You say that now, Menedemos thought. A couple of years ago, you were your dear uncle's right-hand man. I think he's not your dear uncle anymore because he's got new right-hand men in his two sons. He said none of that. Polemaios was not the sort of man who invited such opinions. “Do you know who any of Ptolemaios' ship-captains are?” Antigonos' nephew asked. Menedemos tossed his head. “Sorry, sir. I'm just a trader.” “You're not just a trader, or Ptolemaios wouldn't have sent you after me.” Polemaios' gaze was as hard and bright and predatory as an eagle's. “Did you meet any of his commanders of marines?” “Only one, and then only in a manner of speaking,” Menedemos answered. “He was the fellow whose five stopped us on the way into the harbor at Kos. He asked the sort of questions you'd expect an officer to ask strangers.” “Ah.” Polemaios leaned forward with a now-we're-getting-somewhere expression on his face. “What was his name? Did you bribe him to let you go on? How much silver did it take to get him to look the other way?” “I never found out what his name was,” Menedemos said in some exasperation. “And he never came aboard, so I couldn't very well bribe him.” Antigonos' nephew looked as if he believed not a word of that. “How did you get him to let you pass, then? Ptolemaios' officers are paid to be suspicious, just like any others. They wouldn't be much use to him if they weren't.” “How, O marvelous one?” Menedemos' patience began to slip. He didn't like being grilled like this aboard his own ship, especially when he saw no point to Polemaios' questions. “I showed him a tiger hide, that's how. After that, he let me alone and didn't bother me anymore,” Polemaios didn't take the hint. He did shift the aim of his questions: “Where did you get a tiger hide? Have you ever been to India? You couldn't have gone with Alexander—you're not old enough,” Men who'd gone conquering with the great king of Macedonia were going to throw that in the younger generation's face as long as they lived. Menedemos had already heard it more often than he would have liked. He answered, “No, I haven't been to India. This hide came west. I bought it in the market square at Kaunos.” “Oh.” Polemaios didn't bother hiding his disappointment. He turned away and went forward again. With a silent sigh of relief, Menedemos gave all his attention back to guiding the Aphrodite down the channel between Euboia and the mainland. Fishing boats fled back to Eiretria, the other prominent polls on the island, when they spotted the akatos and the armed and armored men aboard her. To Menedemos' relief, no war galleys came striding over the sea to investigate. They must figure we're just another pirate, and not worth bothering about. The thought saddened and angered him at the same time. Dystos, south of Eiretria, lay inland, on the shore of a small, marshy lake. Its walls, shaped like some sort of polygon—Sostratos would know its name: he's the one who cares for such things, Menedemos thought—-had ten or twelve towers to help hold foes at bay. They might not have done their job any too well; though the walls hadn't been breached, Dystos seemed half—more than half— abandoned. Presently, Sostratos came back to the poop deck. Menedemos greeted him with a smile. “By the dog of Egypt, I'm glad of your company,” he said. “Are you?” His cousin raised an eyebrow. He set a hand on Menedemos' forehead, as if checking to see if he
