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Chapter IV

LOREN

‘ I refuse,’ said Loren, pulling a needle through the pinched skin of the thief’s arm, ‘to believe you told the Priest the truth when he asked your name.’

The thief’s brow twitched up. ‘What tipped you off?’

They had retreated to the private quarters again, away from Camilia’s scrutiny and the Priest’s frown. Loren hoped the privacy might inspire the thief to talk, but he was as shifty here as he’d been at the altar.

Loren tried to make his words teasing, but even before they left his mouth, he knew his joke was doomed to fall flat. ‘No self-respecting parent would name their son something so crass.’

‘Who said anything about self-respecting?’ He considered Loren across the table. With his free hand, he sifted through the grapes scooped from the floor. The thief selected one, inspected it for dirt, then popped it in his mouth. Chewed slow. ‘It’s Felix.’

Loren dragged his gaze from Felix’s swallow, letting the name sink in.

How odd to finally put a name to the face that had haunted him for so long.

If he closed his eyes now, he could see it clear as day, Felix’s copper curls tangled behind his eyelids.

But even that wasn’t right. The faded, cruel ghost that lurked in his dreams had nothing on how absurdly golden Felix was in reality .

Exactly Loren’s luck that this was the closest he’d been to a boy in years, and here he was, putting stitches in his skin while Felix, manifestation of his nightmares, snacked on floor grapes.

Pinch. Pull. Tight, even passes, as Camilia taught him. ‘No family name?’

‘Just Felix.’

‘And what brings you to Pompeii?’

Felix flashed his teeth. ‘Shit luck.’

Another draw of the needle, and Loren tied the cord. He dabbed blood with a damp rag before winding linen around the wound. Felix’s arm looked less garish this way. Less brutal.

‘Are you finished? I can’t stand all this handling.’ Felix’s mouth flattened. He’d worn the same expression when Loren stopped his escape during the aftershock.

If that was what the quake had been, as Camilia insisted. Loren wasn’t convinced.

He pulled his hands away. ‘Poppy sap might ease the pain. Just a drop.’

‘I’ve had enough for one life, thanks.’ Felix cradled his injured arm and fished for grapes with his other. ‘Tell me what you want from me.’

Rolling his surgical tools, Loren ruminated on how to approach the topic.

Their question-for-question game earlier had got him nowhere, so perhaps it was time to be blunt.

But asking, What are you? seemed impolite.

So did saying, I’ve seen the destruction you plan to cause.

And, Sorry for claiming responsibility for you without permission, but I can’t let you leave until I learn why you haunt me. Truce? was off the table.

‘The man who chased you here . . .’ Loren paused. Changed tactics. ‘Petty theft isn’t unusual in Pompeii.’

‘What’s your question?’

‘Most guards wouldn’t expend that much effort. ’

‘For the right price, guards will do anything,’ Felix said. ‘I took something. Someone else wanted what I took.’

‘Who?’

‘Some statesman. I was too busy running for my life to catch his name.’ His tone was dry, but he radiated discomfort.

He sat strangely, perched on the edge of his chair, ready to take flight.

He wouldn’t get far. The Priest was holding session in the courtyard.

Isis didn’t attract many outside their small attendant circle, but Felix still wouldn’t make it halfway without being seen.

‘I don’t have an issue with thieves,’ said Loren. ‘Most take what they need to survive. I respect that. But whatever you stole must be valuable. What was it?’

‘What difference does it make?’

Loren locked eyes with him. Felix’s were grey as rain-heavy clouds and twice as threatening. ‘Because I saved your life. Because Sera would sell you back to that soldier, or Camilia would turn you onto the streets to be caught anyway. Because your blood made the ground shake—’

‘Did not.’

‘– and I’m protecting you now, Just Felix , yet you won’t offer the courtesy of your full name, let alone your business in my city.’

‘I didn’t ask for that.’ Lithe and slippery, Felix leaped to his feet. ‘If I have a family name, I don’t remember. And I don’t want your protection. If you’re looking for gratitude, consider this your thank you.’

‘If you leave alone, I won’t be able to shield you.’

‘I suppose I’ll risk it.’ Felix left.

Loren gave him a two-second head start. Then he followed, head pounding at the dull familiarity of watching Felix bolt into the hall. This time he didn’t have the advantage of Camilia’s brute strength. Maybe he wouldn’t need it .

He stopped short at the scene in the courtyard.

The noise hit him first, dozens of murmuring voices that hadn’t reached the private quarters.

A crowd swarmed, far more people than the Priest’s sessions typically attracted, and nervous agitation buzzed.

