testily. Looking back on it, he supposed it hadn't been worth the risk, but he would sooner have gone up before a Persian torturer than admit that to his priggish cousin. If Phyllis wanted him to pay her another visit, he knew he just might do it. 'Foolishness,' Sostratos said. 'Yes, O best one.' Menedemos used the honorific with intent to wound. By Sostratos' scowl, he succeeded. He said, 'And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to sleep. It's been a busy night.' Trying to walk as straight as he could, he headed for the bedchamber. His ankle complained. So did Sostratos. He ignored both of them. A house slave at Lamakhos' brothel shook her head, as barbarians were wont to do. 'Maibia does not want to see you today,' she said. 'What?' Sostratos stared as blankly as if she'd spoken Oscan or Latin rather than pretty good Greek. 'She can't do that!' With a shrug, the slave just repeated herself. Sostratos started to push past her. A couple of other slaves - men: toughs with the look of bouncers - appeared behind her. He checked himself. 'Let me talk to Lamakhos, then.' The woman nodded and went away. 'Hail, friend,' the brothelkeeper said, his smile still broad and, Sostratos judged, still false. 'Hail,' Sostratos replied. 'We had a bargain, you know.' 'Yes, I do know.' Lamakhos shrugged. 'Women are funny, that's all I can tell you.' 'We had a bargain,' Sostratos repeated: for him, that was sacred. Lamakhos shrugged again. Sostratos nervously cracked his knuckles. 'Is she angry at me? If I did something to offend her, I'll apologize.' Lamakhos turned to the slave woman. 'Go find out.' She nodded again and hurried off in the direction of Maibia's chamber. When she came back, she spoke to Sostratos: 'She says it is not that. She says you should come back tomorrow. Maybe then.' Realization smote. She's playing at being a hetaira. A girl in a brothel had to take her customers as they came, do what they wanted when they wanted it. A high-class courtesan, on the other hand, had the looks and the charm and the wit to take men on her terms, not theirs. That made them more alluring, of course - if you had to persuade them, that showed, or seemed to show, they really wanted you. Do I let her get away with it? Sostratos plucked at his beard. Maybe Maibia thought he really had fallen head over heels in love, in which case he would put up with anything from her. If she thought that, she was mistaken. What Menedemos thought of as foreign homeliness attracted him - but love? He tossed his head. He couldn't imagine falling in love with someone with whom he couldn't talk seriously . . . and Maibia's mental horizons were no wider than was to be expected of a girl kidnapped from a Keltic village and sold to a brothelkeeper. That still didn't answer his question. He'd given Lamakhos a break on the price of the silk for free access to the girl. He supposed - no, he was certain - Lamakhos could make Maibia give herself to him now. But that would only make her sullen, and Sostratos wasn't one of those who enjoyed his girls resentful. Had he been, he would have bedded the Thracian slave back home more often.
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