Birds of Prey by David Drake Read Free Book Online Page A

Majesty too much credit.”
    â€œYou don’t want to say that,” Navigatus murmured, correct in a number of ways. The bee had left him, but the spray of blossoms was still again in his hand. “You know, Aulus,” he said to the flower, “I’ve never meant to be other than a friend to you—”
    The agent paced quickly to the older man’s side. “I know that, Marcus,” he said. “I didn’t mean—”
    â€œâ€”but I sometimes regret what I’ve done,” the Director continued, quelling the interruption by raising his eyes. “If I hadn’t—pushed you, you might be much happier now, one of Postumus’ battalion commanders and married to that little girl of yours.”
    â€œNobody makes another person into something he wasn’t before,” said the younger man quietly.
    â€œI often tell myself that, my friend,” said Navigatus. He let the gladiolas fall and took Perennius by the hand again.
    The agent stared at something far distant from the clasped hands on which his eyes were focused. “Besides,” he said, “Julia ended it herself. Her—emotional state was causing conflict with her duties as a priestess.” As old as the phrase was in his memory, it still had edges that could tear. “That’s why I accepted the transfer to Numidia with you, Marcus. Not because of the promotion.” He smiled at their linked hands.
    â€œAh,” said Navigatus. “I, ah.… Well, of course, there’s still the matter that forced me to recall you from Palmyra, isn’t there?”
    â€œIndeed there is,” agreed the agent as he led the other man to one of the stone benches against the back wall of the garden. “When all else fails, there’s always duty.”
    â€œYou see,” said Navigatus as he fished a slim scroll from the wallet beneath his toga, “he came with this, which isn’t something that I see every day. Even here.” He slipped off the vellum cover and handed the document to Perennius.
    The agent read the brief Latin inscription carefully. “Can’t say it’s not to the point,” he remarked as he rolled the document again. It had read, “The Emperor Caesar Publius Licinius Gallienus Pius Augustus to Marcus Navigatus. The bearer of this rescript, Lucius Cloelius Calvus, is to be afforded the full support of your Bureau. All his requests are to be executed as if from my lips. When it is necessary to accomplish the tasks thus imposed, you may apply for assistance from my Director of Administration, Aurelius Quirinius.”
    The damned thing was in vermilion ink, Perennius noted, and it didn’t look to be in the handwriting of a professional scribe either. Blazes! “All right,” he said as he handed back the imperial rescript, “what does he request?”
    â€œYou, Aulus,” said the Director, meeting Perennius’ gaze steadily. “He wants you.”
    â€œBlazes,” the agent repeated aloud. He had an urge to wrap his cloak around him again, even in the sunlit garden. “He’s the tall one in there, isn’t he?” Perennius added in sudden certainty.
    Both men glanced toward the drawing room. The window was lined with the faces of men waiting with an impatience which bid fair to master their senses of decorum. In the center was the bald man with whom Perennius had locked eyes earlier. He was the tallest of those watching and the only one who looked calm. His face was as still as a statue’s as he watched the men in the garden.
    â€œWhy yes,” said Navigatus in surprise. “You know him, then? Frankly, I haven’t been able to find anybody who did.”
    Perennius grinned at his Director. He wondered briefly whether an appearance of omniscience might not be worth cultivation. Not with Marcus, though; not with family. “Don’t know a thing but what I can tell by looking at him,”