“Did you actually kill King Elkorios of Saro-Urok? With your own hand?”
“I did. For my service I was generously recompensed in money and given the fine and mighty title of general so they wouldn’t have to say that a noble king was killed by a lowly foot soldier. Immediately afterward I was relieved of command and replaced by officers of Saroese ancestry. Some of them as young and inexperienced as Kalliarkos here.”
“But you were fortunate to be in the army at all. My father served in the Oyia campaign. He said yours was the first company of Efean soldiers assembled and commissioned in the king’s army.”
“That is correct. Before the reign of Kliatemnos the Fourth, Efeans were not allowed to serve in the military.”
It seems shameful to remind such a courageous man of what he already knows so I change the subject. “Father often spoke of your company’s bravery and skill. My mother liked to hear of your exploits.”
“Did she?” His features are obscured by night, but I sense he is suddenly fascinated. “We all knew of her. Not because Captain Esladas spoke of her—he never did—but because we all knew he was living with an Efean woman as if she were his wife. We knew he had four daughters and no sons. It is a measure of his skill as a commander that he continued to rise past higher-born Patron men. The Patron officers saw his loyalty as a sign of weakness but we Efean soldiers knew it for a sign of strength that he kept faith with a woman he cared for.”
“Until ambition poisoned him,” I mutter.
Inarsis replies in a low voice, “Sometimes in battle a man must choose between two bad outcomes. Please do not think your father had a choice once Garon Palace became involved. I am sure it pained him deeply to set her aside.”
I do not want his sympathy. But I will use it to get what I need. The quaver in my voice gives my words the ring of truth. “I asked Lord Kalliarkos to sneak me in to see my father so that I can tell him I have passed muster and will train as an adversary in the Garon Stable.”
“I am sure General Esladas knows that already,” remarks Thynos.
“Not from my lips,” I say. “Please, Lord Thynos. General Inarsis. Just this one favor.”
By now we’ve left the encampments behind. The road cuts through land divided into fields with a network of canals. Burning lanterns recede before and behind us like gems strung on a wire necklace. The beauty of the lit road catches in my heart: the pathway of these glimmering lights could lead to triumph or disaster. Yet I can’t truly appreciate the scene as I sit poised to bolt and run if the hammer falls.
For the longest time no one speaks.
Suddenly Thynos taps Kalliarkos on the shoulder. “The twin sycamores mark the servants’ lane. We’ll drop her off in the palm grove and come around by the back.”
All my breath gusts out of me as I sag in relief. “Thank you,” I murmur.
Kalliarkos easily maneuvers the carriage off the main road and onto a hard-packed earth track. In the distance a firefly string of lights marks the main entry road through square fields of barley and wheat. A cluster of lights reveals the villa near the seashore.
We cross four canals before we enter a village surrounded by sycamore, fig, olive, and date trees. The locals stare from their verandas. Every house is connected to the others by raised walkways. The children run naked but their faces are clean, and the women wear long linen sheaths like mine while the men wear the short keldi that covers only from hip to knee.
Is this the kind of village my mother came from?
We continue along a path between vineyards, smoke coiling out of pots to keep insects away. Ahead rises an orchard, trees like persimmon, pear, and cherry brought from old Saro. We come to rest off the lane, hidden among the thick pillars of date palms. The gentle slope of the ground toward the sea gives us a view of the villa. Night makes it hard to see but by the way lamps are placed I can tell there is an outer and an inner compound, and that the inner compound has two wings, two squat towers, a garden, and a courtyard at the center of the sprawling house.
“Now, Kal,” begins Thynos, “here’s what we’ll do.”
Inarsis coughs. “Perhaps you should let Lord Kalliarkos devise the plan.”
“Here’s what we’ll do,” I interrupt. “You three will attend the feast as expected. I can easily get inside.”
“Gar doesn’t allow Efean servants in Garon Palace,” says Thynos.
“I know that! I thought I would climb inside, if Lord Kalliarkos will explain the layout to me.”
“You don’t need to,” Kalliarkos interrupts. “Out here in the country, we do use Efean servants, especially when we need to hire in extra help from the village for a feast like this one.”