The Divining by Barbara Wood Page A

had insisted that the stars showed her path aligning with his. And with each daily horoscope, there she was, still intertwined with Sebastianus's destiny. "When do our paths diverge?" he had asked in their camp outside of Lugdunum. Timonides had only shrugged and said, "The gods will let us know."
         Although he had worried that a girl on her own in a caravan might be a problem, Ulrika had turned out to be no trouble at all. She had kept to herself, quiet, reading, going for walks—always modestly draped in the palla that covered her coiled hair and bare arms. She had traveled without complaint in an enclosed box-wagon drawn by two horses, a rocky carriage ride that always elicited grumbles from passengers when they stepped out at the end of the day. But Ulrika never spoke as she sought a place at the campfire while Sebastianus's slaves erected a tent for her privacy.
         In a small way, she had even been an asset. Sebastianus had watched her heal people. A mere girl with a calming, quiet presence and a curious box filled with medicinal magic. She would listen to someone's problem and she would either say, "This is beyond my skill," or, "I can help."
         She had said that she had learned healing arts from her mother, but

Sebastianus suspected her talent went beyond a mere apprenticeship, for those she had helped declared that she had somehow known exactly what ailed them, had known even without them being able to adequately describe their ills.
         As he walked through his disordered camp, calming people down, assuring them that the soldiers would soon be gone, he squinted through the smoke and mist and saw her on the other side, standing outside her own small tent, talking to Timonides. Sebastianus was startled to see long hair flowing over her shoulders and down her back. She normally wore her tawny hair bound up in a Grecian knot and hidden beneath her veil.
         He was further startled to feel a stab of sexual desire.
         Pushing the girl from his thoughts—they were parting company tomorrow, after all—he strode through the camp bringing reassurances to his slaves and workers, and to those traveling under his protection, stopping to set hay bales aright, to soothe frazzled nerves, to restore order as he went. But his mind raced. It normally took him sixty days to reach Fort Bonna, yet he had arrived in a record forty-five. He had pushed to cover the miles, and had not conducted his usual extensive commerce in the towns and cities they had visited. By his calculations, if he could execute a swift turnaround in Colonia, he could have the caravan back in Rome in perhaps another forty-two days, with an excellent chance of beating the other four traders to the finish, which was the Imperial Palace and an audience with Emperor Claudius.
         Unfortunately, simply getting there first was not enough. Sebastianus still had to find a way to distinguish himself before the emperor. What could he take back to Rome as a gift that would set him apart from Badru, Sahir, Adon, and Gaspar, who would surely present splendid trophies to Claudius?
         As Sebastianus surveyed the camp, assessing damage and nerves, he saw two legionaries approach Ulrika's tent, where she stood her ground, tall and proud. He quickly made his way across, and as he neared, he heard her say, "There is no one in this tent."
         "Sorry, miss, but we have to see for ourselves."
         Ulrika did not budge. "I harbor no criminals."
         "Just step aside."
         She tipped her chin. "On what authority do you act?"
         "Is General Vatinius good enough for you? Now just—"
         Her clasped hands fell away. " Who did you say? General Vatinius? But he is miles from here, to the south—"
         "The commander is at Colonia, with his legions."
         Ulrika gasped. "Vatinius is here? Already?"
         Sebastianus saw the color drain from her face. Before he could speak, Ulrika surprised him by suddenly