The Dragon's Book

*.:*:.*Chapter 7.2*.:*:.*

Though dusk had fallen by the time Nero, Coza, and Taziè reached the city square, it seemed as bright as midday. Several portable torches had been set up on the paving-stones, the pyramid steps, and the buildings, and they bathed the whole area in an orange glow. Taziè exclaimed in delight, said something about stars on earth, and rushed off into the packed, bustling crowd of people. Even the Voice seemed to approve, noting that the light of a burning village was the same shade.

Taziè had scarcely disappeared when the drummers in front of the pyramid began a booming, repetitive beat that echoed strangely up and down its steps in various pitches and shook the ground with its intensity. Nero knew that something similar happened when you played in front of the Great Pyramid in Apeti Lun—the one An'Ara maintained—but he had never heard it up close; he had only heard its faint echoes from his tower. Now he was mesmerized not only by the sound of the drumming but by the dancing of the people. Several had painted their arms and legs with bright colors to match their flowing hair, and Nero saw several headdresses and skirts with feathers expensive enough to buy a small city. The rattling anklets the dancers wore added to the deep and wild rhythm of the drums. They were all dancing in a circle now—Taziè flashed by, her hair and skirt fanning out and curving with the speed of her stomping feet.

Nero was watching her whirl around the circle again when a sudden hand on his left shoulder brought him out of the daze he was in. He had nearly forgotten Coza was beside him. But now that he looked over at her he saw her face more deadly serious than it had ever been. She was looking at his brand.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her, jerking suddenly back and hoping she hadn't seen what he thought she had.

She spoke in a voice so soft he had to lean forward on the Old Fellow's crutch to hear her. "I want to know, Emperor Nero, whether you are in danger."

He started back. "I—my name is Atlan—"

"Hush! There is no use in denying it, dearie. Did I not tell you that Malotl and I are in the habit of visiting Apeti Lun? We are not noble, but we have seen you. We knew you the moment we saw you; we tried to get you safe with us without alerting your captors to our plan. I would not usually risk saying something so bold to you in such a crowded place—but this was the only way to get you alone without suspicion. Say the word, and we can have the other two taken away without any bother at all. They are clearly not who they say they are either—the man's accent is obviously feigned, and his hair is dyed. The girl, while sweet, speaks too well for one of her station. What do they want with you?"

"What?" Nero was aghast. While he would not mind being rid of Taloc's company, the idea that he would bother with something so labor-intensive as disguising himself or kidnapping an emperor was madness. And Taziè, who had worked all her life to care for a man who bought her as a child—she would never.

But what did they want with him? Taziè had never asked for more detail than he chose to give, and was giving up a great deal of her yearly income to return him home—

"I realize it may be hard to trust anyone just now, dearie," Coza said gently. "But Malotl and I have nothing to gain from hurting you or hindering you. You have seen that we are well off, and we do not want power. You are safe with us."

Safe. That was what Nero had longed to be all his life. But he never had been safe, and he never would be. His secret—

His secret. Taziè had said village people did not turn people in, but he knew city people did. And here he was in a square crawling with Ta'Vedin priests who wanted nothing more than to send demons to the Jungle! Taziè and Taloc might not know he was the emperor, but Taziè definitely knew he did not have a soul. Had they agreed to sell him out in a city? He could not bear the panic and pain that thought gave him. But still, he could not bring himself to betray them without a just cause.

"Let—let me talk to her," he murmured. "They really are poor farmers—if they kidnapped me I didn't know it was happening. I don't know what to do just yet." He looked back at the circle of dancers and spotted Taziè once more. She was whirling about with a purple-haired girl her age. They were both laughing. She looked so happy—but then she was nearly always happy.

"I'll talk to her," he said again, this time determined.