“True,” his cousin said. “And we ought to be safe from pirates, with so much of Ptolemaios' fleet in the neighborhood.” “If we're not safe here, we're not safe anywhere outside the great harbor at Rhodes,” Menedemos said. A couple of peasants came up with honey and olives to sell. As Sostratos did when buying anything, he clicked his tongue between his teeth and gave other signs of distress, but after they left he said, “If people here know it's likely to be safe to come up to a beached ship, that's the best sign pirates don't come sniffing around very often.” Menedemos dipped his head. “And tomorrow we'll put Dionysios ashore, and then we can head for home ourselves.” “I wonder whether Halikarnassos has fallen,” Sostratos said. “Me, I hope Ptolemaios' men sacked it,” Menedemos said. His cousin laughed. “Of course you do. That would mean what's-his-name, the fellow with the friendly wife there, was likely dead. And then we could trade there again without worrying about your getting murdered.” Ears hot, Menedemos said, “Well, that's not the only reason.” Sostratos laughed again, sure he was lying through his teeth. Since he was, he changed the subject in a hurry. As the Aphrodite came into the harbor at Kos, Sostratos shaded his eyes from the sun with the palm of his hand and peered northeast across the narrow channel separating the island from Halikarnassos on the mainland. “No smoke,” he said. “No sea battles. Either the place fell a while ago or it hasn't fallen at all.” Menedemos didn't answer. “Did you hear me?” Sostratos asked. “I said—” “I heard you,” Menedemos answered. “I'm just not listening to you.” “Oh,” Sostratos said. “All right.” The anger lying under Menedemos' quiet words warned him he'd pushed things about as far as they would go, or perhaps a little further. Now if only Menedemos were as good at noticing when he goes too far with me, he thought, and then laughed. Wish for the moon, while you're at it. “Harbor's crowded,” Diokles remarked. “Ships stuffed tight as olives in a jar.” “There's the likely answer,” Sostratos said. “If Ptolemaios' fleet is back here, Halikarnassos probably still belongs to Antigonos.” “Too bad,” Menedemos said. Then, suddenly, he took his right hand from the steering-oar tiller and pointed. His voice rose to a shout: “There's a spot we can squeeze into! Row, you bastards, before somebody steals it from us.” “Rhyppapai! Rhyppapai! ” the oarmaster called, giving the rowers the stroke. The merchant galley slid into the wharf space. “Back oars!” Diokles commanded, and then, as she came to a halt, “Oop!” The men rested at the oars.
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