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own language. Apologies, begging for more information.
    Thaddeus frowned as the child babbled incoherently. “Are you cursing me, you little fool?”
    Tears filled Skaia’s blue eyes. “No understand. Please—no understand.”
    Thaddeus lay back, staring at the ceiling, as the truth occurred to him. The slave was simply speaking in his own barbaric tongue. And Castor had assumed the harsh, guttural sounds were curses. “Do not speak in your own language again. We do not understand you.”
    “ Yes, Master.”
    “ Get dressed and return to Castor.”
    The boy got up immediately, grateful for the reprieve, and pulled his tunic on quickly. As usual, he had not understood completely, but he knew to put his clothes on and thought he must go to Castor. It was enough. He could escape.
    “ Thank you, Master,” he whispered and turned to leave before Thaddeus could change his mind.
    “ Skaia,” Thaddeus called out just as the youngster got to the sitting room. “Tell Castor to send Meera to me.”
    “ Yes, Master.” Skaia did not look back, but stopped at the doorway to the antechamber and spoke again, very softly. “You wish anything else me?” Castor had told him to always ask that before leaving a room, and he had almost forgotten.
    Thaddeus smiled. And realized he did have one more question. “How did you know to ask me to let you die?”
    The boy turned to face him. He thought he understood and tried to answer. “Other slaves say at dinner. I listen them.”
    Thaddeus nodded. He had never tried to censor what his household discussed. Other Romans did, but his father had convinced him that to try would only engender unnecessary hostility. “Nothing else now,” he finally said. “Just have Meera sent to me.”
    “ Yes, Master.” Skaia hurried through the other rooms and left.
    Relaxing back quietly on the bed, Thaddeus stroked his cock almost absently as he waited for Meera. It occurred to him that he would have to seek more instruction for this boy to learn their language. Glaucus could certainly not be expected to deal with such ignorance.

    Skaia remembered the way back to the kitchen and made his way quickly, without taking time to look at the pictures again. Castor wasn’t there, but one of the older kitchen women was. “Excuse,” he said softly. “Need Castor.”
    She looked at him curiously, and pointed to a doorway. “In there.”
    Nodding, Skaia entered the room, tapping lightly on the wooden frame of the door. Castor looked up from where he sat at a small desk. “Ah, I’m glad to see you’ve returned. I didn’t think he would keep you, but one never knows.” It was obvious to him that Skaia did not understand. “Do you have something to tell me?”
    “ Master want Mera.”
    Castor canted his head. “Do you mean Meera ?”
    “ Yes, sir. I sorry. Master want Meera.”
    “ Very well. Come with me.”
    Skaia was relieved when Castor led the way down the now familiar steps to the underground cells where the slaves slept. There were not as many torches here as in the upstairs halls, but enough that doorways could be seen. Castor stopped at one Skaia did not know, unlocked its latch, then leaned in. “Meera,” he called out. “The master wants you.”
    A young woman rose from the floor and walked to the door, naked except for her collar. Skaia dropped his gaze to the floor as he felt himself flush.
    “ Now?” she asked irritably. “I already had to entertain his guests.”
    “ Of course, now . Do you want to be whipped like this child?  Brush your hair and get dressed.” Castor waited until she re-emerged and checked her over. “Drink some juice to freshen your breath, and get your ass to his room.” She huffed for just a moment before she turned to go upstairs.
    Castor looked down at Skaia. “Bedtime for you.” The boy bowed his head and followed the man down the hall. When the next door was unlocked, Skaia stepped into the familiar space and looked for his blanket. Castor