“Yes, sir.”
Ruso was aware of trying to steady his voice. Yes, sir could mean anything. “I wanted to make sure your master knew about it.”
The slave eyed him for a moment, then said, “I think everyone knows, sir.”
Now it was the tremble in his hands he needed to steady as well. He waited until a gaggle of children had led a puppy down the street on a length of twine before he leaned forward again. “Your master’s problem isn’t the boy so much as the seller. He’s claiming your master arranged the deal in the first place, and all he did was deliver.”
“The seller’s been caught, sir?”
“He’s singing like a bird in a cage,” Ruso told him. “But nobody knows how much of it is true.”
The slave’s eyes narrowed. “Why should you want to help my master, sir?”
Indeed, why would he? “I can’t explain it on the doorstep,” said Ruso, truthfully.
He dropped the latch as requested, aware that the slave was at least half a hand taller than he was, and wide enough to block the hallway. The exit was behind him, but he would have to lift the latch and pull the door inward. Before he reached the street the slave would have plenty of time to haul him back. He swallowed. “The seller has been under suspicion for some time, but we have no proof.”
“ ‘We,’ sir?”
“The Legion,” Ruso explained, deciding to stick to the truth as far as possible. “I’m helping Tribune Accius sort this out.”
There was a sound behind the slave. Another figure was moving toward them. “Who’s there?” demanded a woman who sounded as though she was not expecting to like the answer. At that point it seemed to dawn on the slave that he had not asked.
“Medical Officer Ruso from Parva,” Ruso explained, rescuing him.
“He’s come to see the master,” the slave told her, shifting to one side in the gloom of the corridor to reveal a short woman with her hair pulled back from her forehead as if it were a nuisance.
She looked Ruso up and down. “The master’s not here.”
Ruso, wishing she would go back to wherever she had come from, carried on talking to the man. “We realize this puts your master in an awkward position, but if he’s willing to testify, we’re prepared to accept that he didn’t know he was receiving stolen goods.”
“The master doesn’t receive stolen goods!” exclaimed the woman. “Who’s been telling you that? This is an honest business.”
“We know,” said Ruso. “But anyone can be deceived. So the sooner he brings the boy back, the better.”
The woman said, “What boy?” at exactly the same moment as the man said, “I’ll tell the master when he comes home, sir.”
“Will that be today?”
“Probably not, sir.”
“When?”
“We don’t know,” said the woman.
“What do you do if anyone arrives to conduct business?”
“This great oaf takes messages,” the woman said, prodding the man in the ribs.
“Tell me how to find your master,” he said, “and I’ll go and sort things out with him before he gets into worse trouble.”
The man looked at the woman, who said, “We don’t know where he is.”
Ruso was losing patience. “Then how do you get messages to him?”
“He’ll send someone,” said the woman primly. “When he’s ready.”
Ruso wondered if it would be possible to get the official questioner back from wherever he had gone. This dancing around the truth was a waste of time. The gods alone knew where Branan would end up unless they got hold of him fast. Recalling the name mentioned by the brothel keeper, Ruso asked, “Has he gone to Coria to see Lupus?”
Again the man looked at the woman, and that told Ruso what he needed to know. He put one hand on the latch. “Tell him he needs to hand the boy in at the nearest army base straightaway and have them send a message back to the fort at Parva. The longer the boy is away, the worse it gets for your master.”
He stopped himself just in time from saying, Everyone will be looking out for the boy, so he can’t be sold. If that were the case, their master might think his safest course was to do away with Branan, deny all knowledge of everything, and blame his slave for talking nonsense. Instead Ruso thanked them for their help and stressed the urgency of the message.
He was at the end of the street, searching his purse for small coins for small boys, when he heard the man’s voice behind him requesting, “A quick word, sir.”
His spirits rose as the slave looked round to make sure the woman had not followed him. They sank again when he heard, “I wanted to ask about joining the Legion, sir.”