“It's better than that pitch-flavored vinegar you and your sailors drink, that's for sure,” Polemaios said. “It is a local wine, I think, but you'll have to ask my steward for the details.” Ptolemaios waved a negligent hand. One corner of his mouth quirked upward in an engagingly wry smile. “Figuring out how to spend die silver you'll get from me, eh?” “Yes, sir. Why not?” Sostratos said. Not getting the silver from Ptolemaios was one obvious reason why not. He didn't want to think about that. “No reason at all, young fellow,” Ptolemaios answered. “You're doing your job the best way you know how. Can't ask for more than that from a man. And you and your captain got this big fellow”—he pointed with his chin at Polemaios—”here in fine time, for which I thank you kindly. What did you think of them, Polemaios?” “They both have tongues that flap too free. And this one”—Antigonos' nephew glowered at Menedemos—”will not keep his eyes to himself. But,” he added reluctantly, “they do handle their ship well.” “Rhodians have that knack. Must come of their being islanders,” Ptolemaios said. Two of his servitors came in, each carrying four good-sized leather sacks. When they set the sacks down in front of Sostratos, they clinked. Ptolemaios' eyes glinted. “Here is the balance of your fee. I suppose you'll want to count and weigh to make sure I haven't cheated you.” “No, sir,” Sostratos answered. “If you're ready for me to do it, that's the best sign I don't need to.” “You see what I mean,” Polemaios rumbled. “Tending to one's business isn't insolence,” Ptolemaios said. He pointed north and east, in the direction of Halikarnassos. “You and I have some business in common, some business with Antigonos.” “So we do,” Antigonos' renegade nephew agreed. “But we'd do better not to talk about it where these fellows can listen.” He pointed to Sostratos and Menedemos as if they were pieces of furniture, unable to understand anything. That made Sostratos want to bristle, but he didn't show his anger. His cousin did, snapping, “You trusted us far enough to let us bring you here. What makes you think we've suddenly turned into Antigonos' spies since we found a berth in the harbor?” Polemaios surged to his feet. “I've had everything I'm going to take from you, you pretty little catamite, and—” “Enough!” Ptolemaios' deep, angry rasp effortlessly dominated every other voice in the room. “The Rhodian asked a fair enough question,” “He brought me here for pay.” Polemaios pointed to the leather sacks full of coins. “If my uncle gives him silver, he'll sing for pay, too.” “What can he say? That you're here?” Ptolemaios shrugged. “Antigonos will know that by this time tomorrow. He'll have men here, the same as I do on the mainland. Some boat or other will sneak away from Kos and get over there with the news. Can't be helped.” Antigonos' nephew scowled. He was, plainly, not a man who liked disagreement or back talk. Being who he was, being part of his family, he wouldn't have heard much of it, and he would have been able to ignore more of
Вы читаете The Gryphon's Skull
