Page 52 of Sword Dance

“What?” Phaia rounded on him, obviously not as surprised herself. She gestured at Damiskos. “He obviously knows everything.”

“Now he does,” said Helenos, looking at Damiskos, calm restored to his voice. “The question is, what is he going to do about it.”

“Not really your question to ask, is it?” said Damiskos. “I’ll do whatever I see fit. Of course if you want to tell me truthfully how this happened”—he pointed to Aristokles’s body—“it could influence my decision.”

Helenos gave him a pained look, like a reasonable man reluctantly tolerating someone else’s unreasonableness. “We know that your friend here was working for the Boukossian government,” he said. “He told Phaia so, in the course of bragging about his own importance. Apparently the Boukossians harbour unfounded suspicions about Master Eurydemos.”

“Rubbish,” said Damiskos. “They know that you and your cronies started a riot and killed men in Boukos.”

Helenos’s eyebrows rose. “Is that what he told you?” He poked Aristokles with his foot.

“He didn’t know which of you was the ringleader,” Damiskos embroidered. “I worked that part out for myself.”

“You didn’t, by any chance, hear it from Aristokles’s—pardon me—from your eunuch?”

“Him? I doubt he knows anything about it.”

Helenos frowned. “Giontes says last night when he went to the eunuch’s room, the Sasian chased him off with a sword.”

“Yeah? I’m surprised Giontes was willing to admit to that.”

“Where did the eunuch get the sword?”

“You saw him dance the other night. He’s got swords.”

“It was a Phemian sword.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say? That was probably mine.”

“What was he doing with it?”

“Chasing Giontes, apparently.”

“Were you in the eunuch’s room?”

“Yes, of course. I thought we’d maybe have some privacy out there. I’m sleeping with him, remember?”

“But you’re not.”

Damiskos spread his hands hopelessly. “I don’t know what to tell you. That is what I was doing in his room last night. Look, you saw him kiss me on Xereus’s Day, you saw us making out in here on Hapikon night. Last night, we were in his bedroom making love. I don’t know what’s so hard to fathom about all that. Do you think that because I was a soldier, if I’m not fucking somebody up against a wall half an hour after meeting him, it means I’m not interested?”

Helenos was giving him the look of distaste that he had been hoping for. It was really very satisfying.

“I tell you who I feel sorry for,” Damiskos added, looking at Phaia, “is you. His idea of seduction seems pretty piss-poor.”

“That’s enough!” Helenos snarled. “You have no idea what I’ve done for her.”

“You mean trying to clean up her mess after she murdered Aristokles Phoskos?”

“You see,” said Phaia, “I told you he knew.”

“What?” said Gelon, sounding affronted. “You didn’t kill him—I did. All she did,” he added to Damiskos, “was lure him to the garden for me.”

Helenos pinched the bridge of his nose and made an exasperated noise.

“Oh,” said Phaia lazily. “Look.”

Damiskos turned to see the rest of the students standing in the open front of the beach hut.