The Philosopher Kings (34 page)

We were not offered guest-friendship—partly, we guessed, because of Euklides leaving. Psyche accepted applications for citizenship but did not allow emigration. We ate and slept aboard the
Excellence
. The ship felt strange. It had a different crew, people who had not been on the voyage, and who seemed like usurpers in the place of friends and familiar faces. A pimply ephebe only a year or two older than me kept sprawling on the coil of rope where Erinna and I had sat the night Kallikles told us about the Naxians, and I almost wanted to push him overboard for his effrontery.

In Psyche, Father had to meet what felt like an infinite number of committees. In direct opposition to Sokratea, Psyche was top-heavy with Masters. In addition, they denied women a place in public life, so everyone we met was male. Lots of them lied, though maybe I shouldn't call it lying when people blandly assure you that they understand and sympathize. They were frequently and habitually insincere. They were also obsessed with numerology. I knew a little of it from Ficino, whose loss the people of Psyche genuinely regretted. Eventually, after days of obfuscation, Father had a meeting with a man called Aurelius who seemed to have the ability to make decisions. Father persuaded him to send envoys to the conference. It then took days more to persuade them to send their art, and we had to agree that it would be sent under armed guard and with hostages pledged for its return.

They wouldn't let us sing before their Assembly, but we sang in the agora on the day we left. It wasn't official. We just walked through the agora and stopped and began to sing. People clustered around, naturally, more and more of them, women as well as men. Afterward everyone tried to hug us and touch us—it felt very strange. Father said it was because they'd been moved and they wanted to make a connection. Many of them came to the quayside before the ship left, so we sang it again standing on the desk of the
Excellence
. On the last chorus, they joined in on “When the time comes to defend,” startling me.

“Wait until you hear the full choral version,” Father said, afterward. “Phaedrus is rehearsing them. They'll sing it at the conference.”

We moved on to Athenia. Athenia looked just like home, except smaller. We stayed in a guest house and spent a lot of time with my brother Alkibiades. I was so delighted to see him that I was prepared to forgive Athenia a lot of its formality and rigidity. Alkibiades was a gold, naturally; he had also been a gold at home. He took us to his eating hall, Theseus—all the halls were named after Athenian heroes. There was a bronze statue of Theseus with the head of the giant Kerkyon in the hall, which I remembered seeing in the Athenian eating hall at home years ago. Alkibiades had good advice for Father.

“Talk about what happened to Mother. They'll be sympathetic. We're sick of art raids too. The Amazons keep raiding us. Talk about Plato. They think you're compromised but essentially trying to do the right thing.”

“That's about right,” Father said.

That night he asked me if I'd talk to Alkibiades and Porphyry about going to Delos. “It would be easier for you. It happened to you. You can explain it better. I can't think how to bring it up. It was awkward with Euklides.”

“I don't think it would be very easy, but I will if you want me to.”

The Athenians didn't allow anyone under the age of thirty into their Chamber, not even envoys. Father said he'd have to sing alone, and that he could manage. Alkibiades and I went for a walk in the hills outside the city. They were planted with vines. “It's good volcanic soil and they thrive here,” he said. “I've done a lot of work pruning them this year. We have vines and olives and barley, just as Plato says. No goats or sheep, though. We have to trade for all our cheese and leather. Fortunately, everyone wants wine.”

“When we went to Delos, Kallikles and Phaedrus and I acquired god-powers,” I said. I hadn't been able to see how to tell him, so I just blurted it out.

He stopped walking. “What?” I could tell he didn't believe me. Though he was fond of me, I'd been so much younger when he left home.

“Really. We can all do things. And Father says he's going to try to take Euklides there, and you and Porphyry if you want to go.”

“What kind of powers?” He was still only half-believing.

“I can tell when people are telling the truth, so I can tell that you don't believe me. And Kallikles can change the weather and call lightning, and Phaedrus can heal people and control the volcano.”

“It would be hard to demonstrate knowing the truth,” he said, skeptically.

