Archimedes blinked stupidly. He felt flattened. He had no idea what to say.
"Oh," added the king, "and my sister tells me that you're a very fine aulist. Perhaps you'd care to come to dinner at my house tomorrow, and bring your instruments?"
Archimedes felt his face going hot again. He opened his mouth, closed it when no sound came out, then tried again. "Uh, yes," he gasped, "thank you, O King."
"Excellent!" said Hieron. "Well, then, you'd better go see about your demonstration and the catapults- and I must go review the other forts. Do give your father my best wishes. Does he have a good doctor?"
"I–I," stammered Archimedes, "I think so."
"If you like, I'll send my own doctor around to have a look at him." He snapped his fingers at his secretary. "Remind me to do that. Well, then, I wish you joy!"
King Hieron turned and began to descend the steps. Marcus hurried over to Archimedes. "Sir!" he hissed in his master's ear. "The money!"
"Lord!" shouted Archimedes, and Hieron turned back with a look of mild inquiry. "Uh, Lord, I… I was supposed to be paid when the catapult was seen to work, and there was… that is, I thought there would be a salaried job."
"Ah," said Hieron. "A job. Do you mind if we leave the question of your job aside for the time being? I'm not at all sure what would be appropriate."
"You said Eudaimon was under my orders," Archimedes said faintly. "Won't he- I mean, he has a salaried position- doesn't he?"
"Indeed he does," said the king. His dark eyes flicked momentarily to Elymos, and he added, "And you, slave, can tell your foreman that much as I appreciate his taste in catapults, it was very stupid of him to expect me to sack a catapult engineer when I'm expecting a siege. Eudaimon stays as long as he obeys orders from Archimedes- which I think you'll find he's now willing to do. I wish you joy!" He turned and went on down the steps without looking back. His entourage, with various looks of speculation, curiosity, and doubt, gathered itself up and followed him. Kallippos was the last to go; he hesitated for a long minute at the top of the stairs, looking at Archimedes with a strange expression. It was no longer a glare, but something quite indefinable: anger was still there, but also pity, and perhaps even admiration.
He said nothing, however, and when the others had descended, he at last looked away and followed them.
Archimedes sat down heavily on the floor beside his catapult. "Am I a royal engineer or not?" he asked no one in particular.
"He hasn't paid you a copper," said Marcus sourly. "I'd say you're not."
"But he ordered more catapults," said Archimedes wonderingly, "and a demonstration. And he asked me to dinner." To dinner, and a bit of music. Would Delia be at the dinner? No: respectable women didn't go to dinner parties with men. But perhaps he would see her? He might even get another chance to play music with her. Delicious thought!
He smiled up at the two slaves, and found that they were both staring at him as though he were a dangerous dog. He blinked.
"I'd like it better if he'd paid you," said Marcus bluntly. "You're owed fifty drachmae, and he hasn't agreed on a price for any of the rest. Sir, you-"
"Can you really move a ship single-handed?" interrupted Elymos.
Archimedes suddenly beamed. He had always wanted to see how much weight one man could shift with an unlimited supply of rope, but nobody had ever before offered him the rope. He jumped to his feet, consumed with eagerness. "Elymos," he ordered, "you go back to the workshop and tell them the Welcomer passed. Tell them to get out the wood for another one-talenter, in the same amounts as before, and tell them that I'll be ordering the wood for a hundred-pounder tomorrow. Marcus, you go home and give them the news."
"Where are you going?" Marcus demanded suspiciously.
"Down to the docks, to see about my demonstration!" And he ran off down the steps, bright-eyed and smiling.
Marcus groaned. "Demonstrations of ideal mechanics!" he said in disgust. "Dinners and music!" He kicked the catapult stand. "What am I supposed to tell them at home? He's agreed to work for nothing!"
"Epimeles isn't going to like this," moaned Elymos. "He thought that once they fired the Welcomer, Eudaimon would go. And Eudaimon must know that!"
"It was Eudaimon who put that razor in the strings?" asked Marcus.
Elymos nodded. There seemed no point in lying about it now, to another slave.
"So that my master wouldn't get his job?"
Elymos nodded again. He was not surprised that Marcus had guessed this. His own life centered on the workshop, and he tended to assume that everyone knew about things- like Eudaimon's incompetence- which were important there.
Marcus stood still a moment, thinking. It was clear to him now that the king had expected the attempt at sabotage: he had hinted as much, and Eudaimon at least had understood. When Eudaimon offered to help restring the catapult, Hieron had refused him any opportunity to conceal the evidence of his crime; instead, the king had posted Eudaimon's superior as a witness. But as soon as the razor reached Hieron, it and Eudaimon had both disappeared, and the only result of the incident seemed to be that the king now expected Eudaimon to obey Archimedes without argument.
The only conclusion was that the king had enough evidence to charge Eudaimon with treason, but was using it to blackmail him instead. Why? And why hadn't the king given a job to Archimedes? Marcus began to chew on his lip. Hieron had a reputation for cunning, for unexpected twists of policy and unforeseen alliances. He had risen to power through the army, and yet had never used violence to get his way. He had never needed to: Syracuse had given him everything he wanted, though afterward she had sometimes found herself confusedly wondering why. Marcus had a sudden suspicion that he had just witnessed two demonstrations of supreme ability that day: one of technical competence, by Archimedes, and the other of manipulation, by Hieron. He had no idea what Hieron's manipulations were supposed to achieve, but he felt uneasily certain that they weren't finished yet and that his master was in the middle of them. Why?
There was a sound of footsteps on the stairs, and Straton hurried up, holding a letter. He glanced round the catapult platform, then looked irritably at Marcus. "Where's your master?" he demanded.
"Gone into the city to see about arranging a demonstration of ideal mechanics," said Marcus bitterly.
"He should have waited for the authorization for it!" said Straton, flapping the letter. "Where's he off to? The naval docks? Herakles! Does he really think he can move a ship single-handed?"
"Yes," replied Marcus. "You want to bet he can't?"
Straton looked at him, tapping the letter uncertainly against his hand.
"You owe me a stater," said Marcus deliberately. "You want to try to win it back?"
Straton sucked his teeth. "I don't owe you anything! The bet was that your master would be offered the job of whoever was in charge of whatever he was set to do. Eudaimon still has his job."
Elymos gaped at them.
"You're quibbling," said Marcus. "Eudaimon was in charge of catapults. Now Archimedes is in charge of catapults- isn't he?"
Straton shrugged uneasily. "King Hieron hasn't said."
"No," agreed Marcus sourly. "King Hieron hasn't even said whether he's going to pay my master the fifty drachmae that are owing to him. But the whole sense of our bet was that my master's war machines would be better than anyone else's. Now you know that's true- so pay up!"