Calculus II

I. The Odds of Murder

"Calculus, your son is up to something."

Calculus the First looked up from his work and over to his wife in disbelief. "Abacus, that son is just as much yours as he is mine," he said.

"Ah, but today he is exhibiting your troublemaking traits, none of which I had as a child," she responded with a smirk and a shrug, turning from the window and going back to her own work. "So I think that makes him just slightly more your child in this moment."

"Abacus," Calculus I groaned. "I have work to do. Emperor Mathematicus is not a patient man—"

"Oh, so you're saying my work isn't just as important as yours?" Abacus raised an eyebrow, and her husband grew silent. He knew when he had lost.

"Fine, fine. Just what is it Cal is doing exactly that has you so..." He trailed off the moment he looked out the window, eyes widening in horror. "Calculus son of Calculus son of Nautilus! You get in this house this instant, do you hear me?"

The teen slunk through the doorway a few moments later, a sheepish expression on his face and a stick of charcoal in his hand.

"What have I told you about graffiti-ing the statue of the emperor in the town square?" his father scolded. "You do not calculate the angle of his nose or measure the circumference of his waist, is that understood?"

"It was just a joke," Cal defended, giving a shrug similar to that of his mother's. "Lots of people thought it was funny—"

"I said, is that understood?"

Calculus II sighed. "Yes, Father."

His father sighed, then softened his expression. "Good. Now, don't let me catch you misbehaving again, or I'll make you help me with the emperor's work-order."

Calculus the Younger groaned. "Can't I just go to school for one day? Pyrus son of Helius gets to go every day. If I could just attend one lesson—"

"You know it's not our place to learn," his mother answered from across the room. "Pyrus and his family are of a higher social class than us. Why don't you go play with Calimarus, son of Octopus? He's a nice boy."

Cal wrinkled his nose in disgust. "But Calimarus always smells like fish."

Calculus the Elder rolled his eyes. "He's a fisherman's son, what do you expect? Now leave us so we can concentrate, or I really will put you to work! There are deadlines to meet, or the emperor will have our heads!"

Calculus II left the stick of charcoal on the table and slunk back out of the house. It wasn't fair! Patricians got to go to school while plebeians like him had to stay at home. He was just as smart as that stuck-up Pyrus. If only he could prove it!

Cal wandered through the city streets, glaring at the cobblestones below him. His mood was momentarily forgotten, however, when he caught sight of the brewer's son standing in a large crowd outside the public baths.

"Hey Martinus!" Cal said once he got closer. "What's going on?"

"They say someone was murdered," Martinus answered, standing on his tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the entrance to the bathhouse. "A man was found drowned at the bottom of the cold bath earlier this morning."

"May Sharon have mercy on his soul," another onlooker beside them muttered, referencing the ferrywoman of the underworld. "Let us hope his journey across the Statis-Stix was not too turbulent."

"There is a chance that he wasn't murdered, though," Calculus mused aloud. "I'd say, perhaps one in three? After all, the bathhouse floors can be slippery. Maybe he fell, and no one was around to see him go under?"