Grabbing the outhaul, Xeator leaned out from a sailing sloop.
The docks peered behind the bobbling masts abounding the Praetor's Port. He jumped back to the quarterdeck.
"We'll dock soon, my lord," he said to Lorenzo.
Hissing with a sigh, the lord furrowed his brow. "Miles from here to Pethens," he observed. "Even if the sculptors could finish Julius' statue in time, it'd take days to transport it to the city. Why don't we take them with us? Easier to supervise that way, wouldn't you agree?"
"Is it truly the statues you're paying the sculptors for?" Asking in reply, Xeator mimed a smile. "No, my lord," he went on. "You're paying for their words that you have foot the bill for their creative expressions, and there is no place where words travel faster and farther than the Praetor's Port."
"Ideally, yes," Lorenzo shook his head wryly. "But, unfortunately, lad, it isn't man's nature to be grateful. They wouldn't say kind words about me just because I've been nice to them."
Xeator bit his bottom lip. The nice things you did for them – he thought – have only meant to serve you. "Of course not," he seconded, glancing up while keeping his head low. "But it is by our nature to be selfish."
Narrowing his large eyes, Lorenzo raised a brow. He favored the blond man with a nod, gesturing for him to continue.
Xeator obliged.
"Every craftsman thinks highly of an invitation from the capital. They will praise your munificence not because they're grateful to you but to boast themselves." Taking a brief pause, he gauged the impact of his words on the lord. "Besides," he continued, "If you took the sculptors with you to Pethens, you could risk calling on spectators to impugn your true intent. And as we've discussed—"
"Suspicion is the last thing I want," Lorenzo finished his sentence. Looking up at the clouds clearing away as the sloop advanced, he teased, "It seems that for every question I have, you've got your answer rehearsed before I could even raise it."
Xeator bowed his head, his lips primmed. His thoughts took him back to last night.
In the dim candlelight upstairs in a tavern outside Volos, Lorenzo made advances not unanticipated.
"I've heard what you did," the lord hummed, his sallow fingers gliding up Xeator's arm. "That boy you've pled for, you lover, was it? I'm glad we share the same preference."
Xeator didn't flinch as he bored into Lorenzo's large green eyes. "Sex is a trade-off between power and passion," he said, his voice measured, tone uninflected. "It's how the partner you lust for gains power over you. Do you, my lord, wish for me to have that kind of power?"
Lorenzo squinted. His hands clenched.
"That said," Xeator resumed. "You're Lord Lorenzo of House Legidus, and in no condition should your desires be denied." He clapped his hands. The door creaked. Two young men about his age slunk into the swaying candlelight. They snaked up and down Lorenzo, groping him while they helped him undress.
Xeator bowed his head, then spun on his heels.
"So it's alright for the whores to have power over me?" the lord groaned from behind.
He brought his feet to a stop. On the wall next to him, shadows of men entwined. "That's why they're only for the night, my lord," he replied. "I took a dare, presuming you still want me around after tonight?" He closed the door behind him without a glance back.
Judging from Lorenzo's caustic tone, Xeator feared that the lord might still hold a grudge from last night. Anything he said now could offend him, as would saying nothing. He tried to summon words to his tongue but only got reflux. Images from last night returned and made him gag.
The sloop jolted to a stop, shaking everyone onboard along with it. Lorenzo lurched aside. Before he rammed into the rail, Xeator grabbed his arm and held him steady. He gestured his gratitude with a slight nod, then toddled off the deck, followed by the rest of his entourage.
As they all came to the pier, a man with an ursine build knocked a boy to the ground with his sheathed sword. "Now, get up, you little shit!" he bellowed.
"Help!" the boy wailed. His hands were bound, groping about the rope tethered to his neck. On the other end of the rope was held captive an older man with ebony hair cropped close to his scalp. He pleaded with the onlookers, his arms flailing, his desperate eyes ridden with fear.
The ursine man growled. Whirling to the older man, he knocked him out with a sidelong swing of his sheathed sword. As he snarled with a feral laugh, watching his captive fall on his face, the boy sprung to his feet and bolted behind him. In the same breath he drew the man's sword out from the sheath, he leveled its tip at his larynx.
"Lorenzo of House Legidus!" the boy cried at the top of his lungs, tilting sideways as he moved to the pier. His voice cracked every other syllable. "In the name of Ra, I, Dracus of House Uranus, son of the Praetor Magnum, summon you to my aid in my moment of plight!"
Xeator glimpsed Lorenzo as the lord put up an arm. The whole party of his entourage halted their feet.
"Lorenzo of House Legidus!" The boy went on, his tone more imploring now than demanding. "You have a scar on the inner side of your left calf. You got it from—" He glanced over at the onlookers, seeking Lorenzo with his eyes.
