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at Zopyrion in amazement. The eunuch was beginning to moan. “Isis and the Child, what is this?”
    Anguilus swung the door closed and handed the tablet to his superior. “I think we have a problem with Zopyrion, sir,” the aide said. Calgurrio began to read the document to himself with increasing astonishment. To Perennius, Anguilus whispered, “And just who are you, good sir?” The words were polite, but there was no deference in the aide’s tone. His face was as blank as a sheet of marble and as hard.
    The agent handed over the diploma with his orders. The clerks had returned to noisy confusion as soon as the door had closed them from Calgurrio’s sight—or more probably, from Anguilus’. Using the hubbub to mask his words from everyone but the aide, Perennius said, “If he were transferred to a garrison unit in the sticks—one of the little posts in Africa out on the fringe of the desert where the Moors raid every few months. He wouldn’t be able to lie about how he split the money with his department head then.”
    Anguilus closed and returned the diploma. His eyes were as chill as steel in the winter.
    â€œMother Isis!” Calgurrio blurted. “Anguilus, did you read this? It says—”
    The aide put a hand on his superior’s shoulder. “Yes, sir,” he said with his eyes still watching Perennius, “but I think we can deal with the problem without it having to go beyond these walls.” He nodded toward the closed door and the commotion beyond it before he added, “This gentleman is Aulus Perennius, one of the Bureau’s top field agents, you may remember. We’re very fortunate that the situation was uncovered by someone of his proven discretion.” Anguilus flashed a tight rictus, not really a smile, toward the agent.
    Zopyrion moaned again. His eyes opened, though without any intellect behind them. The right pupil was fully dilated: the left was not. Anguilus glanced down at the eunuch. When he looked back at Perennius, his sour grin showed that the evidence of concussion only supported what the aide had known all along.
    â€œSure, I trust you to clean house yourselves,” Perennius said. “Maybe the next time I’m here at Headquarters, I’ll check just how it did come out.” He nodded toward Zopyrion. “Until then, be well.” The agent turned and reached for the door’s lever handle.
    â€œIt won’t happen to you again, fellow-soldier,” said Cagurrio’s aide. The Bureau’s field staff was recruited from the Army, but Perennius would not have guessed that Anguilus had the right to use that particular honorific. “Don’t worry.”
    Perennius turned again to look at the aide with his silk and his smooth hands and his eyes like a wolf’s. They came from different backgrounds but the two of them recognized each other. “I don’t worry,” the agent said. “I leave that to other people.”
    As Perennius left the office, thrusting his broad shoulders through the press of clerks, he heard Calgurrio saying plaintively, “But why did he put something like this in writing?”

CHAPTER THREE
    One of the troopers muttered in disbelief. The decurion, Ursinus, hushed the man, but Ursinus’ face showed some doubt also.
    â€œYou don’t mean here, Mother?” asked Sacrovir. He glanced toward the building they were passing on the way to what must be a brothel. The corner building had military guards, showing it had official status of some kind. That seemed a more likely resort of the “source of power” they sought than did a whorehouse, even a whorehouse in Rome.
    Julia nodded to her son like a bird bobbing its head. She wore an enveloping gray cloak, hooded and pinned shut in front. The garment was not for warmth but to hide from view the costume she wore beneath it. The seeress’ breeches and long-sleeved shirt were a