by Gene Wolfe
"I don't think so. Do you want to change yours?"
She nodded. "It means 'well talked of,' which is good enough, I suppose; but I'd like something better. What do you think of Drakon?"
"Shouldn't it be Drakaina?"
The woman laughed, and Io said, "That's good, master."
"Do either of you know where we are? Pasicrates said we were going to Megara."
Before they could reply, Basias dropped back to walk between Io and me. "We're turning off at this fork," he announced. "The three of you, me, Eutaktos, and Pasicrates. We're to see the regent while the rest make camp."
We hurried down a dusty road that looked no more important than the other; but when we reached the summit of the next hill, the whole scene changed as a nightscape does at the rising of the sun.
A thousand tents stood in orderly rows upon a rolling plain. Beyond them, a city lifted white walls; beyond those spread sparkling blue water dotted with foam where the salt-sharp wind ruffled countless waves; and beyond the tumultuous sea rose the dim blue bulk of an island.
Io shouted for joy. "Look! Look! Is that Peace? We went there on Hypereides's ship, only he wouldn't let us off. Is it?"
Basias mussed her brown curls. "That's right. You've an eye for the lay of the land, little girl. If you were an Amazon, you'd make a strategist someday."
Io pulled at my chiton and pointed at the sea. "Latro, that's Peace Bay. Hypereides told us. It's where the ships from Thought beat the barbarians."
Pasicrates whirled on her like a panther. "Our ships fought there too, and our Strategist Eurybiades commanded the combined fleets!"
I said, "Don't shout at her. She didn't know, and neither did I."
"But she at least will remember," Pasicrates snapped, "because I shouted at her. Mild lessons are soon forgotten, and in the end the kind teacher is the cruel teacher-he doesn't teach. Enough! I'll tell Pausanias you're coming." He runs so well I think only the finest horse could overtake him. Before we had gone another hundred strides, he was flashing among the tents.
Io's dusty cheeks were streaked with tears. I picked her up and tried to comfort her. "I'm all right, master," she said. And then, "He was right, I won't forget. Not even his name."
"Eurybiades?"
She shook her head. "Pasicrates." ' To distract her, I said, "Look how many tents there are! A whole army's camped here, with thousands of soldiers. Have you and I ever seen any army in camp before, Io?"
The woman whispered, "This is nothing. You should have seen the encampment of the Great King. It was like a city on the march-but no city on earth could have equaled it, except perhaps Babylon."
Eutaktos must have sharp ears, because he overheard her. "I saw that camp, and my slaves looted the pavilions of the satraps. If your Great King were here with us, he would not think this camp nothing."
Pausanias's tent is larger than all the rest, embroidered and hung with tassels of gold. I think it must have been part of the loot Eutaktos spoke of. When we came near, I could hear voices; one, I think, the voice of Pasicrates, the other harsh and flat, the speech of a young man accustomed to giving orders and to concealing any emotion he might feel while giving them. I heard Pasicrates say, "… a spy of the Great King's."
The other answered, "A spy is a stone that can be thrown back."
Eutaktos coughed, I suppose to let those within know we had arrived. After that I could distinguish no more words.
There are two sentries at the door, tall men no older than Pasicrates; they will not permit us to approach it. We stand to one side-or rather, Eutaktos and Basias stand so, their hands on their sword hilts. Io, the woman, and I are sitting on the ground, where I write these words, having seen by reading how good it is to write so that what has happened is not lost.
I have read of the Lady of the Doves; and I feel I then visited a realm at once higher and smaller than our own. What was it she wished of me? For I feel sure there was something. Did she obtain it? Even after reading what I wrote twice, I cannot say. I am sure she was a friend to the woman Kalleos; but was Kalleos a friend to me?
The Lady of the Doves said I would not forget her, though I forget everything. She was not wrong; when I read of her again, my flesh stirred at the memory. For love, she was surely the only woman, or all of them.
