Malcolm explained their whole story, recording it on his guide/scout's log, then sighed and added, "He was really angry that some of the pieces had vanished, obviously because the gold on them or in them was destined for something important. He made quite a haul in Denver's cathouses, too, and buried that a few yards from the hole he'd dug for these." He gestured carelessly at what amounted to an entire room's worth of display cases in some museum that didn't mind putting erotic devices of antiquity on display.

"Well," Robert Li rubbed his hands in anticipation, "shall we begin?"

It took several hours, with Kit occasionally arguing over a date for some weird little piece made of gold or wood where gold inlay hadn't survived stepping through the Porta Romae. Malcolm drew up a stool and watched quietly. Margo leaned against the counter, chin resting on elbows, drinking in every word, every date assigned. She was charming, leaning there like that, still in her Denver getup, so absorbed in the cataloging he doubted she would hear her own name if he said it.

One by one the pieces were examined, determined genuine, and carefully packed away. Occasionally a piece wrung groans and exclamations from Robert Li, and a few times, even from Kit.

"My God, Kit, look at this! It's a solid gold herm, you won't believe the detailing! Look, there, at the back end. The face and attributes of Hermes himself, and look at the expression on his face!"

Kit took what looked like a slightly-larger-than-life-size phallus, turned it carefully in reverent hands, and held it up to the light. The beautiful art on what should have been the flat "base" was muttered over in tones of ecstasy. "I've read of pieces like this," Kit said with a low moan in his voice, "but to hold one ..."

"Know what you mean," Robert said softly.

"The detailing is incredible. Lost wax?"

"Possibly Or mold and the mold lines rubbed out."

Kit held it up to the bright light again. "No, I don't think so. That would leave marks and I don't see anything like that."

"Lost wax would leave similar marks," Robert mused. "How the hell did they do it?"

Surprisingly, Margo spoke up. "Well, maybe it's a real man's, uh, you know, dipped in gold after it had been severed."

All three men stares at her. Then Robert Li managed a strangled-sounding reply. "That's, uh, not a bad guess, Margo," he started, breaking off to cough and get his voice back under control, "particularly considering the detailed veins, ridges, and foreskin, but a phallus dipped in gold wouldn't be nearly as heavy as this. It's solid metal."

"A copy of the original palladium of Athens perhaps?" Malcolm offered quietly. "I doubt Farley could wrest away the real one. After the Romans stole it, it was used in annual secret rituals which only the Pontifex Maximus was allowed to attend. But a copy, perhaps, carved from an ingot?"

"Carved from an ingot?" Robert echoed. Then, sudden realization hit. "Yes, that must be how it was done. Carve it from a solid piece, polish out any tool marks left over ... my God, it must have taken a master artisan months to craft this!"

Kit was nodding agreement. He said, grinning slightly, "Sometimes we forget your doctorates, Malcolm."

He bowed slightly in acknowledgement of the compliment. Then said a bit smugly, "Apology accepted. And coming from you, Kit, any apology on professional matters is an honor to hold forever."

Kit flushed. "Huh. Ever since you got engaged, you've gone soft-headed and sentimental."

Malcolm just grinned, neither defending himself nor admitting guilt.

"Oh, you're impossible." Kit ignored him in favor of Robert Li. "Bob, do you have that phallus logged in?"

"Yes. And the next piece is ..." He simply stopped talking. His gaze was riveted to an exquisite little jade figurine.

Margo gasped. "Why, that's Kali-Ma, dancing on her dying consort, Shiva! But they're deities of India. However did that little statue end up in Rome? And without breaking any of those delicate little pieces off?" The hands, the feet, the nearly translucent crown, were so fragile light poured through them as though the solid stone had gone transparent.

Kit said slowly, -There were some unsuccessful forays into India. An officer might have plundered it, wrapped it carefully, carried it on his person. Then again, by the time of Claudius there were some trade routes open to the East. Or a slave artisan might have carved it from memory. We'll probably never know."

With reverent hands, Robert Li lifted the little multiarmed, multilegged dancer. "Flawless," he whispered. "Absolutely flawless." A low moan of pleasure escaped him as he turned it around and around in his hands, absorbing details with his dark, quick eyes, caressing it with trembling fingertips. "But why would a man who collected those," he gestured toward the small hoard of sexual implements, representations, and brothel art, "want this?"

Margo cleared her throat. "Well, the dance of Kai-Ma and Shiva is sexual in nature. Very much so. They dance the dance of life, meant to regenerate the entire universe each year. Shiva has to die, so his blood will fertilize Kali-Ma, impregnating her so she can give birth to his reincarnated self, plus all the grain crops, the fruits of the earth, the birds and game animals, the deadly snakes that could kill a man within three dizzy steps ..." She trailed off, suddenly uncertain under the stares of all three men, each of whom was qualified at least five times more than she was.

Kit spoke first. "Margo, I see you have been hitting the books hard." He shook his head. He leaned across the corner of the cabinet and ruffled her hair playfully. "You done good, kid. Real good."

Margo's delighted grin brightened the room.

Robert Li smiled, too, then entered the Kali-Ma/Shiva statue into his computer, carefully wrapped it up, and with a sigh-moved to the next piece.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Dawn of Gate Day left Marcus and Skeeter in a tense sweat. They intended to remain in hiding until nearly ten-thirty that morning, since this was to be a daylight opening. No games, though, which meant Lupus Mortiferus-a man very much smarter than he looked would be there in the crowds on the Via Appia.

"We'll have to watch out for him. He's got his life back," Skeeter groaned, "but I made a fool of him in sight of practically all Rome. Not to mention the Imperator, Claudius. He's going to want blood, and the more he gets, the more his reputation will be soothed. If that happens, blend in with the tourists, offer to carry baggage, anything just get through that gate!"

"Without you?" Marcus asked in a low voice: "Without the man who has brought me safely this far? No, Skeeter, I cannot in good conscience leave you behind to die."

"You ever see Lupus play with his victims?"

Marcus' shudder was his answer.

"You break in, try to stop him from killing me, he'll tear you apart like kindling."

"So we must avoid his notice. Go through carefully, perhaps in disguise?"

Skeeter considered that. "Not a bad idea. With a quick expedition, I could acquire just the right costume for you. At the market," he added, seeing the stricken look on Marcus' face. "Now....'m going to be a little trickier, since I don't have any of my makeup kit with me.,,

"Well, we could always ask the innkeeper to send for a barber. With a close shave and a few changes in costume, you could pass for an Egyptian merchant."

"Close shave, hmm. Just how close are we talking about?"

Marcus' face burned. "Well, Skeeter, you would need to, um, buy an Egyptian robe and neck collar-no Egyptian would be seen in public without one-and then, um ..."

"Yes?" Skeeter, having guessed the reason for the barber and the stalling tactics. He just wanted it confirmed, so no misunderstandings loused up their chances.