lady whose son has an orchard in the country. He provides her the best fruit you could imagine. Doro and I always sneak one and share it on the way home.”

We spent the next two hours popping into one shop, then another. I watched Rhea haggle with a toughness I didn’t know was in her. She seemed at home among the streets of the Aventine where life was busy and bustling and loud.

Women laundered clothes at the public fountain while they fussed at young children not to stray too far. Men hauled carts of all kinds of wares—grain, carpets, clay oil lamps and pots. Two young boys herded five goats right down the middle of the street. The clatter of carts, the clopping of hooves, and the shouting of vendors filled the busy morning.

Finally, we finished. Doro carried the sack of leeks, turnips, parsnips, cabbage, and endives. Rhea and I each carried a satchel of fruit.

“This way,” she told me as we took a narrow street off the wider one we’d been traveling most of the day.

Doro caught up to Rhea and pulled her to a stop by the arm. “Where are we going?”

“To Euphemia’s. Malina needs something important,” she said pleadingly. “Then a quick stop at the Temple of Minerva. It’s on the way home anyway.”

Doro peered down, frowning, then eyed me with skepticism.

“Doro.” Rhea clutched a hand in his homespun tunic. “Please. It’s for our new friend. ”

My heart cracked at her declaration. Not “the new slave girl” but “our friend.” How Rhea could shine so bright and be so kind living in the devil’s house, I’d never know. But I admired her for it.

Finally, Doro nodded, then we were off again. Rhea took two more turns down narrow alleys until we seemed far away from the hustle and bustle of the Aventine. We passed a brothel with giant phalluses painted over the door. A woman’s laughter floated out of an open window.

Rhea stopped in front of a doorway next door to the brothel and told Doro, “Please wait here.”

He nodded, then she led me up two steps into a shop with the word pharmakopoles painted beside the door framed by decorative green-painted palms. I didn’t know the translation of the word in Dacian, but instantly realized this was an apothecary’s shop.

Rows of herbs in jars and wrapped bundles dried along the wall. Potted plants lined three shelves on another wall and spiced incense burned on the counter and perfumed the air. The lamp oil flickering on the counter to my right seemed to give off a floral scent as well. A thin, gray-haired woman wearing kohl on her eyes entered from a back room and through a curtain made of strips of sparkly, sheer cloth.

“Rhea! So good to see you, my dear.” She stepped behind her counter in front of us. “You aren’t low on silphium already, are you?”

“Oh, no.” Rhea blushed and cast me a sideways glance. “I have plenty of that for now.”

I recognized the name of the drug. Women used it to keep from conceiving.

“Euphemia, this is my friend, Malina. She needs something special.”

Euphemia narrowed her soot-lined eyes at me, staring down her long nose with severe calculation. She cocked one eyebrow.

“I am assuming you speak of my special collection, yes?”

“Yes. You can trust her. I promise.”

“You vouch for her, do you?”

“I do. ”

Euphemia hadn’t stopped staring at me the entire time. “Why do you need a precious prize like my special collection?”

I instantly bonded to her essence. It was warm and bright and welcoming, despite her dark and fragile physical appearance.

Wiping away the fear I’d felt when I woke this morning, I said, “Because I need Minerva’s help. She can help me in my cause.”

“What is this cause? To seduce a lover? Or to kill an enemy?”

“Neither. It is greater than that. Yes, I will ask for protection for the one I love, and to kill an enemy. But not just one enemy… all enemies to the downtrodden.”

The three of us standing here were all certainly the downtrodden of Rome. A time was coming when the powerful would fall, I sensed it. But I couldn’t say more to Euphemia or Rhea, too afraid to trust too much.

“I must beg a favor of the goddess,” I pleaded. “Today.”

She stepped from behind the counter to approach me. She was short and thin, but she exuded strength.

“Give me your hands, girl.” She held out her own, palms up.

I placed mine into hers.

“I read auras, and I can tell if you’re lying.”

Wanting to smile at her threat to use a mystical ability on me, I nodded. “Ask me your question.”

“Do you swear to tell no one where you obtained the dragon skin, if asked?”

“I swear.” I pressed the emotions of trust and compassion into the bond.

She gasped and let go of my hands, staring wide-eyed. “You are a sister of the spirit world.”

I didn’t know what that meant exactly, only that she recognized I had a goddess-given gift.

I nodded. “I am.”

She snapped her fingers. “Come.” Then she turned and walked back through the curtain .

