Draco stiffened. ‘Yes, my lord,’ he said, woodenly. He summoned two more guardsmen, had a whispered conversation and then, with lamps in hand, they searched the room, ripped the coverings off the couch and searched them for needles, and summoned a pair of slaves to remake it. Then they did the same for Melitta, moving the snoring Kallista.
When they were done, Satyrus tried to make amends. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
Draco shot him a look of contempt. ‘Just my job, my lord. I’ll be on my way.’
Satyrus paused. ‘Yes, it is, Draco. Sorry for the inconvenience, but it is your job.’
Draco stalked off.
Philokles and Theron joined them in Melitta’s room. They dropped their packs and sat on them. Then Philokles went with Satyrus to his room and they collected his gear and moved it to his sister’s room.
Before they could get it all arranged, there was the rattle of armed soldiers in the colonnade, and Nestor appeared through the curtain.
He entered, followed by a slim figure wrapped to the head in cloaks. ‘The tyrant himself is otherwise engaged,’ Nestor said.
‘He sent me to prove his determination on your behalf,’ Amastris said, emerging from her wraps. She smiled hesitantly. ‘And because I wanted to say goodbye. Nestor will escort you to the stables. Father wants you gone immediately – while he has the palace locked down and no one can speak of your flight. Then he intends to sell every slave in the palace. That boy – the one who served you – was one of ours.’ Her eyes met Satyrus’s, and she smiled at him. He had to lean against the wall. ‘He shouldn’t even have been in the room. He’s not a server – just a cook’s boy. But none of the slaves seem to know anything.’ Her shrug told a great deal. ‘So father is selling every one of them in the morning.’ ‘Ares!’ Philokles said. ‘Every slave in the palace?’
Nestor’s face hardened. ‘I’ll find the man responsible. And we’ll never get to the slaves while they’re still on the staff.’
‘The man responsible is the Athenian, Stratokles,’ Satyrus said. ‘And his agent, the slave Tenedos.’
Nestor shook his head. ‘Stratokles has fled the city, and is a citizen of Athens. We have the house watched, but there is not much more we can do. It now appears that this slave, Tenedos, may have been his messenger to someone inside the palace.’
‘Surely you can take action against him! Arrest him!’ Satyrus blurted.
‘Athens, young prince, does not take well to the prosecution of its ambassadors.’ Nestor snapped his fingers, and a pair of soldiers brought a cauldron of stew. ‘Or their murder. I have eaten from this pot. The wine is my own. Please eat.’
Satyrus didn’t hesitate. He took a loaf of bread from one of the soldiers, picked up a bowl and began to eat. Melitta did the same. Philokles and Theron joined in.
Amastris took a bowl and joined them. She shared the room’s only chair with Melitta, like sisters. ‘My father says, “I smell Olympias and her pet, Cassander.” Olympias serves dark powers. She loves poison.’ She glanced at Melitta. ‘We all fear Olympias. She has been a figure of fear to me since I was born.’
‘Many of your soldiers are from Macedon,’ Melitta said.
Nestor nodded. ‘It will be looked into. You need to be gone from here before someone gets you.’ He looked at Philokles. ‘How long have you been with the twins?’
‘All our lives,’ Satyrus answered. ‘He was my father’s friend. You cannot possibly accuse him.’
Nestor shook his head. ‘My lord, I accuse no one, but I must ask everyone. So you are the same man as figures in tales of Kineas? Good.’ Nestor nodded at Philokles and turned back to Satyrus. ‘I think that if he drank less, he’d be more trustworthy; but he seems a solid man.’
Philokles went red and then a blotched red and white.
Impervious to the Spartan’s rage, Nestor glanced at Theron. ‘How about this athlete? Theron?’ Nestor pointed at him. ‘How long have you known him?’
‘He has been with us from the attack at Tanais,’ Satyrus said. His voice was very low. He looked at Melitta.
