Sharpie

How much does he know about where we are from? Azarion's question was obvious from his glance and raised eyebrow. "Some. He knows we're Sarmatian," Jason replied quietly. "He likes to know things, but mostly knows them from books." Cynane didn't look all that comfortable, which was perfectly understandable; this was not her ritual and probably Tiberius' presence was putting her on edge. It was the sort of time to tell stories, if he could think of anything at all to begin to tell. Something would come, eventually, he was sure of it. For the moment, though, he just shifted his position a little and breathed in the sweet smoke that rose from the brazier. @Atrice @Chevi @Sarah

Azarion looked blank, the girl (woman!) Didia looked... inscrutable, everyone else looked stunned, surprised and then had that look of 'oh, it was obvious' that people had after they were shown how the trick was done. He returned the girl's grin with one of his own. "Well, it's a possibility, but it might not be the only one - but it's somewhere to start," he said, and caught Azarion's gesture of confusion. "You've lived among Romans for eight years... a barber is what they call the man who comes to shave them," he told him quietly. Their own people had no real need of such a thing, although they kept their own beards and moustaches neatly trimmed. It wasn't the same, and any facial hair made Romans think someone was a barbarian. Except Jason was sure the Greeks had beards and the Romans didn't think they were barbarians, so obviously they just wanted to confuse people. Some of us are slaves, he thought. Not so easy for us to go around asking questions, either. Though he was allowed to go and visit Azarion when Tiberius didn't need him - which was actually quite a lot of freedom because he took his duties as a senator seriously, which meant that he attended pretty much every Senate meeting and slaves weren't allowed in the Curia. He could look and ask questions - if he was careful about it. They all had to be careful about it. "If none of us knew anything about anyone else - except perhaps you, Alexius - then perhaps there are others looking, too," he said. How to find any other victims or investigators, though? There was a question for the gods! @Chevi @Sara @Atrice

Well, the woman Didia didn't seem to be in a good mood, judging by the way she'd folded her arms and was glaring at everybody. "I pulled a knife on his balls..." Jason's eyes widened. "I like her," he told Azarion quietly in Sarmatian. "He has knives - and can carry them around Rome without attracting attention. And they're well-kept and sharp. And has lemon-scented oil - he carries that, he doesn't use it himself, if he dropped a pot of it," he said, thinking aloud. "He said he has a shop - though he probably isn't called Gaius. Half the men in Rome are called Gaius, it's a name someone would choose if they didn't want to give their real name away." It was a stupid name too, like most Roman names were. "He has a shop, he has knives, he has scented oil..." He tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. "He deals with wealthy people - the areas he goes to to hurt people are places he'd stand out if he was rich." Like Lucius stood out among this motley crew despite his clothing, just by his bearing and accent. What sort of person would have dealings with someone like Jason's master, and would be able to carry all that? "He's a hairdresser or barber or something like it," he said, thoughtfully. Maybe he was riding the wrong horse - maybe he was in the wrong place entirely - but it sounded plausible. Far more plausible the more he considered it. @Chevi @Sara @Atrice

"Is she Sarmatian?" Jason whispered quietly to Azarion in their own tongue, amused, before speaking a little louder in accented Latin, "He didn't want to fight, Azarion confronted him and he just wanted to get away. So he's a coward." He shrugged, looking around the ragtag group. "I'm guessing that nobody knew about anyone else who'd been attacked by him, because if he got you over a year ago, when he killed Safinia, and nobody's been able to figure out who it is, it means he goes for people who don't know him - and it sounds like he attacks in different areas of the city, too. It's not surprising he hasn't been caught yet." Apart from being here to translate for Azarion, he wasn't entirely sure what connection he had to any of this and sighed, shutting up again and looking back to the patrician vigile. @Chevi @Sara @Atrice

