The Tyrant’s Tomb
That got some laughs. Who knew Frank could be funny on purpose?
“Now…” His expression turned serious. “It’s our duty to inform you of some personnel changes. Reyna?”
He watched her quizzically, as if wondering whether she would really go through with it.
“Thank you, Frank.” She pulled herself to her feet. Again, everyone in the assembly who could stand did.
“Guys. Please.” She gestured for us to be seated. “This is hard enough.”
When we were all settled, she scanned the faces in the crowd: a lot of anxious, sad expressions. I suspected many people knew what was coming.
“I’ve been praetor a long time,” Reyna said. “It’s been an honor to serve the legion. We’ve been through some rough times together. Some…interesting years.”
A bit of nervous laughter. Interesting was the perfect curse word.
“But it’s time for me to step down,” she continued. “So I am resigning my post as praetor.”
A moan of disbelief filled the chamber, as if homework had just been assigned on a Friday afternoon.
“It’s for personal reasons,” Reyna said. “Like, my sanity, for instance. I need time just to be Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, to find out who I am outside the legion. It may take a few years, or decades, or centuries. And so…” She removed her praetor’s cloak and badge and handed them to Frank.
“Thalia?” she called.
Thalia Grace made her way down the central aisle. She winked at me as she passed.
She stood before Reyna and said, “Repeat after me: I pledge myself to the goddess Diana. I turn my back on the company of men, accept eternal maidenhood, and join the hunt.”
Reyna repeated the words. Nothing magical happened that I could see: no thunder or lightning, no silver glitter falling from the ceiling. But Reyna looked as if she’d been given a new lease on life, which she had—infinity years, with zero interest and no money down.
Thalia clasped her shoulder. “Welcome to the hunt, sister!”
Reyna grinned. “Thanks.” She faced the crowd. “And thank you, all. Long live Rome!”
The crowd rose again and gave Reyna a standing ovation. They cheered and stomped with such jubilation I was afraid the duct-taped dome might collapse on us.
Finally, when Reyna was seated in the front row with her new leader, Thalia (having taken the seats of two senators who were more than happy to move), everyone turned their attention back to Frank.
“Well, guys”—he spread his arms—“I could thank Reyna all day long. She has given so much to the legion. She’s been the best mentor and friend. She can never be replaced. On the other hand, I’m up here all alone now, and we have an empty praetor’s chair. So I’d like to take nominations for—”
Lavinia started the chant: “HA-ZEL! HA-ZEL!”
The crowd quickly joined in. Hazel’s eyes widened. She tried to resist when those sitting around her pulled her to her feet, but her Fifth Cohort fan club had evidently been preparing for this possibility. One of them produced a shield, which they hoisted Hazel onto like a saddle. They raised her overhead and marched her to the middle of the senate floor, turning her around and chanting, “HAZEL! HAZEL!” Reyna clapped and yelled right along with them. Only Frank tried to remain neutral, though he had to hide his smile behind his fist.
“Okay, settle down!” he called at last. “We have one nomination. Are there any other—?”
“HAZEL! HAZEL!”
“Any objections?”
“HAZEL! HAZEL!”
“Then I recognize the will of the Twelfth Legion. Hazel Levesque, you are hereby promoted to praetor!”
More wild cheering. Hazel looked dazed as she was dressed in Reyna’s old cloak and badge of office, then led to her chair.
Seeing Frank and Hazel side by side, I had to smile. They looked so right together—wise and strong and brave. The perfect praetors. Rome’s future was in good hands.
“Thank you,” Hazel managed at last. “I—I’ll do everything I can to be worthy of your trust. Here’s the thing, though. This leaves the Fifth Cohort without a centurion, so—”
The entire Fifth Cohort started chanting in unison: “LAVINIA! LAVINIA!”
“What?” Lavinia’s face turned pinker than her hair. “Oh, no. I don’t do leadership!”
“LAVINIA! LAVINIA!”
“Is this a joke? Guys, I—”
“Lavinia Asimov!” Hazel said with a smile. “The Fifth Cohort read my mind. As my first act as praetor, for your unparalleled heroism in the Battle of San Francisco Bay, I hereby promote you to centurion—unless my fellow praetor has any objections?”
“None,” Frank said.
“Then come forward, Lavinia!”
To more applause and whistling, Lavinia approached the rostrum and got her new badge of office. She hugged Frank and Hazel, which wasn’t the usual military protocol, but no one seemed to care. Nobody clapped louder or whistled more shrilly than Meg. I know because she left me deaf in one ear.
“Thanks, guys,” Lavinia announced. “So, Fifth Cohort, first we’re going to learn to tap-dance. Then—”
“Thank you, Centurion,” Hazel said. “You may be seated.”
“What? I’m not kidding—”
“On to our next order of business!” Frank said, as Lavinia skipped grumpily (if that’s even possible) back to her seat. “We realize the legion will need time to heal. There’s lots to be done. This summer we will rebuild. We’ll speak to Lupa about getting more recruits as quickly as possible, so we can come back from this battle stronger than ever. But for now, our fight is won, and we have to honor two people who made that possible: Apollo, otherwise known as Lester Papadopoulos, and his comrade, Meg McCaffrey!”
The crowd applauded so much, I doubt many people heard Meg say, “Master, not comrade,” which was fine with me.
As we stood to accept the legion’s thanks, I felt strangely uncomfortable. Now that I finally had a friendly crowd cheering for me, I just wanted to sit down and cover my head with a toga. I had done so little compared to Hazel or Reyna or Frank, not to mention all those who had died: Jason, Dakota, Don, Jacob, the Sibyl, Harpocrates…dozens more.
Frank raised his hand for quiet. “Now, I know you two have another long, hard quest ahead of you. There’s still one emperor who needs his podex kicked.”
As the crowd chuckled, I wished our next task would be as easy as Frank made it sound. Nero’s podex, yes…but there was also the small matter of Python, my old immortal enemy, presently squatting in my old holy place of Delphi.
“And I understand,” Frank continued, “that you two have decided to leave in the morning.”
“We have?” My voice cracked. I’d been imagining a week or two relaxing in New Rome, enjoying the thermal baths, maybe seeing a chariot race.
“Shh,” Meg told me. “Yes, we’ve decided.”
That didn’t make me feel any better.
“Also,” Hazel chimed in, “I know you two are planning to visit Ella and Tyson at dawn to receive prophetic help for the next stage of your quest.”