“Oh, and I can fly as well,” I said. “Look.” I swooped up into the air, and had the satisfaction of seeing my favorite brother's mouth fall open.

We discussed it as we walked on. Before we'd gone much farther he had decided he definitely didn't want any powers of his own. “It's not my kind of thing. I don't want to be a god. I just want to be an ordinary philosopher king, like everyone else.” He intended to tease, but he was absolutely serious and meant it. That really was what he wanted. “We're trying to do Plato right here, as Athene intended, as Plato intended. And we're all volunteers—not the babies born here, but even they have the choice when they become ephebes to swear their oath or leave for one of the other cities.”

“That's the same with us,” I said.

“Yes, that's part of why we think you're essentially all right in the Remnant. I came here because I believed we should be following Plato more strictly, and I'm happy here.”

“Even with the Festivals of Hera?”

“The Festivals of Hera are great!” He grinned at me. He was telling the truth. “No courtship, no ambiguity, no will-they-or-won't-they, everything organized simply for you, and most of the time no need to worry about it. Perfect!”

“And you haven't fallen in love with anyone or anything?”

“Oh, sure.” He shrugged, a little too casually. “Agape. That's also great. I'll introduce you to Diogenes later. He's in my troop, but he's in Solon, not Theseus. He's originally from Psyche. He had to escape to get here, as they hate to have their Young Ones leave. You'll like him. I hope Father does.”

“I'm sure Father will,” I said, loyally. I felt a pang when I thought of Erinna, and pushed it away. A bird rose up singing from the vines, and we tilted our heads back to follow it up the sky.

“I'm happy,” he said, looking back at me. “I like it here. I have Diogenes and all my friends. I have my studies and my exercises and my troop. I enjoy my hobby work among the vines. When I'm thirty I'll be able to vote in Chamber, and when I'm fifty I'll be able to read the
Republic
. If you can stop the stupid art raids so that we only fight about important things, that would make everything better. But I don't want to change anything about my life. I don't want strange powers messing up who I am and all my friendships. I don't need to be able to fly like that bird to be happy watching it fly. I don't want something else I can't tell Diogenes.”

“I'm so glad you're happy,” I said. “It does seems strange to me that you don't want powers when you could have them.”

“It's so pointless,” he said. “Athene set us here to enact the Republic as best we can, to become philosopher kings and live the just life. We'll be destroyed when the volcano takes down this side of the island. There's no sense in going beyond that.”

“Because there's no posterity,” I agreed. “No future, except for our souls. But don't you feel you have a duty to Fate?”

“My excellence is here,” he said. “I feel my best self isn't in acquiring divine powers and learning about them, it's in living the good life here in Athenia.”

 

28

ARETE

I had heard so much about the City of Amazons and Ikaros that finally seeing them was almost a disappointment. The city was much like Athenia, like home only smaller, and not so well built.
The Naming of Crocus
was as impressive close up as it was from a distance—crouching Sokrates was bigger than a building, and Maia, younger but very recognizable, seemed to have her head almost in the clouds. Crocus himself was completely unrecognizable as anything, seeming equal parts Worker, human, and flowers. “It's even bigger than his
Last Debate
,” I said.

“It was his first full-scale colossus,” Father said. “Crocus's art has always been really interesting.”

“And he's been making more of it,” I said.

Father nodded. “He's one of the city's most unexpected successes as a philosopher king. Sixty-One's numerology confuses me, but Crocus is a true Platonist.”

“His art shows good people doing good things,” I said, gazing upward at the huge Maia. Her braid was falling down slightly, the way it did sometimes when she twisted it up before it was quite dry. I wondered what she thought of seeing herself this way.

Ikaros met us as soon as we stepped out onto the quay. He was a man in his early sixties, with a charming smile and a cloud of untamed silvery hair. He had a girl with him, an ephebe about my age, whom he introduced as his daughter Rhadamantha. My birthday had come while I was away. I would be cutting my hair and taking my tests when I got home again.