Jason found himself almost squashed into a corner; he was pretty much the shortest person in the room, Azarion and a girl he didn't know being the only exceptions (and she was probably fractionally taller than him anyway). To be fair, he didn't know most of the people here, Azarion being the only person he had met before. Six people, two of them slaves without the freedom of movement the others had - and they were going to find one man in a city of who knew how many people! This was the problem with cities and towns - too many people who didn't know one another, crowded into far too small a space. Of course it let people like this roam around, hurting innocents. Six people present, for six victims. Well, five and one twice - and she'd lived. Azarion was the only one who was on both of those lists - unless the unknown girl who was present had been a victim, too. Which might help, if they had two people who could describe him. He just hoped that whoever was asking questions would be able to phrase them in a way that Azarion could answer and he could translate. @Sara @Atrice @Chevi

To L Vipsanius Roscius, from M Eppius Parthenicus (Dominus Factionis Albus) Greeting I understand that you are looking into the attack that killed Lucia Safinia, a member of the White faction. I pray that Ahura Mazda grant you more success than he did to the centurion of the cohort responsible for Regio XI. The murder took place in October on a dark night outside the stable, in an alley that leads to the side door used by the faction's workers and slaves. The girl was discovered by Azarion, one of the charioteers, whose services you have requested. She had suffered three distinct injuries, one to her upper back by the shoulders, one to her side and a third (presumably the one that killed her) to her throat. I know this, for I saw it myself. It being dark, and an ill-lit alley, and no witnesses being present, there were no clues left as to the perpetrator, so we can only presume that it was the same man who later injured Azarion in the same spot. Despite appearances and a sarcastic tendency, Azarion is quite astute, but you should limit your questions to him to one at a time with answers that may be easily gleaned from his motions. The gods be with you in your ventures and should you find the man who has done this, I will testify as to what I know Eppius Parthenicus

"This cousin of yours… is his name Azarion?” "Yes, sir." Jason shrugged. "Ovinia Camilla said she thought he had blue eyes, and he had his knives in a bag under the cloak. And... Azarion suggested that this..." he swallowed the coarse expression he'd been about to use; he was speaking of a citizen to citizens, they wouldn't appreciate it. "...has come back once to somewhere he attacked someone - and killed her. He might go back to some of the other places?" He shut up then, he had nothing else to say and citizens preferred their slaves silent and invisible unless directly addressed. The patrician certainly would; he hadn't got the measure of the tall man yet, except to note the presence of a wooden sword in his belt, which meant he'd been a gladiator. Probably he was the other man's bodyguard or something - gods knew he'd need one, if he came across this sick bastard they were looking for. He unconsciously flexed his fingers. He'd give anything for a bow so he could fill the bastard full of arrows and let him bleed out like he'd left Azarion's friend and the lady Ovinia to do. "Azarion's only young," he said. "He might not have been meant to be attacked, it was right by the stables, near the slaves' entrance, in an alley there." It had to have been a coincidence that he'd gone for Azarion. And... they were going to include him in this? Which made sense, in a way; they'd need him to interpret the trade signs as Azarion's master had needed. "We need a time and a place to all sit down together. This is... bigger than we thought. Ovinia, twice. The girl who got killed, and Azarion too. The girl at the brothel... and Alexius' friend. And that is just the ones we know of." He counted silently on his fingers as the patrician listed the people he knew of. Six. Well, five and one twice... This was big, and horrible, and he couldn't help agreeing that he had to be stopped. But how? @Atrice @Chevi

They could sit, they were free men and citizens (or something like it). Jason was not, irksome though it was. He let out a long breath at the reassurance, letting the tension and worry bleed away; he'd been sure they were here to arrest him (or confiscate him or something). "I never mentioned her name," he said. He'd barely had a chance to mention the attack at all - he'd been out on his own when he found her, and then he'd been practically sent out the next day, when he'd met up with Cinnia and Azarion and then his master had bumbled along and joined them - the hemp had been really good, though he was definitely hungry now, and his mouth felt dry. "My cousin," he said, and took a breath. "That was..." He looked up to the corner of the room, calculating. "A month and a half ago, two months ago, something like that." He sounded half incoherent and took another breath, looking between the two visitors. "My cousin is a charioteer for the Whites. As best as I know, he came across a man outside their stable and there was... some sort of run-in or something, I don't know, and my cousin got his arm cut." He gave them an apologetic shrug. "I only found out the next day because the, uh, leader sent for me - my cousin can't talk, they needed someone to translate his signs. They wanted a description." Not that it would mean anything, Azarion was only a slave and wouldn't be limited to light duties for too long. "As best I got was that the man who'd done it was taller than me - maybe about your height, sir," he said, looking at the shorter and more patrician-sounding of the two. "Dark hair and wearing a dark green knee-length cloak." He shrugged. "That's all I know, sir." @Atrice @Chevi

