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over a group of adoring clients. He bent his head to speak to someone I could not see. I headed toward him, not caring about the sounds of disgust people made when I pushed past them.
    Pansa laughed loudly. A thick, ridiculous fake laugh. “Yes, Senator. You are right. A very astute observation about Pompeii’s endless construction.”
    Senator? I peered between the shoulders of some of the crowd and saw my uncle’s friend with the iron-colored hair and crooked shoulder—Senator Norbanus from Rome. What was he doing in Pompeii?
    If the senator’s expression of hooded disdain was any indicator, he saw right through Pansa. The aedile’s hands were empty though. He had nothing to incriminate him; he was the sort who would leave that to underlings. So I looked around for my things and spotted one of the aedile’s men holding my bag as if it had always belonged to him.
    “Senator,” I called, pushing my way into the inner circle. “How good it is to see you!”
    Norbanus stared at me a moment, then his graying brows rose. “Young Caecilius, is that you?”
    I smiled broadly which must have made me look even more gruesome—my teeth felt coated with something thick and metallic. “Indeed,” I said loudly, knowing what a sight I was.
    “What in the name of all the gods happened to you, young man? Are you all right?”
    “I’ve been robbed and beaten in your city, Aedile ,” I said, turning to Pansa. The crowd gathering around us murmured and made clucking noises of disapproval.
    “A young man of quality beaten in the streets,” the senator said, and turned to Pansa with deceptive mildness. “The citizens of Pompeii who voted you into office, Aedile , deserve better control over your domain from you.”
    Pansa’s face flushed with anger.
    “But where is your attendant?” Norbanus turned back to me. “A man of quality should not walk quarters like these unprotected.”
    “I left him with my horses while I visited Julius Polybius,” I said.
    When I swayed slightly, the senator took my arm, which made me wince a little. “You say your things were stolen?”
    Pansa’s thug looked like he was about to run but the aedile put a warning hand on his man’s shoulder. “Oh! Yes,” Pansa said, pretending to be surprised. “My esteemed friend found this abandoned bag and reported it to me,” he said. “I was going to post a notice to help find the owner.”
    “Well, it’s mine,” I said, grabbing it. The thug’s beefy arm tightened over the bag for just a moment but he let go as Pansa glared at him. “Oh, and look! This man has possession of my coin purse as well,” I said with mock surprise. “I’ll take that, too.” I put out my scraped and bloodied hand.
    Pansa’s jaw worked as he gave his man a quick nod. The man reluctantly returned my money. The senator’s cool gaze made it clear he knew exactly what had happened.
    “Our aedile is an honest man and has returned lost goods,” one of his followers cried. “The gods have chosen well in bringing our new magistrate to office.”
    There were murmurs of confusion, as well as some sporadic clapping as Pansa’s entourage quickly spread the “story” that the aedile had recovered and returned stolen goods to a distinguished visitor.
    The senator gave Pansa one last icy stare. Pansa bowed in response—managing to minutely quirk his head in such a way as to hint at disrespect—and took his leave without another word.
    Senator Norbanus led me to his waiting litter. “Come, my boy,” he said. “There is a fine villa outside the Herculaneum gate, and I know the merchant slightly. He will not grudge lending his physician to look at you.”
    “I’m fine,” I said, clutching my bag—as well as my coin purse—with both hands but I followed him into the litter anyway. Relief washed over me when I sat, followed by dizziness. And oblivion.
     
     
    I awoke to a stranger applying a leech to my cheekbone. “What are you doing?” I cried, trying to swat