Chapter 15
Dinner, as my father had said, was delivered to us on covered trays by the temple’s servants. He and I went out into the courtyard, the splash of the fountain and the smell of lemon blossoms providing a pleasant atmosphere.
We settled in wrought-iron chairs at a matching table while our meal was unveiled. I’d felt lightheaded from skipping lunch, and my mouth watered at the sight of the plates filled with food: baked fish, a salad made of mint and grains, cured olives, hard cheeses, and sliced oranges. It was far better fare than the aspirants had been served.
“Do you ever go to the refectory?” I asked Galtus Celcio.
“Seldom. In fact, I take most of my meals at my desk.” He sent me a rueful look. “There’s much to do, and not enough time to accomplish it. I will try to join y