But I must put her memory aside and think of what I will say in the tent. Soon, I think, Pasicrates will come out and take us in to the regent.
CHAPTER XXVII-Pausanias
The regent has furnished his tent with plunder. He sits upon scarlet cushions, and there are carpets rich with griffins, black bulls savaged by golden lions, and men strangely dressed, with black and curling beards. The air is perfumed by lamps of gold.
Pasicrates announced, "O royal Pausanias, this is the man Eutaktos the Lochagos brought. I have examined him, and I am satisfied he is indeed the one shown you in your dream, so far as I am able to judge."
The regent stared at me. His face is terrible with scars, but it seemed to me it would have been terrible without them, as hard and cruel as iron. Perhaps a smile touched his mouth; a scar drew up one cheek, so I could not be sure.
"The man I saw wore a chaplet of withered blossoms. Fellow! Were you wearing such a chaplet when my shieldmen discovered you?"
"I don't remember," I told him. "But I may have written of it. May I look?" I held up this scroll.
The regent's lips drew back from his teeth, which are large and not quite white. "Good. Very good. And the flower?"
Pasicrates said, "It was still there when I examined the book, Highness. The lochagos may have put it there, but I doubt that he did."
The regent pointed. "Open that to the stick."
I did as he ordered, holding the scroll so he could see the writing. As I unrolled the last sheet, a dried lupine dropped into his hand.
Pasicrates cleared his throat. "Perhaps I ought to add, Highness, that the lochagos says they appeared to have had a dinner party the night before in the house where he found this man. There would have been flowers, naturally, and chaplets for the guests."
The regent waved this aside. "I'm satisfied. I wish Tisamenus were here, but this is the man, or we'll never find him. He looks like him as well. I couldn't see that scar in my dream, but no doubt the chaplet covered it."
I asked, "You dreamed of me?"
He nodded. "It was Kore herself, smiling and wreathed in blossoms. She said, 'For the many subjects you have given, I will show you a secret known but to the gods.' Then I saw you. What's your name, anyway?"
"Latro," I told him.
"I saw you sitting on a pallet. It was night, but there was a fire, and I could see the firelight flicker on your face. You were holding this, and you unrolled that book and put the flower into it and rolled it partway up, then wrote. The goddess was gone, but I heard her voice. She said, 'He will have forgotten everything, knowing nothing more of the past than of the future. See who is with him!' Nike stood behind you in the shadows."
"I am to bring you victory?"
Still smiling his snarling smile, the regent leaned back among his cushions. "Not many men are favored by the gods. A few heroes like Perseus, Theseus, my ancestor Heracles. Those destined to-destined for greatness." He turned to his messenger. "Where did he get that scar, Pasicrates?"
"I don't know, Highness. The lochagos brought two others with him, a slave child who remembers for him and the magician I told you of. They're outside with the lochagos and the ouragos who guarded him on the march."
"Get them in here. All of them."
Eutaktos entered first, Basias last. I think they were all a bit frightened.
The regent smiled again when he saw Io. "You know your master's history, little girl, or so Pasicrates tells me."
Io nodded timidly.
"How did he receive that scar?"
"I wasn't with him, sir."
"But you know. Don't mind this face. The faces of my conquests look far worse."
"There was a big battle. Ou
r men went with the Great King's army, but they lost. My master fought in that, I think."
"And so do I. But you must tell me why you think as you do."
"Because it was when the army came back that they brought him to our temple. That was the first time I saw him."
"And did he have that scar then?"
Io shook her head. "There was a bandage with blood on it."
Pasicrates said, "But if he fought for the barbarians, Highness-"
"You're a handsome boy," the regent told him. "But if you want to stay where you are, you'd better learn to think. To whom did the Maiden appear? Who has her favor?"
"Ah, I see!"
"I hope so. Lochagos, I like a man who achieves his objective. Who makes no excuses because he needs none. I won't forget this."
Eutaktos stood very straight. "Thank you, Highness." '
"This man with you has been taking care of… "
"Latro," I prompted.