It was Attis' turn to choke on his food. The name Cleopatra coming so soon after his thought and Aius' mention of Julius Caesar had automatically made him think of the Cleopatra who'd smuggled herself into see said general, rolled up in a mat, and then gone off with Marcus Antonius and committed suicide when they'd lost the Battle of Actium. A moment's thought made him realise the camp woman couldn't be the same Cleopatra, of course, but it had been a jarring and interesting mental image, the Egyptian queen stuck in the middle of the British mists. "Somewhere warm. Probably most places are warmer than this, Jupiter knows why my master like the place enough to have come back - this is his second term out here. Second or third, something like that." If there was anything that could prove his master was mad, it was coming back out here voluntarily after being out here once. Attis would prefer anywhere warmer. "Riches and a warmer climate... I'll have to try to persuade my master he wants to try for somewhere out past Egypt next, then. Though I suppose the natives there are just as dangerous as the Britons here." @Chevi

"I'm glad you don't think I'm forcing you," Tiranes said dryly. "I was worried for a moment there..." He rolled his eyes and turned to the other man, who definitely didn't look Roman but looked far more at home here than Azarion did. "He's my cousin, it's his first time here and he's worried you might think I, uh, bullied him into coming here." He held his hands out to Azarion, palm up. There. "Do you want a massage?" he asked, thinking that might be a step too far for his cousin who was only just starting to relax as it was. He thought Azarion might startle like a frightened deer if pushed too far too soon, though he wouldn't say no to a massage himself; his shoulders felt somewhat tight. @Atrice @Chevi

"I haven't done anything," he said. Why it took two of them was beyond him - they were both taller than him, though the taller one hung back a bit. The shorter one, in the uniform of the vigiles, had a patrician accent not too dissimilar to Tiberius' - speaking of Tiberius, they couldn't do anything to Jason without his permission. It wasn't much protection, but it was at least something. Somewhere private - as though a slave had free run of the palace and its various rooms and corridors for his own use. As it was, he did know somewhere they could talk - if they didn't mind using the service corridors and slave entrances to get there. They would both have to duck some of the low lintels, but he wasn't about to lead them through the family part of the Domus Augustorum. If it was anything serious, going via the service corridors would at least let him tell a fellow slave to alert Tiberius as to where they were, which ended up being a private room open to one of the palace's gardens on one side. There were seats, if they wanted to sit. He'd stand, either way - he knew his place here in Rome. @Atrice @Chevi

It was still Saturnalia. Mercifully; Jason wasn't at all sure he could perform at his usual level today. Azarion had been right, it had indeed been the good stuff that they'd had yesterday, but he was feeling the after-effects of it now. He was brought back to almost sobriety when a fellow slave came to tell his master that a couple of men were asking to see him, and one of them seemed to be from the Vigiles. He couldn't think what he might have done - anyway, he hadn't had much of a chance to do anything, especially not anything that would come to the attention of the Vigiles. It wasn't as if smoking hemp was against the law; besides which, they'd had Tiberius with them for at least part of the time. He grabbed a handful of almonds (he was hungry and could always have them later; if he didn't get them now they'd all be gone when he came back, judging by the way the level in the dish had drastically gone down since they'd been brought in) before straightening his tunic and heading to the anteroom where the two men had been stashed. "My master is rather busy right now, but if you let me know what it's about, I'll make sure he gets the message," he said, because surely it was Tiberius they wanted? @Atrice @Chevi

