The Gates of Hell by C. J. Cherryh

Author:C. J. Cherryh [Cherryh, C. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780671655617
Publisher: Baen Books
Published: 1986-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Alexander felt the woman stiffen as his own gut went cold.

He slung the Uzi over his shoulder and left Kleopatra without a word, falling in alongside the tall and golden Diomedes, whose sidelong look was compassionate and, by that, terrifying.

But it wouldn't do to demand answers, to act like a fearful child.

They strode toward the riverbank, where the tanks were, in silence.

On the way, Antonius passed them at a trot, and raised a fist.

The handsign was unfamiliar but the attitude was hostile.

"Klea, that's all he meant," Diomedes said, not looking after the son of Caesar. "Not what I wanted to talk to you about.�

"Then what?" Alexander expelled breath and words together, so that they came out on a sigh. They were near the rivers now, where you could edge your way down into marsh grass bathed in Lethe's water, cool and quiet here yet: Phlegethon had writhed back from shore during the day, leaving behind a lava bar like an island, beyond which hot water spewed mist and fire began to flow.

Alexander knew, now, that something was very wrong. He would not ask again. He hunkered down in the marsh grass as soon as mud seeped in between his sandals' straps and waited.

Diomedes looked out over the infernal join of waters and said, "Maccabee was murdered while you were with the Egyptian. Out by the horse lines. There's no corpse to see, don't get up. No weapon found, no signs left. Caesar's people are handling the search.�

His knees might not have held him in any case, if he'd tried to rise. He said, "No corpse-you mean it burned.�

"A fiery pyre of its own devising. There was no way to stop it. No way I know, at least. I told them to pour Lethe water on it, but there's no way to tell if he'll forget... We'll need to hear what you've told him, what you think he'll tell Authority. When you can. As soon as you can.�

Diomedes was trying gently to remind him that death was not death here, merely separation. But it was loss. It hit Alexander in the solar plexus and took his breath away.

He steadied himself in the reeds, the physical pain a wave against which he closed his eyes. When it was gone, Diomedes was still standing there, just gazing out toward the place where the rivers joined.

"You brought me here so that I could drink away my memories of him, is that it? If I wasn't strong enough?" Alexander's voice came out hard. He pushed himself upright, brushed mud and decomposing reeds from his knees. "We argued, you know, tonight. I-" He couldn't talk about it with Diomedes, a hero. "I am ready to come with you. We'll sit with Caesar and devise a capture and punishment fit to the crime. And revise our plans. Authority will not thwart us.�

So he went with the Achaean, thinking that he should never have talked to Judah as he had and wishing he'd done so many things he hadn't.

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