Free The Centurion's Empire by Sean McMullen Page A

more to it than that. Gaius remembers how you manipulated the Senate and lost him money on the grain market."
    "Gaius is not an Immortal."
    "Gaius has friends among the Immortals. He slept with one of their women when he was younger, now he's a senator."
    "I believe none of that. The Sons of Romulus are afraid of me. They want me dead but one hundred thousand sesterces more will see the end of their plans. Lars has robbed the Emperor himself, he will not fail me."
    "He's a master thief in Rome, but Nusquam is a fort in the mountains."
    "Lars is a master of his trade. He will steal what I want as a matter of pride, if not for money."
    "I want a great deal of money," said a hoarse voice from somewhere above them.
    • The two conspirators jumped to their feet, swords in hand. A moment later their lookout, Portulus, was marched in by the thief's two men.
    "They arrived in one of the haycarts," he mumbled, his face flushed with humiliation. 'The thief wanted to spy on you before talking."
    Fortunatus and Viventius sheathed their swords and sat down again. Lars descended from the beams of the roof. He had an ugly scratch on his arm, and he favored one leg.
    "Just the sort of entrance I should have expected from a master thief," said Fortunatus genially. Lars grinned at the deference. "Here is a little sample of what you wanted," he said, handing a small glass phial to Fortunatus. "I have twelve sachets of it."
    Lars watched as Fortunatus uncorked the bottle and sniffed at the contents. "I know the scent, an Immortal named Rhea once taunted me with a cup of it." He poured a drop onto his fingertip and licked it. "Pah! Vile stuff. As bitter as gall," he said, squeezing his eyes shut.
    "A philter for immortality, according to what was on the scroll beside it," said Lars, "but you will need more than this."
    "How much?"
    "I have enough for fifteen treatments. It's buried safely at a day's journey from here."
    "It smells more as if it would kill me than grant immortality."
    "I force-fed some to a rat. It died."
    "Not surprising. Did you see any of the Immortals?"
    "I saw several. They're not good at fighting fires."
    "What were they like, apart from that?" Fortunatus asked. "I have only ever knowingly met one."
    "They are not truly immortal. They have merely learned to extend their lifespans, and accidents can kill them as easily as you or me. They do get older, but very slowly."
    "The one that I know, Rhea, has not aged in thirty years."
    "Not that you would notice but. . ." He reached into his robes and took out a scroll. "Read this. It outlines the use of the
    'Venenum Immortale,' as they seem to call it."
    Fortunatus snatched the scroll eagerly and began to read. His smile soon vanished.
    "This—this is a monstrous trick!" he exclaimed. "This is not immortality at all. It will not renew my youth."
    "But it will allow you to cheat death for quite a long time."
    "But this says that the Sons of Romulus live such a long time just by freezing each other in ice."
    "Yes, they take turns. At any one time four out of every five are frozen, and that means that they are only awake to get older for perhaps one year in five. At that rate the oldest of them may have been born over four hundred years ago. The scroll shows that the women look after the revival process, which is dangerous and difficult. The men prepare a philter which must be drunk before one's body is frozen. It's quite a complex matter, their type of immortality. I was not able to steal the instructions for the manufacture of the oil itself, but I got you a good supply of it. If you follow the directions in that Method and Usage scroll, and if you have reliable friends to freeze and revive you, well, you can live as long as there is ice to preserve you. You might find that reliable friends are harder to find than ice, of course." Fortunatus sat with his mouth open. "But ... in effect they 'live' only as long as any mortal. Why do they do it?" Lars grinned. "You ask me, a mere