"Of Latro, as I understand it."
"Yes, Highness."
"And has learned something of his ways in the process, no doubt. I'm going to detach him for the time being. You may return to your lochos."
"Thank you, Highness." Eutaktos left us, walking proudly. I have not seen him again.
"Child, do you know that your city and mine are no longer enemies?"
Io nodded. "Pindaros said so."
"A man of your city?"
She nodded again. "He said you saved us."
"He was right. It's true your men fought me, and fought very well for foreigners. But when a war's over, it's over. Or it should be. Thought's army wanted to burn your city; I wouldn't let them. Now your city and mine are friends."
Io said politely, "I hope it's always so, sir."
"And when I've more leisure, I want to talk with you. If you tell me the truth, I'll see things go well for you. You'll have food and new clothes, and other children to play with."
"Thank you, sir," Io said. "Only I don't belong to you. I belong to Latro."
"Well said, but I doubt if he'll object. Will you, Latro?"
I shook my head.
"And this soldier of mine will continue to look after you. After all three of you." He looked toward Basias, who stood like a statue, his hands to his sides. "An idiot, a child, and a spy won't be too much for you, will they, ouragos? What's your name?"
"Basias, Highness! No, Highness!"
"Good. I don't think the first two will give you much trouble, Basias. The spy may. If he does, kill him. If he won't follow orders, I don't want him alive."
The woman in the purple cloak exclaimed, "I'm not a spy!"
"Of course you are. If I hadn't known it before, I'd know it now because you were too slow to deny it. You're from Miletos, or so you told my messenger."
She nodded. "And I'm-"
"A Hellene. As we all are, save Latro. A good many Hellenes fought for the Great King."
"I didn't fight at all."
"Certainly not. Your king's no fool, and neither are his ministers. One look at that face would tell any sensible man you'd be more useful behind the enemy's line than before it. I know what happened to Miletos; the Great King tore down your walls and sent you to herd goats. I'd ask how you got out, but you've some story. Don't bother. Basias has his sword-not that he'd need it."
"I am protected-"
"You're under no law but ours, and ours says we can kill you where you stand. It would give Basias one fewer worry, and if you lie to me, he'll wring your neck."
Basias said, "He was in the Great King's camp, Highness. I heard him tell Latro."
Spreading his hands, the regent whispered, "Speak or die. Who got your report?"
Though the time had been so brief, the woman had recovered her composure. "Believe me, most royal-"
As quickly as he might have thrust with his spear, Basias grasped her arm. She raised a hand to claw his face, but a blow to her head sent her reeling across the tent.
Basias drew his sword.
"Wait," the regent told him. To me he said, "I saw that step. You would have protected your friend, if only Basias were here. What if he were not? If you had only Pasicrates and me to deal with?"
I said, "If it weren't for the sentries, I would have killed all of you, or tried to."
Io gasped, "Master, no!"
The regent waved her fears away. "Your master's a man of courage. He'll need to be, living among us."
Awkwardly, the woman got to her feet. There were tears in her eyes, but something else too.
"I don't have time for more of this," the regent told her. "You may speak and live or remain silent and die. Choose."
"Then I choose to speak," the woman said. "Who would not?" She smoothed her cloak as women do, as women keep their clothes in order though the cities burn.
"Good. A confessed spy may be useful. Useful, you may live and even prosper. Who got your report?"
"Artabazus."
"Better and better. And that report was…?"
"That half a year and a few gifts would make any fighting unnecessary."
"He did not believe you?"
The woman shook her head. "He believed me, but he couldn't convince Mardonius."
Basias dropped his sword. It fell point down, piercing the carpet where he stood and sticking upright in the earth beneath it. He lifted his arm and looked at his hand with unbelieving eyes. The fingers were swollen, and there was a gray pallor on the skin.
"Let me see that," the regent said. And then, when Basias did not obey, "Come here!"
Like a doll moved by strings, Basias walked to where the regent sat and held out his hand.