‘He would never betray us,’ she said. ‘He’s had a hundred chances to kill us.’
‘Nestor, why are these things happening?’ Amastris spoke in a low voice, almost husky.
‘Why, my lady?’ Nestor shrugged. ‘People play games for power. Olympias and her friend Cassander play them for the love of playing. Olympias is like a cat – she likes to hurt her prey. And they want to own us – and Sinope and the north shore, as well.’ Nestor’s mouth was a hard line. ‘The last time Olympias stretched her talons out towards the north, your father cut them off,’ he said to Satyrus. ‘Zopryon was her lover.’ He chuckled. ‘Of course, everyone at the court of Macedon was her lover at one time or another,’ he continued.
Satyrus was gazing at Amastris, who looked even more like a Nereid. She was gazing back, the pressure of her green eyes on his almost too intense to bear, like strong sunlight on a sunburn.
Satyrus wanted to touch her curls and see what kept them bound so close to each other.
She smiled at him. ‘I like your sister,’ she said, as if she had been his friend for millennia, and as if the two of them were alone in the room.
‘Me too,’ Satyrus said. He ruined the line with some weak giggles.
Nestor put a possessive hand on Amastris’s shoulder. ‘Amastris will rule here one day. Amastris, this handsome boy is a penniless exile, and you will not pay him the slightest attention. You are going to Ptolemy to find a husband – a powerful husband with a fleet.’ He said these words with the amusement of a father.
‘I know, Captain,’ she replied. She smiled at Satyrus again.
‘Look all you like, young man,’ Nestor said. ‘She is our greatest asset in this game of thieves, and she is not for you.’
‘We’re looking for a middle-aged tyrant with a good fleet. Syracusa, perhaps,’ the Nereid said. ‘I’ve been raised to it. I can name the rowing positions. I think I’d make a decent navarch.’ She laughed and turned her grass-green gaze on Melitta. ‘If your brother ever restores his fortune, you’ll be in the same boat, Melitta. He’ll marry you off to secure his coast.’
‘Not if he wants to live through the night,’ Melitta said. She reached over and ruffled her brother’s hair and met Amastris’s eyes. ‘Your father is not what he appears,’ she said.
‘If he were what he appears,’ Nestor said, ‘he’d have eaten you for dinner tonight. But he regrets that someone has the power to show him weak. You two must be gone. The choices are by ship or by caravan. It is your life, young man – which will you choose?’
‘I may be a foolish boy,’ Satyrus said, ‘but I think that if I can make it safely to my father’s friend Diodorus, I will be safe. Many of the men I grew up with are among Diodorus’s mercenaries.’ Even as he spoke, Satyrus relived the last two weeks. He pursed his lips and looked at his sister.
‘Will we ever be safe?’ she asked, speaking the same thought that bounced around in his head.
Philokles was still silent with anger, hitting his wine cup hard.
Theron put a hand on the Spartan’s shoulder. ‘I think we’re safer by land.’
Philokles shrugged. ‘All I have chosen goes wrong,’ he said. ‘I’m just a drunk.’
Melitta went and stood in front of the Spartan. ‘Is that how it is going to be, Philokles?’ she asked. ‘If you won’t think, won’t help and keep drinking wine, I’d just as soon leave you here.’
Theron shook his head violently, out of the Spartan’s sight line.
Satyrus stepped in. ‘Philokles, please help us. You saved our lives again and again the last few weeks. Get us to Diodorus.’
‘Land,’ Philokles said thickly. ‘Let us ride.’
Satyrus turned to the captain of the guard. ‘We will go by land. Now, if you will help us. We’ll need a mule litter for the slave girl.’
Nestor nodded. ‘All is ready, my lord.’ He looked at Satyrus’s leg, and meaningfully at Kallista, who was still pale and could barely eat.
‘You are, all of you, injured,’ he said. ‘If my lord allows it, I think that you should take the doctor.’