Io interrupted. "Is Pausanias one of your kings? And do you really have two?"

"Sure we've got two," Basias told her. "It's the only system that works."

"I'd think they'd fight."

"That's it. Suppose there was just one. A lot of people have tried that. If he's strong, he takes every man's wife, and the sons too. He does whatever he likes. But look at us. If one of ours tried that, we'd side with the other. So they don't. But Pausanias isn't a king, he's regent for Pleistarchos."

Basias held up his cup to me. I poured a little wine from mine into his and let him do the same. "Over here's the Molois," he continued, "almost dry. Here's Hysiae and here's Argiopium, just a village around the temple of the Grain Goddess."

The grass underfoot is yellowing, the sky so light a blue it hurts the eyes. Brown hills rise at the end of the yellow plain. Dark horsemen cross and recross; beyond them the red cloaks of the enemy seep away like blood from a corpse. Mardonius is on his white stallion in the midst of the Immortals. The trumpets are blowing, and the heralds shout to advance. I try to keep our hundred together, but Medes with bows and big wicker shields press through our formation, then spearmen and bowmen with bodies painted white and red. We run across the plain, the swifter outpacing the slower, the lightly armed always farther ahead of the heavily armed, until I can see no one I know, only dust and running strangers, and ahead the shining bronze wall of the hoplons, the bristling hedge of the spears.

Little Io was pressing my forehead with a wet cloth. An enemy bent over me, his horsehair crest nodding, his red cloak falling beside his shoulders. I reached for Falcata, but Falcata was gone.

"It's all right," Io said. "All right, master."

The enemy straightened up. "How long's he been like this?" It was Eutaktos, and I knew him.

"Not long," Io said. "Basias sent one of the inn servants for you."

I tried to say I was well, but it came from my lips in this tongue, not in theirs.

"He talks a lot," Io told Eutaktos, "only you can't understand it. Most of the time he doesn't seem to see me."

I said, "I'm better now," speaking as they.

Eutaktos said, "Good, good," and knelt beside me. "What happened? Basias hit you?"

I did not understand what he meant. "We broke," I told him. "Even when they made a new shieldwall we were only a mob behind it. The Medes took the spears in their hands and broke them, died. The arrows were no good, and I can't find Falcata."

Io said, "That's his sword."

I told them Marcus was dead, and I could not find Umeri, that we should not have gone to Riverland.

Eutaktos said, "There's magic in this. Where's that magician?"

Io gestured. "Asleep outside."

"He was, maybe. Not now. I would have seen him." Eutaktos stamped away and I sat up.

"Are you better, master?"

Io's little face looked so concerned I had to laugh. "Yes," I said. "And I know you. But I can't think who you are."

"I'm Io, your slave girl. The Shining God gave me to you."

We were in a cramped, dark room that smelled of smoke. I said, "I don't remember. What is this place?"

"Just an inn."

A tall, ugly woman with short black hair came in, saying, "Hello, Latro. Do you remember me?"

I said, "Latro?"

"Yes, you're Latro, and I'm your friend Eurykles. Kalleos's friend too. Do you recall Kalleos?"

I shook my head.

"I'm supposed to heal you," the woman said, "and I want to. But I don't know what happened-I was taking a nap. It might help if I did."

Io said, "Do you remember how he wrestled with Basias?"

"Yes. Basias threw him twice, then he threw Basias twice, then Basias threw Latro again to end the bout. We all had a drink on it, and Basias went in here to try to find something to put on that bad place on his arm. Latro wanted to write in his book-"

I looked at Io and tried to stand. She said hastily, "I have it right here, master. Your stylus too."

"-and I got sleepy and lay down. What happened after that?"

"Basias came back and they drank some more, and Basias asked Latro if he had any armor." Io looked at me. "Basias has your sword, master. He's keeping it for you."

The ugly woman said, "Go on."

"And I said he didn't. Then Latro said to tell him about the battle. I guess he meant the one where everybody in our Sacred Band got killed. Anyway Basias knew, and he told us about their kings and where the armies were." Io paused for breath.

"Then Latro shouted. He kept on shouting and knocked over the wine, and Basias got hold of him from in back and tried to throw him down, but Latro got loose. Then Basias and a lot of men from the inn caught him and threw him down and he stopped shouting. He talked a lot, but you couldn't understand him, and they carried him in here. Basias said it was because he didn't put enough water in his wine, but he did. He put a lot more in than Basias did."

The ugly woman nodded and sat beside me on the low bed. "What was the matter, Latro? Why were you shouting?"

"We all were," I told her. "Running toward the enemy and shouting. They were retreating-we had so many more than they-and it seemed as though a good push would end the war. Then they turned like an elk with a thousand points."

"I see." A few hairs sprouted from the woman's chin; she pulled at them with her fingers. "Eutaktos thinks it's witchery, but I'm beginning to doubt it; the malice of someone on the Mountain seems more likely. We might try a sacrifice to the War God. Or… Latro, these Rope Makers have a healer called Aesculapius. Do you know of him?"

I shook my head.

"He might be best, since you're under their protection, or ought to be. I'll talk to Eutaktos about it. I'll also compound a charm for you, calling upon certain powers with whom I have influence. Health isn't one of their concerns, usually-still, they may be able to do something."

When the ugly woman left, Io wanted to stay with me; but I would rather have her where she can discover what's taking place and return to tell me. Before she left I had her bring me a stool, so I might write this in comfort. Eutaktos has put two shieldmen at the door, but they permit it to stand open, and I am sitting so the light falls upon the papyrus.

Io has returned to say that the slaves of the Rope Makers are building an altar to the Healing God the ugly woman spoke of. She says Basias has been to this god's great temple on Redface Island, and that when Eutaktos has sacrificed for me I will have to sleep beside the altar. In her absence, I had been reading this scroll, and thus I know I slept in the temple of the Grain Goddess once in much the same way.

Io says Eutaktos intends to leave this place and go to Advent tomorrow, whether the god appears or not. From Advent there is a good road to Redface Island.

I asked her about the ugly woman who promised to make me a charm; she says there is no such woman, that it was Eurykles of Miletos, who wears a purple cloak but is a man. That seems stranger to me than any of the strange things I have read in this scroll.

The innkeeper brought my supper, and I asked for a lamp. He said he had lost a bet on me, but it was worth it to see the man he bet with knocked down. He asked a great many questions about who I was and where I came from, none of which I could answer. He says he sees many foreigners in his trade, but he could not tell me where my country lies.

I asked him to tell me the nations I was not from. Here is what he said: Not a Hellene. (Which I knew already, of course.) Not of Persepolis. (I asked him about this place; it is the Great King's city.) Not of Riverland. (This I knew, because I recalled thinking we should not have gone there. Plainly I have been there, and though it is not my home, it may be that someone there knows me.) Not of Horseland, the Tall Cap Country, or the Archers' Country. Not a Carian.