A Burning Sea by Theodore Brun (i am reading a book txt) 📕

lacked. And excitement. The fire-maker reeked of it. Katāros felt nothing. He waited until the man’s tongue began to respond, to explore his mouth with increasing boldness, then he pulled away.

‘Lie back,’ he said, and slid off the couch onto his knees. Eyes wide, Nikolaos did as he was bid, watching as the eunuch gently uncovered him. Moments later he was gasping, staring down at the swaying curtain of black hair, clutching at the cheap cushions on his couch. Katāros listened to his sighs, listened to the fire-maker surrendering his inhibitions, let him have a few lingering moments of pleasure. Enough to whet his appetite. But when he felt his thighs tense and shake, he pulled back.

‘Don’t stop,’ Nikolaos whispered, voice trembling.

‘Your wife,’ Katāros murmured.

‘She won’t disturb us.’

‘I want more than this. There will be noise. I don’t want you to hold back.’ And before he could make any answer, Katāros covered him. ‘There’s an inn I know in the coppersmiths quarter. It’s on Bithynia Street, under the sign of the lion.’

‘I know Bithynia Street,’ said Nikolaos breathlessly.

‘The rooms are clean. The owner is discreet. We will have all night. Can you slip away?’

‘My wife will soon be asleep. She sleeps like the dead.’

‘Two hours then?’

‘One hour.’

Katāros flashed a smile. ‘So eager.’

It was arranged, and when they parted Nikolaos was too flustered to notice Katāros conceal the dark blue stole under his cloak.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

‘The Bulgars, hey?’ said Einar. ‘What have they got to do with it?’

‘Not enough, yet.’ Erlan circled the base of his earthenware cup on the rough wood of the tavern table. The place was quiet, the few other drinkers keeping to their own business, and certainly not minded to interrupt the two dangerous-looking men in the corner conversing in a foreign tongue.

Einar poured out the last few drops from their wine-jug and scowled. ‘Bah. . .! Hey, Damianus! Another of these when you can.’

The tavern owner nodded obligingly and started digging behind his counter. He and Einar had become firm allies over the winter in the karl’s epic struggle to keep his belly full of wine. The tavern was a small, respectable place in the heart of the leather-makers’ quarter, a little north of the Hippodrome. Not far from where Einar had taken up residence with a certain actress, who was either famous about the city or notorious, depending on one’s view of the stage.

‘Anyway,’ said Erlan, ‘all you need to know is that we’ll be getting out of the city for a while. And that we leave tomorrow.’

‘Hel, I’m ready to leave now if you want.’ Damianus arrived with the wine and Einar eagerly held out his cup for a refill. ‘Aha! To the top, to the top. That’s it! Good man.’ He took a long draught.

‘Why so keen to get out?’

‘Because I’ve come to the view that time away from Orlana would do me good.’

‘I thought you liked her.’

‘I do. . . or rather did. No, do.’ He looked confused. ‘Damn it, sometimes I feel like I’ve caught a wolf by the tail. She’s bloody exhausting. And not in a good way.’

Erlan chuckled.

‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. She’s exhausting in a good way, too. The feats she performs. . .’ He shook his head in admiration. ‘Sometimes, afterwards, all a fellow can do is lean back and clap.’

‘Sounds awful. You poor man.’

‘No – it’s the rest of it, boy! I mean, I’ve known moody women, believe me. But the worst of them couldn’t hold a flame to Orlana. I swear I don’t know how she has a cup or a plate left in the place – she spends half the day smashing stuff up.’

‘It’s the heat down here. Makes them fiery.’

‘Fiery? Gods, you can say that again! And she’s only worse since some official had the bright idea to ban the racing while the siege continues, and that means the entertainment that goes with it. That’s her main source of income, she says – and she rages at the eparch for a thief, and drinks and weeps and rages some more. . . I tell you, she’ll make me an old man before my time!’

Erlan laughed. ‘I guess you didn’t come to Byzantium for a new wife.’

‘No, I did not. But I’ve as good as found one. And the truth is, I don’t know what to do with her.’ The fat man growled some more like a sulky bear. ‘Anyhow, what about you?’

‘What?’

‘Well, you got what you came for. Serving the emperor, hey?’

‘Mmm.’ The laughter dried in Erlan’s throat, his grin turned a little sour. ‘I suppose I did.’ He tried not to think how he had clung to that empty hope. Gods, what had he expected anyway? Only a fool would rely on the word of a half-crazed holy man, but he had clung to it like a drowning man to timber. If he ever told Einar that he had crossed half the world on the strength of it. . . that they all had. And what had come of it? The twins were dead. And he was still under the Watcher’s curse.

He looked across the table at his friend. Even sour and irritable, Einar couldn’t suppress the humour dancing in his eyes. He was only ever a dry remark away from laughter. And yet Erlan feared for him, feared for all of them. Feared for Lilla most of all.

‘So you’re coming then,’ he said.

‘Aye. I’ll come. Maybe that crazy wench will learn to appreciate me while I’m gone. Just tell me what we have to do.’

Katāros wiped his dagger clean on the inside of his cloak. His lip curled at the irony of it. The evidence was gone in a moment. But one couldn’t wipe away the memory so easily, he thought. The stink of it lingered too.

Then again, the fire-maker’s innards were no worse than the usual stench in this quarter of the city, with its open gutters, liquid sewage running everywhere, midden heaps on street corners and