So it went, with no sure truth to be found, only a single, unanimous point of agreement: Clodius was dead.

The lowering clouds gradually moved on to reveal the naked firmament – moonless, pitch-black, spangled with stars that glittered like ice crystals. The short, swift walk from my house had warmed my blood. The crush of bodies and burning torches had kept me warm, but as the night grew colder, so did I. I curled my toes, rubbed my hands together, watched my breath mingle with the smoke in the air.

"This is no good," I finally said. "I'm freezing. I didn't bring a heavy enough cloak." Eco seemed warm enough, I noticed, in a cloak no heavier than mine, but a man of fifty-eight has thinner blood man a man twenty years younger. "What are we waiting for, anyway? We found out what the panic was about. Clodius is dead."

"Yes, but how?"

I had to smile. He had learned his trade from me. Curiosity becomes a habit. Even when there's no money in it, a Finder can't help being curious, especially when there's murder involved. "We won't find out from this crowd," I said.

"I suppose not."

"Come on, then."

He hesitated. "You'd think they'd send someone out to talk to the crowd. Surely someone will come out sooner or later…" He saw me shivering. "Let's go, then."

"You don't have to leave."

"I can't let you walk home alone, Papa. Not on a night like this."

"Send the bodyguards with me, then."

"I'm not fool enough to stay in this crowd alone."

"We could split them up, two for you and two for me."

"No. I don't want to take any chances. I'll walk you home. Then I'll come back if I still want to."