Free A Mosaic of Stars: Short Stories From Other Worlds by Andrew Knighton Page B

was what she needed to do, to imitate the wind and dig deeper.
    Kneeling, she sank her hands through the ashes, flinging handfuls aside. The air around her becoming a grey cloud, until her fingers touched upon something strange and angular.
    Carefully now, she brushed the ashes from its surface, revealing a fallen statue. The man it depicted had been handsome before they tore him from his plinth, smashed chunks from his face and scoured his building with fire. What remained still had a stark beauty, with the remnants of smooth lines and perfectly carved muscles.
    Tears ran down Luigsech’s cheeks. She had never seen such a breathtaking work of art, and she had played a part in destroying it. How many more things of beauty had they ruined? She had wanted to create balance for Seisyll’s death, but all she had done was bring more loss.
    She pulled off the fur in which her chest was wrapped and used it to brush the ashes from that beautiful, broken face. Then she worked her way along the prostrate form, flinging aside the ashes that covered his belly, his pelvis, his legs.
    At last she came to his feet and saw what he stood on. Another body, this time a rendition of one of her own people, trampled underfoot. She didn’t know if it was the way he was carved or just her fond memories, but this man looked so much like Seisyll that she wept again.
    This time the tears were hot with anger, her breath coming fast in her rage. It sickened her to think that people capable of such beauty should use it to depict the terrible things they had done. She felt ashamed that she had wept for these people, ashamed and angry.
    Snatching up her axe, she pounded at the smug face of the Roman, smashing away what remained of his beauty in a frenzy of blows.
    She had helped to ruin something wonderful, and it had all been worthwhile.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Ruina Montium
     
    I was not one of those who feared the coming of the Romans. I had heard the same stories the others had, of these fearsome fighting men who were conquering the world. We knew they were the reason Carthaginian traders didn’t come up into the hills any more. But I had heard about the lives people lived under the Romans, about stone houses and heated floors, soft beds and softer clothes. I wanted that life.
    When they came it was for our hills. Hardly surprising - they were beautiful hills.
    There had always been a few men digging gold from the rocks or finding it in streams, trading it for tools and cloth. But the Romans longed for gold like a fisherman longs for oysters, and they were willing to smash through the hard shell of the mountains to find it. That meant they needed more than a few men, and when they came looking for labourers I eagerly signed up.
    “How will this lead to gold?” I asked Trassus, the scarred old soldier in charge of our labouring team. He had us digging a broad pit on a hillside, while others dug the channel that would fill it with water.
    “You’re a curious bastard, aren’t you?” He grinned. “Always with the questions.”
    “I want to learn.” I grinned back. “One day I want your job, and then after that his.” I pointed to the supervisor who stood in his toga high on the hillside, directing construction of an aqueduct. “I want gold and soft bedding, and how else will I get that? So tell me, how will this lead to gold?”
    Trassus laughed. “You’ll see.”
     
    I frowned as I ran a hand through the wilting wheat. Hidden in dusk’s long shadows, the vegetables in my other field were smaller than in previous summers. I had been so busy at the mine, I had not had time to feed and water them properly. Even my three pigs looked skinny and discontented.
    A hollow, tingling feeling rose in my chest. What was I doing, letting my livelihood dwindled like this?
    Tightening my fist, I felt the solid edges of silver coins - more this week because I had worked so long and hard. Coins that could buy me more food if I needed it, as well as fine