The guards swept a door open before them and Paulinus pushed Vix into the black triclinium. The black-robed Emperor lounged on black velvet cushions on an ebony couch, his eyes as pitch-dark as the walls. The only splash of white was the bandage that swathed his foot. For once there were no servants, no slaves, no secretaries. “Stay,” the Emperor said to Paulinus, eyes never moving from the boy, and Paulinus tried to melt against the wall.

“Sit, boy.”

Vix sat, on a black silk cushion at the foot of the Emperor’s couch.

“Your new room is comfortable, I hope.”

Vix stared.

“Have you a tongue, boy? I haven’t cut it out yet. Later, perhaps.” Stare.

“If you won’t talk, then pass me the decanter. Don’t bother searching the table for weapons; I had everything sharp removed.”

After a pause, Vix shoved the wine over in its ebony decanter. The wine was a ruby stream of color in the blackness.

“Wine dulls the ache in this foot of mine.” The Emperor regarded the bandaged limb with faint surprise. “The surgeon says it will heal quickly.”

Vix shrugged. “Can I have some wine?”

Domitian passed his own goblet over, expressionless. Vix ostentatiously wiped the onyx rim with his sleeve, drank deep, passed it back.

“So.” The Emperor settled back into the black cushions. “What shall I do with you?”

“You could let me walk out,” Vix suggested.

“No . . . I don’t think so.”

“Worth a try.”

“Correct.”

They contemplated each other.

“All black, huh?” Vix looked around the black triclinium—chinking his wrist chains together, Paulinus noticed, to hide the fact his hands were trembling. “Scary.”

“I haven’t decided yet what to do with you, Vercingetorix,” the Emperor mused. “I could throw you to the lions in the arena. Or perhaps I’ll have you gelded. How would you like to sing as prettily as your mother?”

“I’m tone-deaf.”

“A man of the sword, then. Like your father, perhaps. Who was he?”

“Dunno.” Clink clink clink.

“Liar,” Domitian said pleasantly. “We’ll have to work on that.”

“Oh boy. Can’t wait.” Clink clink clink.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Clink clink clink.

“That sound. It annoys me. A god’s ears are acute.”

“Well, we’ve all got problems.” Clink clink clink.

“Stop that!”

“Okay.”

Clink.

They stared at each other. Paulinus opened his mouth, then closed it. He’d stepped often enough between brawling men in the Praetorian barracks, but this was one duel he didn’t dare interrupt.

“You’re going to kill me,” said Vix to the Emperor. “Aren’t you.”

“We’ll see.”

“We’ll see, nothing. I’ve heard the stories. Gods squish mortals like ants.”

“You believe me a god, then?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Another smile. “You sure bleed like a mortal, Caesar.”

Domitian’s eyes dropped to his bandaged foot again. “You stabbed me.” There was something like wonder in his voice. “Fourteen years I’ve reigned on this throne, and not once have I been harmed. Until now.”

“First time for everything.”

“Not for me. I am Lord and God.”