yelled, “You are almost as beautiful as the goddess!” at which the people roared. Cassia shook her head but smiled. She had seen this type of man before, hungry for attention with the charm and wit to earn it. Aretas had been such a man, and it was those qualities that drew her to him so many years ago. Did Alex see the similarity? She looked around her to see his reaction.
Alarm jolted her. Alexander, where are you?
She pushed through the crowd, all of them still focused on the antics above. “Alexander?” The boy’s propensity for wandering off never ceased to frighten her.
Faces turned toward hers, then away in disinterest. She twisted through the glut of people, her stomach churning. Where would he go?
And then she knew. She jerked her head to the face of the Nymphaeum, and her fear was confirmed. Alex had already found enough toe- and handholds to scale to the first ledge, about four cubits below the ledge that held the performer.
Cassia nearly cried out his name but did not want to startle him. His attention was fixed on the ledge above, and his head turned back and forth, searching for a hold. She shoved through the crowd, into the courtyard.
Above Alexander, oblivious to the boy, the climber reached into the blocked urn. His arm disappeared to the elbow, then reappeared with a handful of something. The water flowed after his hand, cascading to the pool below. The water hit the stone floor of the pool and sprayed outward, soaking Cassia.
The water restorer raised a triumphant arm in the same moment the crowd noticed Alexander. At the lack of the cheers the man no doubt expected, he put his hands to his hips—then seemed to realize the people’s attention was fixed below him. He leaned forward slightly. The crowd cried out its collective concern.
Cassia watched in horror, unable to retrieve her son. “Alexander, you must come down now.”
If he heard her, he showed no sign. She repeated herself, her voice raised against the murmurs of the crowd. But his back was to her, and his fingers traveled the face of the building, searching for deep cracks between the stones. He seemed to find a place, for he suddenly lifted himself above the surface of the ledge, connected only to the wall. The people gasped as one, and Cassia felt she might be sick.
Above Alexander, the performer must have begun to resent the loss of attention. He edged along the lip of stone, then pivoted at the end, bent to grip the ledge with his fingers, and swung his feet away.
Again, the crowd reacted, entertained by the danger. Cassia positioned herself under Alex. If he fell, she hoped to break his fall enough to keep him safe. The spraying water from the fountain pool soaked her through, but she barely noticed. Fear chilled her and set her shivering. “Alexander! Come down at once!”
And then the climber was balanced on Alex’s ledge, cubits away from the boy. “Where are you climbing to, son?”
The man’s voice, quiet and smooth, was, Cassia guessed, audible to no one but herself and Alexander.
Alex’s mouth fell open. He looked above his perch, then back at the climber. “I wanted to climb up to the water lady, like you.”
The man edged closer to Alex with slow and deliberate caution. Cassia took a step backward, her fingers twisted in her wet tunic.
“Ah.” His voice was grave. “Well, I’ve been to see the water lady already, and do you want to hear a secret?”
Alexander held still, except for a tiny nod.
The man leaned closer and mock-whispered, “She’s really quite ugly up close!”
Alexander giggled. “Mama says it is rude to call people ugly.”
He glanced downward, then winked at Alex. “Your mama sounds like a good person. Would you take me to meet her?”
Alexander bit his lip and looked above him again.
“I know much better places to climb.” The man edged closer and Cassia’s heart stopped. “I could show you sometime. What is your name?” Then he took a step nearer, and his arms braced