“The men are exhausted after last night.”
“Show me any man of them who hurts worse than I do, and I’ll buy him a day in the baths to rest up.” Lycon’s sooty grin was as horrid as N’Sumu’s smile. “Come on, Vonones. We’re running out of time. I can get us dogs from the Amphitheater right now.”
Vonones shrugged. “Then we’ll regroup here with all the men we can bring in and whatever dogs we can find—say, an hour after midday—and see what we’ve got. Is that to your satisfaction, N’Sumu?”
“The plan might work,” said the Egyptian. “Let us hope that it does. Make certain that no time is wasted in assembling the tracking parties. I shall rejoin you at midday.”
N’Sumu uncurled from Vonones’ chair. He reached down and picked up the broken corpse of the sauropithecus chick, still enwrapped in Lycon’s net. The Egyptian had managed to recover the creature from Lacerta—in itself a testament as to his authority over the Tribune.
“What are you going to do with that?” Lycon demanded.
N’Sumu stared at him impassively. “Why, take it back to my apartments and eat it.”
“Eat it!” Vonones gasped.
“Of course. Why else would my people hunt sauropitheci? They are delicious when prepared with a sauce of pepper, lovage, caraway, laser, honey, pine nuts . . .”
“But the thing has fed on human flesh!” Vonones protested.
N’Sumu favored them with his widest smile, and left them standing uneasily in Vonones’ office.
* * *
After a moment Lycon swore and lowered himself painfully onto a bench. “The Superintendent of Sewers,” he said in a tired voice, “once told me they’d been working on the lines ever since there was a city here—six hundred years, eight hundred, depends on who you talk to. He thought I ought to go hunting for some of the rats his crews found. Said they’d do just fine in the arena, fighting leopards and the like. I finally decided he wasn’t joking.”
“Look,” said Vonones. “I can see to getting the men and the dogs and whatever nets and weapons we’ll need. It’s going to be several hours at best before we can move. Why don’t you get cleaned up and catch a few hours of sleep? You aren’t in any shape to net peacocks, let alone go following hounds through miles of sewers after a creature that . . . well, things aren’t going to get better if we do manage to corner it.”
“Things will sure as hell get worse if we don’t,” Lycon pointed out. “And anyway, when did you last get some sleep?”
“I haven’t been wrestling with lizard-apes in public fountains,” Vonones told him. “And you really should get those wounds looked after—that hand looks like a lump of raw liver. Come on, Lycon—if you’re too exhausted to chase this thing down, you know none of the rest of us are up to the job. And if we fail, then we are all of us . . .”
“All right,” Lycon yawned, too fatigued to argue further. “I’ll go to the baths, get cleaned up and have a good rubdown, maybe sleep a few hours until we’re ready to move.”
“And take my litter,” Vonones urged. “No, don’t argue. It will save time all around, and you can nap on the way. I’ll be busy here, and I’ll send a messenger for you as soon as you’re going to be needed. Might even stretch out for a short nap myself.” The last was a lie, but the dealer wanted Lycon to get some rest at any cost.
“All right,” decided Lycon. “I said I’d go.” A memory stirred in his tired consciousness. “I’ll be at the Baths of Naevius—that’s not far from here, is it?”
He paused, not wanting to voice his thoughts. “Vonones, what do you think of N’Sumu?”
“I’ve known,” said Vonones, and hesitated. Then: “I’ve known of people who claimed to be magicians.”
“I’ve known of people who were magicians,” Lycon stated in what was not precise agreement. “Still, I never knew a magician who did what N’Sumu did with his hands—not just by touching people, but at a distance.”
Vonones bit his lip. “I don’t believe in the gods, Lycon,” he said, with his face twisted in a frown of concern. “Not like that, but . . .”