Scorpion Rising

Twenty-Six

For every problem, my lady, there is always a solution,' Manion said, without lifting his eyes from the wood he was whittling. 'The only predicament comes when there's a choice.'

'Trust me, options are limited,' Claudia said.

They were beneath the point of the arrowhead rock, at the place where the tip was the sharpest. Above them, trees, mainly rowan and oak, clung for dear life to gaps in the stone, while holly and broom tumbled down in spiky profusion, but here at the bottom the boulders were mossy. For though the promontory faced the southern sun, in the dense shade of the forest, little daylight penetrated. And if Manion was surprised that she, a stranger, had found him in this secluded spot where he'd settled himself with back to the stone, that surprise did not show on his face. He simply continued to whittle the piece in his hand, blowing away the shavings with sensual care.

'What incentive are you offering?' he asked after a while, and she could smell his soft nutmeg scent.

'Freedom?'

If she was wrong about him placing himself in the auction, then bearing in mind that Swarbric had discovered a way out of here, between herself, her bodyguard and a few well-greased palms, escape shouldn't prove too much of a challenge. Once in Santonum, a change of clothing, a wig, and that average build, that nondescript face would instantly melt into a crowd. She would provide papers to say he was free.

'Freedom.' Manion rolled the word around on his tongue. 'Hm.'

He smoothed the wood on his soft deerskin pants. She couldn't imagine what he was carving.

'Much depends on your definition of the word,' he rumbled slowly. 'Considering that none of us can ever truly be free, it is only the degree of freedom that differs.' As he twisted the wood, light caught the ring that wrapped round his seal finger and bounced off in a bright silver shine. 'You think of slaves in terms of wanting their freedom, but talk to your bodyguard, Claudia. He could have bought himself out several times over, but has he?'

'You've spoken to Junius?"

'You sound surprised.' He stropped his knife with exaggerated care. 'I make it my business to know what goes on around me. That way, I know who my friends and my enemies are, as well as knowing who I can trust.'

Trust. The word ripped like a claw at her heart. You fear abandonment, which is why you will not — perhaps cannot — trust a man enough to let him into your heart. The pain intensified. Because of her, because she was stupid enough, selfish enough, not to admit how she felt, a man lay dying in the Pit of Reflection.

And after he'd died a lengthy, horrible, agonizing death, she'd be condemned to reflect for the rest of her life…

Die? Where did that defeatist notion spring from? Marcus wasn't going to die! She pursed her lips in determination. She'd put him in there and she would bloody well get him out!

'Back to freedom, however.' As the light caught his ring a second time, the engraving flashed. A serpent or something, she thought. 'Is a Roman wife free, simply because she was not bought at auction? Of course not. She is bought by a dowry and is the property of a man from the moment she's born to the moment she marries, and if she is widowed, passes like an heirloom to the nearest male relative which, with luck, is her son. The Hundred-Handed aren't free, they're enslaved to their order. You're not free, you're enslaved to your laws. But me.' He lifted his eyes to meet hers. They were as measureless as the seascape they resembled. 'I am free.'

He didn't even try to pretend, she thought. So what could it be in this College that he wanted so badly that he enslaved himself to them?

'Who are you?' she asked.

A soft snort of laughter escaped through his nose. 'Not so much who as what,' he replied, 'so I ask again. What incentive are you offering in return for my risking life and limb for a Roman patrician — oh, you didn't think I knew about that, either?' He tutted. 'Never underestimate a Gaul, not even your own bodyguard, Claudia. Junius has been very helpful to me.'

'He's here?' Dammit, she'd told him to wait in Santonum!

'Loyalty is a supple commodity,' Manion said. 'The boy is infatuated, I suppose you know that, he just could not keep away.' He indicated the woods with a vague gesture. 'Camped outside the grounds, to be close to his lady, it was easy enough to initiate contact.'

Amazed as she was that Junius had not only disobeyed orders, but had been hanging around the woods all this time, and as curious as she was about who might be the object of his affections (how could he possibly know any of these women?), there was no time for that at the moment.

'What do you want?' she asked bluntly.

Seascape eyes held hers for eternity. 'What I want is my life back,' he said, rising to his feet in one fluid gesture.

She had no idea what he meant, but it didn't involve refusing to help.

'Come back at midnight,' he said in a way that suggested he was accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed. 'By then I shall have a strategy prepared and we will discuss terms, but in the meantime you will speak to no one of this.'

It wasn't much, but it was the only lifeline she had. Claudia nodded numbly and wondered, what terms?

'Midnight,' she echoed.

'Midnight,' he agreed. 'Oh, and catch!'

As he loped off up the hill, he tossed her the piece that he had been carving.

A scorpion, ready to strike.

They say things come in threes.

They were wrong.

She thought the situation was as bad as it could possibly get.

She was wrong.

It wasn't enough that Sarra had been slashed to ribbons this morning, or that no matter how hard the girl had fought back, her attacker was determined that she should die.

It wasn't enough that Claudia had personally helped Sarra's killer escape. Dammit, she'd even given the bastard her blessing.

