Kerynis cocked his head. “You’re young and strong. Maybe you should try three drops.”
I took a deep breath, then carefully poured three drops of the unguent onto my hand. After a final moment of hesitation, I licked it up. The taste was horrible.
For what seemed a long time, they stared at me in silence. At last I began to feel a warm sensation in the pit of my stomach, spreading to my chest and limbs. My head felt light. The room took on a faint glow.
Kerynis smiled and nodded. “Ah, it’s beginning to work.”
Antipater frowned. “I see no change.”
“Nor will you, as I explained. How do you feel, young Roman?”
I swallowed. “Strange … but not in a bad way.” I looked at the hand from which I had lapped the drops. “I can still see myself.”
“Of course you can,” said Kerynis. “It’s the rays of visibility. You see yourself every day, so you’re not susceptible to your own invisibility.” Though I had slowly and quietly risen from my chair and walked across the room, he continued to gaze at the place where I had been sitting.
“Try it!” whispered Antipater. “Step into the common room and see what happens. I’ll come with you.”
“No, Teacher, stay here,” I said, looking at the money on the table and the bag of books, and at Kerynis, whom I still didn’t trust.
“Very well.” Antipater gladly took a seat and began looking through the cylinders.
Feeling the strange effects of the potion, I ventured into the common room. A dozen or so patrons were scattered about the small tavern, drinking wine and gambling. I walked from one side of the room to the other, treading as silently as I could. To be sure, no one seemed to see me. I conducted a few simple experiments, such as clapping my hands in front of a drunken stranger’s face, only to see him start back in surprise.
Galatea passed by, carrying a pitcher full of wine. I walked alongside her, openly staring at her lovely face and golden hair and at the upper portion of her white breasts, which were suggestively framed by the bosom of her dress. Oh, to have lived a century before, in the days of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, when the Cretan revival was in vogue and women wore garments that exposed their breasts completely!
I followed her on her rounds, and watched her flirt shamelessly with every man in the establishment. Feeling an irrational stab of jealousy, I couldn’t resist putting my lips close to her ear and whispering, “Boo!”
The poor girl gave such a start that she sloshed wine from the pitcher all over the front of her dress. Some of the wine landed on her breasts. The men who witnessed her apparent clumsiness hooted and laughed. One of them shouted, “Here, Galatea, let me lick that off for you!”
I saw her blush and felt a bit ashamed of myself. But when she turned and hurried down a narrow hallway, I followed. As she stepped into a little room, I slipped behind her and barely avoided being struck by the door.
The cluttered, windowless little room was dimly lit by a single lamp. It was apparently the room where she slept, for there was a narrow bed, a chair, and an open trunk full of clothes and other items. While I stood very still and watched, Galatea pulled the wine-spattered dress over her head and stood before me completely naked.
It had been a while since I had seen a naked woman. Through the winter months, while we stayed on Rhodes, I had enjoyed the intimate companionship of Vindovix the Gaul, but that was not the same thing. Unafraid of being seen, I openly stared. This way and that she turned in the amber light, so that I had a view of her from every angle. Galatea was like a statue of Venus, endowed with sleek white limbs, enticing hips and buttocks, and breasts that changed from one shape to another as she stooped, turned, and stood, each shape more provocative than the last.
When she pulled another dress from the trunk, I couldn’t contain my groan of disappointment.
Galatea whirled about and looked directly at me. “Is someone there?”
I held my breath.
She frowned, then went on about her business, turning her back to me as she pulled the new dress over her head. But by the time she turned to face me again, the potion of invisibility seemed to have waned, for she started back and raised her arms as if to defend herself.
“What are you—? How did you—?” She seemed at a loss for words, as any girl would be if a man suddenly materialized from nowhere in a closed room.
I, too, was speechless, but only for a moment. “I think it was my fault that you spilled the wine,” I finally said.
She frowned. “Don’t be silly. I was clumsy, that’s all. But where did you come from?”
“Does that matter?”
Galatea cracked a smile. “Ah, yes, I recognize you now. You’re the young Roman traveling with the old man. I … couldn’t quite see you at first. It must be the dim light. Even so … how did you …?”
“I’m sorry you spilled the wine.”
“The dress is ruined.” She sighed.
“I’ll buy you another.”
“That’s very sweet of you. But I must get back to work now, or else those drunken louts will climb over the counter and start serving themselves.” She moved toward the door, sidling past me so close that we touched, front to front. From that brief, brushing contact, I think she must have perceived the effect she had on me, for she glanced downward, then flashed a knowing smile and gave me a quick kiss on the lips before she pushed the door open and left me standing alone in the little room.
By the time I returned to the private dining room, Antipater and Kerynis had settled their transaction. The coins were no longer in sight, and the satchel full of scrolls was on the floor beside Antipater.
“How did it go?” said Kerynis.
“Yes, Gordianus, did you do something naughty?” I must have blushed, for Antipater laughed and shook his head. “By Hercules, I think you did do something naughty.”
Kerynis also seemed richly amused and took advantage of my consternation to give me a swat on the backside. After a few words of farewell, he was gone, leaving the books and taking the shekels with him.
That night, in our room, long after midnight, Antipater pored over his newly acquired scrolls, refilling the lamps with oil whenever they burned low. Occasionally he muttered to himself or uttered an exclamation of amazement. “Imagine that!” he would say, or “Astonishing! Can such a thing be possible?”
While Antipater read, I could think of nothing except Galatea. I lay on my narrow bed, wearing only my loincloth and covered by a sheet. From the open window came the sounds of the waterfront at night—waves gently lapping the piers, and the quiet creaking of ships—but these did nothing to calm me. My eyes were shut but I was fully awake. An idea occurred to me.
“Teacher, what became of the vial?”
“The what?”
“The vial with the potion.”
“It’s here in the satchel, along with the scrolls. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.”
He turned his gaze from the scroll in his lap and looked at me sidelong. “Do you have some need to be invisible tonight?”
“Of course not!”
He hummed skeptically, then returned his full attention to the scroll.
I tossed and turned. Sleep would not come.
In my imagination, I was certain that Galatea slept in the nude, without even a sheet to cover her. Try as I might, I could think of nothing else.
At some point the room grew dim, as the lamps burned low and Antipater did not refill them. He nodded, and his grip loosened, so that the scroll on his lap unfurled and rolled down his legs and onto the floor. Antipater began to snore.
Very quietly I rose from the bed. I started to put on my tunic, then realized I had no need for it. Nor did I need the loincloth I was wearing. An invisible man had no need for clothes! With the thrill that only a nineteen-year-old can feel at simply being naked, I stripped off the loincloth and luxuriated in the cool sea breeze from the window.