Read The Shards of Heaven for Free Online

filthy traveling gear. “I don’t suppose there’ll be time…”
    â€œI doubt it,” Vorenus said. “They’ll not want to wait. We’ll see to the horses. And afterward a good meal and a bed.”
    The man’s eyes were tired by more than travel, Vorenus could see. The news they brought was clearly ill. “I understand. Thank you.”
    â€œNow,” Vorenus said, trying to keep his tone lighter than the sinking feeling in his heart. “Your orders, please.”
    â€œOf course,” the messenger said, retrieving a small cylinder from his saddlebag.
    Vorenus pulled the small slip of parchment from inside the case, taking note of the signatures and seals upon it. “Stertinius of the Seventh Legion,” he said, looking up from his reading. The man he’d been talking to nodded and stood a little straighter. “Then that must make you,” Vorenus said, glancing back to the paper before turning to the second man, “Laenas.”
    â€œThat’s right.” The scarred man’s voice had a rough, almost angry quality to it. Parched from the road.
    â€œNot of the Seventh?”
    Laenas’ brow furrowed for a moment before he simply shook his head.
    â€œYou don’t talk much.”
    â€œDon’t have much to say,” Laenas growled.
    â€œJust a messenger, then?”
    When Laenas only nodded, it was Stertinius who spoke. “Laenas is with Octavian’s household,” he said. “He was, ah, personally assigned to accompany me, to see the message delivered.”
    Vorenus felt his face start to frown but forced himself to keep up a professional appearance as he rolled up the orders and pocketed them. “Very well. You’ll both need to surrender arms to the guard. And I shouldn’t have to tell you that you’ll be under close watch in the council.”
    â€œOf course,” Stertinius said tiredly. “Though I might attend alone.”
    â€œOh?” Vorenus turned to Laenas. “I thought you were personally assigned?”
    â€œTo get the message here,” he said. “Job’s done.”
    Vorenus was opening his mouth to ask another question—about how such a lazy man got to be so well regarded by Octavian—when he saw the scholar Didymus walking past, characteristically oblivious to the hectic commotion of the yard moving around him. Vorenus and Pullo had grown to be firm companions with the children’s tutor over the years; despite his near-lifetime of service in Egypt, the last dozen years as head of the Great Library in Alexandria, the Greek man shared their sense of outsider status in the ever-bewildering court of Egypt. Vorenus was glad for the friendly face. “A bit far from your books, aren’t you, Didymus?” he called.
    Out of the corner of his eye, Vorenus thought he saw Laenas’ head jerk up at the mention of the Greek scholar’s name, but when he turned to look the Roman was only unlashing one of his small saddlebags.
    For his part, the scholar turned his direction of travel and approached, pushing back his haphazard, prematurely gray hair to reveal a half-guilty grin. “Difficult to leave my dear Homer behind, but I’ve time to spend with the children before an early bed.”
    â€œYou’ll have to excuse me,” Vorenus said to Stertinius. He nodded to one of the nearby Egyptian guardsmen. “These men will see to your things.”
    Stertinius saluted, and Vorenus gladly returned it. The Egyptians began to lead them toward the barrack lodgings. Laenas tarried for a moment, fiddling with a buckle on his bags, before he moved slowly after his companion. There was something odd about the scarred man, Vorenus thought, something discomforting. Something that made him glad he wouldn’t be attending the council.
    Didymus had been watching with a surprised look on his face, as if only now noticing the messengers. “I didn’t