to me if he remembered anything else. I guess he was carrying it.”
“Sure. Or else you didn’t notice dropping it when you were here cutting his throat.”
There were splashes of blood high on the wall next to us. I noticed one drop had landed on the nose of the herm.
“He was killed standing up,” I said.
Pythax said, “Way I see it, whoever did him came up behind, probably covered Brasidas’ mouth and pulled his head back, and then killed the poor bastard with one stroke. Real neat. I like his work.”
“Well, that proves it couldn’t have been me then, doesn’t it?”
Pythax glared at me but said nothing.
There may have been more clues on the road, but if so they’d been trodden in by the feet of the crowd. A few men had stood in the blood, which was still gooey enough that they had tracked bloody footprints all over the place. Any hope of finding the killer’s prints was gone.
Pythax asked, “Could he have been going to see you?”
I thought about it, then shook my head. “I don’t think so. My father’s house isn’t in this direction if he was traveling from his own home.”
“So what do you reckon he was doing, little boy?”
I had a feeling I knew. He was heading in the right direction for Pericles’ house. I cursed silently. Brasidas must have found the man from Tanagra. And the man from Tanagra had found him.
“I couldn’t say, Pythax.”
“What I don’t like about this, little boy, is I tell you where to find Brasidas. You go straight there and threaten to kill him, and the next day he’s dead. It don’t look real good, does it?”
“That’s a lie! Who says I threatened him?” I demanded.
“He does.” Pythax pointed, and for the first time I noticed the son of Brasidas, standing apart, head bowed, with a guard beside him.
“He says his dad left before dawn, and didn’t say where he was going. When he failed to return to meet customers, the son went looking for him, and found him here. He called the guard.”
At mention of this, the son looked up, and his dark, angry eyes stared straight into mine.
“Murderer! Murderer!” He started toward me but the guard held him. Every eye present turned to me. I knew the crowd was waiting to see what I would do.
I stood my ground and said quietly, “The best I can say is I didn’t kill him, Pythax. Are you going to arrest me?”
“I can’t do that. It’s for the man’s relatives to charge you, if they think they can prove it.”
“The son?”
“He’s not of age. They say there’s a brother.”
“So I’m free to go.”
“All the way to Hades if you like.”
I made to go but Pythax called to me. “Hey!”
“Yes?”
“Watch your back, little boy.”
“I’ll do that.”
Several men stood in my way as I tried to leave, silent but plainly sympathetic to the boy now fatherless. I wasn’t willing to give them the satisfaction of turning away, so I pushed my way through. It was reckless, but I calculated that with the city guard watching, they wouldn’t make anything more of it. Luckily for me, they didn’t, but once around the corner I departed at a trot.
I didn’t stop moving until I reached my door, berating myself every step of the way. How could I have been so stupid as to let Brasidas go searching without me? The moment he reacted to the mention of a reward, I knew he had more than he’d told; why didn’t I force him to tell me? I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I should have assured him he could have all the reward. I should have waited outside and followed to see where he went. I should have done any number of things other than what I did do. For the first time, I wondered if I had the skills to do this, and contemplated failure.
A messenger boy was waiting for me in the anteroom.
“Are you Nicolaos, son of Sophroniscus?”
“Yes, that’s me, what do you want?”
“My mistress sends this.” He handed me a note, and disappeared. The note said, “Come to the house of Euterpe. News.” Now what could she want? Then I noticed the name at the bottom, and I worried.
I was back at the home of Euterpe once more, but this time I gave the house slave the name of her daughter Diotima. In any decent household I would have been thrown out for daring to ask after a maiden. In this highly unusual home, the slave raised his eyebrow and led me to the courtyard, where I was left standing. I gathered the public room I’d been taken to last time was reserved for Euterpe’s clients.
I admired the frescoes on the surrounding walls, which were predictable and rather interesting, while wondering whether Diotima would come with a chaperone, and if so who in this house could possibly be appropriate for the job. Euterpe as a chaperone would be like throwing oil on a fire.
Euterpe must have seen me through one of the upper-story windows, for she came gliding down the staircase wrapped in something tight.
“Have you come by your fortune then?” She smiled at me.
“Not yet, Euterpe. It’s only been a few days.” I said, backing away.
She laughed, and stepped closer. I was starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable, and absolutely determined Diotima would not see me with Euterpe as I’d been last time.
“How then can I serve the young man this time?” she breathed.
“Actually, with your permission of course, I would like to speak with Diotima,” I said. “About the murder of Ephialtes, that is.”
Euterpe’s face froze for a moment, then transformed into a mask of incredulity. “You’ve come to see my daughter?”
“Does that surprise you?” a voice within the rooms said. Diotima emerged, looking more smug than I thought good for either of our futures with her mother.
Euterpe composed herself and asked sweetly, “And what does Diotima have to do with Ephialtes’ death?”
“You don’t know?” I was surprised. I’d thought Diotima was acting on her mother’s instructions, and the fact that she wasn’t was very interesting.
“Know what?” Euterpe asked suspiciously, looking at Diotima.
“I’m investigating his murder,” Diotima announced.
Euterpe turned to me and accused, “You’ve dragged her into this. How dare you!”
Diotima was defiant. “I dragged myself into it long before this idiot came by to gawk at you.”
“Idiot, is he?”
“I’m judging by results.”
Euterpe looked at Diotima, then to me, and back to Diotima with a calculating look in her eye.
“Ah well, run along and play, children.” She swept out of the courtyard in an indignant cloud of expensive perfume.
“Come with me,” Diotima said shortly, and led me to a set of small rooms at the back of the house. Unlike everything else I had seen, these were practical and furnished in a simple style, with not a rampant satyr or orgasmic nymph to be seen. I deduced I had come to Diotima’s private rooms. She sat me opposite her on couches.
“We can’t be heard here. There are no spy holes or listening tubes,” she said as a matter of fact.
“You mean there are elsewhere?”
“In all the public rooms.”
I decided I was not going to inquire into that any more closely. “Why am I here?”
“I have information.”
“Good, tell me.”
“Oh no! First, what do I get in return?”