Rhea grinned, then we both followed. Behind the curtain was a short hallway with two rooms and a kitchen, her living quarters. She stalked quickly into the room at the end. By the time we got there, she was swiveling a bookshelf back into place, having removed something from a hidden space behind it.

“Here, this is what you need.”

She handed me a folded cloth and hurried to a table where she opened a drawer. But it wasn’t simply cloth. It was a square of the hide of a gray dragon.

“Who is it from?”

“A gladiator. His name was Livius.”

She clattered things in her drawer while looking for something.

“He had never been defeated in over one hundred battles. He was beloved by all of Rome, patricians, plebs, and slaves alike. Then the emperor Igniculus demanded he execute a Vicus dragon, a priestess who had broken her vows of chastity. He was to slay both her and her lover as the finale of a day of games last year.”

She picked up something.

“Ah, here it is.”

She returned to stand before me, her expression grave.

“He refused to execute either of them and so Igniculus had his praetorians shift into dragon form and kill Livius instead. They lifted his body and dropped him in the Tiber like he was nothing but scum. Trash to be thrown away.” She scoffed in disgust.

“I remember that day,” said Rhea softly, sadly. “It was the one day there was no applause at the closing of the games.”

“True, true,” said Euphemia. “But the emperor got his point across clear enough. His orders are to be obeyed at all times.” She opened my other hand and placed a small dagger in it. “Livius washed up on shore downriver. With Proserpina’s blessing, I took some of his skin for only the most sacred bargains with the gods. Then my friends and I burned him in a pyre, with all the rites of the dead that he deserved. ”

“What is the dagger for?”

Euphemia scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You do not know how to properly ask the gods for help, I see. You must carve your request into the dragon skin, then you must seal it with a sacrifice. Blood of an animal. A goat is best. Here, you’ll need to burn this candle afterward.” She pulled a thick-stumped candle from a shelf and shoved it into my hand.

“Thank you,” I told her. “I can’t thank you enough. I don’t have any denarii now, but I can get some and bring it back.”

“No, no. I do not sell the sacred skin. It is given to those in need, and I decide who is most in need. The gods and I do.”

“The gods tell you I am worthy.”

“Of course. You have their magic.” She winked. “Now you’d best get gone before Doro comes barreling into my home and tearing the place apart with his giant behemoth body.”

Rhea giggled and led us back out through the curtain and into the main room. Doro was indeed peeking in from the steps outside, frowning until he saw us reappear. Rhea rushed and whispered something to him while I turned to Euphemia.

I couldn’t help myself as I pulled her into an embrace. She stiffened and patted my back awkwardly. She smelled of willow bark tea and incense.

“Thank you again. Not just for this, but for what you did for Livius.”

Euphemia was obviously not a dragon, and yet she’d shown the gladiator respect in death when his own people had not.

“There, there, child.” She pushed out of my arms and smiled. “You go now and make that bargain with Minerva.” She winked. “If any goddess can bring justice, it is our goddess of war.”

Tucking the dagger, the dragon skin, and the candle into my satchel with the peaches, I met Rhea and Doro outside.

“Now to the temple. See, Doro. We won’t be late at all.”

“We best hurry,” said Doro, looking up at the sky. “Rain is coming. ”

He was right. Gray clouds billowed low from over the hills, slowly creeping toward the city. I followed Rhea at a brisk pace, back through the narrow alleys and onto the main road through the Aventine. It was even busier now, thick with a crush of people.

A gusty wind began to blow, the sky growing darker, rolling with thunder. The wind whipped my hair and billowed the cloth canopies over the shops. Vendors rushed to get their wares indoors.

“Quickly, Gideon!” A mother holding a babe in one arm pressed the veil over her head with her other hand as the wind tried to rip it off. A boy ran alongside her, clutching onto her skirts.

By the time we reached the temple, the first drops of rain began to fall.

“Malina,” called Rhea, taking Doro’s hand and hauling him toward a taberna where the smell of roasted meats and vegetables wafted onto the street. “We will wait for you in there to keep out of the rain. Don’t be too long!”

I nodded, then rushed into the temple, tucking the damp strands of hair that had come loose from my braid behind my ear. As soon as I was past the columns and inside the domed temple, there was that great hush of quiet that I loved about sacred spaces.

Lightning crashed outside, but I stepped farther into the atrium where two other worshippers knelt and whispered and prayed, lighting candles and leaving gifts of honey cakes and fruit and dead animals. I walked around them until I found a quiet spot to the left of the painted sculpture of Minerva close to the front altar.

