Page 14 of Sword Dance

He tried to fall behind discreetly, but they were walking slowly enough even for him. He was steeling himself to admit that his knee hurt—it did, but that wasn’t the main reason he wanted to go back to the house. He felt very much in the way, and was more and more convinced that Phaia resented his presence. He couldn’t even really blame her.

They rounded a spur of rock that jutted onto the beach, and a small, exquisite cove opened up before them. A pair of tiny, whitewashed, slate-roofed stone huts nestled at the top of the wide, white beach. They were sheltered from the smell of the factory here, and it was very quiet.

“Those were ancient houses,” Nione said, pointing to the little buildings. “The walls have been here as long as anyone can remember. I had roofs put on and turned them into beach huts.”

“How perfect,” Phaia breathed. “The whole setting. It will make an ideal exercise ground for our school, Nione. Running along the beach at sunrise—ah! So invigorating. Of course I can’t exercise with the men, but you’d keep me company, wouldn’t you?”

“Running?” Nione laughed. “Blessed Orante, I don’t think so. Not unless something were chasing me.”

“Just watching would be perfect.”

Nione turned to Damiskos, who was just opening his mouth to say that it was time he headed back to the house. “Did I tell you, Damiskos? Phaia is trying to convince me to let her fellow students take up residence at Laothalia.”

“Oh. Really. I see.”

“Yes, you see, Eurydemos is my first cousin, and he was robbed of his inheritance by our grandfather—it’s a long, sad story. But I do feel myself obligated to make things right, as best I can. I don’t mean to suggest that he views himself as having a right to my property … ”

“Of course not!” Phaia chimed in. “He would never say such a thing—even though it is true. He is happy just to be invited to stay here. But no one suggests—no one would dream of suggesting—you ought to give up the villa to him. We simply think it would be a lovely gesture if you made room here for his school. Besides, Laothalia would suit us so well.”

“It is so far from the city, though,” said Nione doubtfully.

Damiskos thought he knew what Phaia would say to that.

“Oh, but that is an advantage! To be able to escape the clamour of the city would be bliss. To leave behind the cries of the marketplace and the wrangling of politicians … ”

Yes, that was about what he had expected.

So the philosopher was leeching off Nione on the strength of some injury two generations back, and his students were badgering her to give over part of her home for them to discuss their claptrap and go running on the beach. In Nione’s place he would have shut the whole thing down when it was first proposed.

Or maybe he wouldn’t. She missed the communal life of the Maidens’ House, just as he missed the camaraderie of the army. Maybe she would enjoy living among the students.

Finally he found an opportunity to announce his intention to return to the villa, but to Phaia’s obvious annoyance, Nione agreed that it was time for them all to go back.

“What about Aristokles Phoskos?” Phaia asked on the way back, in the midst of a conversation that Damiskos had been trying not to listen to. “Is he here to buy fish sauce too?”

“No! He’s here to meet Eurydemos—well, mainly. He’s a kinsman of a friend, who asked me to invite him as a favour because he was dying to meet your master.”

“Really? But he’s hardly spoken to our master. At least I haven’t seen them speak.”

“No? Oh, well. Perhaps he’s just shy.”

“That’s odd, though,” Phaia persisted. “Don’t you suspect something?”

“Suspect something?”

“Yes, that he’s up to something—you know.”

“I—I don’t, really. What do you mean? He’s … he’s trying to court me, if that’s what you mean. But that’s not suspicious, just … well.”

“Unwelcome?” Phaia suggested archly.

“Oh, very much so, I’m afraid.”

Phaia glanced over her shoulder at Damiskos, eyes narrowed. He looked back at her blankly.

As they climbed the steep track toward the villa, he considered the question of what Aristokles was doing there. It was, as Phaia pointed out, odd. He had clearly come under some form of false pretences and was lying about more than one thing. To learn that Nione didn’t really know him at all but had invited him at the request of a friend—that was unsettling.

Had he really come expressly to court Nione, ready with imported Zashian jewellery to offer her? It was certainly possible. But it didn’t explain his bluster that morning about “things in motion.”