Ikaros kissed my hand and told me that I looked like my father, so I must have been blessed with my mother's brains. While this came out as a compliment to me, it was subtly insulting to Father, but he only laughed. “I'm not such a fool as you think, Ikaros, for I have been chosen as envoy on this mission, and so far all the cities have agreed to come to the conference we are arranging.”

Athenia had agreed to send envoys to the conference, and to send all their art for redistribution on condition that all the other cities agreed to do the same. “They think the Amazons won't,” Alkibiades had explained. “They're sure the Amazons have the head of Victory, and that they won't give their art back because they'll think it's a trick to find out who took it.” Father had nodded thoughtfully.

Now Ikaros took both of Father's hands and kissed them. “I was so sorry to hear about Simmea. A loss to you, and to the world. She was a true philosopher.” Astonishingly, he was sincere. He really had admired Mother.

“We need to stop fighting about art and concentrate on increasing our excellence,” Father said, with no preliminaries.

“Yes,” Ikaros said. Father's eyes flicked to me. I nodded quickly. He meant it. “Do you have a plan?”

“I do,” Father said. “Shall we go somewhere and discuss it? Do you have a committee for me to meet? Or should we go aboard and share a cup of wine?”

“We're guest-friends already,” Ikaros said. “I remember sharing lemons with you and Simmea in Thessaly when Sokrates was still with us.”

“I have the other member of your debate team. Aristomache is back in the City,” Father said.

“Wonderful!” Ikaros sounded delighted. “You rescued her from Kebes?”

“It's more complicated than that, and I don't want to discuss standing it on the harbor,” Father said.

“Oh, be welcome to the City of Amazons, both of you, come share food and drink and tell me everything you know about everything,” Ikaros said.

He took Rhadamantha's arm, and we all walked along the quay to a nearby eating hall which, as it was the middle of the afternoon and not anywhere near a meal time, was almost empty. He sat us down so that we were in sunlight from the window. Rhadamantha ran off to the kitchen and came back with rather good cold cakes spread with quince and red currant conserves, and wine.

“Now run and find Lysias, and your mother, and Damon, and Klio,” Ikaros said. The girl nodded and ran.

“Our Foreign Negotiations Committee,” Ikaros explained.

“Four Masters and one of the Children?” Father asked, sipping his wine.

“Three. We were so used to running things,” Ikaros said, narrowing his eyes. “Children, and even some Young Ones, are on lots of committees. Your boy Porphyry is on the Farming Committee.”

“How you run the City of Amazons is your affair,” Father said. “But I do want to tell you that other people have equal significance—they're just as real as you are, and you have to allow them to make their own choices.”

Ikaros blinked. “Why do you want to tell me that?”

“Because Maia said something that indicated that you might not know it,” Father said, sitting back blandly. I frowned at him. Had Maia told him about Ikaros saying she didn't love anyone? But how did that relate to other people being real? Father bit into his cake. “Good quinces you have here.”

Ikaros recovered his poise. “Tell me about Kebes. You found the Goodness Group? All we've had is rumors.”

“Shouldn't I wait for the others?”

“Then what should we discuss while we're alone?” Ikaros was wary. There were a few people working in the kitchen, laughing together as they made an early start on dinner, and one old woman sitting drinking by the window, out of earshot.

“My plan for ending the art raids involves returning everything to the original city and redistributing it based on population, with a certain amount of the more portable art moving between the cities on a regular cycle. The other cities have agreed to this, which means that you have the head of Victory, because nobody who had it would agree, not to me, not about this.”

“So it wasn't Kebes?”

“You know it wasn't. Stop playing games.” Father didn't take his eyes off Ikaros for a moment. Ikaros was looking at Father, but he didn't seem to be focusing on him.

“You've been swearing blood and vengeance on whoever has the head,” Ikaros said. “I'd be a fool to admit it if we had it.”

“As you may have heard, I took vengeance on Kebes. That's enough. Besides, while there are some circumstances where it's appropriate, this isn't one of them. The important thing is to stop wasting lives and effort over this foolishness, not to make everything worse.” Father was utterly sincere.