be.
'Not all folk in the theater and such live as well as they might,' I said. 'It seems they cannot make gold pieces appear from thin air,' said Marcus. 'Not without a gold piece to start with,' I said.
'Getting one to start with is undoubtedly the real trick,' he said.
'Precisely,' I said. 'Let us go in.'
I shoved back the heavy door. It hung on its top hinge. It had not been barred. I gathered that not every one who lived within, interestingly, was necessarily expected back before curfew. On the other hand, perhaps the proprietor, or his manager, was merely lax in matters of security. The interior, the hall and foot of the stairs, was lit by the light of a tiny tharlarion oil lamp.
'Whew!' said Marcus.
At the foot of the stairs, as is common in insulae, there was a great wastes pot, into which the smaller wastes pots of the many tiny apartments in the building are emptied. These large pots are then carried off in wagons to the carnaria, where their contents are emptied. This work is usually done by male slaves under the supervision of a free man. When the wastes pot is picked up, a clean one is left in its place. The emptied pot is later cleaned and used again, returned to one insula or another. There is sewerage in Ar, and sewers, but on the whole these service the more affluent areas of the city. The insulae are, on the whole, tenements.
'This is a sty,' said Marcus.
'Do not insult the caste of peasants,' I said. 'It is the ox on which the Home Stone rests.' Thurnock, one of my best friends, was of that caste.
Not everyone is as careful as they might be in hitting the great pot. Lazier folks, or perhaps folks interested in testing their skill, sometimes try to do it from a higher landing. According to the ordinances the pots are supposed to be kept covered, but this ordinance is too often honored in the breach. Children sometimes use the stairs to relieve themselves. This is occasionally done, I gather, as a game, the winner being decided by the greatest number of stairs soiled.
'Ho there,' said an unpleasant voice, from the top of the landing. We looked up into a pool of floating light, from a lifted lantern.
'Tal,' I said.
'He is not here,' said the fellow.
'Who?' I asked.
'Anyone,' said the fellow.
'There is no one here?' I asked.
'Precisely,' he said.
'We should like to rent a room,' I said.
'No rooms,' said he. 'We are filled.'
'I can be up the stairs in an instant,' said Marcus, 'and open him like a bag of noodles.'
'Whom are you looking for?' asked the fellow, who perhaps had excellent hearing. 'Renato the Great,' I said.
'The villain, the fat urt, the rogue, the rascal?' asked the fellow.
'Yes,' I said. 'He.'
'He is not here,' he said.
I supposed the fellow was fond of him, and was concerned to protect him. On the other hand, perhaps he had not yet collected the week's lodging. That, in itself, might be a good trick.
'Do not be dismayed by our armbands,' I said. 'We do not come on the business of guardsmen.'
'You are creditors then,' he said, 'or defrauded bumpkins intent upon the perpetration of dire vengeance.'
'No,' I said. 'We are friends.'
The pool of light above us seemed to shake with laughter.
I drew my blade and put it to the bowl of the lamp, on its small shelf in the hall. With a tiny movement I could tip it to the floor.
'Be careful there,' said the fellow. His concern was not without reason. Such accidents, usually occurring in the rooms, often resulted in the destruction of an insula. Many folks who lived regularly in insulae had had the experience of hastily departing from their building in the middle of the night. There was also the danger that such fires could spread. Sometimes entire blocks, and even districts, are wiped out by such fires.
'Summon him,' I said.
'It is not my building,' said the fellow. 'It belongs to Appanius!'
'Ah, yes!' I said.
'You know the name?' asked Marcus.
'Yes,' I said. 'Do you not remember? He is the owner of Milo, the handsome fellow, the actor who played the part of Lurius of Jad in the pageant, and is an agriculturist, an impresario, and slaver. That explains, probably, his interest in this establishment, and his catering to a certain clientele.' I looked up at the pool of light. 'It is that Appanius, is it not?' I asked.
'Yes,' said the fellow, 'and a powerful man.'
I lowered the blade. I had no wish to do anything which Appanius might find disagreeable, such as burn down one of his buildings. He was undoubtedly a splendid fellow, and, in any case, I might later wish to do business with him. I sheathed my sword.
'Appanius is not one to be lightly trifled with!' said the fellow, seemingly somewhat emboldened by the retreat of my blade.
Marcus' blade half left its sheath. 'And what of heavily trifling with him?' he asked. 'Or trifling with him moderately?' Marcus was still not well disposed toward most fellows from Ar, and did not seem prepared to make an exception in favor of the fellow on the landing. I pushed Marcus' blade back down in its sheath.
'This,' I said, indicating a cord and bar to one side, 'is undoubtedly the alarm bar, to be rung in the case of emergency or fire.'
'Yes?' said the voice from the pool of light.
'I am pleased to see it,' I said. 'This will quite possibly save me burning down the building.'
'Why do you wish to see Renato?' asked the fellow, nervously. I think he did not relish the thought of being on the landing if the occupants of the building should suddenly, in their hundreds, begin to stream forth in vigorous, or even panic-stricken, haste, down the stairs.
'That is our business,' I said.
'You are not going to lead him off in chains, are you?' he asked. 'He owes two weeks rent.'
I surmised that more than an occasional lodging fee had in such a manner escaped the agent of Appanius.
'No,' I said.
'Hah!' he suddenly cried.
'What is wrong?' I asked.
'It is the same trick!' he said. 'I see it now! The same trick!'
'What trick?' I asked.
'The rogue last year pretended to have himself arrested and led away, but it turned out to be by members of his own troupe, and thus they all escaped without paying the rent!'
'And you took him back in?' I asked.
'Who else would give such a rogue lodging but Appanius?' said the man. 'But he made him pay double, and for the time before, too!'
'Interesting,' I said. 'But we wish to see him on business, now.'
'We can force the doors, one after the other,' said Marcus.
'There are at least a hundred rooms here,' I said. 'Perhaps more.'
'Which is his room?' asked Marcus. 'And we shall rout him out ourselves.'
'I would have to consult the records,' said the fellow. 'He may not even be rooming here.'
'But surely you have one or more of his slaves chained somewhere as a surety,' I said.
The fellow made a tiny, angry noise above us.
I saw I had guessed right. The only slave of the ponderous fellow I had seen in the show had been the one
