The House of Atmanta After feasting for hours, Pesna and his closest companions are in the spa, being washed and oiled by whores and servants.
Most of the magistrate's coterie are fools, but he tolerates them because they are pretty fools. Some, like Larth, are deadly fools. What Larth lacks in wisdom he makes up for in menace. As chief of Pesna's guards he is cruelly adept at dispensing any punishments the magistrate decrees.
The wise ones, like Kavie, are rare. Always quiet, always thoughtful, seldom wrong in his counsel, Kavie as usual has separated himself from the crowd. Less drunk than the rest, he is being bathed in the far corner by two of the prettiest pages Pesna has ever employed.
'If I do not celebrate more,' proclaims the magistrate, 'there is a danger that when I die I will have amassed too many riches to spend even in the afterlife.'
His cronies laugh sycophantically.
'Perhaps there is an afterlife after the afterlife,' suggests Hercha, a local woman who has become a regular in his bed. Her hair has been freshly braided by servant girls and she constantly plays with it as she speaks. 'If I am correct, then maybe you are well advised to hold back some of your vast wealth so you will perpetually be able to live in the manner to which you have grown accustomed.'
Pesna slips off his robe and steps into the steaming water alongside Kavie. 'Since when did I allow a mere woman to give me advice? I advise you to keep your mouth solely for my pleasure and not for publicly flaunting your stupidity.' He beckons a servant: 'Girl, bring me wine. Cold wine from the fermenting rooms beneath the courtyard. Make sure it is not tepid. If it is, then Larth will whip your hide.'
The naked servant goes about her business and Larth slaps a giant hand across her buttocks as she passes him.
Ushering his washer away, Kavie turns his back on the other revellers. 'I hear news of trouble in the south.'
Pesna skims a hand over the surface of the water. 'In Rome?'
'Not in Rome. More of Rome.'
'I don't understand.'
'Many of the city kings are growing fearful of Rome. People of power and purpose are drawn to the Tiber. It is early days, but the region's arrogant nobles already speak of wider rule. This would be a threat to your own ambitions to extend your power base.'
Pesna looks concerned. 'Rome is not much more than we are, but somehow it magnetises the avaricious. Settlers there are weaned on blood, not milk. One day they will be a bigger power and we must watch over our shoulders to see that day coming.'
'You are wise, Magistrate. Perhaps we can use the current fear of Rome to progress our plans to build our lands and power in the north.'
Pesna playfully rebukes his friend. 'My power, Kavie. Don't forget your place in this grand scheme.'
He looks offended.
'Oh come, come. I chide you.' Pesna gives him a reassuring look. 'You are right. Fear is a good basis for building allegiances.'
'Have you heard from Caele?'
The magistrate smiles. 'He will be here soon. Our ocean-going friend has enough silver with him to buy the world, let alone the small slices I require.' He puts his arm around Kavie's shoulder. 'Can you write persuasive messages for me to send to men of influence in the other cities?'
'I will have them drafted by dawn.'
'Good. Now, my dear Kavie, my throat aches for more drink and my penis longs for the soft mouth of a pretty whore. Do you have anything else to tell me before I satisfy these most important of organs?'
'One more matter, then I am done.'
Pesna looks weary. 'What is it?'
'One of the elders tells me that your netsvis has been blinded.'
The magistrate shakes his head in bewilderment. 'Blinded? A seer who cannot see? This is a trick of the gods. What fate has befallen him?'
'It is said he was performing a divination under your instruction and was blinded in a sacred fire.'
Seeing the servant girl approach with the wine, Pesna is brusque. 'Put it down and leave.' He waits until she's gone. 'That is not a good omen. I told the netsvis to have the gods silence wagging tongues, not create more gossip and unrest. May the gods curse his stupidity! What are we to do with him?'
'You must support him or kill him. There is no field to plough between those two trees.'
Pesna pours wine as he ponders the options. 'Very well. Tomorrow – when my head is clear and my balls are empty – we will decide his fate. Now, my friend, I pray silence from you. No more of your news.' He nods to the servant girl waiting by the door. 'I have much debauchery to engage in.'