Lingering fear from the quakes, perhaps, prompting folks to seek comfort in faith.

But there must be more to it than that. Loren had experienced a dozen quakes since arriving in Pompeii, and none had caused such a stir.

Felix froze beneath the shelter of the portico, half hidden behind a column, tracking the gathering. Calculating his next move.

‘Something else must have happened.’ Loren sidled beside Felix. ‘This is strange for Isis.’

Felix’s mouth tightened. ‘Is that the only exit?’

‘You won’t make it out unnoticed if that’s your concern. Even if you did, the city is teeming with guards this week, extra security for the festival. You can’t leave without me.’ Loren pulled off his veil. ‘But I’ll let you borrow this. A disguise might help.’

‘Tell me what you want from me.’

‘Tell me what you stole.’

Felix considered him for a long moment, face calculating, then let out a mirthless laugh. ‘Fine. Maybe you can explain what all the fuss is about.’

In the end, they both wore veils, but Loren left his braid free and recognisable. He may not have much influence in the city, but if being known as ‘that strange boy from the strange temple’ kept a gladius from skewering Felix, he’d take the side-long glances as they came.

Felix had to be more careful. His hair was too distinctive, shining copper in the mid-afternoon sun. Even swathed in a headscarf, he still stuck out in his bloodstained clothes .

‘Remind me to take you tunic shopping later,’ Loren muttered as they stepped into the alley. ‘You look like a gladiator who fought a bear, and the bear won.’

It won a scowl from Felix, which Loren accepted as the best he’d get.

‘I don’t see your friend,’ he said, once they reached the road. ‘Hopefully that means he can’t see us either. Where to?’

Felix scanned the buildings with tight eyes, orienting himself to their surroundings. For a moment, Loren thought he might make a break for it, but a pair of city guards strode past, and Felix melted closer to Loren’s side.

‘Take me to the Forum,’ Felix said. ‘We can start there.’

The street teemed with Pompeiians running errands in the autumn sun.

Loren and Felix stepped into the flow of traffic bustling towards the Forum.

Some eyed their veils with suspicion, but Loren paid them no mind.

Isis was always being observed. Part of being in a foreign cult, a ragtag group of outcasts, refugees and former slaves, prostitutes and ex-politicos and anyone else who didn’t fit in.

Even the fact that men and women interacted so closely raised alarm.

They were an unconventional bunch and, in a Roman colony, that was distasteful.

The Forum was as busy as ever. The centre for three temples and Pompeii’s council, it only quieted well after dark. Here, beggars begged, merchants sold trinkets and children chased dogs. Loren revelled in the happy hum.

‘Don’t they remember the earth shaking only hours ago?’ Felix asked, eyes wide.

‘You acclimatise to it. Pompeii presses on.’

‘Mad. All of you.’ Felix pointed across the way, through the series of archways lining the Forum. ‘There’s Apollo.’

‘Right. In the centre is Jupiter, and over there—’

But Felix didn’t wait for a lesson on layout. Peeling from Loren’s side, he made for Apollo’s temple, weaving through the crowd. Loren stumbled over his feet keeping up, stopping only to shout an apology to a group of children whose marbles game he’d trodden through.

Closer to the temple, the mood took a sharp shift.

A tight knot stood clustered outside the entrance.

Unusual. Apollo’s following was even smaller than Isis’s, and the city only maintained the temple so as not to offend the sun god.

Loren strained to see over the crowd, not realising Felix had stopped until he smacked into him.

‘Jupiter,’ Felix cursed.

Loren quickly realised why.

A man knelt, stripped to his waist, guard leathers piled on the stones beside him. His head was bowed. Air whistled. Leather snapped his bare back. A cry tore from his chest.

A guard’s voice called out a number – ‘Six!’ – and the process repeated.

A handful of councilmen chattered idly nearby, looking bothered at the inconvenience of overseeing the punishment but otherwise unperturbed by the breaking of a man five paces away. Umbrius, head of the council, was not present.

‘Despicable,’ Loren muttered, blood running cold. ‘Only brutes dole punishment with the whip.’

‘Seven!’

Felix’s skin had drained of colour.

‘No one deserves this. I’ll outlaw it when I’m on the council. It’s inhumane. And to do it publicly—’

‘Are you running for office?’ Felix’s question carried an edge, not quite mocking.

Loren’s ears burned. He hadn’t meant to admit it out loud, not to Felix. Everything he’d gathered about Felix so far pointed to little love for rule makers. As a thief, it made sense. But that didn’t stop his tone from stinging.

‘I’m not,’ Loren said. ‘I can’t. ’

‘Eight!’

‘Not freeborn?’