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given her by her first master.”
    “A ring?” Jared repeated, hard pressed to keep the amusement from his voice.
    The young slave cast a wary look in Gideon’s direction before bobbing his head. “Yes, sir. She had been wearing it while making bread. Many loaves had she mixed and formed that day. Only when she had finished, did she discover it missing. Ife went to the oracle who told her she would find the ring baked within one of the loaves. She even described the basket in which it would be found.”
    Jared raised one brow. “You would tell me that this soothsayer can name the ones behind the thefts of my goods?”
    “It is one of many tales of the oracles’ abilities, master,” the boy answered with certainty.
    Gideon waved the slave away then contemplated Jared for a long moment. “Perhaps. . .”
    Jared scowled at his uncle. Gideon routinely denounced such pagan practices. If a prophecy didn’t come from Elijah or his counterparts, it wasn’t legitimate. “Surely you do not believe in this superstitious nonsense.” He snapped another scroll open, trying his best to ignore his uncle, who began droning on and on about asset versus loss, consequences, returning to the family business. The more he ignored Gideon, the more he talked. His head was going to split wide open.
    “Perhaps it would not hurt to consult this slave,” Elizabeth interjected. “This Coeus would most likely charge only a few sestarces . That is certainly less than what you’ve already spent trying to catch the culprits.”
    Jared’s gaze fell on an entry for the special pigments he had ordered for the mural at his villa.
    “Jared, I really think. . .” continued Gideon.
    No more. “All right, fine, I’ll visit this oracle. It’s a waste of my time and coin, but I’ll go see her.” He’d agree to anything if his uncle would just be quiet.
    Gideon smiled broadly, his pleasure obvious that Jared had seen reason. His reason. Relief washed over him as his uncle swept from the room, his entourage in tow. Elizabeth’s smile over her shoulder was filled with apology and relief as she hurried to catch up.
    Jared watched them leave, tying the scrolls together, grumbling, “Oracles, soothsayers, seers. A waste of time.”
     

Chapter Two
     
    T his cesspool was the answer to his problems?
    Hands on hips, Jared ran a skeptical eye over the crumbling stone building before him. Ruin was more like it. So this was where the famous seer slave of Coeus plied her magical powers. His mouth lifted into a smirk. How successful could she be if her abilities had not earned her master a more habitable place to conduct business?
    Follow the Heptastadion to Pharos Town, close to the Port of Pirates. Gideon’s slave had directed. How appropriate, he thought wryly. No doubt this Coeus was as adept at plundering the purse of unsuspecting fools as the pirates.
    Overhead a crow cawed drawing his attention. It swooped and glided, catching the currents of a stiff wind blowing from the sea, finally landing on the edge of the taverna’s roof where it preened and fluttered its wings. Cocking its head, it studied Jared with beady, black eyes.
    A portent, his old nurse Zeva would have said, a warning from the heavens. He shook his head. That was Zeva’s first mistake, believing in a God that sent messages through birds. The old woman was as gullible as she was superstitious. Only the gratitude he held for her, had kept him from laughing in her face when she’d agreed it was an excellent idea to seek this oracle’s advice.
    The misguided believed in such abstract notions as faith or magic. Tangibles, that’s what he believed in, the plain, simple realities of life. Those could be planned for, controlled. To think otherwise was to invite chaos, disaster and—his jaw tightened—incredible loss. That’s why he wore his mother’s medallion still—to remind him of the high cost of faith. She had believed in a God and it had cost her, her life.
    Yet, here he