"My business, if it means Pompey decides to confiscate my ship and throw me overboard, to punish me for taking you as a passenger. I'll ask you again: What did you do to offend the Great One?"

"Even as Caesar was marching on Rome and Pompey was scrambling to escape, a favorite young cousin of Pompey's was murdered. Just before he left Rome, Pompey charged me with finding the killer."

"And you failed to do so?"

"Not exactly. But the Great One was not pleased with the outcome." I thought of Pompey as I had last seen him-his hands around my throat, his eyes bulging, determined to see me dead. He had been in the process of fleeing Italy by ship, disembarking from the port of Brundisium even as Caesar stormed the city. I'd barely managed to escape, wrenching free from Pompey's grip, diving into deep water, surfacing amid flaming flotsam, dragging myself to the shore while Pompey sailed off to fight another day.

I shook my head to clear it. "You've done nothing to insult the Great One's dignity, Captain. He has no reason to punish you. If Pompey confiscates your ship, it'll be because he needs more room for that sad-looking bunch of soldiers crowded on these transports. But he'll need someone to sail this ship, so why throw you overboard? Ah, but perhaps we'll know the Great One's intentions soon enough. I see a skiff approaching, and I believe it's carrying our friend, that centurion who detained us."

The skiff pulled alongside. The centurion called up to us. "Ahoy, Captain."

"Ahoy, yourself. Your men finished searching my cargo an hour ago. What now? Am I free to go?"

"Not yet. That passenger you're carrying…"

I leaned over the rail to show my face. "Are you referring to me, Centurion?"

"I am. Are you the same Gordianus who's called the Finder, who lives in Rome?"

"I suppose there's no point in denying it."

"You must be a rather important fellow, then. The Great One himself would like a word with you. If you'll join us here in the skiff, we'll escort you to his galley."