Tiro smiled cautiously. 'I fear the cure is failing, sir.'

'Oh?'

'You've mistaken your pronouns, sir. It's I who am to explain my coming to you.'

'On the contrary. It's true, as you could tell from the look on my face, that I've never heard of your master—what was the name, Marcus something-or-other Cicero? A total stranger. Nonetheless, I can tell you a few things about him.' I paused, long enough to make sure I had the boy's full attention. 'He comes from a very proud family, a trait of which he himself has a full share. He lives here in Rome, but his family originally comes from somewhere else, perhaps to the south; they've been in the city for no more than a generation. They are something more than comfortably wealthy, though not fabulously so. Am I right so far?'

Tiro looked at me suspiciously. 'So far.'

'This Cicero is a young man, like yourself; I suppose a little older. He's an avid student of oratory and rhetoric, and a follower to some extent of the Greek philosophers. Not an Epicurean, I imagine; perhaps he's a Stoic, though not devoutly so. Correct?'

'Yes.' Tiro was beginning to look uncomfortable.

'As for your reason for coming, you are seeking out my services for a legal case which this Cicero will be bringing before the Rostra. Cicero is an advocate, just starting out in his career. Nevertheless, this is an important case, and a complicated one. As for who recommended my services, that would be the greatest of Roman lawyers. Hortensius, of course.'

'Of.. . course.' Tiro mouthed the words, barely whispering. His eyes were as narrow as his mouth was wide. 'But how could you—'

'And the specific case? A case of murder, I think....'

Tiro looked at me sidelong, his astonishment frankly revealed.

'And not just murder. No, worse than that. Something much worse

'A trick,' Tiro whispered. He looked away, jerking his head, as if it took a great effort to tear his gaze from mine. ‘You do it somehow by looking into my eyes. Magic ...'