"Have I ever done this before?" he said out loud, translating his cousin's signs. "Once or twice. Oh!" The exclamation was because it just looked like.... well, like home in a way nothing had quite looked like home in eight years. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough, for now. He found a spot and lounged back, feeling far more like Tiranês than he had felt in a long time. It was nice and cosy and so very homey. "Find a place," he said to the others - Cinnia and Tiberius probably wouldn't know what to do so he arranged himself a bit better, tucking a pillow under his elbow. Tiberius, at least, was used to reclining for meals and the like, so he'd settle down quickly. He could only imagine the barrage of questions he'd likely get in the next few weeks or so, but that would be a small price to pay. Tiberius' questions weren't the worst in the world, either. And somewhere he heard a horse whinny. If he closed his eyes, he could be back home. @Atrice @Sarah @Chevi

"Well, I'm standing here, which hardly suggests I'm feeling... polite, does it?" Marcus said with a smile. Her room (if it was hers and not just a room she used) was very well appointed, which suggested that she was one of the favoured whores of this brothel, one that men pressed gifts upon in an effort to have her remain solely theirs. Marcus had absolutely no illusion that she would whisper sweet nothings into his ear, and those same honeyed words and promises into the ear of the next man to walk through this door. Men were so self-deceiving, after all. "Fine wine, fine conversation... fine women. And you are a very fine woman," he said, and raised his cup towards her in a toast. @Sara

Marcus glanced around the room and lifted an eyebrow. "Could you call this polite company, though?" he asked. "But why don't we adjourn to your room and you can tell me. Or maybe you'd rather show me?" She was very good at her job, Marcus allowed. And a much better musician than the girl on the double pipes, who was ever-so-slightly off-key (and a lot more off-key on the top notes!) He wondered what other skills she might have - he could afford to spend the time finding out, and indicated with his cup that she should lead the way to her room, which would be hopefully a great deal more private than here. @Sara

"It's a Sarmatian thing, I don't know the Latin word," Jason said. "Hemp. You breathe the smoke, it's very relaxing." Yeah, that didn't do it justice at all! It was perfectly clear that Cinnia didn't want Tiberius to join them, but he felt responsible for the Imperial, partly because he was older than the prince. He would understand it if Tiberius thought it too barbarian to want to try, but they were three barbarians together and he knew two of them. Though the Tiberius he knew was a scholar, always wanting to learn. It would be an experience for him if he did come along with them. @Chevi@Atrices@Sara@Sarah

Do I look like I know all about this? "No, you look like you need to know about all this - you've been here eight years, after all. People think it's relaxing and Tabiti knows you need something nice in your life." The only spaces left in the tepidarium were near the man who'd come in with them. Wonderful. "I like it because... Well, it's a nice experience and very refreshing - you'll see." They probably shouldn't talk in Sarmatian while they were here, but that was a small price to pay to see Azarion begin to unwind. If he even could; he was wound so tight that Tiranes would be honestly surprised if he could relax. @Chevi

"Do you honestly not know about all this?" Tiranes asked, slightly astounded that his cousin had managed to live among the Romans for eight years and not learn how they bathed, with the sweating and the hot water and the scraping down and all. "You can have a towel, if it'll make you feel a bit better." It probably wouldn't because the problem was more likely the scarring and all (bastard Romans! Tiranes would like to treat them the way they'd treated Azarion!) rather than the outright nudity. He led his cousin through to the tepidarium. "The water comes at the end - trust me, all right? You'll like it, if you relax a bit." If he even could! @Chevi @Atrice

Tiranes shook his head in disbelief. So. Either the three of them were going to join his master at one of his high-class parties (as if he didn't attend enough of those during his life as it was!) ...or Tiberius was going to join them and find himself doing gods-knew-what. Getting high, apparently. "Hemp?" he said quietly into Azarion's ear in their own tongue. How did Azarion get his hands on hemp - and the good stuff? Let alone enough for... well, probably for four. "Don't kill me," he said quietly, including Cinnia this time, and then, addressing Tiberius, "Or you could come with us...?" Actually, seeing Tiberius high would be rather interesting... @Sarah @Chevi @Atrice

It wasn't strictly true that Jason didn't care what had happened to his cousin, it was more that he couldn't do anything about it and his cousin was still Azarion despite it all. At least it looked as if Azarion was starting to join in with them now, which was something. "Are everything... alright?" "Yes, I think so, thank you," he said, giving Azarion an equally speaking look. I don't know, I thought he was one of your friends! He didn't want to push the other man out but he wasn't sure he wanted to include him, either. Awkward wasn't the word! @Atrice @Chevi

