At once the rock behind her split, and there came forth a king in armor, with a bloodstained knife in his hand, bleeding limbs, and a lolling head. He was terrible to behold, but he knelt and drank the vapors from the pit as a shepherd drinks from a spring; as he drank, his wounds ceased to bleed and he appeared almost a living man-not handsome, for his face had been scarred by wine as well as the knife, yet having such an air of command as few possess. Drakaina fell in a fit, her mouth gaping and rimmed with foam. From it there issued a man's voice, as swift and hard as the crack of a lash.

"Nephew, seek peace and not death. Nor drink from the blue cup of Lethe. Ask who will make the fortress yield, To those that fought at Fennel Field."

At the final word Drakaina gave a great cry; and the stone, which had closed, opened again to receive the dead king. In his train now walked an attendant, a lean, fantastically dressed man with disordered hair. Drakaina was weak and sick when they were gone. She crawled to drink the milk left from the libations.

The prince drew a deep breath; his forehead was beaded with sweat. "Was it good? Who'll provide the exegesis?" He wiped his hands on his chiton. "Pasicrates, who spoke to me?"

Pasicrates looked to Drakaina. Receiving no help from her, he ventured, "Your royal uncle, perhaps, King Cleomenes. Only he perished-" Pasicrates hesitated, then finished weakly, "By seeking death."

"By his own hand, you mean. You may say so. He desecrated the sacred lands of the Great Goddess and her daughter when he marched to Advent. The nature of his punishment is common knowledge. What of the second line?"

"He warns you against the wine that drove him mad, and so by implication against offending the gods as he did. You asked three questions, Highness. It seems to me the first two lines of your royal uncle's verse answer your first two questions. You are to seek peace, and you are to trust your dream, because to distrust it would be an offense to the gods."

"Very good." Pausanias nodded. "And those who fought at Fennel Field are the shieldmen of Thought, who are now besieging the fortified city of Sestos. Cleomenes fought them, twice invading the Long Coast. I should aid them instead-seeking peace with Thought now, that I may better seek peace with Persepolis later. So Cleomenes seems to be saying."

"Highness, you asked how you might know whether your dream was truly from the gods. King Cleomenes urges you to ask who will make a fortress yield to the men of Thought. Why not send a token force from your retinue to Sestos? They say it's the strongest place in the world; if it falls, you'll know your dream was the true speech of the Maiden. If it doesn't, it will be a failure for Thought and not for us. That seems to me to be your royal uncle's advice, sir, and I see no flaw in it."

Pausanias's face twisted in its scarred smile. "Yes, the risks will be small, and the People of Thought will take it as a friendly gesture, a personal gesture on my part, since Leotychides has withdrawn. The aristocratic party there, particularly, will take it so. Xanthippos commands." He chuckled. "And you wouldn't exactly object to leading a hundred of my heroes on a new Trojan War, would you, Pasicrates? Or should I say, swift-footed Achilles? It will be a glorious adventure, one in which a man might win considerable reputation."

Pasicrates looked at his feet. "I will stay or go, as my strategist commands."

"You'll go, then, and keep your eyes open." The prince wiped his sword on his cloak.

I said, "And I, Highness. I must go with him."

Io protested, "Master, we might get killed!"

"You don't have to," I told her. "But I do. If the gods say I bring the regent victory, I must be with his standard."

"Here's your first volunteer, Pasicrates. Will you take him?"

Pasicrates nodded. "Highness, I'd like to take all three. Latro for the reason he just gave: the test won't be valid without him. The child to care for him, and the sorceress because it may be desirable to… ah… "

"Arrange terms of surrender." The prince rose.

"Exactly, Highness."

"All right, then. It will make things easier for me at home anyway-Gorgo doesn't like her."

When the winding mountain paths had brought us here again, the regent ordered his bodyguard to form the phalanx; this bodyguard consists of three hundred unmarried men chosen by himself. "Shieldmen of Rope," he began. "Rope Makers! Hear me! You know of the glorious victory of Mycale. There's not a man among us who doesn't wish he had been there. Now word has reached me that our allies, jealous of our glory, were not content with that victory. When our ships set out for home, they remained across the Water, and they have laid siege to the Great King's city of Sestos!"

Though the young soldiers stood rigidly at attention, there was a stir among them, like the stirring of a wood that hears far off the thunder of the storm.

"When we return, I intend to tell the judges we should send an army to aid them-but what if Sestos falls before it arrives? You know how we were late to Fennel Field. You have heard, I imagine, that the men of Thought are claiming credit for the victory at Peace. I ask you, shall we let them say they took Sestos alone?"

Three hundred voices roared, "No!"

"And I too say no!" The regent paused; the young men waited, tense and expectant. "All of you know Pasicrates, and you know he has my entire confidence. Pasicrates, step out here!"

Pasicrates left the first line of the phalanx to stand beside the regent, and even to me he looked a young hero in his bright armor.

"Pasicrates will lead a hundred volunteers to Sestos. Those who do not wish to volunteer, remain in ranks. Volunteers! Step forward and join Pasicrates!"

The formation surged forward as one man. "He'll choose," the regent shouted. "Pasicrates, choose your hundred!"

A moment ago, Io asked what I was writing about. "About the choosing of the hundred volunteers," I told her.

"What about what we did in the gorge, killing the black lambs?"

I told her I had already written about that.

"Do you think it was really real? That King Cleomenes talked through Drakaina?"

"I know it was," I said. "I saw him."

"I wish you'd touched him. Then I could have seen him too."

I shook my head. "He would have frightened you." I described him to her, dwelling on the horror of his wounds.

"I've seen a lot. You don't remember all I've seen. I saw you kill the Rope Makers' slaves, and I saw Kekrops after the sea monster killed him. Do you think Pasicrates understood what Cleomenes said?"

Drakaina sat up at that. "Do you remember? What was it?"

"Don't you know? You said the words."

"No," Drakaina told her. "I was not I who spoke. I remember nothing."

Io recited the four lines as I have given them and added, "I don't think Pasicrates was right. I think Cleomenes wanted a real peace, and not for the regent to send men to Sestos. That was what he meant when he said the regent should ask who took the fortress. If he didn't send men, he wouldn't know."

Drakaina said, "He meant no one would take it. I've seen Sestos, and believe me, what they say is true-it's the strongest place on earth. People talk of the walls of Babylon, but they are gapped to let the river through. That was how the People from Parsa took it the first time. Sestos has no such weakness. As for seeking peace, Cleomenes knows that Demaratus, the true heir to the younger crown of Rope, is one of the Great King's advisers. He naturally hopes for an agreement that will leave the Agids the elder crown and give Demaratus the younger. If such an agreement had been struck two years ago, the whole war might have been prevented."