Wagers of Sin: Time Scout II Read Online Free PDF Page B

wondered, sometimes, if his friend Marcus carried memories as frightening as his own? After two weeks in Rome, he was convinced of it. After witnessing what went on casually on the streets, he deliberately asked Agnes to take him to see the slave markets. What he found there ... well, if Skeeter had harbored any shred of scruple, it was erased by the sights and sounds of that place.
    Anything he stole from any rich Roman bastard was money the wretch deserved to lose: The more, the better. For a moment, Marcus' words about him and his standing with Goldie Morran made sense. There were levels and levels of depravity. Compared to these pros, Skeeter was a saint. He watched through narrowed eyes endless parades of rich, arrogant Roman men carried through the streets in fancy sedan chairs and recalled the bitter cold winds which swept endlessly across the steppes where he'd grown to teenhood.
    He recalled, too, the glint of winter sunlight on sharp steel and the myriad ways of killing a man the people who'd raised him had taught their sons. And as he remembered, Skeeter watched wealthy Romans abuse helpless people and bitterly wished he could introduce the two groups for an intimate little get-together: Roman to Yakka Mongol, steel to steel.
    Because that would never happen in Skeeter's sight, he elected himself the Yakka Clan's sole emissary in this city of marble and misery and money. He could hardly wait to start depriving them of serious amounts of gold earned on blood, not just a purse here and there just begging to be lifted by nimble fingers. His long-awaited chance finally came the morning of their last day in Rome. The entire tour group left the inn near dawn.
    "Form up in your groups," Agnes called, echoed by other Time Tours guides and even a freelancer or two hired for guiding their employers safely to places not on the main tour, then safely back again. Since Skeeter was closest to Agnes, it was her voice he paid most attention to as they formed up in the silvery, pearl-hued morning. "We'll be taking seats together in the upper tier, which is reserve for slaves and foreigners. Be sure you have the proper coinage with you to purchase admission tickets and don't forget to collect a colored handkerchief to cheer on your favorite racing team. The gladiatorial games will begin after midday, once the racing is completed..."
    Skeeter wasn't really listening. He was planning his scheme and trying to recall Marcus' instructions. He had a pouch half full of copper coins, mostly unciae, or one-twelfth of an as, the as being a pound of copper divided into twelve "ounces" (the first coins Romans had minted, according to Agnes). They were- mixed with a few silver denarii and sestercii, plus a few gold aurii on top just to make it look good. Agnes had loaned him the silver and gold coins so he could-as he'd explained it impress local merchants that he really did have money. That way, they'd be less likely to gyp him. "Agnes, I don't want them to think I'm some provincial rube not worth wasting their time on."
    And like the sweet girl she was, she'd believed every word.
    He wondered how long she'd be able to stomach watching what Romans did to non-Romans. Two weeks was more than enough for him, even without watching the games, and he'd spent five years in the yurts of the Yakka clan.
    "Skeeter?"
    He glanced up and found Agnes smiling at him. "Yeah"
    "Ready?"
    "Am I ever!"
    Her smile was so enchanting, he kissed her, earning hoots and whistles from half the crowd. She blushed to the roots of her mouse-brown hair.
    "All right, people, let's go!"
    Skeeter followed eagerly as Agnes led the first group away from the inn Time Tours owned on the Aventine Hill and ushered her charges into the narrow, winding streets of an already crowded, noisy Rome. Games day, Skeeter identified the electric difference from the tours' previous mornings. Skeeter hung back, letting Agnes gain distance. Tourists eager for their first and for many of them,