And now, it seemed, it wasn't enough that Marcus Cornelius lay with god-knew-what injuries at the foot of a ravine from which there was no way out.

As Claudia made her way back to the precinct, she thought on the most dangerous man in the whole of Aquitania who had engineered his revenge on the woman who double-crossed him and was delighted for her to know it.

She rubbed at the throbbing behind her eyes. Sweet Janus, no wonder there was something familiar about Manion. Average height, average build, nondescript features, these were the very qualities that he turned to advantage, disguising himself beyond recognition. But a gesture here, a tilt of the head there, those things had lodged in her memory and explained why he'd refused to show her his ring yesterday. Why he'd removed it before his approach with the honeycomb. Manion planned to reveal his identity on his terms, not hers.

As cunning as he is ruthless, no one betrays him and lives.

Silly bitch. You even asked yourself while you ate honeycombs together, Why me? Why seek me out? But then once he was gone, you barely gave him a thought. Not one of her better decisions, she reflected, and dammit, even when Gabali stepped out of the shadows to ask how her investigations were going, she didn't suspect they were in league with each other.

Do not worry about the Scorpion, Merchant Seferius. You will be perfectly safe in Aquitania.

She'd simply taken this — the man who threw victims into the Pit, for gods' sake! — at face value. Concern for the daughter he loved.

Do not worry about the Scorpion, Merchant Seferius. You will be perfectly safe in Aquitania.

Was Clytie his daughter? The hell she was. Gabali went to Rome with the express purpose of luring Claudia back here so Manion could take his revenge and enjoy it I make it my business to know what goes on around me.

At the gatepost, she reeled and had to hang on for support. He was thorough, she'd give him that. Having found out about her past, he played on it in such a way that it twisted the knife even deeper. Using Clytie as his weapon, he forced Claudia to relive the most painful memories a child can experience. Her father's leaving. Her mother's death. The fact that neither parent had said goodbye. Fine. Painful as it was, all this she could have dealt with. As she said at the outset, Claudia Seferius played rough and she played dirty.

But to take it out on Orbilio…

Do you really prefer being on your own? She could almost hear his whisper in the late afternoon stillness. Or are you just frightened of letting a man in? The right man, perhaps?

He knew! He knew about her history with Marcus Cornelius. He knew about her crimes, her brushes with the Security Police, the chemistry that exploded between them.

Trust is when the same man is always behind you, to catch no matter how often you fall.

Who could have done this? she wondered bleakly. Who could have betrayed her innermost secrets?

Loyalty is a supple commodity.

Yes, of course, the bastard had openly bragged about it. She sighed. Junius would take a sword thrust for her, his loyalty went without question. But he'd travelled the world with her and shared several adventures and scrapes. It was only natural he'd make certain deductions. And if the Scorpion could fool her, when she was already vigilant, how simple it would be to manipulate the young Gaul. Same language, same culture, same subjugated background, he'd quickly pass himself off as a friend. Leaving Junius believing he'd done his mistress a favour by imparting her secrets!

For every problem, there is a solution. They were the Scorpion's very own words. For every problem, there is a solution.

Now it was a question of playing him at his own game and turning the tables in a way that would trap him. But how? Dear Diana, how he must have laughed when she came crawling to him for help. That's why he'd revealed himself with that carving. To let her know that Orbilio was doomed in that Pit and torture her even more. Bastard! He was perfectly happy to let Marcus die, simply because it would hurt her. No, wait Across the valley, a streak of white lightning flashed in a sky that had darkened to the colour of lead. The Scorpion knew that Marcus was Roman, and that he was a patrician to boot. He was also aware of the history between Claudia and him.

Was it really a twist of fate that had Orbilio's shot killing the raven? That business of Manion pushing in front at the last minute. Suppose he was late because he'd shot the bird earlier with a red-feathered arrow, tossed it in the clearing at the last moment, then jumped in to take Orbilio's place in the queue? Who would accept this as anything other than bloody bad luck? She pictured the glade. Fifty rainbow thorns in the ground. Fifty priestesses giving a piece of themselves back to nature. Some would lie embedded deeper than others, some flat on the grass where their force had been spent, with others at odd angles, perhaps flapping in the hot sticky breeze. But even if Claudia could prove there were fifty arrows in the clearing, not forty-nine, it was still too little, too late. The Hundred-Handed would argue that she'd planted the evidence; who could blame her, they'd murmur. It would not change their decision, and the very fact that the Pit was sited some distance from the College meant out of sight, out of mind.

The bitches were expert at closing their minds.

Somehow, though, there was a way out of this. Somehow there had to be a way to take whatever trickery the Scorpion was planning and turn it back on himself.

What I want is my life back, he'd said.

Revenge wouldn't give an outcast his life back, so what would? Rebellion was the obvious answer, and though she had no idea what manner of double-cross he was planning for midnight, two things were clear in her mind.

One. She could not rely on her bodyguard for assistance, the Scorpion would already have brainwashed the boy, and since she could not hope to save Marcus Cornelius by herself, she remained reliant on the very man who put him in there in the first place.

And two, once this was over she would personally send Manion to hell.