The Tyrant's Tomb

I had offered him something he wanted.
Reyna chimed in. She pictured Commodus and Caligula on their knees,
groaning in pain. The fasces were connected to them. They’d taken a great
risk leaving their axes here. If the fasces were destroyed, the emperors might
be weakened and vulnerable before the battle.
Yes, Harpocrates replied. The pressure of the silence eased. I could
almost breathe again without agony. Reyna staggered to her feet. She helped
Meg and me to stand.
Unfortunately, we were not out of danger. I imagined any number of
terrible things Harpocrates could do to us if we freed him. And since I’d
been talking with my mind, I couldn’t help but broadcast those fears.
Harpocrates’s glare did nothing to reassure me.
The emperors must have anticipated this. They were smart, cynical,
horribly logical. They knew that if I did release Harpocrates, the god’s first
act would probably be to kill me. For the emperors, the potential loss of their
fasces apparently didn’t outweigh the potential benefit of having me
destroyed…or the entertainment value of knowing I’d done it to myself.
Reyna touched my shoulder, making me flinch involuntarily. She and
Meg had drawn their weapons. They were waiting for me to decide. Did I
really want to risk this?
I studied the soundless god.
Do what you want with me, I thought to him. Just spare my friends.
Please.
His eyes burned with malice, but also a hint of glee. He seemed to be
waiting for me to realize something, as if he’d written ZAP ME on my
backpack when I wasn’t looking.
Then I saw what he was holding in his lap. I hadn’t noticed it while I was
down on my hands and knees, but now that I was standing, it was hard to
miss: a glass jar, apparently empty, sealed with a metal lid.
I felt as if Tarquin had just dropped the final rock into the drowning cage
around my head. I imagined the emperors howling with delight on the deck
of Caligula’s yacht.
Rumors from centuries before swirled in my head: The Sibyl’s body had
crumbled away…. She could not die…. Her attendants kept her life force…
her voice…in a glass jar.
Harpocrates cradled all that remained of the Sibyl of Cumae—another
person who had every reason to hate me; a person the emperors and Tarquin