Free Furies by D. L. Johnstone

think that a former associate, a fellow Roman, could have fallen so desperately far. Poor, poor fellow.”
    “He did tell me about a porne Iovinus used to patronize,” Aculeo said. “The trouble is no one’s seen her in days. We’ve reached a dead end I’m afraid.”
    “ Perhaps not,” Bitucus said with a sly grin. “We know where Iovinus is.”
    “What? How?”
    “Unlike you, we still have friends,” said Gellius. “We put the word out the other day. Most of them were all too willing to help us find that bastard. They didn’t seem too keen on you either, mind you. Anyway, someone spotted him at a tavern in Delta last night. Apparently he rents out a room there.”
    The oppressive shroud of Aculeo’s dream immediately dissipated, the prospect of regaining his fortune so real he could almost taste it! “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

     
    Delta, the city’s Jewish Quarter, was quite unlike the rest of Alexandria. There were few images of any god there, no statues, shrines or plaques marking the boundaries of any divine presence or influence. The Jews’ prohibitive customs of food and worship had kept them distinct and apart from the rest of the city’s diverse populace. Even so, as citizens of Alexandria they’d certainly been successful enough – it was said there were now more of them in this city alone than all those who’d followed their prophet Moses out of Egypt.
    Aculeo watched Trogus limp ahead of them. His cough had grown worse and he looked even more ill than he had the day before – gaunt and flushed and the ulcer on his leg looked puffy and seeped a trickle of clear pus. It was painful to even look at. “You should see a healer,” Aculeo said.
    “Why don’t you take that long nose of yours and stick it up your ass,” Trogus growled.
    “Don’t worry,” Gellius said quietly, “he’ll be fine once we find Iovinus.”
    “We all will,” Bitucus agreed. Trogus said nothing, just put a clenched fist to his mouth to smother another racking cough.
    “I can hardly wait,” Gellius said. “We’ll have ourselves a feast for all our friends – the finest food, the very best wine, music …”
    “It will be as though none of this ever happened, as if it were simply a bad dream,” said Bitucus.
    Gellius clapped a friendly hand on Aculeo’s shoulder. “What of you, Aculeo? What will you do once we recover our fortunes?”
    “Take the first ship to Rome,” Aculeo said without hesitation. “I’ll take my wife and son back, we’ll buy the finest villa in the Seven Hills and never look back on this fucking city again.”
    “An excellent plan,” Bitucus said with a grin.
    “You’re idiots, all of you,” Trogus growled, wincing as he limped along the street.
    “Why do you have to talk like that?” Gellius asked, sounding hurt.
    “Oh use your head, damn you. If Iovinus is so fatted on our stolen fortunes, why’s he living in a room above some shitty little tavern in Delta?”
    The others glanced at one another in sudden realization, but held their tongues for the rest of the journey.

     
    The tavern was a small, seedy little dive in a dark corner of Delta with a handful of patrons, even at this early hour. The thrattia was pouring a jug of black wine from the swollen cowhide hanging on the back wall, siphoning it through a hole cut in one of the animal’s hooves. She glanced at the newcomers. “Find yourselves a table. Something to drink?”
    “We’re not here for that,” Aculeo said. “We’re looking for a Roman named Iovinus, skinny fellow, big ears, late twenties.” The thrattia held his gaze, an eyebrow raised, saying nothing.
    “Pay her something, fool,” Trogus growled. Aculeo handed her a bronze as. The woman wrinkled her nose. Aculeo reluctantly found a mate to the first coin.
    “Upstairs,” she said with a shrug, and returned to her duties.
    The men walked carefully to the bottom of a narrow staircase and looked at one another. “So what do we do