Page 24 of Sword Dance

“And the students are suspected.”

“They are. The public watch was able to find a witness who saw several armed men leaving the embassy and got a clear look at one. Her description didn’t match any of the students currently at Eurydemos’s school, but there were a lot of men from his old school in Pheme visiting that week, and they’d left by the time the investigation got underway.”

“So Aristokles is here to investigate Eurydemos and his students. Who may well be murderers.” It was a lot to take in. Aristokles didn’t seem like Damiskos’s idea of a secret agent. But then, presumably that was the point. “I thought he was up to something, but I’d never have guessed it was anything like that. Do they know who—I mean—presumably the philosophers are working for someone?”

They had to be; it was hard enough to imagine them doing more than sitting around talking about the theoretical desirability of assassinating someone in their tedious Ideal Republic. Someone else must have done the practical planning.

“They may be,” said Varazda. “We’re not sure.”

“And what they stole, the documents—obviously I don’t expect you to tell me what they were, but I assume they were sensitive?”

“Very.”

“And the embassy needs them back?”

“Urgently.”

“Terza’s head. I know what they’re doing. They want war with Zash.”

He told Varazda about his conversation with Helenos on the fishing pier and Helenos’s explanation of “Phemian purity.”

“They think war is good for the Republic,” Damiskos said, “and I think they may have a plan to bring it about.”

“You don’t agree?”

“About war? What, just because I happen to be good at it? No. Does a physician wish for a plague so he can exercise his skill?”

Varazda looked momentarily taken aback. “I’m sorry. You’re quite right.”

“Never mind. The point is that Helenos seems to believe this, and I suppose his fellow students may too.”

“They may. Eurydemos himself seems to be rather more pro-Zashian than anything. He certainly … ” Varazda winced. “He certainly fancies me.”

“Ah. Yes. But Gelon attacked you.”

“Yes. That was related. He saw me … lurking, I suppose … outside Eurydemos’s room, and he followed me out to the yard, thinking he was defending his master from my unnatural Sasian what-have-you.”

“Right.” And why had Varazda been outside Eurydemos’s room? None of your business, First Spear. “Aristokles said something like that, actually, when I asked him about it.”

“Did he.” Varazda looked tired.

“They didn’t exactly send their best, did they? The Boukossian government.”

Varazda gave him a sour look for a moment, and Damiskos wished he hadn’t said that. It wasn’t fair to ask a freedman to speak ill of his old master, whatever else they might be to one another.

“You may be right,” was all Varazda said.

“So I suppose … Do you think Aristokles has gone now to make his report to someone, or meet some contact, or … ” He knew very little about the practical workings of espionage.

“I don’t know where he’s gone,” Varazda admitted, “or why, or when—whether—he’ll be back. I don’t know why he left me behind.”

Damiskos was startled by his candour, although he had spoken calmly enough. “You think something sinister has happened to him.”

“I do. We are potentially dealing with dangerous fanatics. If they happened to learn what he was here for … ”

“Right.” And that wasn’t the least likely thing in the world. Aristokles had come perilously close to telling Damiskos himself.

“In any case,” said Varazda, “I’m going to have to lie and say I do know where Aristokles has gone. That’s why I thought I had better come clean to you now. Since you would of course know that I was lying.” He looked up at Damiskos through his lashes.