“Turn around,” he said.

“It’s all right,” said Sophos, but his eyes were still watering. “It’s not bleeding.” He kept looking at his hand to be sure. Pol rubbed the bump rising on the back of his head and agreed that he would probably live.

“I regret that,” he said, and seemed very serious about his apology for something he could not have prevented. “Do you need to rest for a while?”

“We could have a second lunch,” I suggested, and received a glare from the magus.

Sophos said he was fine, so we started again. There was no streambed here to follow, at least not at first. We walked across the side of the mountain on a goat path between rocks. I felt very exposed and worried about who might be watching from above. The last thing I wanted was to be caught hiking across Eddis with the king’s magus of Sounis, and we could not have been more visible, five people traipsing through vegetation no higher than our knees. I asked the magus why the secrecy in the morning when anyone passing could see us in the open.

“Only someone else on this trail,” he said. “And the trail is rarely used. As long as we don’t leave any permanent signs, no one will know that we passed here. There are better ways to get down to Attolia.”

I looked up at the rubble above and said, “I bet there are. Can’t we be seen from the forest?”

“No, it’s unlikely that anyone would be there.”

I snorted. “A successful thief doesn’t depend on things being unlikely to happen,” I said.

“A successful thief?” said the magus. “How would you know?”

I retired chagrined from the field of contest.

After a quarter of a mile we picked our way down a particularly steep slope and came to a tiny plateau, paved with flagstones and edged with ancient olive trees. At the back of the plateau, really no more than a deep ledge, a cave led into the mountainside. Growing out of a cleft in the stone above the cave, a fig tree shaded its opening. A spring welled up somewhere in the dark and ran out through a tiled channel in the pavement. Beside the channel was a tiny temple, no more than ten feet high, built from blocks of marble, with miniature marble pillars in front.

“Behold,” said the magus with a sweep of his hand, “the place where we were supposed to have lunch. Take a quick look, Sophos. It’s your first heathen temple.” He explained that it was an altar to the goddess of the spring that rose in the cave. It had probably been built as much as a thousand years earlier. He showed him the craftsmanship that went into dressing the marble, so that each stone fit perfectly against the others.

“Looking at a small temple like this, you can see how the larger temples were fitted together. Everything is in scale. If there are four pieces to each column in the main temple of the river gods, then there are four pieces to each column here, and all the joining will be the same.” Sophos was as fascinated as the magus. The two of them went into the temple to see the figure of the goddess and came out looking impressed. Ambiades was bored.

The magus saw his expression and said, “So, Ambiades, knowing someone’s religion can help you manipulate that person, which is why Sophos’s father thinks no country should have more than one set of gods. Let me give you some examples.”

We started down the path that the water from the spring had carved during the last millennium. It was an easy hike. There were even steps carved into the stone at the steep places, no doubt by a thousand years of worshipers at the shrine above us. As we walked, Ambiades listened with interest to the magus. It was obvious that he paid close attention to anything that he thought might be useful to him. He just didn’t see the point in natural history.

The magus began to ask questions. For a long time Ambiades answered each one; then Sophos began answering, and Ambiades’s comments became more and more sullen. I tried to listen, but only bits and pieces floated back up the trail. After Ambiades had snarled at Sophos a few times, the magus sent Sophos to walk in the back and lectured to Ambiades alone. I was surprised to hear Sophos and Pol behind me chatting like old friends. Pol wanted to know what had set off Ambiades.

“Identifying mountain ranges. He doesn’t like that sort of thing, so he doesn’t pay attention. But even so, he knows more than I do.”

“You’ll catch up.”

“I suppose, if my father lets me stay.”

“Oh?”

“You know what I mean, Pol. If he finds out I want to stay, he’ll take me away.”

“And do you want to stay?”

“Yes,” said Sophos quite firmly. “I like learning, and the magus isn’t as frightening as I thought at first.”

“No? Shall I tell him you said so?”

“Don’t you dare. And don’t tell my father either. You know my father is hoping he’ll toughen me up. Don’t you think the magus is nicer than he seems at first?”

“I couldn’t say,” said Pol.

“Well, he isn’t nearly as hard on me as he is on Ambiades.”

“Leaves that to Ambiades, I notice,” said Pol.

“Oh, I don’t mind, Pol. I like Ambiades. He’s smart, and he’s not usually so . . . so—”

“High-handed?” Pol supplied the word.

“Temperamental,” said Sophos. “I think something is bothering him.” He changed the subject. “Do you know where we’re going?”

I pricked up my ears.

“Attolia,” said Pol, which was nothing more than the obvious at that point.

“Is that all you know? Then why are you here?”

“Your father sent me to keep an eye on you. Toughen you up.”

Sophos laughed. “No, really, why?”

“Just what I said.”

“I’ll bet the magus needed someone reliable, and Father said he couldn’t have you without me.”

I bet he was right.

We came to a steep place and had to scramble. Once we’d worked our way down, Pol dropped behind Sophos, effectively ending their conversation. Sophos moved up beside me.

“Are you really named after the god of thieves?” “I am.”

“Well, how could they tell what you were going to be when you were just a baby?”

“How did they know what you were going to be when you were a baby?”

“My father was a duke.”

“So my mother was a thief.”

“So you would have to grow up to be one, too?”

“Most of the people in my family thought so. My father wanted me to be a soldier, but he’s been disappointed.”

Behind us I heard Pol grunt. He no doubt thought my father’s disappointment was justified.

“Your father? He did?”

Sophos sounded so surprised that I looked over at him and asked, “Why shouldn’t he?”

“Oh, well, I mean . . .” Sophos turned red, and I wondered about the circulation of his blood; maybe his body kept an extra supply of it in his head, ready for blushing.

“What surprises you?” I asked. “That my father was a soldier? Or that I knew him? Did you think that I was illegitimate?”

Sophos opened and closed his mouth without saying anything.

I told him that no, I wasn’t illegitimate. “I even have brothers and sisters,” I told him, “with the same father.” Poor Sophos looked as if he wanted the ground to swallow him.