said he owed them. What followed wasn't quite a screaming row, but wasn't far from one, either. In a low voice, Sostratos said, “If we do sell him the hide, let's make sure we see the silver before we hand it over.” Menedemos dipped his head. “I've heard ideas I liked a lot less.” After half an hour or so, Nikodromos' creditors threw their hands in the air and left. He hadn't promised them a thing. In an abstract way, Sostratos admired him. In the real world with which he had to deal, he wondered if this image of Artemis really needed to be draped with a lion skin after all. “Hail,” the priest said, coming up to the two Rhodians. “And what do you want today? You've been patient as can be while those idiots spouted their lies.” He didn't seem too sour to Sostratos, but then, Sostratos hadn't been trying to get money out of him. His foxy features did not inspire confidence, though. Neither did his squabbles with a pair of Aiginetans unconnected to each other. Nonetheless, after naming himself and Sostratos, Menedemos said, “We've got a splendid Karian lion skin here, with which you can adorn the statue of the Maiden.” “Do you indeed?” Nikodromos' eyes widened slightly. Excitement or art? Sostratos wondered. He would have bet on art. Those eyes were a light brown that in certain lights seemed tinged with amber: as foxy as the rest of him, or maybe even more so. He went on, “Let me see it, best ones. By all means, let me see it.” Menedemos and Sostratos spread out the skin on the temple floor. Then Sostratos, with a happy inspiration, picked it up and draped it over the marble Artemis' shoulders. “See how fine she'd look?” he said. “Not bad,” Nikodromos said—small praise, but praise. “That skin might remind people of what a great huntress she is, true. But, of course, one question remains: how much do you want for it?” “Five minai,” Menedemos said. Sostratos hid a smile behind his hand. If his cousin would get cheated, he aimed to get cheated out of a lot of money. Nikodromos coughed. “My dear fellow, you can't be serious.” Menedemos smiled his most charming smile. “I'll make it six if you like. Not so many lions left in Europe these days, you know.” “And so you think you can charge whatever you please when you bring one here?” the priest said. “Not quite,” Sostratos told him. “But no one ever said we had to sell our goods at a loss, either.” “Five minai is out of the question,” Nikodromos said. “I might pay two.” “You might indeed,” Menedemos said pleasantly. “But not to us. As my cousin said, we need to make money to stay in business.” “Well, two minai and a half, then,” Nikodromos said.
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