Mary Reed - Ten for Dying

“You will allow me to accompany you,” Felix said. “I have too many valuables here to allow strangers to wander around unobserved.” It was easy enough to sound angry but putting a note of unconcern into his voice was more difficult.

Still, the house was large. The intruders might flag before covering every room or lose track of where they had looked if their host led them on a circuitous route, which he proceeded to do.

The guards showed little interest in his office, except to prod the wall hangings. They passed through the dining room with a quick glance under the table. In the garden they bent to peer beneath bushes or poked at them with their weapons. Apparently they were not looking for something small. They couldn’t be searching for the relic.

The sun had surmounted the wall of the house and now blazed down. Dew steamed away in wispy tendrils. Felix took the guards in one direction, then another. He escorted them down a side corridor to the servants’ quarters. Each room was the same, a chair, a chest, a bed, a cross on the wall, and little more. Only Nikomachos had anything approaching decoration in his space: some tattered wall hangings, a wood inlaid table with random bits of small crude statuary of the sort found at the edges of the empire, along with several rather ornate chests.

The servant stood in one corner and glared at the guards.

Blotches picked up what might have been a weathered clay frog covered with Egyptian hieroglyphs. No, Felix corrected himself. It didn’t look anything like a frog. A cat, certainly. It was only the frogs in the mausoleum that had brought the image of a frog to mind.

“All the objects you see are tokens of military campaigns I served in,” Nikomachos informed the guards stiffly. “In your line of work, you will never possess such things.” The way he sniffed as he pronounced “your line of work” made employment in the urban watch sound several steps below cleaning the public toilets.

Blotches made no reply. Felix noticed he didn’t bother to open any of the chests. Was he thinking that a body wouldn’t have fit in any of them? He must have been told there would be a body here, Felix decided.

He directed the guards back into the garden and along a roundabout path, intending to return to the atrium. As they followed Felix through the peristyle, Blotches stopped. “We’ve seen the dining room already. What about that hall?”

“Oh, yes. I’m certain there’s nothing hidden in any of the guest rooms, let alone my bedroom.”

Felix was obliged to open the doors to a series of luxurious, seldom-used rooms which he never bothered to inspect for months on end. He was half-afraid there might have been something left in one of the rooms, given he’d already found a body in his courtyard. Momentarily he considered pretending there was a valuable object missing, blame the guards, claim they’d distracted him to allow an accomplice to sneak in, create a scene. At least he’d buy himself time. But for what?

“This is your bedroom, sir?” The quaver that had been evident in Blotches’ voice upon his arrival had turned to a tone of mockery. The two youngsters leered at each other. And no wonder. The bed and its sheets resembled the site of an earthquake, the air was thick with Anastasia’s exotic perfume, her cosmetics and a big silver comb were strewn on a bedside table.

However, as they examined the wall hangings, searching to see if they concealed anything Felix found nothing comical about the scene. Because it lacked one important thing.

Anastasia!

She must have fled.

Was it surprising? Why should a woman from the palace who’d only known him a few days let herself be implicated in who-knows-what?

But she did know what. Felix had blurted everything out to her. All about the smuggling and the missing relic. He’d even stupidly told her just now about the dead man.

If she tried to leave through the back gate, as she usually did, she’d be surprised to find her way blocked by a pair of guards.

Or would she?

Who had sent the authorities after him?

What was he thinking? He didn’t suspect Anastasia, did he? After all she was…well…what was she? Except a tireless bed partner? Felix only knew she served at court.

Even if she wasn’t involved in a plot against him, what would she do when the guards blocked her way? The easiest thing would be to tell them she had been going to report a crime.

To report a dead man. A murdered man.

“We’re done here, I said. Aren’t you listening?” It was Blotches.

“Yes. I know. I hope you’re satisfied.” Felix found himself looking frantically up and down the hall as he left the bedroom, expecting more guards to appear at a run. “You’ve seen the whole house now. My servants will be in an uproar all day. I’ll accompany you back to the atrium.”

Blotches looked down the hall.

“That side passage.” He pointed his spear in the direction of the short passage to the bath. “We didn’t check there.”

“Of course you did,” Felix snapped. “That was the first place I took you. Don’t you remember? You don’t think I have time to escort you around the entire house again, do you?”

But the two guards were already striding away.

“There’s nothing there.” Felix’s voice came out in a croak. “Wait, I think the door’s locked. I’ll need to get the key.”

They rounded the corner and came to a stop in front of the closed door to the bath. As soon as they opened the door and stepped inside to where they could see down to the water level, they’d spot the floating corpse.

Blotches tested the latch and gave Felix a meaningful look. “Unlocked. You have a bad memory this morning, sir.”

Felix was certain the youngster was struggling to conceal a grin as he yanked at the latch. Out of inspiration, he could only look on in impotent horror.

As the door swung open there was a heart-stopping shriek that went on and on, echoing around the chamber behind.

The doorway was entirely blocked by Anastasia, who was entirely naked. Arms outspread, hands clutching the opposite sides of the door frame, she made no effort to cover herself but simply screamed and screamed with an effort that made her whole body quiver.

Blotches and his companion backed away in confusion, muttering apologies, faces as scarlet as a couple of abashed schoolboys.

Felix stepped forward, pushed the door shut, and as the screaming subsided turned a thunderous look on the two youths. “Well?”

Blotches licked his lips and swallowed. “Thank you for your cooperation, sir. I believe we’ve seen everything now.”

Felix shook his fist at Anastasia.

“No!” She shoved the fist away. “No more micatio!”

He shook his fist again anyway, shouted “Three!” and opened his hand extending two fingers, just in case Anastasia relented and reciprocated.

She didn’t. Instead she got up from the dining room table and stared out into the long twilight shadows creeping across the garden. “I can’t bear to play that stupid game again. Besides, unless you’re gambling on it, where’s the interest?”

“There’s the strategy. I noticed you kept showing one finger so I showed two and guessed the total would be three. I suppose you thought I was bound to guess you’d stop showing just the one eventually and-”

“I couldn’t be bothered to lift more than one finger, Felix.” She shook her hand. “My wrist is sore from micatio!”

Felix helped himself to some figs from a platter on the table. “Well, have some more to eat then. It isn’t dark enough yet.”

“I’m not hungry. After spending all that time in the bath, with that hideous thing…I may never feel like eating again.”