I slapped his face hard enough to put some color into it. Twice. Back and forth. Back and forth. A large welt rose on his cheek, and the blood kept streaming from his nose.
“I’m running out of patience, Faro. I could use my fist.”
“No-no more. I’ll talk.”
Mumius came forward with a dinner napkin from last night. Almost funny, if it weren’t so fucking ugly. Faro wiped his nose, and I shoved him into the couch. To remind him who owned him.
“Who told you about my wife?”
Quiet now, furtive. He’d tell as little as he could, then run somewhere else, hide, rebuild, do it all over again. Men like Faro worked in cycles-sometimes up, sometimes down, finally sinking low enough to die in rags, wine breath, broken body, shit and piss their only embraceable warmth. Pariahs. Outcasts. Not even remembered in hell.
I almost felt sorry. For him, for the men like him. Some of them with talent, looks, brains-even connections. But they started down the road tripping people. They couldn’t resist the fraud, the trick, putting one over on the gullible and stupid-or the vulnerable and hurt. It gave them a sense of power, and they needed power to keep living. Whatever it was they called life.
“Materna. Materna told me your wife-your wife had a miscarriage.”
I sat back in my chair. It was part of what I wanted. “What are you doing in Aquae Sulis?”
“I told you. I-I summon ghosts. Communicate with the dead.”
“I’ll ask you again. What are you doing in Aquae Sulis?”
He was hiding something. I was tired of hitting him. The satisfaction wore off after the first time. I knew how he would end up.
“I don’t know what you want from me!” He turned to Secundus and Mumius. “Make him stop! I don’t know what he wants!”
I punched him in the stomach in the middle of a whine, and he fell to the floor, the wind knocked out of him.
Mumius stepped forward. “Is he all right?”
“He’ll be fine. He’s just scared of something.”
I hauled him back up when he started to gasp. His nose bled some more, and I picked up the napkin from the couch and wiped his face with it.
“Faro. Tell me what you’re paid to do here. Not by the regular customers. You know what I mean.”
It depended on whether he was more afraid of me or whoever he was hiding. True to his kind, he tried to compromise.
“I can-I can tell you this much, and only this much-don’t bother to hit me any more, because you won’t get anything else. There are things-things worse than pain.”
I let go of his arm, and he fell back into the couch.
“What is it?”
He wiped his mouth with the dirty, bloodstained napkin. “I want to leave here. Leave this town. That’s part of the deal.”
“I don’t make deals, Faro. What makes you think I won’t hurt you so bad you can’t leave?”
He grimaced as he ran his tongue over the cut on his lip. “Because you’re not the type. You don’t like to hurt people. Not even when you’re angry.”
“I’ve enjoyed hurting you. I could stand a little more enjoyment.”
“No-no. I’m just asking to leave. Please-I-I can’t help you. I’ll tell you what I can, and then-just let me go.”
I stared at him and watched his eyes drift back over to the wine jug. “All right. Tell me.”
Relief poured out of him like sweat. “I’m-I’m here for the mine.”
I leaned forward. “The haunted mine?”
“I’m the one-the one who spread the rumors. I was here four years ago, when it-the death-happened. I make sure people still believe it.”
“Who pays you?”
He shook his head. “That’s all I can tell you. I mean it. Go ahead and ruin my face, if you’d like, but-but I can’t tell you anymore.” He tried to straighten his tunic.
“Where is it? The mine?”
“I can tell you that. Then-then you can see for yourself. It’s about fifteen miles from here. Right off the Sorviodunum to Iscalis road. There are a lot of mines in those hills. This one-this one is the farthest one north, about seven miles from Iscalis.”
I stood up and said softly: “Do you ever hear voices at night, Faro?”
He looked scared again. “What do you mean?”
“Not dead ones. Living voices, full of pain and misery. Pain you’ve put there. That’s the only thing you bring to life. And sometime soon it’s going to drown out the sound of anything else.”
He was already looking old. I turned to Secundus and Mumius. “Don’t repeat this to anyone. Especially your wife, Secundus.”
He started to sputter again. “My wife-my wife-you’re-you’re going to believe-”
“Yes, I believe him. Your wife takes a malicious pleasure in watching other people suffer. I’d-watch what you eat, Secundus. Just watch what you eat.”
Secundus and Mumius gaped at me. Faro was staring at the ground, trying to read his own future.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Materna wasn’t anywhere to be seen or smelled. The road home was a blur, and Gwyna was reading a letter in the triclinium when I walked in the door.
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
“No. That’s Faro’s blood.”
She needed to hear it, and hear it in full.
“That bitch. That unholy bitch. So we were just there for her ‘amusement.’ I wonder how she found out-it must have been the baths. I tried to wear loose clothes. Or maybe it was Sulpicia-”
“I don’t think Sulpicia would’ve told her. What about Philo?”
She looked at me sideways. “Ardur-don’t blame Philo for everything. It’s not that hard to figure out. Everyone knows we don’t have children, and I-I-”
I leaned forward to kiss her. “You’re the most beautiful woman in Britannia, and people talk. Forget it.”
She squeezed my hand, and changed the subject. “So Faro is connected to the mine?”
“Yes. That’s where I’ve got to go.”
“Now? But-” She thought about it and nodded her head. “You’re right. I’ll go with you.”
“You can’t. This is dangerous.”
“So is Aquae Sulis,” she said drily.
“Gwyna, it’s a hard ride, and I don’t know what I’ll find when I get there. Please-for me-stay here and see what you can find out. And take two slaves with you, wherever you go.”
“Well, Agricola seems to have an endless supply. But don’t you-don’t you want to hear the news from home first?”
She waved the tablet in her hand.
“Is it from Bilicho?”
“Yes. And Stricta.”
“Are they all right? Is Hefin all right?”
“Of course. Bilicho says Hefin needs more friends his own age-you know how important age-mates are-what is it, Ardur?”
I wiped my forehead. My head hurt. “I don’t know. Nothing, probably.” I tried to be interested. “What else did they say?”
Gwyna stared at me and smiled as if she could see through me. Which she could.
“Your mind’s not here. You can read it later. Go on and change. I’ll tell the servants to pack you some food. I want to know exactly where this mine is, and what road you’re taking.”
She committed it to memory and sent me off to the bedroom. It took her considerably longer to do whatever she was doing than it did for me to put on my leggings, boots, and traveling cloak. I told one of the slaves to pack a club and gladius on Nimbus where I could get to them in a hurry. I stuck a dagger in my belt as an extra precaution. My foot hurt from tapping on the floor when she returned with a medallion.
“Wear my necklace, and think of me. It’ll help protect you from whatever’s there.”
“I think of you constantly.”
She smiled and put it around my neck. “Go on, Ardur. It’s already the fifth hour of day. You want to get there before dark, and that’s hill country. You’ll have to go slower than you’d like.”
I bent down and kissed her gently. “I miss you already.”
She plucked at my sleeve. “Ardur-did Faro-did Faro say what made him choose-a boy?”
I raised her face to look at me. “The law of averages, my love. Faro is a fraud. He admitted it.”