"Nothing," said Ruso, to whom daylight had brought the conclusion that he must have left the candle burning. "It's just a coincidence." The puppy must have then knocked it over and rolled it across the floor, where the flame had caught a trailing edge of his blanket. "One last thing, Decimus."
"Sir?"
"If you're going to drown your sorrows, don't do it at Merula's. And don't go alone."
The porter managed a weak smile. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
After Decimus had left, Ruso thought about the girl who had always seen the funny side of things, who had lain cold and unburied for all those months while the rest of Deva carried on its business around her. The second girl from Merula's bar whom he had met only in death. Now, surely, there would be a proper investigation. In the meantime, he had to go and see what was being done about making his lodgings fit to live in.
39
It was early evening by the time Ruso found time to check on his slave. He found men crowded around the bar, blocking the entrance. As he approached, he heard the twitter of flutes. Evidently the bad news about Asellina had not been allowed to disrupt business. Finding a place in the crowd, he was in time to see the object of everyone's interest display a length of shapely leg through a slit in a silky outfit that left just enough to be imagined. The dancer arched her back and slid one hand slowly up her thigh. Ruso felt the surge of a desire too long denied.
A voice said, "Good, ain't she, our Chloe?"
He had not noticed Bassus moving over to stand next to him.
"Very," agreed Ruso, hoping he had not been watching with his mouth open.
"I'll get her to give your girl some lessons."
Chloe was swaying across the room toward them. Ruso, making an effort to concentrate, said, "I don't want her working here."
" 'Course not," agreed Bassus as Chloe entwined one braceleted arm around Ruso's neck. "But a bit of private dancing, that's an extra skill, see?"
Ruso felt the flicker of Chloe's tongue against the lobe of his ear.
Bassus was saying something about it all being money in his purse.
"Yes," said Ruso thickly, his mind not on his purse at all.
Suddenly he was deserted: Chloe had moved on to work the tables. A legionary was grinning with embarrassment as she ran her hand down his chest. His companions jeered and whooped as the hand slid lower.
Ruso tightened his grip on his medical case. He was making his way to the stairs-ignoring complaints from customers whose view he was blocking-when Bassus's "Not that way, Doc!" registered. He turned to find the man pointing him to the kitchen door.
Ruso retraced his steps to loud suggestions that he should make up his mind.
"She didn't have nothing to do up there," explained Bassus. "She's helping the cook out instead."
"I said she wasn't to-"
The doorman's hand was heavy on his shoulder. "Don't you worry, Doc, I'm protecting our little investment. She's well out of sight." He winked. "I told Merula we got to keep her as a surprise."
Ruso wondered which was worse: having Bassus as an enemy or having him as a friend. "And untouched," he insisted.
"You leave it to me, Doc." Bassus's words would have been more reassuring if he had not added, "She'll be as untouched as the day she come in here."
As Ruso entered the kitchen a cloud of smoke and steam that reminded him uncomfortably of last night billowed from the griddle. A stocky figure swung away with one arm raised to protect her eyes. Lucco swerved to avoid a collision. The dishes piled against his small chest swayed and rattled, but he managed to keep them balanced. Across the kitchen, Daphne set down her rolling pin beside an expanse of flattened pastry and paused to massage the small of her back with floury hands. Both she and Lucco looked as though they had been crying. The cook, who would not have known Asellina, seemed only to be squinting because of the smoke. When it cleared she turned back toward the spitting griddle with a look of determination and a spatula, while Lucco resumed his journey to the crockery shelves. No one seemed interested in Ruso's arrival, and the figure seated at the table with her fair hair in two long plaits did not look up.
Tilla had steadied the bowl on her lap by trapping it between her knees and the tabletop. In front of her on the scrubbed wooden surface was a heap of untouched bean pods: by her feet a bucket of hollow green halves. Ruso, feeling his tunic beginning to stick to him in the heat, watched unnoticed as she reached for a fresh pod. She pinched one end until it burst open, then widened the gap with her thumb, and finally twisted her wrist so the pod was upside down before maneuvering the thumb back down the inside of the pod to send the beans bouncing into the bowl. A couple shot over the rim. Tilla dropped the empty pod into the bucket and picked up another.
Ruso retrieved a bean that had rolled toward his feet. So, this was what a servant with one hand could do. He hoped the cook was not in a hurry for the vegetables. He stepped forward and dropped the escaped bean into the bowl. Tilla looked up at him in surprise just as the back door opened, sending in a gust of welcome cool air, and with it Merula's voice. "Doctor! Just the man we need!"
"Give me something, Doctor."
The hand that grabbed at Ruso's was cold.
Ruso, who had never expected to see its owner again, disentangled himself from the feeble grasp. The two men stood eyeing each other in the middle of Merula's back yard. The sweaty strands of hair that were usually combed flat across Claudius Innocens's head were dangling around his nose. His skin had a greenish tinge, which Ruso found both professionally interesting and, on a personal level, deeply satisfying. The silence was interrupted by Innocens's need to bend over the bucket again.
Ruso commended Merula for keeping the patient away from anyone else. It could be contagious.
Merula turned. "Phryne!"
A blond girl who was barely more than a child appeared from the open doorway of an outhouse and sidled into the yard. A nervous smile flitted across her face. One hand instinctively rose to cover crooked teeth.
"Get a bed made up in there."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Well, what are you waiting for?"
"Please, Mistress, I don't know where-"
"Then ask someone!"
The girl fled.
Merula turned back to the merchant. "I hope she isn't going to be another disappointment, Innocens."
"She's just a little nervous, madam," he assured her. "She'll settle down-ah!" He bent over, clutching at his stomach.
Merula asked Ruso what he thought the problem was, adding, "He hasn't eaten here," before he could speculate.
Ruso scratched his ear. "It's hard to say," he said. "It could be anything, really." He turned to the patient, who was now slumped against the wall. "It might just pass by itself. You really want me to prescribe you something?"
"Anything, Doctor, sir. I'm in your hands." Innocens's head drooped, swayed toward Merula, and lifted again. "Excellent doctor. Business acquaintance of mine."
"He sold me a half-dead slave," explained Ruso.
Innocens made an attempt to plaster the strands of hair back in place.
"And you got a bargain, sir. She's turned into a fine-looking girl."
"No thanks to you." Ruso had a sudden thought. "Innocens, do you come to Deva regularly?"
"I pass through, sir. From time to time."
"Were you here in late spring?"
"Ah-possibly, sir. Possibly."
Ruso wished he had bothered to find out the specific date of the fire. "How long had you been here before you sold me that slave?"
"Oh, dear…" The strands of hair fell down again and dangled while their owner struggled to form an answer. Finally he said, "About two or three days, I suppose, sir. I really don't feel very-"
"Did you ever know a girl called Saufeia?"