But Himilkon said, “No, you have a good memory—I already knew that—and your ear is not bad. Anyone who hears you speak will know you for a Hellene (or at least for a foreigner, for in some of these little places they will never have heard of Hellenes), but people will be able to understand you.” “Will I be able to understand them, though?” Sostratos said. “Following you is even harder than speaking, I think.” “Do the best you can. When spring comes and you sail east, you may decide you want an interpreter after all. But even if you do, you are better off knowing some of the language. That will help keep him from cheating you.” “True. Very sensible, too.” Sostratos thumped his forehead with the heel of his hand, as if trying to knock in some wisdom. “Yes, let's get on with it.” His brain felt distinctly overloaded as he walked back up toward the northern tip of the city and his home. He was going over feminine conjugations in his mind, and so engrossed in them that he didn't notice when someone called his name. “Sostratos!” The second—or was it the third?—time, that pierced his shield of concentration. He looked up. “Oh. Hail, Damonax. Where did you spring from?” Damonax laughed. “Spring from? What, do you think Kadmos sowed a dragon's tooth and reaped me? Not likely, my dear. I've been walking up the street beside you for half a plethron, but you never knew it.” Sostratos' cheeks heated. “Oh, dear. I'm afraid I didn't. I'm sorry. I was . . . thinking about something.” “You must have been, by Zeus,” Damonax said. “Well, Sokrates was the same way if Platon's telling the truth, so you're in good company.” Sokrates, Sostratos was sure, had never pondered the vagaries of Aramaic grammar. “I was talking about Kadmos just a little while ago,” he said, “though not in connection with the dragon's teeth.” “What then?” Damonax asked. “How Euripides shows him in the Bakkhai?” “No.” Sostratos tossed his head. “In aid of the Phoenicians' bringing their letters to Hellas.” “Oh. That.” Damonax shrugged. “History interests me less than philosophy. Did I hear rightly that your splendid gryphon's skull was lost at sea?” “I'm afraid you did,” Sostratos replied. “What are you doing in this part of the city?” “Why, coming to see your father, of course. He must have told you I'd like to marry your sister,” Damonax said. “Yes, he did. The news surprised me more than a little. We aren't a family with land out to the horizon.” And you come from that kind of family —or you did, Sostratos thought. Have you squandered everything? Is that it?
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