“I’m a gladiator, not a trained man of law.I don’t know how to be subtle.”
Cassia gave me one of her assessing looks.“I believe you better at it than you believe.You have to make many decisions in a fight, don’t you?I’ve seen you battle a few times now, even if only brawls, but you don’t lash out.You calculate, and attack to win.”
Of course I did—that was my training.
“Men of law do the same thing,” Cassia said.“Except with words.”
“I don’t know these words.Unless you mean I should shake witnesses until they tell me what I want to learn.”
I half-joked, but Cassia considered my suggestion before dismissing it.“I suppose not—a person would say anything until you ceased.Make conversation with people, as though you are merely gossiping.Remember everything anyone says and tell me exactly.”
She had to be mad, but she regarded me in all seriousness.
I refused the cloak Cassia suggested I take.It would hamper me, and the rain would wash my body until I was able to go to the baths.
I left Cassia sorting through her tablets and clumped down the stairs into the street.I’d do as she said and visit Floriana’s and then check on Priscus again.I hoped his house had better door bolts than mine.
The rain had lessened, but it came down hard enough to keep most people inside or scurrying from building to building.The roads flowed like rivers, the curved pavement encouraging the water along to gutters that would drain into the sewers beneath our feet.
I walked across the streets on stones that stuck up for this purpose, having to join a line of pedestrians to do so.There weren’t many crossings, and we all had to file along one behind the other.
The Subura was as busy as ever, those who lived here not having the luxury of waiting out the rain.They worked or they starved.
The door to Floriana’slupinariuswas open.I ducked inside, glad for the rain to cease drumming on my head, and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dimness.
The air held mustiness.The shutters had been closed, retaining an odor of burned oil and unemptied slops.
I heard a noise in the back of the house.Not from an animal or trapped bird—a person had made that sound, a thump of a fist on a wall.
Cautiously I made my way down the hall, my fingers around the knife I’d tucked into the pouch on my belt.I sprang silently into the end room, Floriana’s, knife ready to strike.
A man inside, small with dark curling hair touched with gray, a toga wrapped carelessly around his frame, turned with a jerk, and then screamed.
Chapter 12
Ilowered the knife and stared at the man without recognition.
He adjusted his toga and peered past me, as though calculating whether he could get around me and out the door.In his left hand, the one half-tangled in the toga, he held a string with a lead weight tied to it.A tiny thing, nothing one could use as a weapon.
“Who are you?”I demanded.
“I could say, who areyou,young man?”He looked me up and down with no recognition in return.“You are the intruder, sir.”
“I am Leonidas.”I saw no reason to lie.“I was a … friend to Floriana.”
“One of her customers, you mean.”In spite of his fear, his eyes took on a knowing twinkle.“Former customer, that is.The poor woman was brutally murdered.”
“I know.I am trying to discover who struck her down.”
I could imagine Cassia’s disappointment at my frankness, but I’d warned her I was not subtle.
The man raised thick brows that seemed to perch on the edge of his forehead.“Are you?Well, good luck to you.Probably a robbery.No one is safe on the streets at night, or in a morning fog.”
I gestured at the lead weight in his hand.“That is a plumb bob.”
His surprise grew.“It is indeed.Are you a builder?You look more like a gladiator.”
“You don’t attend the games?”