Proserpina’s statue was magnificent and awe-inspiring, but Minerva’s likeness was horrifyingly beautiful.

Minerva was painted with mostly white wings, tipped with purple, the same shade as her eyes. Her black hair billowed in an unseen wind, which seemed to match the storm now pummeling the dome over our heads. Her breastplate was painted gold, a darker shade than her golden gown ending at her clawed feet. She held a sword high in her hand; her other hand was open, palm out, claws extended. The horns curling out of her skull were gold as well.

But it was her expression—fierce, determined, and confident—that held me most spellbound. I hoped this was what she actually looked like. A female goddess ready to do damage to her enemies. I needed a defender like Minerva on my side.

So I knelt quickly and pulled the square of dragon skin and the dagger from inside my bag. The other two worshippers were far away and wouldn’t see, not that they were minding me anyway. They were deep in their own requests and prayers, whispering to the goddess with heads bowed.

The wind howled and the rain poured down outside as I flattened the dragon skin to the stone floor. The temple was dimly lit with torches circling the dome but I could see well enough.

I carved the words in my own language, tears springing to my eyes as I embedded the Dacian words, whispering them to Minerva.

“Minerva, divine goddess, I beg you to protect my love and destroy all of my enemies.” I read what I’d written, then looked up at her and added, “You know who they are.” For I could not take the chance and name them. Any of them. Then I began carving again. “In exchange, and upon the final death of our oppressors, I give you back my magic. I return it entirely into your keeping for when it is needed again.”

I stared at the words, then lifted the dagger and sliced crossways where I’d been cut for the Rite of Skulls. How prophetic that I should overlap the same mark for their blasphemous rite with a righteous one. I cut deeper until my blood dripped freely upon the dragon skin, soaking in my sacrifice.

“Please, hear my prayer,” I whispered to the goddess before I pressed my open palm, stamping the words one last time.

Folding the square several times, I wrapped it closed and ripped a strip of my tunic from the hem. Then I stared at it. I couldn’t bind my prayer and my bargain with the goddess with a piece of cloth from Ciprian, my chief enemy. It must be bound with something precious to me or she might not hear me.

I stared up at Minerva’s fierce expression, thunder rumbling loud through the temple. Lightning flashed outside, brightening her face, her eyes, which seemed to be pinned on me. This was only a statue, and yet I felt her presence wafting and circling the room.

Tears streamed down my cheeks for I knew what was needed. With trembling fingers I reached behind my neck and unclasped the leather necklace. My papa had put the clasp on the soft hide rope and pierced a hole through the coin for me so that I could wear my talisman. And he’d never asked where I’d gotten it or why I’d kept it. He only knew that it made me smile.

Pulling the aureus into my palm, the gold coin minted with the face of Fortuna, the wedding gift of Julian’s father to his mother, I pressed a kiss to the talisman. “Minerva, protect us,” I whispered as I wound the chain around the dragon skin, binding the prayer with the possession I held most dear in all the world. “Loving spirits of the afterworld, protect us,” I added.

Then I took the short, fat candle Euphemia had given me and lit it from the larger oil lamp on the altar at Minerva’s clawed feet. I set the dragon skin, my sacrifice and prayer, underneath the candle, hoping the priestesses here would never remove it. Not until Minerva had granted my wish.

As if summoned, six priestesses draped in full white, veils covering their faces, slowly paraded out in a single line. They hummed in unison and then began singing a soft melody, a hymn to the goddess. I bowed my head and listened to the enchanting sound as they circled the altar, singing and praising her justice to protect the faithful, her mighty hand to destroy evildoers, and her wisdom in discerning who deserved her love. Their voices rose to the domed ceiling even as thunder rumbled louder.

Realizing I would be in their way when they circled to my side, I used the scrap of linen I’d pulled from my tunic and wrapped my cut, biting one end to pull the knot tight.

Reverently, I stood, taking one last look at my square of dragon skin, my gold coin, and the candle, then turned and hurried away, wiping my eyes as I went. I walked toward the exit down the corridor between the row of columns and the small curtained vestibules meant for private sacrifices of large animals to the goddess.

I pondered that only patricians would likely be allowed to use them when a shadow leaped from one of the chambers. I squealed as I was grabbed from behind, a large hand clamped over my mouth. I kicked and fought, but my attacker was too big and strong, dragging me bodily backward behind the curtain of the closest vestibule. My heart thudded a fearful beat in my chest until I recognized the scent and the feel of the man at my back. Pulling his hand free, I spun, tears springing anew.

“Julian.”