"He had a poisoned pin in his hair." The regent looked at the woman. "Tell us the antidote."
"I have no pin, Highness," she said. "You may search my person if you wish."
"You hid it when you fell. You may be worth something at that. What's your name?"
"Eurykles, Highness. Others have thought so."
The regent nodded absently. "Basias, tell the sentries one of them is to take you to Kichesippos, my healer. The rest of you, come here and sit before me. I'm tired of breaking my neck. Take cushions if you want."
I got a cushion for the woman and a long one for Io and me. As I put them down before the regent, I could hear Basias talking to the sentries outside.
"You too, Pasicrates," the regent said, and his messenger seated himself upon a cushion at his right hand.
"Eurykles, tell me why you gave Artabazus that advice."
"Because it was the best I could give," the woman said. She paused to gather her thoughts. "War is only the last recourse of politics; it has no sure victories, or so I think. A king who fights when he might gain his ends by a cupful of wisdom and a handful of gold is a fool."
The regent smiled. "You believe your Great King a fool?"
"The Great King was gone. Mardonius was a good soldier but a stupid man. If Artabazus had been in command… "
"If Artabazus had been in command, what then? What of the Hellenes? You're one, as you just reminded us."
"You'd be ruled by men of our race, just as you are now, and as our cities in the lesser Asia are. What difference would there be? Why should ten myriads die?"
"You know of others who think as you do? In Thought?"
"I'm certain such men exist."
"You're careful. So am I." The regent glanced at Io and me. "Let me suggest to all three of you something you may not have noticed. Perhaps I should say let us suggest it, because I've talked to Pasicrates and he feels as I do."
The woman leaned toward him, her fingers playing upon her cheek. "Yes, Highness?"
"We are four men whose interests run so close they're indistinguishable. Let me speak of Rope and this whole country first. We Rope Makers are the finest soldiers in the world, and the Great King knows that now. But men who know war know it's no game; a wise man dodges it if he can, just as you said. As for glory, my uncle Leonidas won enough at the Gates to the Hot Springs to l
ast our family till Tantalus drinks-I say nothing of my own battle. An honorable peace, then, is our only desire."
The woman called Eurykles gave the slightest of nods, her eyes fixed upon the regent as a serpent transfixes a bird.
"Our country is divided into so many warring cities no one can count them all, or no one has bothered. Every clutter of huts on the mountainside makes its own laws, issues its own currency, and fields its tiny army to crush its tiny neighbor. Clearly, what we need is union under the noblest of our cities, which by a happy coincidence happens to be my own."
"By a coincidence even happier," the woman said, "I have before me a member of the elder royal house of that city, who is in addition its most renowned living leader."
"Thank you." The regent nodded graciously. "Unfortunately, our city is not strong enough to unite all the rest. More, it is not rich enough. I have often thought that if only we had found the silver, instead of Thought, or if we had seized the treasury of Croesus… " He shrugged and let the words trail away. "But suppose we had the help-or at least the threat-of additional troops. Cavalry, let us say, because there's so little here. With that threat and gold enough to make gifts to farsighted men, a great deal might be done."
The woman nodded. "It might indeed."
Pasicrates murmured, "Highness, do you think you should speak in this way before the child?"
"Speak in what way? Say that I seek an honorable peace with the Great King and a position for Rope commensurate with its virtues? She may repeat that to anyone she may meet."
Io said, "I won't repeat anything. I don't do that, except for telling Latro. But you said all our interests went together."
"Your master is fortunate in his slave; I've seen that already. As for our interests, let's take Eurykles here first. We'll get to you in a moment. Eurykles serves the Great King, as he admitted a moment ago. More directly, he serves Artabazus. He wishes to be rewarded for his work, like any other man. The Great King wants to recover the prestige he lost here and to add to his glory. Peace and union under a leader grateful to him-"
The woman said, "Would be all he could desire, Highness, I'm sure. Someone who has the king's ear would have to be consulted, naturally."
