When the nurse returned with the two sets of auloi, Archimedes slipped the reeds into the mouthpieces of the pair he'd been given and tried the slides. He had been handed a baritone and bass, presumably because instruments with a lower range had been considered more suitable for a man; Delia had an alto and tenor. He actually preferred the mid-to high-range auloi, but the fingering was the same. He looked at Delia, and saw, with satisfaction, that she was tying on the cheek strap he had given her. He smiled; she smiled back, then tossed him her old cheek strap. "Here," she said. "You can borrow this a little longer."
He murmured his thanks as he put it on. He remembered playing the aulos for the woman in Alexandria. She had heard him play at a party one of his friends had thrown, and the next day she had sent him a perfumed invitation to her house. She had a right to invite whomever she liked, since she was a courtesan- one of the legendary courtesans of Alexandria, the women who rivaled the gods for beauty. He'd expected her to send him away again as soon as she realized that he wasn't wealthy. But she hadn't. Not for a while, anyway. And when she had finally sent him away, she had been so gentle- "My dearest, you are ruining yourself for me. I cannot permit that, you know." He had tried to dissuade her: "I can build some more water-snails!" But she had replied, "My dearest, no. There is only one Pegasus. I will not be the one to bind him to earth when he might have the sky."
Lais had liked his playing. He would see if Delia did.
She set her flutes to her lips, caught his eye, then began the same Euripides variation she had been playing when they first met. He listened for a couple of beats, then joined in. At first he simply played the same melody in a deeper tone, but as they progressed he began embroidering it with grace notes and syncopation. Delia's eyes lit with pleasure. She switched the tune to her alto instrument and used the tenor for accompaniment. Archimedes instantly imitated her, playing the tune on his bass aulos and the accompaniment on the baritone. Delia added the syncopation on the alto; Archimedes countered it on the bass. They played the piece through to the end, taking a keen pleasure in the way the high and low phrases of the tune reverberated against the middle.
When the tune was finished, Delia played a few ornamental trills, then launched suddenly and without warning into a dramatic piece of chorus music with a complex pounding rhythm. Archimedes joined her within a phrase, then began toying with the rhythm, resolving all the long beats and running the short ones together. She gave him a startled look, and he took the flutes away from his lips long enough to grin, then played on. He dropped all the long beats and replaced them with complicated phrases of accompaniment. Delia's eyes widened. Archimedes rejoined her on the tune; after a few bars, she let him carry the melody and began resolving notes as he had done, hesitantly at first, then with a sudden flush of delight, riding the beats in a flurry of quavers. Archimedes suddenly dropped the melody again and for perhaps a minute they both played an accompaniment to a tune that had become only an idea in two minds, an unheard force holding together two wild improvisations. Then Archimedes returned to the tune; in half a beat, Delia had joined him, and together they slowed the tempo and finished in a single drawn-out note.
They lowered their flutes at the same time, smiled at the same time, and cried, "You're good!" in the same breathless gasp. Then they both laughed.
Delia turned to her sister-in-law. "Have you ever heard anything like that?" she demanded excitedly.
Philistis was frowning, and she shook her head.
"Oh, we play improvisations a lot in my family," said Archimedes, wiping the flutes' mouthpieces on his cloak. "But not on the auloi. That is, I do, but the rest of my family play strings. Playing with another aulist- by Apollo, it's like- like squaring the circle!"
Philistis abruptly stood up, smoothing her tunic. "That was very… interesting," she said, with an air of having found it just about survivable. "Very… unusual. But you mustn't let us delay you any longer, my good fellow. I'm sure you have plenty of work waiting for you at the catapult workshops. I'm sorry that my father isn't back yet. I'll tell him you were here."
Archimedes almost responded that he had finished his business at the workshop for the time being. Then he realized that he was being dismissed. He opened his mouth- and closed it again. He should not be surprised that the queen did not want him loitering in the house like an old family friend. Reluctantly, he untied the cheek strap and stood up. He bowed to Delia, handed her the strip of leather and her borrowed auloi, and muttered his thanks for the loan. Then, pulling his cloak straight with a regretful sigh, he wished the ladies joy and departed, drooping.
As soon as he was out of sight, Delia turned toward the queen angrily. "Why did you tell him to go?" she demanded, "That wasn't interesting, it was wonderful!"
"I sent him off because I could see you thought that," said Philistis. "Sister, he's a… a catapult maker!"
"Oh, Zeus!" exclaimed Delia in disgust. "Does that mean he shouldn't play the flute? No, I forget, you were the one who suggested that he play; it was only my joining in you didn't like. I'm allowed to play music, Philistis!"
Philistis grimaced. She'd always felt that there was something improper about a girl playing the flute, and wished that Delia were not allowed. That was not, however, what this argument was about. "Not with amorous young men," she said firmly.
"Amorous men!" cried Delia furiously. "You never think about anything else. I'm not allowed to go anywhere, do anything, or speak to anyone, because that filthy creature Love might spot me at it! It was wonderful playing like that, I've never played like that before, it was pure music and not the least bit improper- but it's stopped, because I was enjoying it!"
Philistis gave a sigh of exasperation. Her husband's sister was such a difficult creature, always wanting to do the impossible and flying into a temper when she couldn't. "I'm not accusing you of anything improper, my dear," she said soothingly. "I know you were simply enjoying the music. But men- especially young men- are amorous creatures. If you so much as look them in the eyes they start thinking about going to bed. It's your duty to make sure they don't think about it with you. Having a wonderful time with a young man who's poor and insignificant is a good way to make both of you miserable."
"It was nothing like that!" said Delia indignantly. "Nothing at all!"
She picked up the auloi- all four of them- and began wiping them off.
She had known for many years that she would eventually marry for her brother's political advantage, cementing some alliance with a great Sicilian nobleman or a foreign kingdom. She did not look forward to it, but she'd always accepted it, and accepted too the necessary corollary, that she must never interfere with that destiny by falling in love. She owed her brother that, for all he had done for her.
Delia did not remember her mother, and her father had died when she was five. For a year after his death, she had lived with her father's sister and her husband, and that year was the worst of her life. She was her father's only legitimate child, and heiress to his estates. Her uncle had managed those estates, and hoped that she would die so that he could gain control of them forever. She had not understood that at the time, of course. She had known only that there was something wrong with her, that he and his wife hated her, that she was a wicked girl who could do nothing right, that she was clumsy and stupid and that even the slaves hated having to attend her. She had swung between cringing attempts to win approval and outbursts of passionate resentment: the former had been ignored and the latter savagely punished.
Then, one afternoon, she had been summoned into the dining room and presented to her half brother, Hieron.
She had been aware of his existence, though mention of him in the household had always been conducted in disapproving whispers- "the bastard who's done so well in the army," "the bastard who's in joint command of the mutiny," "the bastard who's married Leptines' daughter and made himself tyrant!" But she had never met him before, and did not know what to say to him. Her aunt had scolded her for her silence, and Hieron had shaken his head.