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Chapter 2

He tried again. “It’s called, er, Sigillaria. Part of the larger Roman Saturnalia festival, with the topsy-turvy dress codes and masters serving servants and gambling and festivals of light and all that. The paper I’m giving tomorrow is actually about, er, Roman gift-giving traditions and the inversion of social status and the traditions of misrule and revelry, so you’d give your closest friends small symbolic presents, which is why the name, symbols and sigils and signs—they’d be essentially joke presents, candles or wax figurines or toothpicks or dice or, um, terrible poetry. Catullus once wrote about a friend gifting him a book of poems by the worst poet who ever lived, and he was thoroughly delighted, and—I’m sorry, I’m going on, my ex always used to tell me to be quiet, I can stop.”