The Gryphon's Skull

know what his quarrel with Kassandros is—I just know he has one. He'd make me a useful ally, I think.” We'd make you a useful tool, is what you mean, Sostratos thought. He wondered how wise the ruler of Egypt was. If Polemaios had fallen out with both Antigonos and Kassandros in a year's time, he was liable to turn in the hand of anyone who tried to wield him. But that was Ptolemaios' worry, not his. He said, “And you want us to go up to Khalkis?” “And get him, and bring him back down here to me. That's right,” Ptolemaios said. “He needs to slide out of the place without anyone's being the wiser—he hasn't got the fleet to just up and sail away.” “No, he wouldn't have the ships for that,” Sostratos agreed. “He'd have to come past the coast of Attica on the way south. Athens isn't what it was in the days of Perikles, but it still has a decent navy, and Demetrios of Phaleron is Kassandros' creature.” “Exactly. I have officers who wouldn't see it that fast,” Ptolemaios said. “Polemaios' soldiers can get out a few at a time in small craft once he's escaped. He'll lose some, but a lot of them will join him here. Polemaios himself is the man I really want. What do you say, Rhodians?” Sostratos knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to say no to another delay in reaching Athens with the gryphon's skull. And this one would be all the more frustrating because the Aphrodite would go past the eastern coast of Attica on the way to and from Khalkis. But Ptolemaios had given him and Menedemos one big reason to say yes—or, looked at another way, six thousand little reasons. That thought had hardly crossed his mind before Menedemos, who as captain of the akatos had the final word, gave it: “Sir, we say yes. “Good. I thought you would, once I made sure you weren't really on Antigonos' side,” Ptolemaios said. He snapped his fingers and called for a house slave. The man hurried away, returning with bread and oil and wine for Sostratos and Menedemos. Aside from trying to put us in fear, as long as he was feeling us out about Euxenides, he didn't want to eat with us, Sostratos realized. “Sir, can we get a steering oar made before we sail?” Menedemos asked. “We're carrying one that's a makeshift, of green timber. It got us here, but...” “I'll send a carpenter to your ship right away,” Ptolemaios said. He ordered another slave off with the message. “Anything else I can do for you? I want Polemaios back here as soon as may be.” “The money,” Sostratos said. Ptolemaios smiled. “Ah, yes—the money. Don't you worry about that. It will reach your ship before the day is out,” Sostratos believed him. A lot of men, even those who had a great deal, would have lied about such a sum. Others would have haggled endlessly. Ptolemaios himself had haggled endlessly over the tiger skin. The skin, though, had been something he wanted, but not something he felt he had to have. Getting Antigonos' nephew here to Kos was different. Something else occurred to Sostratos: “How will Polemaios know we're working for you, sir? How do we convince him we're not in his uncle's pay, or Kassandros'?” “I said you were a clever fellow, didn't I?” Ptolemaios beamed at him. “I'll give you a letter and seal it with my eagle.” He held out his right fist. On one thick finger he wore a gold signet ring whose design was an eagle like the ones on the reverse of his coins. “It'll come to your ship with the first installment of the money. Anything else?”