Shahr-Baraz squinted and counted on his fingers. At last, he smiled and held up both hands.

"More than ten thousand. All of my Immortals who made it out of Kerenos River and whoever we picked up on the way home."

"Ten thousand? The Immortals?" Khadames sputtered in astonishment. His scout commanders would feel the lash on their backs if this were true. "Where are they?"

"Here and there," shrugged Shahr-Baraz. "Many are in the camps just outside the city." He wagged a finger at Khadames. "Your lookouts and scouts are spending too much time looking for armies of men. We trickled in ten and twenty at a time, all hidden in the cavalcade of petitioners, jumped-up provincial governors, and second sons who have been flocking here."

Khadames sighed. At least he wouldn't have to bear the burden of command any longer. Just having his old commander at his side made him feel relieved. The Boar turned back to the sorcerer, who had stood silently, his hands hidden in his cloak.

"Let us leave this noisome pit," said Shahr-Baraz. "Let us go up and speak with these Empresses and see about the business of a wedding."

Dahak bowed again, smiling. "As you say, O King of Kings."

Near Ottaviano, Southern Latium

Long shadows fell across the ashy gray surface of the Via. Men in plumed helmets, brassy armor, and dull red cloaks rode slowly, their eyes searching the fields on either side of the road. The sun was dim, shrouded by a thick brown haze in the sky. With each step, the horses' hooves raised little clouds of fine gray-black dust. Tiny flakes of ash drifted down from the sky in a constant slow fall like snow. Charred trees jutted from the fields like black posts. The hedgerows and low fieldstone walls were scorched or burned down to the roots. Nothing moved in the dead land save for the party of soldiers on the road.

Amid the red cloaks, Anastasia rode on a brown mare, her face veiled and a hooded robe pulled over her head. Her violet eyes, dark with exhaustion, stared blankly out at the wasteland. She was covered head to toe in dark russet with black edging. The silk over her mouth and nose was already thick with ash. Her escort trotted along at a steady pace.

A cluster of bodies appeared at the side of the road, scattered like fallen logs at the entrance to an estate. All that remained were lumps on the ground, covered with ash, and a burned and twisted hand reaching for the sky. It seemed that they had sought shelter in the arch of the gateway to the villa, though against the firestorm that had swept over them, it had been no protection at all. The Duchess had seen hundreds of these pitiful scenes. Farther from the mountain, there had been whole villages of the dead, only lightly touched by fire. From what she could see, there had been some poison in the air that followed the burning. It seeped into cellars and basements, killing those who had taken shelter there. Nothing was spared, not the birds in the trees or the snakes in the brush beside the road.

The search party clopped into a crossroads town. The buildings were gutted, ripped by fire and buried in drifts of ash. The roof of one building- a public stable by the look- had been smashed in. Anastasia had seen that before too, though it was becoming more common the farther south they went. Great burning stones had been flung from the mountain and had fallen far afield. Two days before she had read a dispatch from the commander of the Imperial fleet base at Misenum. It had been the first report to reach Rome.

In an unsteady hand, on parchment that still reeked of sulfur, the tribune had written:: the cloud was rising from a mountain- at such a distance and in the darkness we couldn't tell which, but afterward learned that it was Vesuvius. I can best describe its shape by likening it to a pine tree. It rose into the sky on a very long «trunk» from which spread some " branches." I imagine it had been raised by a sudden blast, which then weakened, leaving the cloud unsupported so that its own weight caused it to spread sideways. Some of the cloud was glowing like an ember in a fire, in other parts there was only darkness.

The legate (Tacinus Marcus Liva) ordered a boat made ready to investigate. I heard that a cousin of his lived on the slope of the mountain and he feared for her safety. He launched the quadriremes and embarked himself, a source of aid for more people than just Rectina (the cousin), for that delightful shore was a populous one. He hurried to a place from which others were fleeing, and held his course directly into danger. Was he afraid? It seems not, as he kept up a continuous observation of the various movements and shapes of that evil cloud, dictating what he saw.

Ash was falling onto the ships now, darker and denser the closer they went. Now it was bits of pumice, and rocks that were blackened and burned and shattered by the fire. Now the sea is shoal; debris from the mountain blocks the shore. He paused for a moment wondering whether to turn back as the helmsman urged him. "Fortune helps the brave," he said, "Head for Stabiae. There is a squadron there, under the command of Pomponianus."

At Stabiae, on the other side of the bay formed by the gradually curving shore, Pomponianus had loaded up his ships even before the danger arrived, though the burning cloud was visible and indeed extremely close, once it intensified. He had planned to put out as soon as the contrary wind let up. That very wind carried the legate right in, and he embraced the frightened man and gave him comfort and courage. Meanwhile, broad sheets of flame were lighting upmany parts of Vesuvius; their light and brightness were the more vivid for the darkness of the night. To alleviate people's fears the legate claimed that the flames came from the deserted homes of farmers who had left in a panic with the hearth fires still alight.

The streets (of Stabiae) rose so high with the mixture of ash and stones that if they had spent anymore time there escape would have been impossible. The buildings were being rocked by a series of strong tremors, and appeared to have come loose from their foundations and to be sliding this way and that. Outside, however, there was danger from the rocks that were coming down, light and fire consumed as these bits of pumice were. Weighing the relative dangers they chose the outdoors; in the legate's case it was a rational decision; others just chose the alternative that frightened them the least.

They tied pillows on top of their heads as protection against the shower of rock. It was daylight now elsewhere in the world, but there the darkness was darker and thicker than any night. But they had torches and other lights. They decided to go down to the shore, to see from close up if anything was possible by sea. But it remained as rough and uncooperative as before. Resting in the shade of a sail the legate drank once or twice from the cold water he had asked for. Then came a smell of sulfur, announcing the flames, and the flames themselves, sending others into flight but reviving him. Supported by two small slaves he stood up, and immediately collapsed. As I understand it, his breathing was obstructed by the dust-laden air, and his innards, which were never strong and often blocked or upset, simply shut down. When daylight came again two days after he died, his body was found untouched, unharmed, in the clothing that he had had on. He looked more asleepthan dead.

So Anastasia had found things on the broad plain north of the mountain as well. The citizens and their slaves had fled the eruption and the earthquakes in droves, but the stifling air had overwhelmed them. The dark sky had settled over Rome as well, plunging the capital into constant night. There had been panic and fire- it had taken an hour or so before the skyline of the city had been lit by burning tenements. Galen had taken serious and immediate steps, however, summoning the Second Augustan Legion into the city to assist the vigiles and aediles in fighting the fires and maintaining order.