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“What shall I do, now that I am here?” I whispered, half to myself. “How shall I make my way?”

He leaned closer so that his mouth was near to my ear and whispered back, “You’re in Panpirion now, the crossroads of the world. You just need to decide what you want.”

He stepped away abruptly and picked up his walking stick. “I need to wash before dinner.”

“Thank you for showing me your house,” I said.

“Please think of it as your house also.” He thumped out of the room.

I watched him make his way across the now dusk-filled courtyard, where Don was lighting the lanterns. Could I ever think of this place as my own house? What kind of expectations would accompany such an arrangement? I lingered in the marvelous study for an hour, thinking and examining book after book until a rumble in my stomach prompted me to go and look for dinner.

xi

A WEEK WENT BY, AND THEN TWO MORE. I SLOWLY became accustomed to my new surroundings, as different from my former life as the sea was from the mountains. I heard nothing further about Straba’s letter or the search for the lost caves, but I made quick progress in my studies with Cassius. In no time at all, I grew very fond of the kind, funny old man. He set me passages from Astrolabe to translate as I became familiar with the basic grammar and structure of Kish. We looked together at a chart of the sky and tracked the progress of the sun, moon, and wandering stars. He often shook his wispy head and exclaimed, “So many questions!” but he seemed delighted to have someone to teach.

I knew that I couldn’t stay at Sebastianus’s villa forever, and that I should be planning for my own future, but it was such a pleasure to spend each day studying in those beautiful surroundings that I kept putting off thinking about my next steps.

Sebastianus’s schedule kept him away for most of each day. He left early to meet with citizens of Panpirion who wanted favors from the Imperator or hoped that he might use his influence to move legislation through the senate. Don accompanied him as a guard, and they ate their midday meal together in the city. The senate convened in the afternoon, followed by the Imperator’s small council, which met late into the evening. Sebastianus was often quiet and weary by the time he arrived home long after sunset. Cornelia would set the table and pour the wine—and after a while, the hard edge of his jawline would soften. I watched this subtle transformation with interest each night until I could almost pinpoint the moment when he’d lean back, light his pipe, turn to me and say with a sparkle in his eye, “All right, Anna. Tell us all what you learned today.”

The talk at these dinners often turned to current events, and no topic was left undebated: the Imperator’s latest instructions to the army, threats made by the disgruntled factions in the city, which charioteers were the fastest, why the price of grain was rising, and a hundred other aspects of life in Panpirion. Don would fold his long limbs into a chair, Cassius would scuttle in, wiping his ink-stained hands, and more often than not, Klaudia would fling open the door, stride in, and unwrap her palla with a sigh of pleasure.

Klaudia was an endless source of fascination for me. She had a boldness of spirit that couldn’t be contained within the rigid confines of the life of a noblewoman in Panpirion. Although she had left her toga behind in the mountain city, she wore her tunic and stola with an insouciant laziness, the rich layers of silk and brocade rolled up to her elbows or pinned above her ankles so she could ride more easily. She had fended off more than a dozen suitors until finally, at an age similar to Sebastianus, she finally felt safe from the threat of marriage.

“What’s this about your aunt, Seb?” she exclaimed one night, taking a seat and flinging one booted foot over the arm of the chair. “I hear Calpurnia has decided to replace next spring’s Carnival with a dreary procession in honor of Gurgexenes.”

“Fanaticism is the backbone of tyranny,” Cassius said.

“It’s worse than that,” Sebastianus said grimly. “I think she’s finally convinced Jovinian that we need complete moral reformation. No theater, no gambling, no brothels, no festivals other than the ones celebrating the Sea God.” He raised a hand to quiet the groans from around the table. “And I want to warn you all about their latest focus: stamping out what they call ‘lusts contrary to nature.’ They’ll be dragging people through the streets before long.”

There was a stunned silence around the table.

“By all the lightning-blasted gods,” Klaudia swore. “I wish I were a senator. I could turn hearts against this.”

“You think I haven’t tried?” Sebastianus asked.

“Such hypocrisy sours the stomach.” Cassius balled a napkin in his hands. “Where’s the logic in it? We all know that Jovinian has several women who aren’t his wife living with him in the palace. And wasn’t your aunt an actress, and more, herself, before the Imperator raised her up?”

Sebastianus shook his head. “I think that’s part of it. She had a hard life before Jovinian, and she genuinely believes this will improve the lives of women. Apparently, she’s setting up an institution on the other side of the river to reform fallen women and teach them about Gurgexenes.”

“Fallen women?” I had never heard the phrase before.

“It’s just an expression,” Don said quickly.

I wondered at his reluctance to explain the words.

“Don’t defend her,” Klaudia said. “I don’t care what her life was like. We’d all be better off if she’d just leave us alone, or if Jovinian would stop squeezing every dime—”

Sebastianus tried to interrupt her, but it was Don who cut her off. The color had drained from his face. “Jovinian and Calpurnia should both be on their guard. There are factions in the city that would like to see them torn apart by lions. Everyone has a breaking point. Crowds were screaming for blood in the Circodrome the last time I attended a race. It won’t be long before there’s another riot.”

“You’ve been attending the chariot races quite a lot recently,” Klaudia said with a sly smile. “Cheering for anyone in particular?”

Don grunted into the cup of wine he held in his huge hand.

“Be careful, friend,” Sebastianus said.

“Such talk about the Imperator and his wife.” Cornelia patted her mouth with a napkin.

“Conversation on any topic is encouraged at my table,” Sebastianus said, “and tonight I’m in the mood to rip them both apart.” His eye caught mine. “What do you think of the present situation in the city, Anna?”