“Isn't he just?” But Sostratos sounded embittered, not amused. He explained why a moment later: “However charming he is, he was right. We did waste our time, and we could have been—” “Twiddling our thumbs aboard the Aphrodite ,” Menedemos broke in. “You were going to say 'heading for Athens,' weren't you? But you're wrong. We couldn't have sailed this morning anyhow, not unless we wanted to break our promise to the crew, remember? And that was your idea, too.” “Oh,” Sostratos said in a small voice. “That's right.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I don't feel so bad now about getting Nikomakhos' name from Ptolemaios' steward.” They walked along toward the harbor. After a while, Menedemos said, “I've been thinking.” “Euge,” Sostratos replied, his tone suggesting he was offering the praise because Menedemos didn't do it very often. Refusing to rise to the bait, Menedemos went on, “I was thinking about the best way to get to Athens from here,” “Same route we used to pick up Polemaios, of course,” Sostratos said, “though they'll probably be sick of seeing us in the Kyklades.” “That's what I was thinking about,” Menedemos said. “Those are dangerous waters—we saw it for ourselves. And they're going to be more dangerous than usual. Polemaios' men, or some of them, will be heading this way. I don't want to run into them. The only real difference between mercenaries and pirates is that pirates have ships. When mercenaries take ship, they're liable to turn pirate, too.” “You have been thinking,” Sostratos said. “That's well put.” “And, of course, on our way back, the cities of the Island League may have learned we smuggled Antigonos' nephew past them,” Menedemos continued. “Since the league is Antigonos' creature . . .” “They may not be any too happy with us,” Sostratos finished for him. Menedemos dipped his head. His cousin scowled. “How do we get to Athens, then?” “That's what I've been thinking about,” Menedemos replied. “Suppose we go on up to Miletos and do some trading there.” “Suppose we don't,” Sostratos said. “That's one of old One-Eye's chief strongholds, and ...” He broke off, looking foolish. “Oh, I see. Word of what we've done won't have got there yet.” Now Menedemos indulged himself with a sarcastic, “Ettge.” His cousin's scowl returned. “I still don't like it.” Laughing, Menedemos said, “Of course you don't, my dear. It means one more pause before your precious gryphon's skull can be formally introduced to Athenian society. But consider: from Miletos, we can sail northwest to Ikaria, either stopping at Samos on the way or spending a night at sea, and then strike straight across the Aegean for the channel between Andros and Euboia instead of hopping from island to island. Traders hardly ever use that route, which means pirates don't, either. We could get almost to Attica without having anybody notice.”
Вы читаете The Gryphon's Skull