The ursine man took the chance. Knocking the sword off the boy's hand, he gripped his throat. "You little scum!" he croaked, his face a terrible grimace.
A shadow swooped down on him.
He shot a startled glance over the shoulder. Xeator sliced down with a crooked elbow that hit his nape, sending him to reel. As the boy wrenched free, Xeator locked his sword under the man's neck, his other hand on the hilt, about to draw blade.
"No, wait!" yelled the boy, wheeling himself back toward them. "Don't kill him yet!"
Xeator sized up the boy, tilting his head. Upon the oval face smeared with mud, the sapphire blue eyes shone from behind stranded dark curls. Uranus. He bit hard on his bottom lip. Squeezing the hilt, he flicked his eyes to Lorenzo, who had jostled through the onlookers. "Dracus?" He gaped at the sapphire blue of the boy's eyes, his voice incredulous. "Is that really you?"
"Uncle Lorenzo," the boy panted. "You have a long scar that looks like a ladle on the inside of your left thigh. People thought you got it during the civil war. But that's not true. It was your brother. You told me the story eight years ago when you found me crying by the lake atop the hill in the Imperial Garden. I was crying because I asked Mother for a brother, and she browbeat me. Do I need to spill more?"
His words exerted an immediate effect on Lorenzo
"Good gracious, Lord Dracus," speaking at so fast a clip he could barely be heard, Lorenzo scurried toward the boy. "What in the name of Gods are you doing here? The official statement last week said you were under the weather from working too hard on your study!"
"Is that so?" the boy scoffed with a sigh. "Speaking of under the weather," he resumed, turning to the other captive still unconscious on the ground. "Can someone take a look at my friend?"
Lorenzo waggled a hand, gesturing men from his entourage to see to it. Then, turning his eyes back on the boy, he scolded, "What happened? And how could it even happen? Did the man kidnap you? Do you wish to have him killed?"
The young lord shook his head. "Meet Hectius. He's going to my dungeon for what he did. I'll let Mother decide what to do with him."
Hectius squirmed on his knees, trying to get up.
Xeator pushed him down, tightening his grip as he held the man's neck in the crook of his elbow. Upon Lorenzo's nod of consent, he manacled Hectius, bounding his hands with iron on his back. Then, putting a sack over his head, he tied him on a horse guarded by four men, while others readied for the remaining miles.
When everything was set afoot, the sun had shied behind a few tufts of clouds, shading over the bustling marketplace that abutted the Port and the crossroad. If he let his eyes travel another mile or two to the west, Xeator knew he'd find a small village, clustered with red cottages of terracotta and a bell tower jutting into height; whereas to the east, having passed many a town with their staunch holdfasts built of megalithic stones, the road would cut through woodlands all the way to a lush riviera where it ended before the roaring of the Huron Sea. Or so he remembered. He was close to home. Balling his hands, he bit his lip again till it bled.
Focus!
He heaved, savoring the familiar metallic taste of his hate, and joined Lorenzo in the back of a wagon.
A healer was tending to the boy.
"A word, my lord," hunching beside Lorenzo, he whispered.
Lorenzo nodded but didn't spare him a glance. He got off the wagon and padded a long way along the bank. When he made sure they were out of earshot, he slowed his feet to a halt. "I didn't give you the command but you saved the boy anyway," he said, his eyes straying to the many masts afar. "Why?"
Xeator cocked an eye at a loss. He admitted that a large part of him regretted having saved a Uranus. But shouldn't the regret be one that needed a why?
"No answer this time?" Lorenzo sounded almost amused.
Cocking an eye, Xeator hung his head. "Apologies, my lord." He scoffed inwardly. "I should never have acted without your permission. However, the boy declared himself the son of the Praetor, and he called upon your name. Regardless of the truth, words of the day would be that you, Lord Lorenzo of House Legidus, came to the aid of the Praetor's son. The Gods bestowed on you a chance to be the hero, so I acted before it was too late."
Lorenzo looked back. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice calm, his large green betraying nothing.
"That's actually what I need to speak with you about." Xeator locked eyes with the lord, keeping his tone even. A few locks of hair flopped before his eyes. "What happened here today is an opportunity that begs to be exploited."
"Why do I get a feeling that the Legidus' exchequer is about to bleed again?" Lorenzo chuckled. "Spill."
"Now that everyone knows you're here, and given what the man said before he was knocked unconscious, launch a charm offensive. Buy all the slaves and set them free."
Turning his back to Xeator with his arms about the chest, Lorenzo frowned in thought. He raised his head, "See to it."