The slave girl looked away.
‘Now or never,’ Melitta said.
Kallista looked at Satyrus. Satyrus understood it all in a moment of inspiration, as if Athena had whispered the whole plot in his ear. He drew his sword and stood by the slave girl. ‘We can protect you,’ he said.
Melitta gave him the look of a sister who is glad her brother has a brain. ‘Choose!’ she said imperiously.
Kallista hung her head so that her hair covered her face. ‘He’s no doctor. Not really.’
‘You’re a liar, whore,’ the Athenian shot back.
‘He kills for money.’ Kallista’s voice was calm.
‘I don’t have to listen to this filth,’ Sophokles said. He began to squirm in Theron’s grip.
‘Kallista has chosen her side, traitor,’ Melitta said. ‘You tried to poison us, and her, and now you’ve poisoned Philokles.’
Sophokles looked around. ‘Foolishness. You may be a princess, but you have the soft head of a woman. I saved her when she was poisoned, and-’
Theron tightened his grip, inspiration written on his face. ‘The Spartan saved her,’ he said carefully. ‘You put on a show. I didn’t see it at the time.’ He nodded at the recumbent Spartan. ‘He did. He saw through you, you bastard.’
‘How long have you known?’ Satyrus asked his sister.
‘About two minutes,’ she answered with a hard smile. ‘Kallista told me with her eyes when you got the wine.’
‘She’s in on it too, then,’ Draco said. He drew his sword.
‘Yes,’ Kallista said. She sighed. ‘They offered me money and freedom.’ She looked around.
‘I meet the offer,’ Melitta said proudly. ‘You’ll be free in days, Kallista.’
It was all too fast for Satyrus. He looked back and forth.
‘You have no proof,’ the doctor said. ‘This is insane.’
‘I don’t need proof,’ Draco said. ‘Fuck, he must have been planted on the court. Who sent you, you ass-cunt?’ His sword flashed as he hit the Athenian with the bronze hilt.
The doctor – if he was indeed a doctor – was unprepared for the leap to violence, and he went down clutching his head. Theron jumped him and pinned him again in a classic possession hold – head back, arm locked and near breaking.
‘Stop,’ Theron said. The doctor tried to struggle, and there was a burst of activity as he did something, but whatever his surge of wriggling meant, it failed to overcome Theron’s impassive grip.
Satyrus and Melitta exchanged another glance. Satyrus got up. ‘Would you like to live?’ he asked.
The doctor couldn’t even look up. ‘Of course,’ he said. If he was aiming for arrogance, he missed. He sounded worried – terrified.
Satyrus tried to look at Kallista. ‘Save Philokles and I will let you live. Betray your employer and I will let you go.’ He looked around. Theron nodded, and after a minute Draco shrugged.
‘Fair enough, prince. But I can get it out of him anyway.’ Draco smiled with just half his mouth. ‘Fucking traitor. Fucking Athenians, eh?’
‘Too right, mate,’ Philip said. He had a small, very elegant knife in his hand – steel, a slot of brilliant blue in the sun. ‘Give me a minute – just a minute – and I’ll see to it that we know all he has to tell.’ ‘Swear by Zeus Soter that you’ll let me go!’ Sophokles said.
‘I swear by Zeus Soter that I will do nothing to harm you, and that, if you betray your employer, I will let you go free,’ Satyrus said.
‘Make your friends swear!’ the Athenian said.
‘I swear that I will order that you not be harmed.’ He looked around. ‘For one day.’
‘I swear,’ Theron said.
‘I swear,’ Melitta said.
‘I swear by Zeus Soter that you deserve to die and I hope it comes to you soon,’ Kallista said. ‘But I swear not to harm you. Today!’
Philip and Draco shrugged at each other. ‘Listen, prince. This is a big thing. If he betrayed our tyrant, his life is forfeit. It’s not your place-’
Satyrus stood his ground. ‘I understand you. But I’m here, and Dionysius of Heraklea is far away. A day’s grace. That’s all I swear to. He can have a day.’
Philip looked at Draco. ‘I dunno-’
Draco nodded. ‘We swear by Zeus Soter not to harm him for one day.’
Philokles gave a snort.
‘There you have it, Athenian. Save him. Or die.’
The doctor took a ragged breath. ‘In the leather satchel. There’s a small black pot – that’s it. Give him some with water.’
Satyrus mixed it himself while Theron kept the Athenian pinned.
‘It won’t work for an hour,’ the doctor squawked. ‘You going to pin me the whole time?’ He shook his head. ‘This whole thing is messed up. He should be dead. You should all be dead.’
No one bothered to answer him. Draco heated water and Satyrus added the orange powder at the doctor’s directions. Then he spooned it into the Spartan’s mouth.
‘Now for your employer,’ Draco said.
The Athenian shrugged. ‘Stratokles – he hired me.’ The man looked around. ‘Now let me go.’
Melitta shook her head. ‘Draco, how long has this man been at the tyrant’s court?’
Draco shrugged. ‘Two months? Since the Feast of Herakles, anyway. ’
‘How long has Stratokles been in Heraklea?’ Satyrus asked, mostly just to show that he knew where his sister was going.
Philip glared. Draco glanced at the twins with open admiration. ‘You two are good at this,’ he said.
Sophokles looked disappointed. Satyrus almost had to admire his courage – he himself would be gibbering in terror at this point. But his hatred for the man grew. It was as if he was flaunting his contempt for them. ‘Stratokles hired me,’ he said, ‘long before either of us came to Heraklea.’
Melitta spat, as Sakje did when showing contempt. ‘You lie,’ she said.
‘You’ve all sworn your oaths,’ the man said. ‘So let me go. I’ve told you all that I have to tell.’
Satyrus tried to imitate Philokles’ delivery. ‘It’s a pretty piece of sophistry,’ he said, ‘to pretend that after weeks of betrayal and multiple murder attempts, we could be in the wrong by breaking your interpretation of our oaths.’ He shrugged. ‘I admire you for trying, though,’ he said.
Damn, that was good, right to the sarcasm.
‘Stratokles,’ the doctor insisted. ‘That’s all I know.’
‘He knows more than that,’ Kallista said.
‘You’re dead, you know that?’ Sophokles said. ‘You are fucking dead. All of you, really. Tyche preserved you this far – I’ve never been so unlucky in all my days as the last three weeks, and this drunk fuck on the ground somehow managed to keep me away from your food at every turn until I figured out that it wasn’t all luck. So fuck yourself, Kallista. I know you know how. In fact, I might tell them what you did for me. Does Theron know how many of us you service?’
Theron turned at her, and she hid her face.
‘Maybe that will serve you right, you faithless bitch,’ Sophokles spat.
‘He knows who employs him – us,’ Kallista said. She sighed. ‘I hate him. He scares me. I wish you would all kill him. But he knows.’ She looked around, as if she expected the little valley to sprout enemies. ‘He kills for Olympias. And yes – Theron, I’ve fucked him when he made me. I serviced them all, when ordered. I know.’
‘You’re dead,’ Sophokles said again. ‘I hope that you choke on the next dick you suck, harlot. Porne. Sperm bag.’
Theron was grunting with anger. His face was splotchy with rage, and his great hands clenched and unclenched.
Satyrus kicked the Athenian in the head. It was a hard kick, and he probably broke the man’s jaw.
‘That’s for sowing poison with your mouth, traitor.’ He stepped away. ‘A man like you demeans all men.’
‘Let’s just waste him,’ Draco said. He sounded happy to do it. His blue knife flashed.
