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'No arguments there, Agrippa.' I scooped up a palmful of water, rinsed the bird-shit from my mouth and eyes and took a few more deep breaths. Things were starting to look a bit better. Meaning the hills weren't jumping around so much any more. 'Okay. So let's go.'

He led the way up a goat-track along the edge of the cove and into the scrub beyond. The ground began to rise steeply.

'You're telling me these two guys — Polybus and Phrixus — carried the treasure all this way?' I was gasping already; the aftereffects of the sea- sickness.

'Obviously.'

'That amount of bullion would've weighed a ton. Literally.'

'I told you.' Smaragdus hadn't broken stride. 'They had help, and they did it in stages. Besides, they had to. The caves in Thieves' Cove were used by smugglers. Choosing one of them would have been too risky.'

That made sense. All the same, I wouldn't've liked to do it myself even at my best. It couldn't have been easy. Some places even a goat would've had problems.

And speaking of goats…

I was beginning to notice certain things; like the marks on exposed parts of the path. Goats might have feet, but even the Greek variety didn't wear hobnailed sandals.

'Hey, Smaragdus,' I said.

He turned back. 'Yes?'

'I thought we were out in the sticks here. This path used much?'

'Not that I know of. We're a long way from the road.'

'Yeah. Yeah, that's what I thought.' I was getting a bad feeling about this: the marks looked recent.

'We're almost there now.' Smaragdus nodded towards a small cliff. 'That's the place up ahead.'

I looked. Gods. If that was Polybus's hidey-hole I wasn't surprised it had stayed lost for so long. The 'cave' wasn't so much a cave as a wide split at the base of the cliff, screened by bushes and half-buried in rubble; the remains of the rock fall Smaragdus had mentioned, no doubt. Before that had been cleared away the place wouldn't have merited a second glance.

Smaragdus produced a lamp and a tinder-box from the satchel he was carrying.

'It doesn't go all that far back,' he said, 'but it's much deeper than it looks. We'll need light.'

'Fine.' While he got the lamp going I examined the ground in front of the entrance. There were more sandal prints and a deep dent. A very deep dent, like something heavy had rested there…

Smaragdus held out the lamp. 'After you, Corvinus.'

'You're the host, pal. You go ahead.'

We clambered over the tumble of rocks and into the cleft itself. There was more room inside once we'd passed the entrance; plenty of room.

Too much room, in fact.

Polybus's cave was bare. As in 'empty'. Yeah, well, I couldn't say I was exactly surprised. And it had all been a little too good to be true. Sure, Smaragdus hadn't been spinning me a yarn: there'd been something here all right, that was obvious, something heavy that had left deep-scored rowels in the earth of the cave floor where it had been dragged towards the entrance.

Smaragdus's mouth was hanging open like someone had cut the cords.

'It was here!' he said. 'I swear it was!'

'Okay.' I sighed. 'I believe you. But it's gone now and there's nothing we can do about it. Let's get into the open air.'

We clambered out.

'Corvinus, I swear to you…' Smaragdus was still looking like someone had slugged him with a blackjack.

'Yeah, I know.' I pointed to the dent in the ground and the sandal prints. 'You can see the marks where they pulled it out and took it down to the cove.' Jupiter! The thing must've weighed a ton! But then how heavy is a four-and-a-half feet high solid gold statue?

'But who did it? No one else knew, only me and Argaius.'

I hesitated. 'This Eutyches guy. You brought him here?'

'No. No, I've never met him. Nor had Argaius, as far as I know.'

'How about Argaius himself? Would he have moved the Baker for any reason?'

Smaragdus was still in shock. 'No. It was safe enough here. And he couldn't have done it alone, anyway.'

True enough; even as an outside chance it was unlikely. Besides, the answer was obvious. I thought of the smashed-up doll with the gashed throat on Callippus's table. You don't kill the golden goose until it's laid its egg, and a severed throat is pretty final in anyone's book. Whoever had killed Argaius already had what he wanted.

There was only one candidate, too.

'So,' I said. 'This Eutyches. What exactly do you know about him?'

'Nothing.' Smaragdus raised his head. The guy looked sick. 'I swear, nothing, only the name. Argaius handled the business side on his own. That's how the partnership worked'

'What about that final meeting? In Mounychia?'

'He told me about it, certainly, but I wasn't involved. It didn't need both of us. And like I said I left the business arrangements to him. He was better at them than I was'

'Uh-huh.' Not good enough, though, that much was obvious. Well, like I'd said there was nothing to be done about it now: the bastard already had his statue and I might as well go home and take up embroidery. 'You want to report this to the Watch?'

'There isn't much point, is there?'

That came out bitter as hell. Yeah, well, the guy was right. Callippus would go through the motions, sure, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do. Or, considering the circumstances, even want to do. I said nothing.

'I'm sorry about this, Corvinus. Really sorry.'

'That makes two of us, pal. Three, counting Priscus.' The old guy would take it hard; when he'd written that letter he'd thought the deal was in the bag. Mother would be pretty peeved as well. I'd write to them tonight.

'You don't want to change your mind? About going back in the "Alcyone"?' Smaragdus tried a grin. The effect was ghastly.

'No.' In my present mood that would've put the lid on. 'No, I'll walk. Lysias will be waiting. Thanks all the same.'

'Fine.'

He hadn't moved, and he still looked grey as death; but there was nothing I could do for him, not now. I gave a half-hearted wave and started off up the hill in the direction of town.

10

When I got to the Aphrodisian Gate there was still no sign of Lysias with the carriage. Bugger. The end to a perfect day. I parked myself outside a handy cookshop with a good view of the gate and ordered up a jug of Chian. After walking across what felt like half of rural Attica I could've murdered a plate of bean stew to go with it, but I took one look at the waiter leaning against the door jamb and digging the wax from his ears with the blunt end of a snail-spoon and decided to forego the pleasure. Pissed off and starving I might be, but I wasn't that desperate.

Besides, I think best on an empty stomach and a full wine jug. Food's a distraction.

So. What had we got here? What had happened was clear enough: Eutyches, whoever he was, had suckered Argaius into a bogus meeting on Mounychia, bundled him up, taken him somewhere quiet and persuaded him with the help of Prince Charming and a crowbar to reveal the whereabouts of the Baker. Having got the information he wanted he'd slit the guy's throat, dumped him at the Founders' and raided the honey-pot, leaving me sitting on my hands and looking like ten different kinds of fool just when I'd been congratulating myself on tracking down Argaius's partner…

Yeah. Smart work, right? The question was, what was I going to do now? I couldn't give up; no way. Sure, I'd lost the statue, but I still had a lead or two, and now I had a personal axe to grind. No one likes to be made a mug of, and just the thought of the sneer on Prince Charming's face had me reaching for the razor. When I did find Eutyches — and find him I would — the guy was catfood.

Okay. So let's start from the other end and think with my brain instead of my backside this time. Just what did I know about Eutyches? Sure, the name was common enough to fit a good slice of the City population, but I could narrow the field a lot more because my Eutyches would have to satisfy certain criteria. First of all, he needed to be, if not rich, at least pretty well-heeled: to hook Argaius and establish his street cred he'd've needed to put up a show of wealth at least, and hired help like Prince Charming, plus the tame muscle he'd need to shift the Baker, wouldn't come cheap. Slaves, plural, cost money, even if they are just bullion-shifters. And freemen who had to be squared would rate even higher.