A. E. Lowan

Rome. The Olmec stood on the parapet of the long wall guarding the boundaries of the ancient city that sprawled across the seven hills, facing the darkness to the east. If his calculations were correct, and they had been correct for thousands of years, the Sun would rise within the next few minutes. Rise. Please rise. Woodsmoke and the smell of emptied chamber pots tickled his sensitive nose, and somewhere below a drunken fight broke out. Somewhere a whore hawked her wares. Somewhere shops were pushing their eaves open, preparing for the day to come. A city that never truly Read More …