Kelli Stanley - The Curse-Maker

The priest turned his cold eyes in my direction, looking at me as though everything I said were supremely unimportant.

“You’re the leaders of the town, one and all. You closed your eyes, and opened your palms, and you let it happen. In that sense, ladies and gentlemen … you’re all guilty.”

“We didn’t all kill Bibax, Favonianus.” The priest’s voice was icy. “I was under the impression that we were here to find out who did-not to be lectured like a pack of naughty schoolboys.” He looked around the room to the accompaniment of several murmurs.

My smile was enough to shut them up. “Very true, Papirius. You didn’t all kill him. One of you did. I’ll sort out the crimes for you, since some of you may not be able to count that high. One-the crimes of murder and blackmail. Committed by Bibax and an unknown partner.”

Vitellius leaned forward and licked his lips, his balding head glistening with sweat.

“Crime two. Bibax and his partner were employed by Materna-to get rid of Aufidio, and any other minor problems for the mine. Materna knew every dirty secret in Aquae Sulis and made them all that much dirtier. She used people, that’s how she got her kicks. She used Faro, who helped spread rumors about the haunted mine.

“Dewi was probably a test case. She suspected how it worked but wanted to make sure. So she cursed the boy, and when Bibax tried to blackmail her, he finally found something more foul and rotten than himself. Materna was a hulking mass of envy and hate. Power was her desire, and cruelty was her lover, and Aquae Sulis gave her both. For a time.”

I stared at Secundus. “I don’t think there’s a person in this room who isn’t glad she’s dead.”

He held his daughter and looked through the wall. I wondered what he saw.

“Materna was at the crux of every crime in this city-until Ultor. He’s crime three. Somebody killed Bibax. Was it his partner? Or someone else? Someone they were blackmailing, perhaps?”

My eyes lingered on Sestius. His mouth was open, froth on his lips.

“I was asked to solve Bibax’s murder, and do it in a hurry. Then Calpurnius was killed. He tried to join the murder team, the oldest business in the world. Still killed by Ultor -still crime three.

“Faro was next. Materna ordered him murdered. Seems her cock wouldn’t crow for her. She ate him instead.”

Secunda began to make noise. Her father hushed her, held her tight. She struggled. It was too late for that.

“The person who helped her was Bibax’s old partner. Remember him? Doomed to be used, to be blackmailed?

“She tried to frame me for Faro’s murder, stupidly, in a hurry. Then the mine pulled out, and we were next on the murder list. My wife and I. Instead of killing us, though, Bibax’s partner decided to get rid of Materna. To free himself. From a long history of bowing and scraping, always playing the master but living the life of a slave. First to Bibax, then to Materna, but always-always to … Papirius.”

I looked at him. “Isn’t that right, Octavio?” I asked. My voice was gentle.

Prunella needed a drink. Badly. Her hands shook as she held on to his arm. “What-what does he mean?”

“You needed money. You’re a gambler. It’s a disease with you, and it’s eaten away your life like a leper’s face. You sold land to Philo-for cheap, because you needed the money. But he won’t buy more. The mine’s gone. You were an orderly and knew enough about medicine and drugs to help Bibax. Above all, you had access. Access to the baths.”

He took a step toward me, but Ligur and Draco blocked his way. He looked from side to side, trapped.

“You could blackmail people here. Leave notes. Listen to conversations while you scurried through the walls like a rat. I don’t know what Bibax remembered about you-maybe you embezzled some money, maybe you murdered a man-but he used you, didn’t he? Used you to murder.”

Prunella collapsed in a heap on the floor, crying and hanging on to his legs. He stared at me, looking straight ahead. Papirius drew away from him.

I said softly: “You killed them all, Octavio. You and your greed, your hate, your desire for power. Materna recognized it. She smelled it, rooted it out. She used it-and you-like everybody did. So you killed her.”

Ligur and Draco stepped behind and around Prunella and held his arms. Papirius looked at me. I nodded. He motioned with his hand, and slaves appeared from the other room. They took Octavio from my men. Still he said nothing.

“Arcturus-Arcturus-are you sure…” Philo sounded worried.

“Yeah, Philo. I’m sure.”

Papirius led Octavio away. Prunella screamed, throwing herself in front of them, and Draco helped pick her up. We all watched as if it were a play. Which, in a sense, it was.

Footsteps echoed on the stone, and we could hear the creak of the big door shut behind them. Voices erupted, and some-like Grattius and Sestius-took the opportunity to drift away.

Secundus and Secunda sniped and quarreled, voices filled with bitterness. They finally left, the daughter casting one more baleful look over her shoulder at me, before she gathered her mantle around her and glided out of the room.

It was about the sixth hour of night. The warm human bodies left the bath, and cold took their place, curling up against the yellow stone. I listened again to the lap of the water.

Sulpicia and Vitellius walked ahead slowly. Drusius kept behind them, sulking. As they crossed the opening-the window where she’d thrown her bracelet-she looked up. Her voice rose, panic in it, filling the room.

“What-what’s that-do you see it, Vitellius? That white thing…”

Drusius and Philo rushed to the window. The figure of a woman hovered over the spring. As white and cold as a good death. The mouth opened, and a sound came out.

“Philo … Philo…”

His hand crept up to his face. “Oh-my-God-”

“Philo-why? Why did you-did you make me-”

Tears welled and ran down his fine-boned face. He leaned as far as he could through the window, the others backing away. Stretched his long, dexterous fingers toward the vision.

“It was for you, Fulviana-the temple-don’t you see-it was for you-”

His back arched suddenly, as stiff as if he were already dead. He turned around, light burning behind his eyes.

“You see her-don’t you? You see her, Arcturus? You understand. The temple. I could make it up to her. I-I waited, all these years, until I could start over, and I found Aquae Sulis, and I was happy. Until … until Bibax came.”

He turned his head to look again, to make sure she was still there. She said nothing to him, but her gown was still billowing on the wind. A gust blew in from the spring where she hovered, floating.

He looked again at me, excitement contorting his face. “But I found a way to make it better. He remembered me-from Hispania. But the money-I could get money, and build the temple-for her. I only agreed on sick people. Or old people. The boy-he was better off. And I could build it, Arcturus, and she would come to me-and she has-don’t you see? Don’t you understand?”

He turned back to the vision, but it wasn’t there anymore. He swung his head in a panic.

“I understand, Philo.”

“But where is she-she isn’t there-where…”

Then the horror of it hit him, and hit him hard enough to make him crumple, and his long, lean body folded like a lady’s fan. There was nothing left in Philo. The delusion, the hope, the guilt, the love, the hate. All gone.

Papirius came out of one of the other rooms with Octavio. They looked at him. He was still kneeling on the floor.

He raised his face to mine. “Where’s Gwyna?” He asked it with tenderness.