Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [53]
“What are those buildings?” Skylan asked Zahakis, who had come on board the Venjekar along with a master seaman to undertake the tricky maneuvering of the broken ship in the crowded port.
“Homes, shops, businesses,” Zahakis answered.
Skylan stared, incredulous. “They look like the outbuildings we use to keep our pigs from wandering off.”
“Your pigs probably fare better than those who live in those hovels,” said Zahakis. “Sometimes twenty people—the old, the young—are packed into a dwelling that consists of only a single room. They sleep there, eat there, cook there, rut there, die there.” His tone was grim and Skylan, glancing at him, saw the man’s face was dark.
“Which is the Legate’s dwelling?”
Zahakis gave a brief, mirthless laugh. He pointed off into the distance. “You see the muddy river water that pours into the sea over there? That is the River Cydron. Sail up that river and eventually you will come to Acronis’s grand estate. That is where you will be living.”
“Not living. I will be a slave,” said Skylan.
Zahakis shook his head. “You think yourself ill-used, young man, but when you walk the streets of Sinaria, you will realize you are fortunate to be a slave of the Legate and not one of the poor devils forced to live in the city’s slums. At least the Legate will see to it that you do not starve, that you are not knifed in a fight over a rotten cabbage, that you do not have to teach your sons to steal or prostitute your daughters for food.”
Zahakis stood gazing at the slums, his jaw working, his eyes shadowed with pain.
“You wonder why I am loyal to the Legate,” Zahakis said suddenly. He nodded in the direction of the city. “Acronis saved me from that life. I was nine years old. I tried to rob him. He could have killed me on the spot. Other men would have done so and not given it a second thought. Acronis took me to his fine house. He fed me and clothed me. He located my family and sent them to one of his farms where there was work. When he returned to the provinces, I went with him. He saw to it that I learned to read and write. I joined his legion, when I was old enough, and, although I had his favor, he made me sweat my way through the ranks. That is why I am loyal to Acronis and why I will be loyal to him to my death.”
Zahakis leaned on the rail. “No crops grow on those hills. Only misery.”
“What about your ruler?” Skylan asked.
Zahakis gave a snorting laugh. “The Imperial guard dare not set foot on many of those streets. They are ruled by gangs whose leaders hold more sway over the populace than does our newly crowned Empress. The gangs could take over the city if they wanted. They don’t. There’s no profit in it.”
“Why doesn’t this god of yours, this Aelon, do something to help his people?” Skylan asked.
“Aelon is no god of mine,” Zahakis said grimly. “Still, I have to give him credit. He did try to clean up the city. One night a fire swept through the tenements located on the north side of the river. The fire consumed block after block, moving so fast people had no time to flee. Thousands died, including Raegar’s wife and children. Aelon’s priests claim that the fire was sent by the god, a cleansing fire, to burn away the sins of the people.”
“And you call us barbarians,” Skylan muttered.
Zahakis gave a thin-lipped smile. “There will come a reckoning. Even now the pot simmers. Someday it will boil over.” He remained silent a moment, then shook his head and continued pointing out the sights of his city. “You see those twin hills there. The building on the hill hiding behind those great stone walls is the Imperial palace. Our new Empress and her family live there in that complex. The very grandiose building on the hill opposite is the Shrine of Aelon. There used to be a temple of the old gods on the site, but Aelon’s priests tore it down. The old temple was lovely: white marble, surrounded on all sides by a columned portico, simple and elegant. Aelon demanded something more splendid.
“The Shrine of Aelon is surmounted