Search the Seven Hills by Barbara Hambly Page A

shock, the trust and understanding between the young slave and the ancient master. “Will you stay, sir?”
    “If you don’t object, Marcus Silanus,” said the old man. Marcus quickly shook his head. Sixtus moved back to his chair, steadying himself on the edge of the table, and Marcus saw then that he was lame. “Now, how can my wild Briton be of help to you?”
    “The men we’re looking for are Christians,” began Marcus, looking from that haughty old man to the slave who sat at his side, proud and forbidding as a black hawk on his master’s fist. “The centurion Arrius—the centurion of the Praetorian Guard who’s in charge of finding the men who did it—believes they had a confederate in the household. He says the ambush couldn’t have been planned any other way.”
    “Oh, it could have,” remarked Sixtus. “But I’ll admit that having a confederate in the household would be one of the easier ways of doing it, particularly if it is a large household.”
    “Not overly large,” said Marcus. “Fifty or sixty slaves, I think. But I wondered if Churaldin had heard anything, any rumor, about one or more of them being Christians?” He turned to look at Churaldin and was surprised at the anger that flushed that dark angular face.
    “You’re asking me, in effect, to turn informer,” said the slave, his voice harsh for all the quietness of his speech. “In spite of the fact that, as a citizen, you must know there’s only one way they have of examining slaves.”
    Marcus felt his cheeks scald. “Well—I mean—that wasn’t exactly what I meant—”
    “It was what you said,” he lashed at him. “What if one of them happens to be a Christian who knows nothing about it?”
    “But in any case,” cut in Sixtus smoothly over the slave’s anger, “even if you did know anything, Churaldin, it would probably be better to let the authorities know than to have the Praetorian Guard embark upon a general hunt. But the question is academic, I believe. Had Churaldin been aware of any Christians in any of the households upon the Quirinal Hill, he would have told me. When you are a crippled old recluse such as I, it pays to know your surroundings.”
    Churaldin was still regarding him with a smoldering resentment, and Marcus was philosopher enough to know that although no Roman citizen is ever obliged to apologize to a slave, he owed this man an apology.
    “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I really didn’t mean...”
    “Oh, I think you did,” said Sixtus, in a tone of great kindness. “Or at least, I don’t believe you thought much about what you meant. And it all comes under the heading of civic duty anyway.” He turned the amulet over in his blunt fingers, and experimentally nicked the soft silver of the tail with his fingernail. “And Churaldin, for all his other faults, isn’t one to screen criminals of that nature.”
    At the mention of his other faults, the Briton looked up quickly, his eyes meeting his master’s in a flash of amused connivance, less master and slave than father and adopted son. But he only murmured, “No, sir,” in a humble voice, and turning to Marcus he said, “I shouldn’t have lost my temper. You’ve probably never witnessed a judicial examination in your life.”
    “I’m far more certain,” continued the old man, to cover Marcus’ confusion, “that information could be gleaned from the chain that this hung on. It’s pure silver, you see. An expensive trinket for a slave.”
    Marcus shook his head. “There was no chain found, sir.”
    “Indeed?” One white eyebrow went up. “Interesting.” He turned the amulet over in his fingers again and angled it to the light. “But what is far more interesting is why the Christians would put themselves to the trouble of kidnapping the sixteen-year-old daughter of so formidable a father in the first place.”
    Marcus swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. “Sacrifice.”
    The blue eyes looked into his, kind but