Azarion seemed rather reticent about undressing, and Tiranes sighed. If the marks and brand on his arm were any indication of what might lie under his tunic, he could understand why - though it wasn't as if Tiranes didn't have scars of his own. He had been as wild as any Sarmatian in the early days after his capture (well, kidnapping or whatever it was when hostages were enslaved), though he'd also been suffering shock and despair over Azarion's presumed death. Coupled with the nightmares he'd had every night, he'd probably broken rather fast - but he'd suffered more than one whipping on the way. He just didn't have any scars that showed when he had his tunic on. He shrugged and pulled his own tunic off. His past didn't seem to bother his master - well, his recent past since his capture; Tiberius had only recently enquired any further into his history. He spoke quietly to his cousin in their own tongue. "I don't care what it looks like under your tunic, you're still you, and the Romans are still bastards." @Atrice @Chevi

Bed was a good idea, but he wasn't about to move there just yet. "I have not," he said. "My loss, apparently." She was a professional flatterer, of course, but all men liked to have their egos stroked and Marcus was no different. "I daresay you are very sensible; there have been serious fights between supporters of one colour and supporters of another." The Whites' biggest rival was the Green faction which wasn't to say there hadn't been fights between Whites and Reds, or Whites and Blues or any other permutation of the four major factions. He thought he knew the party she referred to - it was one of the first times he'd let Azarion attend such a thing, although under the supervision of one of the more senior and more experienced charioteers. "Dare I ask what you do spend your days doing, then?" he asked, his free hand coming to rest on her thigh (just in case she didn't think he knew what to do with a woman!) "You can't possibly spend the whole day practising on your cithara, after all." @Sara

"A very good Saturnalia, thank you," Marcus said with an answering smile. He gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I work for one of the racing factions," he told her. He did, he just wasn't about to say he ran one - and he'd chosen a blue tunic today, for this visit. He didn't have to always wear his own faction's colour, although he frequently did especially when on official business for the faction, on occasions when his equite's tunic and toga with the narrow purple angusticlavia stripes would be too formal. He was not going to bet that he was the first man from a chariot faction to grace the Venus, but thought that her clientèle would tend more towards Senators and rich merchants. He noted the practised way she allowed the strap of her dress to slip even further down her arm - oh, she was good at this, there was no doubt of that! "Have you ever been to the races?" Probably not, but it was a topic of conversation at least. @Sara

"Will you take a cup of wine with me?" "I will." If he was going to spend good money here (and he was, this place was not cheap!) then he wanted more than mere sex. Some sort of conversation would be nice, and conversation of any sort was better with wine. "Vibia," he said. It was a pretty name for a pretty woman - well, her face was, and the silk she wore hinted that the rest of her was, too. Alluring, hiding as much as it showed. Whoever chose that garment for her had taste, at least. He was sure that the narrow strap that was sliding off her shoulder was by design rather than by accident, although he didn't mind. It was artless enough in hinting at what lay beneath. A deliberate tease. "My name is Marcus," he told her, accepting one of the cups of wine and seating himself next to her, where he could smell her perfume - like everything else, it was tasteful rather than being overpowering and cloying, designed to allure and draw him in. The Venus was worth the coin it charged, at least. @Sara

"I'd like to see you try," Tiranês said with an answering grin. "If you do, I'll just pinch yours to replace them." He leaned forwards in the saddle, pulling fondly at one of Burdukhan's ears. "It'd be a shame to come all this way and not see them, don't you think?" Surely it would be all right if they stayed on their side of the river? They didn't look like a scouting party, and there was nothing at all to say that they couldn't water their horses here - the river was the border, not the hills on one side or the other. If they didn't cross, the Romans would have no reason to cross either, they could look at each other in perfect happiness. "They're probably not up to anything, either," he said. It would be a bit of a let-down if they crossed the low hill and there weren't any Romans in sight, of course. But on the other hand, what if the Romans thought they were some sort of scouting party and wanted to defend their territory by crossing into Sarmatian territory? That would be horrible, and all their own fault. @Chevi