Olympiad Tom Holt

by Olympiad (lit)

  'What? Oh, the prince, Leon's son. Didn't I mention that?'

  The Phoenician shook his head. 'And did it work? Did Coroebus get to be king after all?'

  Cratus looked at Palamedes, who nodded. 'Oh, he got to be king all right, for about three years. Wasn't bad at it, either, in the event. But then he caught a bad chill and died, and Prince Oeleus took his place after all. My uncle,' Palamedes added, 'on my mother's side.'

  The Phoenician looked at him. 'Oh,' he said. 'So,' he went on, 'it wasn't all a waste of time, then; or at least it was, because Coroebus died and Oen - I mean, your uncle became king. I'm not sure if that's a happy ending or a sad one, really.'

  Palamedes smiled. 'I'm not even sure it's an ending,' he said. 'After all, human life isn't a race, where you cross a line and you know it's all over. There's all the stuff that went before, and all the stuff that's going to come after, you never know what was the actual race and what was just the preparations for it. As often as not, you can't even be sure what happened, or who it happened to, or anything. And a story's only worth repeating if it's a good story.'

  The Phoenician thought for a moment. 'I suppose so,' he said. 'You know, if you people were to learn about making the scratcheson-waxed-board I was telling you about-'

  Palamedes yawned. 'Oh, for pity's sake,' he said. 'Somebody give the man another drink quick, before he starts off all over again.'