Chapter 8
The sun dipped below the jagged western horizon, painting the sky in bruised shades of purple and amber as night descended upon the ancient city. The grand amphitheater stood like a colossal stone crown against the gathering twilight, illuminated by hundreds of flickering torches lining its upper tiers. The roar of the packed crowd—tens of thousands of citizens gathered for the opening ceremonies of the Saturnalia festival—vibrated through the ground even from a distance.
Julian and Cassian moved through the shadowed perimeter of the outer concourse, keeping to the dimly lit stone archways used by grain vendors and livestock handlers. Cassian’s strength was fading fast; the blood loss from his morning wounds had left him dangerously pale, and he leaned heavily on a makeshift crutch Julian had fashioned from a broken timber found in the aqueduct.
"Hold up," Julian whispered, pulling Cassian into the recess of a dark archway as a patrol of Roman guards marched past with clanking armor and glowing torches.
They waited in absolute silence until the patrol turned the corner and disappeared down the ramp. Julian checked the security door ahead; it was bolted from the inside, leading directly to the upper vomitorium stairwell that climbed toward the imperial gallery. Julian drove the pommel of his dagger into the rusted locking mechanism, forcing the latch open with a muffled click.
They slipped inside, climbing the spiraling stone stairs in darkness. The air grew warmer and louder as they ascended closer to the roaring crowd above. Every step was agony for Cassian, but the old man refused to utter a sound, gripping the cold stone wall for support. Julian stayed close, his hand ready to catch him if his knees buckled.
Reaching the top landing, Julian peered through a narrow vertical slit in the stonework. Below them stretched the vast, sand-covered arena floor, illuminated by massive fire-baskets. In the central imperial box sat the magistrates and the High Priestess, draped in sumptuous silks, smiling down at the cheering throbs as acrobats performed below.
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"We are directly above the imperial box," Julian muttered, pulling the incriminating scrolls from his robe. "When the crowd noise peaks during the chariot race introduction, we step out onto the gallery wall."
Cassian nodded, his eyes burning with fierce determination. "Let the truth echo."
