Already Amara misses her friends downstairs, and it has only been a few minutes. She wonders if Thraso will even tell them what’s happened, why Felix has moved her. For a moment, the strangeness of being alone makes her feel emotional. She leans her head against the wooden door jamb, trying to clear her thoughts. There’s no point being miserable and wasting her time up here; it’s impossible to say how long Rufus will keep her, whether his interest will ever pay off. But she could use this time to learn more about how Felix runs his loans, see if she can convince him to use her that way, rather than selling her. It would at least be a better life than the one in the brothel. She sets off down the corridor.

His study door is ajar, to let in a breeze in the summer heat. He must have spotted her shadow, because he calls out before she even has a chance to knock.

“What do you want?” His tone is not inviting.

Amara steps into the room but doesn’t approach too close to his desk. “That girl from the Elephant who paid off her loan. Pitane. She mentioned to me that she might have another customer for you. I thought I could use this time to do some business.”

“I can’t spare anyone to go with you.”

“Couldn’t I go on my own?” Amara asks. “It’s only to the Elephant. I could make a note and see if you like the terms.”

She waits for Felix to answer, palms sweating. “It’s like a never-ending itch for you, isn’t it?” he says. “Making money.”

If Felix were a different man, if she thought he would be pleased by the comparison, she would say: As it is for you. Instead, she shrugs. “Everyone wants to make money. Though in this case I’m making it for you.”

“Go then,” he says, turning back to his accounts, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

The Elephant is a grander bar than the Sparrow, attached as it is to a large inn. A copper lantern shaped like an elephant hangs over the doorway, dangling with chiming bells, and the walls inside are lined with pictures of the giant beasts pitted against gladiators in the arena.

There is a fair exchange in trade between the brothel and the inn, and Sittius, the landlord, gives Amara a nod of recognition when she leans against the bar.

“Not many customers in for you today,” he says.

“I wondered if Pitane might be free for a moment,” she answers.

“She’s in the courtyard,” he replies. “But if you’re going to keep her chatting, best get a drink.”