Free The Imperium Game by K.D. Wentworth

pinch.
    Flina jerked slightly, but otherwise gave no indication of having noticed. Demea narrowed her eyes. “That will be all, Flina,” she said frostily.
    “As you wish, mistress.” Flina’s crown of black braids bowed respectfully; then she backed out and closed the door behind her.
    “Thought she’d never leave!” Striding forward, Barbus plopped down on the bed and stared expectantly at Demea.
    Inwardly cursing Micio for dying and leaving her to deal with this low-life on her own, she pulled the pink coverlet up to her chin. “How may—I help you, Publius Barbus?”
    “Just call me Harry, your Imperialness.” Looking thoughtful, he scratched at a wart on his impressively arched nose. “I don’t really go for them sissy Roman names, and anyway, it’s really more like how you and I can help each other.” He leaned closer, and she detected the delicate aroma of garlic and sour wine. “It’s almost the Saturnalia, you know—only a few days to go now, and so much to do.”
    “Yes, well . . .” She tried breathing through her mouth. “I’m sure you understand that Micio always handled these details. I’m rather at a . . . loss at the moment.”
    “Heavens, don’t you go worrying your pretty little head about nothing, your Empressness.” Leaning in still closer, he patted her hand. “Just give old Harry here the word and things’ll go on just the same as always. You won’t have to lift one tiny pink finger.”
    “That’s very kind of you—Harry,” she said, shuddering under his touch. “I’m gratified to know there are those upon whom I can count in this time of need.”
    “’Course . . .” He laid a finger beside his beaky nose. “If I handle all the details on my own, I’ll have to take a bigger share of the profits to cover my expenses. That’s just good business. “
    “How—big a share?” she asked, wishing that he would just go away and let her sleep.
    “Oh, double should do the job.” He produced a rusty-looking dagger and began to pick his nails. “Unless something comes up.”
    “I should think half again your old share would be more than generous.” Her hand clasped the sheet tighter. “And nothing had better come up!”
    “It takes a powerful bit of money to keep mouths closed in a place like this, your royalness.” His face dropped into sorrowful folds. “And of course, his formerness, your late husband, he understood stuff like that. Had a real head for business, he did.”
    “In fact, I’ve changed my mind.” Sliding onto the cold floor so that the bed was between them, Demea clasped the silk sheet to her breast and concentrated on looking her most dignified. “I will handle the details myself, just as my beloved Micio did. You will resume only your old duties, nothing more.”
    “Unless you know where all the so-called bodies are buried, I wouldn’t be so hasty, your ladyness.” Publius’s thick eyebrows arched. “And as a betting man, I’d say you have no idea what I’m getting at, do you?”
    “Bodies?” she said faintly.
    “Himself knew everything about everyone, and as they say, information is always money in the right hands.” He winked, then stood. “I’ll just be on my way now. Don’t you worry one hair on that lovely head of yours. Things ought to run just as smooth as ever, maybe even more, now that old Harry’s got the reins.”
    Feeling like a fool, she watched him swagger out the door. So that rat, Micio, had known things, had he—important things he hadn’t shared with her. Somehow she had to find his information stash, or this whole setup was going to slip right through her bejeweled fingers.
    * * *
    The cooing of doves woke Kerickson from wild dreams in which police robots mounted on fiery, snorting horses chased him down the long winding streets of the Imperium and into the frigid, racing waters of the Tiber River.
    For a moment, lying there flat on his back, staring up at winged shadows flitting from arch to arch, he