The Ionia Sanction (24 page)

I wrapped the cord around the tablets and tied it tight. I would have to find a traveler to carry my message, one so inconspicuous no one would look at him twice. Fortunately I knew what to do, but before I did, I sent a slave to the women’s quarters to find Diotima.

We met in the pavilion where I had tried to seduce her two nights before. The advantage was we could see if anyone approached. The disadvantage was I kept thinking of that night, when I should have been concentrating on the mission. Nevertheless I managed to give her a full account, speaking softly.

“You have to warn Athens at once,” she said.

“I’m sending the message as soon as we part.”

“Any chance we can carry it ourselves?”

“Themistocles made it very clear my life is forfeit if I step outside the city limits. I should think the same goes for you.”

“I suppose the guards would spot us anyway.”

“Yes, and if we sneak, they’ll notice we’re gone and ride us down long before we could make it to Ephesus.”

“Not to mention Ephesus is technically part of the empire. We wouldn’t be safe until we were on a boat out.”

“The only way is to send an encoded message. I’m beginning to think Callias is some sort of prescient genius. How did he know the skytale would be so useful?”

“Because he’s a diplomat. Nico, this could be a disaster. How many people were killed in the last war?”

“Tens of thousands of men in the fighting.”

“And that’s not counting the women and children lost in the panic, and the elderly and sick who had to be left behind when Athens fell and the city was burned to the ground.”

“There’s nothing we can do except make sure the warning gets out. Then it’s up to Pericles.”

“You’re right. What does this tell us about the murders? On the face of it, Araxes was sent to recover what amounted to a war warning from the children of Themistocles. You’d think then Araxes worked for Themistocles, wouldn’t you? Yet Araxes carried Asia as a slave. As you said before, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Unless Barzanes sent Araxes? He couldn’t send a Persian—the man would be spotted at once—and not many Hellenes would agree to such a mission. Araxes would have been the perfect choice.”

“You need to explain why Barzanes thought it was a great idea to steal his boss’s daughter.”

“There is that.”

Diotima chewed on her thumbnail, a sure sign she was thinking hard. “The children of Themistocles need to be looked into. Do you trust them?”

“I wouldn’t trust Mnesiptolema as far as I could toss her.”

“And I’m sure you’d enjoy handling her for the throw.”

“Diotima!”

“I saw you ogling her at dinner. Nice body, I’ll grant you, but that face.…”

“I guess I could close my eyes.”

“All right, I’m teasing you. Go on.”

I said, “Archeptolis is under his wife’s thumb and it’s an incestuous marriage.”

“Yes, that disturbs me too.”

“Nicomache is a nonentity. Cleophantus is either a simple, naïve young man, or else I look forward to seeing his performance on stage at the next Dionysia.”

“I’m not so sure about Nicomache. Merely because she’s quiet doesn’t mean she’s isn’t dangerous.”

“What are you thinking?”

“That someone knew the letter to Thorion needed to be retrieved. How?”

“I hate it when you ask good questions I can’t answer.”

“Leave it with me.”

I wandered into the city, carrying the tablets. Magnesia was the sort of place people pass through; the city lay on the route connecting Ephesus with the center of the empire. Any man traveling from inland toward Ephesus would have to pass this way, and he would always stop in Magnesia, because the remaining distance to Ephesus was more than a man could make in a day unless he was on a fast horse.

The main route passed straight through the agora. Street kids spotted me in an instant as an out-of-towner. I felt little hands plucking about my chiton, which did them no good because, since I’m not stupid, I’d put my coins in my mouth before I left the palace. Nevertheless they were an irritant and I whacked a couple of them with my free hand and growled, “Go away.”

It didn’t deter them in the least. They dodged away like flies, and like flies returned the moment I stopped swinging my arm. At the same time they made offers such as:

“Hey, you not from here? Need an inn? I know a good one!”

“Come with me! Great food, good beds!”

“Hey mister, my sister’s lonely! You wanna come with me?”

I replied to that one. “I don’t need another woman, I have enough trouble with the one I’ve got.”

“She’s juicy!”

“How do you know?”

“That’s easy, because—”

“Don’t tell me! I don’t want to know.”

