“But do you really still think he killed Mother?” I asked. “They don’t have any of our art, and they said they avoided Kallisti until now for fear of Athene.”

“Perhaps he didn’t kill her,” Father agreed. He looked at me and then at Neleus. “I still want to know where the Goodness was that day. The Marissans may not know everything. But even if he didn’t—I didn’t want to tell you. But she wrote in her autobiography that he raped her.”

“What?” I thought for a moment that he meant Kebes had raped Mother on the day she was killed.

“When? Before the Last Debate?” Neleus asked.

“Yes. At the last Festival of Hera.” Father was staring out at a shadow of a shoreline on the horizon. Before I was born, I thought, and only a few months after Neleus was born.

“But if it was the Festival of Hera, weren’t they supposed to…?” Neleus asked.

“They were supposed to try to make a baby. He wasn’t supposed to take her against her will when she was saying no.” Father sounded vehement enough to bring the storm back. I saw people turning to look from across the deck.

“If they’d been married in front of everyone…” Neleus trailed off again.

“That’s why she didn’t tell anyone. She didn’t tell me.” There was a lot of pain in his voice, but it was quieter now. “It was rape, and he hurt her, and I’m going to kill him.”

“Right,” Neleus said. “I’ll help.”

“The punishment for rape is flogging,” I said. I had been reading the laws in preparation for my adulthood tests. “And it would be very hard to prove now, even with her direct written testimony.”

“We’re not going to take him to court in the City, we’re going to kill him in Lucia,” Father said, looking irritated. Neleus nodded.

“But—” I opened my mouth and then stopped. But the rule of law, I’d wanted to say, but the terrible things that happen when bloodfeud replaces it? And why had Mother kept quiet about the rape except to prevent exactly this? Then again, the idea that she had been raped and hadn’t told anyone for so many years was awful. The thought of it made my stomach churn. “I want to kill him too. I think rape should be considered a more serious offense.”

“When you’re an adult you should argue that in Chamber,” Father said. “Lots of us would support that. It has the death penalty in the City of Amazons.”

“Maybe we could drag him back and try him there,” Neleus said. “And look for the head at the same time.”

“No. I couldn’t bear being on the ship with him for that long. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to bear having any conversation with him at all. I’m going to kill him as soon as I possibly can.” Father bit his lip hard, but even so tears ran down his cheeks. “I hate the thought that he’s still alive and breathing after he did that to her.”

So did I. “But what about trade agreements and diplomatic relationships between us and the Goodness Group?” I asked.

“Once Kebes is dead, we can make agreements.”

“But you can’t just walk up to him in the street and run him through, and then carry on with the others as if you didn’t do it,” Neleus said. “You’ll have to either make it seem as if you didn’t do it, or else tell everyone why. Unless you could find a pretext. Or fake an accident somehow.”

“You’re right,” Father said. “I need to find a way of killing him that’s personal and acceptable and doesn’t destroy all possibility of friendship between our cities later. I wonder whether they allow duels?”

“It doesn’t seem likely,” I said, appalled.

“Kebes probably wouldn’t agree to one anyway. He’s fought me before, he knows I’m better.”

“Does he know that you hate him?” I asked.

“Yes. Though he has no idea how much more I hate him now that I know what he did to Simmea. I wish I’d killed him long ago when I had his neck under my hand in the palaestra.”

“Why didn’t you?” Neleus asked.

“He was her friend and she valued him,” Father said, sobbing openly now. Maia was coming toward us. I waved her away, but she kept coming. “She thought he was her friend and he did that to her.”

He put his hands up to his face, pushed away from the rail and went below before Maia reached us.

“What’s wrong with Pytheas now?” Maia asked.

Neleus and I looked at each other. “Just missing Mother,” I said.

“I miss Simmea myself, but—” she shook her head. “I had thought the journey was doing him good.”

“It is,” I said, truthfully. “He hasn’t been like that anything like as often since we set off.”

“I suppose it’s hard for him to deal with knowing it wasn’t the Goodness Group who killed her,” Maia said, staring after him. “He was so hoping for spectacular revenge. You’d think he’d realize it does no good. It wouldn’t matter how much he avenged her, he wouldn’t get her back.”

Neleus grunted and went off after Father.

We were lost for two more days and stopped for water twice before we found somewhere that matched our charts. Father told me that he knew exactly where we were all the time, but of course he couldn’t let anyone know, other than by suggesting a direction, and they wouldn’t always listen. I didn’t have that sense, and neither did Phaedrus or Kallikles, but Father said it probably was just familiarity with the geography.

Once we knew our location we crept south along the shore of Asia until we passed Lemnos, which was full of savage villages. We didn’t go ashore. Then we reached Lesbos, where we arrived at a well-built city of marble columns and whitewashed stone houses with red tile roofs on the north shore. The Goodness was tied up at the wharf. It looked just like the Excellence except that it seemed to be missing a mast and the sides were visibly patched with wood of different shades. I wondered how difficult it was to maintain her without Workers.

“We have missed the festival,” Aristomache said sadly, as we tacked into the harbor under a blazing noon sun. “Today’s the last day. There’ll be nothing left but gladiatorial combats. And I was hoping your father would compete. I remember his music.”

“If his lyre didn’t get drowned in the storm I’m sure he will compete if there’s a chance,” I said. “And even if we have completely missed it, I’m sure he’d play for you. There’s nothing he likes better than singing, except maybe composing.”

We were close enough now to see that people on shore were rushing about in evident surprise. “We’re not going to be able to tie up the way we did at Marissa, there’s only room for one ship,” Erinna said.

After the envoys went ashore and negotiated with the Lucians, we arranged to anchor in the harbor, keep one watch aboard ship at all times, and send everyone else ashore in the little boat. “And no swimming!” Caerellia said, firmly. “We’re in civilization here and don’t you forget it!”

I went ashore with Aristomache and Maia and Neleus. Erinna had gone in an earlier group, with Ficino, though she had patted my arm and nodded when Ficino had said he’d see me ashore. Father had also gone ahead, his lyre slung over his shoulder, but he was talking to somebody on the quay. He finished his conversation and came over to join us. “The Goodness was in Troy when Simmea was killed,” he said.

“Oh Pytheas, you didn’t still think we might have done it?” Aristomache asked, putting her hand on his arm.

“I wanted to be sure,” Father said.

“He’s been a little crazed with grief ever since it happened,” Maia said, in that language she and Aristomache shared.

“Death is a terrible thing without salvation,” Aristomache replied, in the same language.

“What’s that?” Neleus asked, perplexed.

Father and I exchanged glances, and I saw that he understood, as I did.

“Sorry,” Aristomache said. “Come on. Most people will have gone to the agora. It’s Easter day, we celebrate Yayzu risen. Tonight we will eat lamb and bread.”

Lucia was decorated for festival, with flower garlands set on pillars, just the way we did it at home. It seemed very familiar, laid out on the same pattern as our cities and as Marissa, with broad streets leading to a central agora. On the top of the hill was a colosseum. We passed another huge marble Madonna, also garlanded with flowers. “Auge?” I asked.