Page 34 of Something Human

It was now close enough to low tide for them to attempt the trip into the city. They reached the outlet of the main drain, where Adares had been waiting, and there was a tense interval during which it seemed that the locked grating on the drain’s end could not be opened. Eventually they found a way of hauling it with ropes from above, so that the pins lifted free of the hinges, and the long line of warrior-laden boats rowed into the vaulted tunnel of the drain.

Adares, who had been standing on top of the stone-clad outlet, helping to haul on the ropes, swung over, hanging by his hands, and dropped down into the stern of the first boat as it went in. They rowed up the channel, in the pitch dark through murky water, until shafts of moonlight spilling down from a round sewer grate above told them that they had arrived under Tios. The men in the first boat banged on the underside of the grate with the butt ends of their spears until some frightened citizens came running to lift it up.

The scene that greeted his eyes when he clambered out of the sewer and back up into his city was not quite what Adares had anticipated. The men crowded around the drain, lit torches in hand, staring at him with disbelief, were all as unshaven as he; on these dark-bearded Phemians, it showed up clearly. Most of them wore plain, undyed tunics, although he recognized several of his high-ranking officials in the crowd. Among the tribal residents pressing close to get a look, he saw a couple of Getti men who had shaved off their moustaches.

They were all in mourning, he realized with surprise. It was almost out of his mouth: the question, “Who died?” He caught himself just in time.

“You don’t seem to have been expecting me, men!” he said instead.

Dear Mother and Father, said the letter that Adares finally sent home,

In case you have heard any rumours to the contrary, be assured that I am alive and well. You have been often in my thoughts lately. I love you and miss you. If I could come home to see you now, I would; but you have probably heard enough about the situation in Tios to understand why that will be impossible for some time.

I don’t know what they may be saying in Pheme about what has happened here. It is true that there has been fighting, and that for a few days Tios was under siege.

Fortunately, most of the women and children were evacuated before the siege began. We have allies among the local tribes, some of whom came to our aid and helped to frustrate the besieging force. We were able to sneak reinforcements into the city under the noses of our enemies, who were entirely disconcerted to find us fully garrisoned the following morning, and withdrew, calling off the siege, almost immediately. They have remained lurking in the hills this past week, and we are preparing for another attack; the men are busy digging trenches and building up earthworks to prevent our enemies retaking the harbour fortifications and cutting off our access to the sea.

I daresay you heard some time before I did about this proclamation that makes all the people of Tios rebels for electing their own archon. The first we heard of it was two days ago, when word reached us that our refugee ships had been denied entry to the harbour at Psylos, since the people of Psylos evidently do not want to make trouble for themselves with Pheme.

You may be sure that I offered to resign my office, but the citizens’ council would not let me do it. They did not say it was because they could hardly afford to change leaders at a time like this; they said it was because I singlehandedly lifted the siege, which was a gross exaggeration, but they cheered and made a big thing of it, which was very touching. There was a while when everyone thought I was dead, and they had all actually gone into mourning.

Now we are awaiting the return of our women and children, and readying ourselves for the possibility of another attack. I cannot pretend that the future looks bright. With Pheme placing us under embargo, and the most powerful tribe in Kargania still threatening us, this will be a hard winter. But at least we know the nature of our adversity now; whether we can survive it rests in the hands of the gods.

Give my love to the rest of the family. Tell Chares that I never understood geometry either, and if I were him, I shouldn’t worry too much about it. Give Leta my blessing on her engagement. Menippos Xenonos is a fortunate man, and I hope he will make her happy. We have found a Kossian merchant who is willing to carry letters to and from Pheme, though he is bound by the embargo to accept no other freight. I will write as often as I can.

Your loving son,

Adares

The evening after the letter was sent, the ships bearing the refugee women and children returned to Tios. Adares had ordered a public celebration that night to welcome them back.

The autumn rain had set in now in earnest; the months of grey wet that preceded the biting cold of the Karhan winter had begun. They sacrificed in the conveniently dry interior of the Temple of Amphiaraos in the centre of the city, and hurried through the rain back to the citizens’ hall and the archon’s palace, where the wine flowed freely late into the night.

Tios was filled to bursting, with Phemians and Karhan locals, and since Adares had opened his doors without restriction, inviting everyone who was not on duty guarding the walls and trenches, nearly every room had to be co-opted for revelry. People were drinking in the hallways, drying their wet cloaks over the lit braziers, snatching food from the trays that slaves were carrying in to the higher-ranking revellers in the state dining room. The food was not overabundant; Adares had given the kitchen strict orders, and made sure to provide other diversions for his guests, to take their minds off eating. There were not many male dancers or flute-players in the colony, but such as there were had prepared a last-minute entertainment in honour of the women. It was very good, and well applauded. Even the Daine lords, who found the idea of men dancing and playing the flute scandalous, managed to be very polite.

Adares, reclining on his couch in the dining room, full of a warm glow of wine and goodwill, had to work to remind himself that what he had written to his parents that morning was true: it would be a hard winter, and Tios was still in danger. Someone proposed yet another toast; they had so much to drink to. When he had drunk, and set down his cup again, Adares looked for a moment at the back of his hand. The snake was still visible, although the dye had faded in the week since it was drawn. In another day or two, there would be nothing to see.

He let himself linger for a moment on the fantasy that he had been returning to all week. He imagined showing Rus around Tios, taking him down to the harbour to see the ships, asking him how his chieftain’s sod-roofed hall compared with the Tian archon’s limestone palace. He didn’t know how he was going to make all this possible. At the moment it was no more than a flight of fancy, not so strikingly different from the fictions he used to allow himself to create when he was a boy, about unattainable girls. But the girls had often not been as unattainable as he had thought them, and he was a powerful man now.

He looked across the dining room at a pair of friends sharing a couch, deep in conversation, and he let himself imagine Rus on his own couch—sitting upright, probably, like the Daine lords clustered at one end of the room—looking shocked by the dancers, and having to be reminded not to knock back the exquisite, aged Boukossian wine like it was watery Karhan mead. And then afterward, in private, lying in Adares’s arms, neither of them caring who knew or suspected, because Archon Phyleros had single-handedly lifted the siege of Tios and could get away with anything. He could picture it all so clearly, he felt certain he would somehow make it real.

The first toast of the evening had been to Rus, although the man who proposed it, one of Adares’s chief councillors, had not known his name. The whole city had heard by this time about the heroic Luth who saved their archon’s life. Adares had made sure of it, telling just enough to make it a good story, but not enough for anyone to gossip about. Some of his councillors, he could tell, suspected him of making the whole thing up, for the benefit of the citizens. But then they would look at the fading snake on the back of his hand and wonder. Adares let them.

“Sir,” said the man on the couch to his left, interrupting his thoughts.

Adares looked up, smiling.

“Kleisios?”

He was a grizzled military man, one of Adares’s favourite councillors—deferential, but conscious of his own merits, which were substantial. Now he looked at Adares with a knowing grin.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you look like a man in love,” he said.

Adares gave a surprised laugh. “Is that so? How are you sure you do know better?”

“Eh? Oh, I see, sir. Very good! We shouldn’t let these brutes of Luth drive all our pleasures from us.”

“No—they understand love too. I mean, one assumes. Some of them, at least. Do you know, speaking of that, I heard an amusing story. Gunthanaruth, after his first wife died, married a girl young enough to be his daughter, purely for love—purely for his love, I should say. The tribesmen were all a bit shocked to begin with, but it got worse. She convinced him, as a way of proving the sincerity of his love, to cut his hair. Short.” Adares gestured, drawing his fingers across at the level of his jaw.