“What about your woman trouble then? If you need to get rid of her I can introduce you to a witch woman who can—”

“I have the opposite problem.”

“I can get you a good deal on a love charm!”

Tempting, but, “No.”

He was a street kid, filthy, wearing someone’s torn, cast-off tunic, which he’d tucked up so it didn’t trip him over. He either didn’t have a mother, or more likely, his mother was the whore who’d sent him out to pimp for her.

“What’s your name?”

“Macrobianos. Call me Mac, everyone does.”

“All right, Mac, you want to earn some coins?”

His eyes lit up. “Does a cockroach want crumbs?”

“Er, right. I’m offering a drachma a day.” That was about standard wages for a man. “You’re my guide. Take me to the most expensive inn in town.”

He looked me over dubiously and said, “You can’t afford it. But I got a room we can rent you. It comes complete with—”

“Your sister. Yes, I know. Now take me to the expensive inn.”

I left Mac standing outside Apollo’s Retreat, which was by the main road, with orders to wait.

The inside of Apollo’s was cool and dark. The entrance gave into a large public room with seats and couches. Immediately before me was a large courtyard with a pond. Beyond the courtyard I could see stables. It looked more like the home of a wealthy man than an inn.

A large party of Phoenicians kept to themselves and watched me from a distant corner. They were uncharacteristically far from the sea, all decked out in caps and beards, collars and armlets, and bracelets and torcs.

The innkeeper hurried up, looked behind me, failed to see any slaves, baggage, or signs of wealth, and wrinkled his nose in the way usually reserved for bits of lizard brought in by the cat. I hadn’t stopped to wash or rest since the meeting with Mnesiptolema, Cleophantus, and Nicomache; I must have smelled of horse and sweat, and I hadn’t completely shaken off the dust of the ride.

He said, “Do you want a room?” At the same time he motioned to a guard in preparation to throw me out.

“I don’t need one. I’m staying at the palace.”

“The palace?”

“Yes, I said to the Lord Satrap only yesterday I might look into town while I was here.”

He stared at me and I could see him recalculate. His eyes widened and he said, “You’re the guy who was dragged kicking and screaming from the agora.”

I didn’t quite remember it that way. Obviously the story had grown in the retelling.

“That little misunderstanding has been cleared up.”

“Damn, this is awful.”

“It is?”

“There’ll be a lot of unhappy money change hands when they see
you
walking about.”

“Someone is running a
book
on me?”

“Sure they are. This is Magnesia, people’ll bet on anything. The way you came in with the Satrap’s child—dear Gods, what a fuss when she went missing—and a Messenger’s horse, and then Themistocles had you dragged off … all the smart money said we’d be looking up to you, but not in a good way. This is deeply disappointing. I’ve blown twenty drachmae.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I gotta say, wherever you get your luck, I wouldn’t mind some of it.”

“I’m asking after a friend of mine. A fellow called Brion. I believe he stayed here?”

“Well, he
was
here.”

Of course he was. It had never occurred to me that Brion would stay anywhere other than the most expensive inn in town.

“But you can’t see him; he’s left.”

“On a long journey. Yes, I know. Did he leave normally? Pay his bill? Didn’t disappear without warning?”

“Sure.” He looked at me strangely. Obviously word of Brion’s demise had not reached the ears of the general populace.

“Did Brion come to Magnesia often?”

“Couple of times every month, I suppose.”

“What did he do when he was here?”

“How should I know? We don’t spy on our guests. He went out every day. He came back. Same as anyone, except for the mud.”

“Mud?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. I just saw he came back a few times leaving muddy tracks for the slaves to clean up—you tend to notice on these pavers—and his hands were a bit grubby. Not the sort of thing we usually see in our clientele, not since Themistocles took over the city anyway.”

Diotima had admired Brion because he always kept his fingernails clean.

“You like Themistocles?”

