'Nothing. I was just thinking.' She squeezed my arm. 'You know, Latro, in a way you're rather fortunate. If you wished to change your name, all you'd have to do would be to tell your friends to call you by the new one next morning; then you'd never know you had once been someone else. I don't suppose you know whether you've ever done it?'
'I don't think so. Do you want to change yours?'
She nodded. 'It means 'well talked of,' which is good enough, I suppose; but I'd like something better. What do you think of Drakon?'
'Shouldn't it be Drakaina?'
The woman laughed, and Io said, 'That's good, master.'
'Do either of you know where we are? Pasicrates said we were going to Megara.'
Before they could reply, Basias dropped back to walk between Io and me. 'We're turning off at this fork,' he announced. 'The three of you, me, Eutaktos, and Pasicrates. We're to see the regent while the rest make camp.'
We hurried down a dusty road that looked no more important than the other; but when we reached the summit of the next hill, the whole scene changed as a nightscape does at the rising of the sun.
A thousand tents stood in orderly rows upon a rolling plain. Beyond them, a city lifted white walls; beyond those spread sparkling blue water dotted with foam where the salt-sharp wind ruffled countless waves; and beyond the tumultuous sea rose the dim blue bulk of an island.
Io shouted for joy. 'Look! Look! Is that Peace? We went there on Hypereides's ship, only he wouldn't let us off. Is it?'
Basias mussed her brown curls. 'That's right. You've an eye for the lay of the land, little girl. If you were an Amazon, you'd make a strategist someday.'
Io pulled at my chiton and pointed at the sea. 'Latro, that's Peace Bay. Hypereides told us. It's where the ships from Thought beat the barbarians.'
Pasicrates whirled on her like a panther. 'Our ships fought there too, and our Strategist Eurybiades commanded the combined fleets!'
I said, 'Don't shout at her. She didn't know, and neither did I.'
'But she at least will remember,' Pasicrates snapped, 'because I shouted at her. Mild lessons are soon forgotten, and in the end the kind teacher is the cruel teacher-he doesn't teach. Enough! I'll tell Pausanias you're coming.' He runs so well I think only the finest horse could overtake him. Before we had gone another hundred strides, he was flashing among the tents.
Io's dusty cheeks were streaked with tears. I picked her up and tried to comfort her. 'I'm all right, master,' she said. And then, 'He was right, I won't forget. Not even his name.'
'Eurybiades?'
She shook her head. 'Pasicrates.' ' To distract her, I said, 'Look how many tents there are! A whole army's camped here, with thousands of soldiers. Have you and I ever seen any army in camp before, Io?'
The woman whispered, 'This is nothing. You should have seen the encampment of the Great King. It was like a city on the march-but no city on earth could have equaled it, except perhaps Babylon.'
Eutaktos must have sharp ears, because he overheard her. 'I saw that camp, and my slaves looted the pavilions of the satraps. If your Great King were here with us, he would not think this camp nothing.'
Pausanias's tent is larger than all the rest, embroidered and hung with tassels of gold. I think it must have been part of the loot Eutaktos spoke of. When we came near, I could hear voices; one, I think, the voice of Pasicrates, the other harsh and flat, the speech of a young man accustomed to giving orders and to concealing any emotion he might feel while giving them. I heard Pasicrates say, '… a spy of the Great King's.'
The other answered, 'A spy is a stone that can be thrown back.'
Eutaktos coughed, I suppose to let those within know we had arrived. After that I could distinguish no more words.
There are two sentries at the door, tall men no older than Pasicrates; they will not permit us to approach it. We stand to one side-or rather, Eutaktos and Basias stand so, their hands on their sword hilts. Io, the woman, and I are sitting on the ground, where I write these words, having seen by reading how good it is to write so that what has happened is not lost.
I have read of the Lady of the Doves; and I feel I then visited a realm at once higher and smaller than our own. What was it she wished of me? For I feel sure there was something. Did she obtain it? Even after reading what I wrote twice, I cannot say. I am sure she was a friend to the woman Kalleos; but was Kalleos a friend to me?
The Lady of the Doves said I would not forget her, though I forget everything. She was not wrong; when I read of her again, my flesh stirred at the memory. For love, she was surely the only woman, or all of them.
But I must put her memory aside and think of what I will say in the tent. Soon, I think, Pasicrates will come out and take us in to the regent.
CHAPTER XXVII-Pausanias
The regent has furnished his tent with plunder. He sits upon scarlet cushions, and there are carpets rich with griffins, black bulls savaged by golden lions, and men strangely dressed, with black and curling beards. The air is perfumed by lamps of gold.
Pasicrates announced, 'O royal Pausanias, this is the man Eutaktos the Lochagos brought. I have examined him, and I am satisfied he is indeed the one shown you in your dream, so far as I am able to judge.'
The regent stared at me. His face is terrible with scars, but it seemed to me it would have been terrible without them, as hard and cruel as iron. Perhaps a smile touched his mouth; a scar drew up one cheek, so I could not be sure.
'The man I saw wore a chaplet of withered blossoms. Fellow! Were you wearing such a chaplet when my shieldmen discovered you?'
'I don't remember,' I told him. 'But I may have written of it. May I look?' I held up this scroll.
The regent's lips drew back from his teeth, which are large and not quite white. 'Good. Very good. And the flower?'
Pasicrates said, 'It was still there when I examined the book, Highness. The lochagos may have put it there, but I doubt that he did.'
The regent pointed. 'Open that to the stick.'
I did as he ordered, holding the scroll so he could see the writing. As I unrolled the last sheet, a dried lupine dropped into his hand.
Pasicrates cleared his throat. 'Perhaps I ought to add, Highness, that the lochagos says they appeared to have had a dinner party the night before in the house where he found this man. There would have been flowers, naturally, and chaplets for the guests.'
The regent waved this aside. 'I'm satisfied. I wish Tisamenus were here, but this is the man, or we'll never find him. He looks like him as well. I couldn't see that scar in my dream, but no doubt the chaplet covered it.'
I asked, 'You dreamed of me?'
He nodded. 'It was Kore herself, smiling and wreathed in blossoms. She said, 'For the many subjects you have given, I will show you a secret known but to the gods.' Then I saw you. What's your name, anyway?'
'Latro,' I told him.
'I saw you sitting on a pallet. It was night, but there was a fire, and I could see the firelight flicker on your face. You were holding this, and you unrolled that book and put the flower into it and rolled it partway up, then wrote. The goddess was gone, but I heard her voice. She said, 'He will have forgotten everything, knowing nothing more of the past than of the future. See who is with him!' Nike stood behind you in the shadows.'
'I am to bring you victory?'
Still smiling his snarling smile, the regent leaned back among his cushions. 'Not many men are favored by the gods. A few heroes like Perseus, Theseus, my ancestor Heracles. Those destined to-destined for greatness.' He turned to his messenger. 'Where did he get that scar, Pasicrates?'
