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“We shouldn’t blame the sculptor if the clay is poor,” I responded in a conspiratorial whisper.

There was a beat of silence, and then both Don and Sebastianus laughed heartily. Cassius grinned, showing two missing teeth. Even Cornelia patted her mouth with a napkin to hide a smile.

Sebastianus glared at Don. “A couple of weeks on the road with you and Klaudia, and already she’s lost all respect for me.”

“That suggests she had some to begin with.” Don smiled into his wine.

I FELT MORE at ease with Don and Klaudia after our long journey together. Even though I had spent much of the trip wrapped in a shroud of heartache, I had not failed to notice how kind they were. Don told me stories of his many travels and gently encouraged my navigation attempts. Klaudia reminded me to slip off my palla and breathe the fresh air whenever we stopped to rest the horses. “Enjoy it while you can,” she said. “Life in Panpirion can be stifling.”

As we traveled, they told me enough about Sebastianus that I could begin to form a clearer opinion of his character. He was well respected by the leading citizens of Panpirion but didn’t socialize with them, avoiding the public baths, the temples, and the many festivals and processions throughout the city that marked the seasons of the year. Although he was no longer in his uncle’s favor, he still held a seat on the Imperator’s comitatus—his small council—and in the senate. While at home between voyages, he kept to himself, writing up notes in his study. He could be gruff and stubborn, but he was a fair master and a good friend.

“And sometimes he’s his own worst enemy,” Klaudia had said, laughing affectionately.

Neither she nor Don mentioned what might have led to the murder of a fellow soldier. Watching him now, I tried to match up their stories with the man himself, clearly more comfortable here at home than I had ever seen him back at Casa Caligine.

IN THE VILLA’S courtyard, night insects hummed around us.

“But what is this discovery you’ve made?” Cassius asked me.

“There is a small library at Casa Caligine, where I was apprenticed,” I explained. “No one visits it. It has a few shelves of books, and I found Straba’s Geographica there, with a letter tucked inside.”

Sebastianus leaned across the table toward Cassius, smoke trailing from his mouth. “A letter in Straba’s own hand. Proof that he visited Corlivo on his travels.”

Klaudia, Cassius, and Cornelia looked at him blankly, but Don narrowed his eyes. “You think he found the caves in the Kotol range?”

Sebastianus pointed at Don with his pipe. “Why not?”

“That would be very unlikely,” Cassius said. “There’s nothing written about that mountain range in his work. It’s one of the few places he didn’t explore.”

“But that’s just it.” Sebastianus settled back in his chair. “Why didn’t he go there? When you reflect on it, the omission is strange. Straba cataloged most of the continent. The Kotol isn’t remote or difficult to access.”

“Do you think the letter is genuine?” Cassius asked.

“I do,” Sebastianus said, “but I’m hoping you’ll take a look also.”

Silence descended over the table. A warm breeze stirred the jasmine.

“Seb,” Klaudia said gently, “you’ve spent half a lifetime looking for those caves. You deserve some peace. Set it aside.”

He exhaled a plume of smoke. “No. I’m going to accomplish this one thing for the Empire, at least. Jovinian won’t be able to question my loyalty then.”

Klaudia shook her head. “You’ve already accomplished far more than most people.”

“I have a question,” I said.

Sebastianus looked up at me.

“Why would the Imperator care about the cave city? Why was he so pleased when he thought it was found?”

Don drained his cup. “A decade of war has emptied his treasury.”

I turned this over in my mind. “I see. It was the treasure, more than the discovery itself, that pleased him.”

Cassius cleared his throat and recited in his quiet, reedy voice, “‘Greatest of cities, deep within the earth. / In cave beyond cave, I store my treasure. / My treasure, my heart, secured by walls of stone. / It will live when other cities fall.’ That is what Arcadius wrote about his caves. Or, more precisely, what his scribe, Brunus Aurelius, wrote about them.”

“Words that have launched a hundred expeditions,” Sebastianus said.

“Was there treasure in the caves Clemens Fabius found?” I asked. “Enough to convince everyone his discovery was genuine?”