“You kidding? In the ten years he’s been here he’s done wonders. Magnesia used to be a dump. Themistocles cleaned up the streets—he hoisted crooks up on the poles until the rest realized he meant business—repaired the east bridge; restored the agora, which was run-down; lowered taxes to encourage trade, which worked, so now the city makes more money and people pay less tax. We get a better class of merchant stopping in. That man really knows how to run a city. Goes to show, don’t it, how wise the Great King is. He knew a good man when he saw one and put him to work. The Athenians must have been mad to toss out Themistocles. Give me a wise king over a bunch of democratic idiots any day.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“When you get back to wherever you come from, recommend my place to anyone coming this way, will you?”

“I’ll do that.”

“Good. I figure you owe me for the twenty drachmae.”

I emerged from Apollo’s with my mind in a whirl, but I had to settle it down for the next job, the real reason I’d come to town. “All right, Mac, the next stop is a cheap inn.

“Plenty of those. And for an extra drachma I’ll throw in my sister.”

I paid him a half-drachma at once and promised another at the end of the day, as long as he didn’t try to sell me his sister again.

As we passed though the agora I saw Barzanes. He stood before a troop of soldiers standing to attention. Barzanes harangued the troop, issuing orders in no uncertain terms, but my Persian wasn’t good enough to understand. Barzanes saw me before I could move away and he gave me a stony look. I waved cheerily as I passed, like a tourist out to see the sights.

Mac took me to an inn on the main road going east, called the King’s Rest, but if a king ever stopped here it was only because he couldn’t wait to pee. It lay beside a bridge over the stream that flowed south into the Maeander. The King’s Rest was the first place a man walking from inland toward the coast would see when he came to the city. A tired man who didn’t know any better, or a poor one who did, would likely stop here. Mac had understood my wishes precisely.

It was a silent place, full of men sitting with their backs to the wall. Shifty eyes followed me from the moment I entered until I found the man I wanted in the far back corner, sitting on his own, the gray dust covering his sandals and feet and halfway up his legs, which told me he’d been walking hard all day. His nose and ears were sunburned, and he had the squint of a man who’d been looking into the sun too long, which meant he’d been walking west. He wore a heavy travelers’ cape, and upon his head was a Phrygian cap, round, almost conical, made of soft leather, with the pointy top flopped over forward.

I bought two cups of wine and carried them across. A bowl of cheese and bread and beans lay mostly eaten before him. He was slumped over, massaging his calves and wincing.

“This might help.” I put one of the cups in front of him. He glanced up at me, startled, but nodded and said, “That it might. What d’ye want?”

“I like a man who’s direct. Which way are you headed?”

“No offense, stranger, but I can see right away you want something. I’m going to Ephesus. Got a load of cloth to sell in the agora. The donkey’s got sorer feet than I.”

“You sell cloth?”

“Make it. Quality stuff, mind.”

“Is there money in that?”

“Not enough. But I got me five kids, and the wife says there’s another on the way. I ain’t got enough money to feed that many mouths. What’s a man to do? Don’t want to expose the kid, not if I can help it.”

“Lots of men would.” When a newborn is presented, the father accepts it by taking the child in his arms, or else he can order a slave to abandon the baby in the woods to die of exposure. No blood guilt attaches to the father because he didn’t actually kill the child, all he did was fail to save it. Blood guilt requires a positive action.

The cloth seller grimaced. “I don’t like the idea of leaving some child of mine outside for the wolves to eat. If I can get more for the rolls in Ephesus, maybe I won’t have to.”

“Good luck. Would this help?” I showed him a handful of coins, careful not to chink them since I had no wish to call attention. I didn’t
know
there were thieves in the inn, in the same sense I didn’t
know
there were fish in the nearby stream.

I said, “Could your donkey carry a little bit more? I have a package I want to send the direction you’re going.”

He looked down at the coins but said nothing.

I said, “The coins are Ephesian. Useful to a man going that way.”

His squinty eyes looked into mine and he said, “How big is this package?”

I laid the tablets in front of him. “Nothing more than a letter home.”

“Which is where?”

“Athens, but all you have to do is carry my letter to a man I know in Ephesus. Go to the commercial agora and ask for a merchant called Pollion. He will remember me. Give him two-thirds of the coins and ask him to put the letter on the next boat to Piraeus, to be taken to the man whose name is written on the outside here. That’s my father.” It was a convoluted arrangement, but messages were carried like this every day.