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“I should have told you straight off. He wasn’t a guard.” Safinia began to tell the story—but as soon as she described the strangeness of Livy’s clothes, the way they dripped in wealth and yet were worn as if they were his everyday uniform, Orestilla interrupted her, looking relieved.

“Livy’s back,” she said. “This is good news. Thank goodness it was him, and not someone else. I doubt they would have understood.”

“You know him?”

“I’ve never met him personally. But he didn’t lie—Livy has advised the family for years, coming and going. He took a special interest in Hersilia when we were still young.”

“A special interest?” Safinia felt dubious. “I was so sure he was lying to me.”

Orestilla shook her head, stacking her finished bowls and setting them aside. There was a slightly smug turn to her smile, the look of someone who had good gossip. “There’s a good reason for that. I’m positive Livy is a seer. The things he’s told Hersilia—he has incredible foreknowledge.”

Safinia frowned. “I’ve never heard of a seer wandering.”

“The Greeks had one. Tiresias.”

Both women jumped; Safinia had forgotten Attice sat with them, while Anesia was up clearing away the meal. “Those stories aren’t real, though,” she told Attice. “No one believes gods walked the battlefield at Troy.”

Attice shrugged. “Why should one thing be true and not another? Visions of the future are common in our stories, too.”

“Either way,” Orestilla said. “Livy has always been a friend to Hersilia. To Numa, too—he serves the whole family.” A note of envy crept into her voice. “I can’t believe you met him. Where could we find him, do you think? We could use his help.”

Safinia bit her lip. “He didn’t say. He helped me read this scroll, though. It’s addressed to the daughter of the governor in Crustumerium. A lover, maybe. But Hersilia was interrupted before writing anything more than a greeting.”

“No, Sylvia is only twelve. I don’t even think she’s had her bleeds.” Orestilla squinted at Hersilia’s scrawling. “I didn’t even know they knew each other.”

The next day was strange—Safinia felt adrift without her hunting and chores routine, but with Orestilla supplying them from her personal stores, the sisters could make do. In the evening Safinia went into the city to see what she could learn about the other missing girls. No one was acting suspicious, though one town house, right on the forum—the girl’s father was a magistrate—was particularly well-guarded.

Not well-guarded enough to stop Safinia, though, which was disconcerting. She stole her way into the home next door and shimmied through a window, out of which she could touch the sill of the missing girl’s house. For a moment she was strung between the two buildings like a line of laundry, and it occurred to Safinia just how different falling from here would be from falling out of a tree.

Inside, Safinia stepped soundlessly around the sleeping forms of the family in their center room together, but found nothing useful. She doubted this girl knew how to write.

The sneaking was exhilarating. So much that Safinia felt guilty—no part of this mission was meant to be fun. But the thrill of making it safely out, her heart beating hard out of her chest, was impossible to ignore.

In the morning, Safinia crossed paths with Mettius on her way back to the hut. She grilled him about Livy, but his answer disappointed her:

“Never heard of him, Saf,” he told her.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m really sure. With your description I’d think we’d all be gossiping about him, and I’ve never heard a word.” He rubbed her shoulders. “Are you sleeping enough?”

Safinia batted him away. “Just ask around.”

That night Anesia was late to dinner. When she arrived, her new sandals thrown over her shoulder, her face was grim. “Another girl is missing,” she said. “Lucia, this time, from that magistrate family.”

Safinia dug her fingernails into her palms. “Where does this leave us?” she asked. “Orestilla was right—no one who knows anything is talking.”

“There’s finally gossip about the disappearances, though,” Anesia said. Safinia wasn’t sure what to feel that her little sister had involved herself—she seemed too cheerfully oblivious to the magnitude of whatever danger stalked the women of Cures Sabini. “But no one’s mentioned Hersilia that I’ve heard yet.”

“She’s not as social as she used to be.” Orestilla passed around a platter of smoked meat. She was already quite used to eating with her hands. “It won’t strike people as odd if she’s gone for a while.”

“Well, I’ll say it again,” Anesia said. “I think Livy’s gone to Crustumerium.”

Safinia worked a bit of gristle in her teeth. “We’ve been over this. It’s at least three days’ walk. More if raiders are on the salt road.”

“Unless he found something you didn’t in that ledger room, Crustumerium is the only lead Livy has. It’s the only lead we have. And don’t forget—Tarpeia mentioned it, too.”

Safinia’s heart thudded. She imagined a bird turning on its wing. Untethered. “It’s not possible,” she said. “It’s too dangerous to leave you here.”