battle. Under Menedemos' protection, Sikon preened and swaggered. Baukis looked as if he'd stabbed her in the back. “If you care more about your belly than about what this house really needs ...” She didn't finish the sentence, but turned on her heel and stalked toward the stairs leading up to the women's quarters. Menedemos watched—he couldn't help watching—the furious roll of her hips. Beside him, Sikon cackled with glee. “Thank you kindly, sir,” the cook said. “I guess you told her.” “I guess I did,” Menedemos said dully. He scowled at Sikon. Could those prawns possibly be good enough to make up for getting Baukis angry at him? He doubted ambrosia from Olympos would be good enough for that. “—And I looked under the rower's bench,” Sostratos said, “and the sack with the gryphon's skull in it was gone. One of those polluted pirates had stolen it. What I'd do to that son of a whore if I could ...” “I'm sorry,” Erinna said, and then, with something like awe, “I've never seen you so angry before.” Sostratos looked down at his hands. Of themselves, they'd folded into fists. When he willed them open, the marks of his nails were printed on his palms. More than a little sheepishly, he smiled at his younger sister. “If you think I'm angry now, you should have seen me when it happened. So much knowledge that might have been so important, gone forever ... I was beside myself.” A fly landed on Erinna's arm. She brushed at it, and it darted away. Gyges, the majordomo here, had heard from Philodemos' cook next door that Baukis was using fish offal to fertilize her garden. Erinna had started doing the same thing. Maybe the plants appreciated it. Sostratos was certain the flies did. The one that had been on Erinna's arm landed on his leg. He smashed it. It fell in the dirt. A tiny gecko darted out from between two stones, seized it, and disappeared again. Sostratos wiped his hand on his chiton. His sister sighed. “Being a man, being able to do all those things, go all those places, must be wonderful.” “Not always,” Sostratos said dryly. “I could have done without pirates trying to kill me or sell me into slavery.” Erinna flushed. “Well, yes. But most of the time . . . You know what I mean. You usually know what I mean.” Sostratos coughed. “Thank you.” That was a rare compliment. He couldn't imagine anyone else saying such a thing to him. Menedemos? No, not likely. And he couldn't imagine saying such a thing to anybody else himself, not even to Erinna. She asked him a question that surprised him: “You know Damonax son of Polydoros, don't you?” “Of course I do,” Sostratos answered. “I took the gryphon's skull to show him this past spring, remember? He tried to buy it from me. Now I wish I'd let him do it.” He frowned. “Why do you want to know? “ “You were at the gymnasion yesterday when he stopped by,” Erinna said. “He might be interested enough in marrying into the family not to care so much about how old I am.” “You're not old,” Sostratos said loyally. “You're only nineteen.” “That's old for a girl to be marrying,” Erinna said. He couldn't very well argue with her, because she was right. She'd been only fourteen when she wed for the
Вы читаете The Gryphon's Skull
