Pile of Bones by Bailey Cunningham

“You’re cold.”
    “Yes.”
    “I thought—I mean, it looked as if—”
    “That’s never happened to me before.”
    Babieca placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
    “I think so. It said something strange to me, though.”
    “What?”
    “Don’t trust water.”
    “Does he have something against the fountains?”
    “I have no clue.”
    “Odd. Should we leave an offering of some kind? More apple skins?”
    “No. I think it’s happy with the stone.”
    Domina Pendelia looked at him with newfound interest. “I’ve met auditores before. I’ve heard them mumbling to themselves in corners, talking to spiderwebs. That was different, though. I felt something. I believed it was there.”
    “I’m no auditor, Domina. You said as much yourself. Only an eavesdropper.”
    She smiled. “Let’s go back to the atrium. I hate to talk on an empty stomach.”
    Domina Pendelia sent for food, and it arrived in vast quantities: roast boar with a fruit glaze, hot chickpeas, wild cabbage, grilled sausages, and swan pastries, which Morgan avoided because they made her uncomfortable. They drank wine from goblets with suggestive carvings; Roldan’s had a picture of two lovers being spied on through an open window. Although they’d eaten in this house before, it had always been downstairs, where the rats gathered in a hopeful circle at their lamp’s edge. This was the first time they’d actually dined with the domina herself, and it was a very different experience. She told wry jokes, asked them about their lives, even flirted cautiously with Babieca, who was more than receptive. Maybe it was Morgan’s presence, maybe she really had been impressed by his conversationwith the gnomo, but for the first time, Roldan felt that they were seeing the real domina.
    The man who’d met them at the door reappeared. He glanced at the three of them, and Roldan was surprised by the hostility in his look. Everyone knew that Anfractus ran by virtue of an insidious class engine. New arrivals had no gens to protect them, no money, no friends. They could steal to survive, but the Fur Queen was known to deal swiftly with those who encroached upon her territory. The most common solution was to labor for someone else, someone like Domina Pendelia, who needed people to stoke her hypocaust, peel her oranges, and deliver furtive tablets to her many lovers throughout the city. The jobs never paid well, but they certainly helped fend off starvation. They’d taken a chance when they left this house. If Morgan hadn’t discovered them, who knows what they would have been reduced to?
    We were in the same position,
he wanted to say.
And it’s not as if we’re flush with coin at the moment. Now she’s throwing delicacies at us, which you had to prepare, but once we leave we’ll be back on the bottom of the wheel.
    Everything was cleared away. They reclined on couches, and Roldan was grateful to be even slightly horizontal, because the wine was reaching his brain. He was aware of the scant distance between himself and Babieca, who was still—incredibly—eating candied figs. The domina had a couch to herself, and Morgan had chosen to stand, unwilling to be within less than a few feet of her bow and painted quiver. She kept her eyes on the hallway that led to the atrium, silently following the movements of the house staff.
    She’s always on the battlements,
Roldan thought.
She’s good at her job—it’s why the Gens of Sagittarii accepted her. She has focus. Unlike us.
He looked again at Babieca, who had three perfect droplets of wine on his tunica, like a bloody print.
Morgan watches. Babieca consumes. I wait. I just wish I knew what for.
    “Now that we’re comfortable,” the domina said, “I’d like to know what convinced you to come back here. I could stillreport your desertion to the aedile. Showing up at my doorstep wasn’t without risk.”
    Her mention of the aedile reminded him of last night. Why would the commander of the