Summa Elvetica: A Casuistry of the Elvish Controversy and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF Page B

use here in Amorr, but perhaps you may find it otherwise.”
    Marcus, surprised, thanked the senator warmly, but before he could even inquire as to his name, the quiet murmuring of the waiting men abruptly rose to a hail of shouted greetings as Magnus at last deigned to grace his clients with his presence.
    The great man was flanked by his three favorites as well as Lautus, his chief purser. All four slaves were carrying a quantity of velvet purses that Marcus assumed held the morning’s sportula. His uncle held up a hand, though, and the crowd fell quickly silent, although one wag in a threadbare tunic drew some chuckles when he cried out, “You’re too late, Magnus—we’re here to pay our respects to the young dominus!”
    Magnus smiled thinly, visibly unamused. He gestured at Dompor, who placed one of the red purses he was carrying into Magnus’s hand. There was a clink of coins as Magnus flicked his wrist and the importunate client just managed to catch the small bag with both hands before it struck him in the face.
    Amidst the laughter of his fellows, the man weighed the bag with an expression of surprise on his face, then he bowed deeply to Magnus as those around him realized that he’d been rewarded for his cheek instead of scorned. They cheered Magnus for his generosity.
    “It’s a pity you don’t have the wisdom to accompany your wit, Gaius Trachalas,” Magnus admonished him. “Now, do buy yourself a cloak and a new tunic. I should be extremely disappointed to hear that you managed to lose everything at the arena before nightfall.”
    “I hear and obey, dominus!”
    The crowd of clients laughed. Clearly Gaius Trachalas was not unpopular despite his poverty.
    Magnus did not allow them to greet him as was the usual custom. Instead he beckoned Marcus to join him, then as Marcus hastened to obey, he slipped a meaty arm around Marcus’s shoulders and gestured toward the center of the city as he addressed the throng.
    “Today, my friends, I ask that you do me the honor of accompanying my nephew and I to the Quadratus Albus, where the Sanctiff will be offering a public mass on behalf of an embassy to Elebrion, which departs this morning. You need not greet me now, but do join us, and one of my men shall be sure to attend to you as we walk.”
    As his clients noisily competed to be the most enthusiastic about the morning’s departure from the ordinary routine, Magnus pressed Marcus forward. The men, senators and artisans alike, parted like the waves of a black sea before a twin-hulled vessel.
    The gates were already open, and a pair of armored slaves waiting there smoothly wheeled and took their places at the front of the unruly formation, each bearing a long wooden stave for use in clearing out a path for Magnus lest the crowds around the Quadratus obstruct his way. Many of Amorr’s nobles used litters borne by six, eight, or sometimes even twelve slaves, but despite his girth, Magnus, being long accustomed to all-day marches with the legions, preferred to walk.
    “Gaius Trachalas’s gibes notwithstanding, it is you they honor today, lad.”
    “Me?” Marcus was confused. He had little to his name, and certainly nothing worth giving an already wealthy client.
    “Our house, if you prefer. I am House Valerius today, Marcus. Your father, perhaps, tomorrow. But in the weeks and years to come, it may well be the young pup who has already drawn the attention of Amorr’s mighty that shall be the dominus to whom they apply for their supper. And then, of course, they are curious.”
    “Do you know, uncle, a senator gave me a saint’s relic before you appeared. A bald man, of some years.”
    “Did he? Ah, that would be Publius Hosidius. A wise man, and quite right to be concerned for your health. That’s why I wished to speak with you now, as there will be no opportunity after the mass. Now listen to me. You’ll find a letter in your saddlebags that Lucipor wrote out. There’s more detail in it, but what