My rescuer turned back to see the leopardess successfully caged. "She's in-you could have waited, darling. Trust a bloody man to want to do everything himself!" The inference was lewd. It seemed best to accept the criticism, both topical and sexual. She had always made suggestive remarks, and I had always pretended not to have heard them. I told myself I was safe because the lady was extremely fond of Helena. If she did decide to grope me, I was not in a state to protect myself.

I had known Thalia some years now. We were supposed to be friends. I treated her with nervous respect. She worked in the Circus, usually with snakes. A woman who could be described as "statuesque"- not meaning a sculpture of some delicate nymph with a sweet smile and virginal properties-and she had a large character to match. I thought I liked her. It seemed the best attitude to take.

As usual Thalia was bursting out of a minimal stage costume that was deliberately designed to cause offense to prudes. To augment the outfit she wore platform boots that had her tottering and arm bracelets like warship anchor chains. Her hair was piled in a towering concoction that she must have kept in place for weeks without dismantling. I swear I glimpsed a stuffed finch among its mass of combs and knob-headed pins.

She dragged me to the cold room, made me kneel beside the dipping pool, and plunged my arm underwater, up to the shoulder, to draw out some of the heat from the burn. "Lie still."

"I bet you say that to all the men you get hold of-" It was a terrifying thought. Thalia knew it too.

"Take my advice or you'll be in a fever tomorrow, and scarred for life. I'll give you a salve, Falco."

"I'd rather have a chat."

"You'll get what's good for you."

"Whatever you say, princess."

Eventually she let me up. As she was leading me meekly out through the baths we met a man carrying a whip and a long-legged stool. "Ooh look!" she shouted sarcastically. "Here's a little boy who wants to grow up to be a lion tamer!" He looked suitably embarrassed.

Thalia had accosted a tall, wide, dark-skinned, crinkle-haired man, built like a fighter, puffed nose and all, though unexpectedly well dressed. He wore a tunic with rich blue and gold braid, carried a full cloak of fine wool with Celtic silver toggles, and flaunted an expensive belt with a buckle that looked as if it had once cinched in Achilles when he was in a party mood. A group of men, obviously his slaves, followed him along the corridor, some bringing ropes and long hooked staves.

"I caught her for you," Thalia called back over one shoulder as our paths crossed. Apparently he owned the leopardess. "Come and see me when you've got her home, and we'll talk about the salvage fee."

The man grinned back weakly, trying to persuade himself she wasn't serious. I thought she was. So did he really.

Thalia kept walking. I limped along after her. "Who was that?"

"Idiot called Saturninus."

"Saturninus! You know him, Thalia?"

"Same business, sort of."

"Well that's a bit of luck." She looked surprised. Then I promised that I would accept having my arm lathered with ointment, if she would tell me what she knew about the men who imported beasts for the venatio.

"Saturninus, in particular?"

"Both Saturninus and Calliopus, please."

"Calliopus?" Thalia's eyes narrowed. She must have heard he was being audited for the Census. "Oh bugger it, Falco! Don't tell me you're the bastard who is doing the lifestyle checks? I suppose I'll be next?"

"Thalia," I promised, "whatever lies you have chosen to tell the Censors, believe me, you are perfectly safe. I would never dare investigate your lifestyle-let alone your finances!"

Nineteen

THALIA HAD ALWAYS lurked outside the city, near the Circus of Nero. When I first knew her she was a down-at-heel exotic dancer. Now she had become a manager-of slinky banquet dancing girls, lovable donkeys who could perform feats of memory, extremely expensive musicians, one-legged fortune-tellers who had been born with eagles' beaks, and dwarves who could stand on their heads on a pile of ten vertical amphorae. Her own act featured close contact with a python, an electric combination with the kind of pornographic sleaze you normally don't see outside of the nightmare bordellos dreamed up by high-life villains.

Her business had been inherited from an entrepreneur (of whom she spoke disparagingly, as she did of most men); he had experienced a fatal mishap with a panther (of whom she still seemed rather fond). Under Thalia's new strong management things appeared to be flourishing, though she still lived in a tattered tent. Inside it were new silken cushions and oriental metalwork. They vied for space with battered old baskets, some of which I knew probably housed untrustworthy snakes.

"Here's Jason! Say hello to him, Falco." He was never stuffed in a basket. Jason was not her dancing partner, just a smaller pet, the fast-expanding python whom Thalia had always tried to persuade me was a soft touch who loved company. She knew he despised me and I was scared to death of him. That just made her try harder to throw us together; a typical matchmaker. "He looks a bit rough at the moment and he's feeling low. You're sloughing another skin, aren't you, darling?"

"Better leave him in peace then," I countered, feeling feeble for saying it. "So how long have you been back in Rome, Thalia?"

"Since last summer." She handed me a cup of water and waited while I drank deeply. I knew how to be a good patient if the nurse was truly forceful. "I looked you up; you and Helena were in Spain. More spying on innocent businessmen?"

"Family trip." I never liked to make too much of the work I had done for the Emperor. I finished my drink. When I put down the beaker on an ivory tray, Jason wove his way to it and licked the dregs. "How are things, Thalia? Davos still with you?"

"Oh he's around somewhere."

Davos was an actor whom Thalia had plucked from his peaceful life playing moth-eaten stage gods by persuading him he should revitalize his existence yoked to her. Their relationship was presumably personal, though I avoided asking. Davos was a private man; I respected that. Thalia herself was likely to make me blush with ribald details, stressing measurements.

She was busying herself in a carved wooden chest, from which she extracted a small leather bag where I knew she kept medicaments. She had saved Helena 's life once with an exquisite Parthian pick-me-up called mithridatium. Our eyes met, both remembering. I owed her a lot. No need to mention it. Under no circumstances would Thalia be audited by the Falco partnership, and if anyone else bothered her they would have to deal with me. "Did you bring home the little water-organist and her boyfriend as well?"

"I shed the doe-eyed lad." She had found what she wanted and applied a big dollop of waxy, strong-smelling ointment to my hot arm.

"Oh I thought you would-Ow!"

"Sophrona's here. She plays nicely and she looks good; I make a mint with her. But she's still a dopey little cow, always mooning after unsuitable men instead of thinking about her career."

"You owe me a finder's fee." It was a joke.

"Better send me a bill then." Even more frivolous.

"And you're also still importing exotic beasts?"

Thalia said nothing, eyeing me. If she thought the question was official, this could be where our friendship ended. Only what was good for her business would ever really count. Her life had been too hard. She had no room to lower her standards; she would never grow soft.

"Thalia, I've no quarrel with you. I'll ensure the Census takes no interest in your outfit, if you'll tell me about the men on my enquiry list."

"Better be quick," Thalia then agreed quite readily. She relaxed, fixing the lid back on her pot of salve and then wiping her finger clean on her few inches of tasseled skirt. "You don't want Saturninus to walk in while we're dissecting him."