Free A Day of Fire: A Novel of Pompeii by Kate Quinn, Ben Kane, Stephanie Dray, Michelle Moran, E. Knight, Sophie Perinot, Vicky Alvear Shecter Page A

his prediction plainly frightened her. “I see waves, too—but of a different kind. It started for me in the Temple of Isis. The pilgrims who bring the Nile water were pouring it into the cisterns, and when I looked upon the water I saw a black sky denser and darker than any night. This sky transformed into black swelling rain that fell until it became a river, and the river in turn was washed away by a dark sea of violent power. By this I foresee a flood, coming to wash our spirits clean of flesh and blood. And an ethereal blaze, bigger and brighter than the fire that burns in any lighthouse, which will guide us to salvation.”
    Sabinus felt cold. Everything the girl saw could result from an earthquake: waves rushing in from the bay, high enough to sweep away men and buildings, fires raging as buildings fell and lamps with them. So much fire that thick smoke might block the sun, adding to the horror of the destruction. It was as if Capella had seen his fears in that temple cistern. He knew enough of those who followed Isis to know they ascribed great power to the waters of the Nile. For a moment he was in the main atrium of the Lepidus villa, standing beneath the painted views of the Nile that adorned its walls. Could the blue, so calm in paint, really have the power to give visions? If so, surely it would not extend them to a mere tavern maid?
    He shook his head to clear it. Everyone knew the Isis temples allowed the imaginations of slaves and women to run wild. He needed to be sensible. If destruction was coming, it could surely—by proper planning—be minimized. The idea of it being redemptive, an idea that shone in Capella’s eyes, was nonsense. Another excuse for inaction.
    “Do not worry.” He allowed his hand to rest for just a moment on hers. “The city’s officials may be slow to listen to me, but they are reasonable men. Should disaster come, they will do their duties. And I, I will keep an eye out for you while doing mine.”
    “I am not worried,” Capella said, reaching down to her ankle and fingering one of the small charms that hung there. All the charms were the same. Sabinus thought each looked like an inverted drop of water from which a long straight bar extended downward, crossed by a shorter horizontal one. The color had returned to the girl’s cheeks. “I need never worry,” she touched the token again, “for Isis is my guide and salvation.”
    He rolled his eyes, but he hoped that she did not notice.
     
     
     
    AEMILIA
     
    “WELL, my treasure, a buyer has come to relieve me of that infernal animal.” Father plants a kiss on the top of my head as I sit weaving. Although I cut him dead this morning, I cannot resist looking up and smiling. “Will you come to the stables with me while I transact my business? You might even find occasion to hide a little something while we are there.” He winks. The stool before Mother’s loom is empty. She is lying down with a headache, doubtless the lingering result of her overexcitement in the garden this morning. “But perhaps not this.” The hand that was behind Father emerges, and his fingers open to reveal an exquisite agate ring with shades of orange and russet rippling through it. “It reminded me of your hair.”
    Looking at the jewel and at my immaculately and expensively dressed father, anyone might think he was a patrician from an ancient and preferred family rather than the grandson of a freedman. Then again, he always tells me that the state of his coffers gives his lineage away. “Remember, my girl, some of the greatest wealth in Rome belongs to those who’ve had the nerve and industry to earn it.”
    “I will come.” I take the ring, then kiss his hand. He beams.
    “Hurry. We would not be rude and keep her waiting.”
    Her?
    A slender form in a dress of brilliant scarlet stands before the stall, attended by a slave. She has hair so blonde it is nearly white. She leans on the gate, eyes devouring the stallion inside, who tosses