The tailors paused in their work as if under a magician’s spell, their pins poised, their lips pursed. The king’s attendant on duty that day was Ion, standing patiently in a corner. He cleared his throat politely and said, “His Majesty’s wardrobe is a gift from My King.”

Sighing, the tailors returned to their work. “Attolis is very generous,” they murmured.

“Indeed,” said Sounis, thinking that the attention to frippery was the only sign of the old Eugenides he had seen. When the tailors were finished and had stripped away the carefully marked patches of fabric, he stretched and stepped down from the wooden stand.

“Your Majesty?” said the tailor apologetically.

Sounis had been heading back to the clothes that had been borrowed for him to wear until the tailoring was done. “You said that suit was the last?”

The tailor bowed. “We still have the uniforms to fit.”

Sounis sighed as he stepped back up, suspecting that the king of Attolia was torturing him.

“Would I be wrong,” Sounis asked one evening as he walked with Eddis, “to think that I talk to you, you talk to Gen, and Gen talks to Attolia, who talks to the magus, who talks to me?”

Eddis laughed. “Not always. Sometimes, as in this case, someone approaches my Eddisian ambassador Ornon, here in Attolia, and he talks to me, I talk to you, you talk to Attolia, Attolia talks to Gen, and he talks to me.”

“I see you appear in that progression twice.”

“Oh, more than that, because after Gen talks to me, the process reverses. He goes back to Attolia, who talks to you, who go to the magus, who repeats the information to me, who gives it to Ornon, who takes it to whoever started this particular political ball rolling in the first place.” She ended breathless, but smiling.

They had been discussing the Neutral Islands, the scattered island states that were spread off the shores of Sounis, Eddis, and Attolia. Most of the islands in the archipelago changed hands intermittently between Sounis and Attolia, but some had established their independence from either power and maintained it by keeping a scrupulous neutrality.

With the exception of a few lying very near Sounis’s shore, all islands but the Neutral ones were in Attolia’s hands. When Sounis’s barons had risen in rebellion against him, the navy of Sounis had disappeared into division and disarray. The nucleus of Sounis’s navy was owned by the crown, but all the other ships were owned and outfitted by individual barons, who called them back to their home ports, isolating them from one another and from any central command, making them easy pickings for Attolia’s fleet and pirates. What was left of Sounis’s navy was trapped in the harbor of the capital city. Unable to break Attolia’s blockades, Sounis’s islands had surrendered one by one.

Sounis had assumed that he would cede them permanently to Attolia, but Eddis was suggesting that he argue for possession of Lerna and Hanippus. Lerna was the largest of the Ring Archipelago; Hanippus was almost as big, though isolated from the direct sea lanes.

Eddis had explained that the Neutral Islands would not be at ease surrounded entirely by islands under Attolian control. “Attolia does not want drawn-out hostilities off her shore. If she gives up Lerna and Hanippus, it is a means to assure the Neutral Islands of her peaceful intentions,” she said.

“So Hannipus and Lerna controlled by Sounis, which is in turn bound to Attolia, will make them more comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” said Sounis, bemused but willing. “I will direct the magus to raise the issue and discuss it myself with Attolia. I am surrendering myself to Attolis, but all my conversations seem to be with his queen.”

Eddis nodded. “Gen leaves the reins in Attolia’s hands. Which is not what either I or Attolia recommended, but wisely he ignored us both.”

“Wisely?”

Smiling, Eddis said, “He hasn’t the temperament. He gets angry. She only ever gets angry at him.”

Sounis, having seen the Thief of Eddis lose his temper, could see her point. “But it is not what you advised?”

“No,” Eddis replied. She said thoughtfully, “She and I both thought his presence must inevitably weaken Attolia and if he didn’t become a strong king, the court would soon be unstable. He proved me wrong. Either because he can see what we can’t or just because he demands the world conform to his own desires. I am never sure which it is that he does. In this case, he managed to so terrify his barons that they have assumed a semblance of conformity without undermining Attolia’s power after all. No one will cross her.”

“Understandable,” said Sounis.

Seeing his shudder, Eddis said, “Give her time. She is slow to trust.”

“What need is there for her to trust me?” Sounis asked, surprised. “Am I not the one exposing my neck to the wolf?”

“Oh, I hope you haven’t said that to her,” Eddis said, laughing.

“Indeed, I am not that brave,” Sounis admitted.

Eddis did not say what she was thinking: that Sophos held Gen’s heart in his hand, that he was one of very few people who could destroy the king of Attolia, and that Attolia knew it.

“I did say, though, that I wasn’t surrendering to her and I wasn’t swearing any oaths to her, either.”

“And?” Eddis prompted. “Was she angry?”

“She seemed to be pleased,” said Sounis, “for what that is worth. I find it impossible to know what she is thinking.”

“She probably was pleased, then. She has her reasons, I am sure.”

“You trust her?”

“I’m not swearing any oaths to her,” said Eddis.

Sounis laughed. “I should hope not.”

Eddis changed the subject then, asking, “Do you sleep? You look tired.”

“Not well,” Sounis answered. “I mostly lie in bed tracing the patterns in plasterwork.” Every night he picked apart his decision to surrender his sovereignty to Attolis and then remade it before morning.

Eddis said, “You should think of something else or you will end up like poor Polystrictes, asleep in the middle of the day.”

Sounis smiled. He had never heard of Polystrictes.

“How can you not know Polystrictes?” Eddis asked.

“Poor tutoring,” said Sounis, glancing over his shoulder at the magus far behind them, walking with one of Eddis’s attendants on one arm and one of Attolia’s on the other. “Tell me?”

They had reached a long, narrow alley between two hedges that reached over their heads. Leaving the magus and the attendants to be lost from sight, they turned up it, the shells on the path crunching underfoot. “He did a favor for the god Ocrassus, and Ocrassus repaid him with a goat.”

“Not very considerate of the god.”

“It was a particularly fine goat, a nanny with a silky coat, and best of all, she answered to her name, Eleutheria. As long as you called her by name, she would come when she was called and stay when she was told and give fine milk. And Polystrictes was very pleased.”

“And?”

“The next day Ocrassus brought him another goat. Named Eleuthemia. She was also very fine and answered to her name.”

“And another goat after that?” Sounis asked.