await results that he could not have normally expected to see until he was an old man. Once the Venenum Immortale had been refined and perfected, Celcinius had been revived. He immediately had all his apprentices killed, and after that its secret was never again known to any more than three Temporian men at any one time.
Other talented men and women began to join Celcinius, and gradually the power and wealth of this strange oligarchy grew. His villa slowly expanded until it became the palace Nusquam. As the centuries passed, social structures grew and evolved among the Temporians—as they began to call themselves. The impressive and secret pool of talent grew continually in influence, yet they never allowed themselves to become kings. They always worked as lesser leaders, and from behind the scenes. When the continuity of Temporian administration was added to the vitality of the emerging city-state of Rome, the seeds of a mighty empire were laid.
The keystone of Temporian power was the Venenum Immortale, and its key ingredients were derived from the bodies of snow-dwelling insects. These were gathered by ordinary farmers and their slaves, along with the other harvests that they took from the land. The makers of perfumes, medicines, and the like already paid good silver for bags of odd roots, insects, and dried animal glands, so the collection of the insects for the Venenum Immortale went unnoticed alongside this trade. Every five years there would be enough to brew up several jars of the Venenum, and one of the three Venenum Masters would be revived to do the work.
Experience was never lost to the Temporians, and they learned to disguise their own existence to the point of near-invisibility. Some senior Romans knew that "gods" walked among them, strange and brilliant individuals who only appeared when particular types of demanding work needed to be done. These people did not seem to age at all. They were known as the Eternal Ones, the Gods of Romulus, the Sons of Romulus, and the Immortal Scribes, and it was also known that exceptionally talented mortals were sometimes recruited to their ranks. Outsiders, even if they were kings or emperors, always died or disappeared if their investigations of the Temporians were too persistent. Julius Caesar, Caligula, and Nero had that in common at least.
Nusquam: 17 December 71, Anno Domini
Doria was the current Mistress of Revival. Just as Regulus oversaw the freezing process and maintenance of the Frigidarium, she was in charge of the delicate and dangerous process of restoring the frozen Temporians to life. Regulus lay on a couch in her comfortably heated chambers, recovering from the ordeal of his inspection tour. He contemplated the frescoes on three of the walls, which ranged in subject from battles with Hannibal to erotic frolics involving naked Temporians in Arcadian settings. Regulus was depicted too, standing beside Caesar on the banks of the Rubicon in the most recent scene to be added to the frescoes.
The fourth wall was lined with shelves of colored glass jars, most containing oils and powders. There was also a large collection of scrolls and various medical instruments. The women who conducted the revivals documented their skills and experience in considerable detail, quite the opposite of the Venenum Masters. Doria sat at a writing desk, working her way through a scroll and frowning.
"I can't think of anything more dangerous," she said after she had been writing for some time. "Celcinius is too old, he survived that last revival through sheer luck."
"Who was in charge of that revival?"
"Rhea. She is the leader of Prima Decuria for this revival too."
"Well, that's the best you can do."
"The whole thing is still dangerous. The question remains, but nobody will answer it why revive him? Celcinius is worth more to the Adjudicators frozen than revived. He's our symbol, and a very potent symbol." Regulus turned sadly from her and looked to a fresco of Celcinius
Tracie Peterson, Judith Pella