“Won’t tell me or can’t?” he asked.

“Can’t,” I admitted. “Not that I would anyway.” I goaded him.

He laughed, then checked my forehead again for fever.

A guard brought more food. The magus and Sophos ate. The square of yellow sunlight on the wall opposite the window had dimmed when we heard more footsteps in the corridor and knew that the queen must have arrived at the castle and sent for the magus.

“I’ll do what I can for you, Gen,” the magus promised as he stood up. They took Sophos as well, and I was left alone in the cell, wondering what the magus thought he could possibly do for me.

The cell was pitch-dark when he returned. The guards carried lanterns, and I closed my eyes against their glare, assuming that they would be gone soon. When someone nudged me with his boot, I groaned a little, partly because it hurt, partly because I was offended that they were bothering me. Another fiercer nudge dug into my ribs, and I opened my eyes. Standing over me, between the magus and the captain of the guard, was the queen of Attolia.

She smiled at my surprise. Standing in the light, surrounded by the dark beyond the reach of the lanterns, she seemed lit by the aura of the gods. Her hair was black and held away from her face by an imitation of the woven gold band of Hephestia. Her robe was draped like a peplos, made from embroidered red velvet. She was as tall as the magus, and she was more beautiful than any woman I have ever seen. Everything about her brought to mind the old religion, and I knew that the resemblance was deliberate, intended to remind her subjects that as Hephestia ruled uncontested among the gods, this woman ruled Attolia. Too bad that I had seen the Great Goddess and knew how far the Attolian queen fell short of her mark.

She spoke, and her voice was quiet and lovely. “The magus of Sounis informs me that you are a thief of unsurpassed skills.” She smiled gently.

“I am,” I answered, truthfully.

“He suggests, however, that your loyalty to your own country is not strong.”

I winced. “I have no particular loyalty to the king of Sounis, Your Majesty.”

“How fortunate for you. I don’t believe he holds you in high regard.”

“No, Your Majesty. He probably doesn’t.”

She smiled again. Her perfect teeth showed. “Then there’s nothing to prevent you from remaining in Attolia to be my thief.” I looked over at the magus. This was the favor he had done me: convinced the queen that I was too valuable to throw away.

“Uh,” I said, “there is one thing, Your Majesty.”

The queen’s eyebrows rose in delicate arches of astonishment. “What would that be?”

I had to think of something quickly. Discretion prevented me from saying that I thought she was a fiend from the underworld and that mountain lions couldn’t force me to enter her service. As I searched for something safer to say, I remembered the magus’s comment on the banks of the Aracthus. “I have a sweetheart,” I said with complete conviction. “Your Majesty, I’ve promised to return to her.”

The queen was amused. The magus was consternated. He couldn’t guess why I would throw away a chance to save myself. There were certainly no love affairs written up in my record at the king’s prison. I was sure because I had written the record myself. It had been an easy way to turn a lot of boasting into a solid reputation, and it hadn’t been difficult to slip it in among the real records. Anyone who can steal the king’s seal ring can manage the locks on his record room.

“You are promised to someone?” said the queen, in disbelief.

“I am, Your Majesty,” I said firmly.

“And you will not break your promise?” She shook her head sadly.

“I couldn’t, Your Majesty.”

“Surely I am a better mistress to serve?”

“You are more beautiful, Your Majesty.” The queen smiled again before I finished. “But she is more kind.”

So much for discretion. The smile disappeared. You could have heard a pin drop onto the stone floor as her alabaster cheeks flushed red. No one could ever accuse the queen of Attolia of being kind.

She smiled again at me, a different, thinner smile, and inclined her head in acceptance of a point scored. I smiled back, pleased with myself in a bitter way, until she turned to the captain of her guard.

“Take him upstairs and fetch a doctor,” she ordered. “We will give him an opportunity to change his mind.” Her red peplos swept across the back of my hand as she turned to leave, and I winced. The velvet was soft, but the embroidery scratched.

In a room several floors above the dungeon, I lay in bed while my fever climbed. I raved, and in a distant way I knew that I was raving. Moira came to sit by my bed. She assured me that I wasn’t dying. I told her that I wished I were. Then Eugenides came out of the dark, and Moira was gone. Eugenides was patient at first. He reminded me that lives are things to be stolen sometimes, just like any possession. He asked me if I would prefer to be dead myself. I said I would, and he asked what then would have become of my plans for fame and my name carved in stone. And would I then leave my companions to die as well?

I didn’t like to think of the magus as a companion. But if he wasn’t, why had I risked my life once for him already? I sighed. And then there was Sophos to worry over as well. I said that if only I could have died when the soldier pulled the sword out, I wouldn’t be bothered by my conscience. The god beside me was silent, and the silence stretched out from my bedside through the castle and, it seemed, throughout the world as I remembered that Lyopidus had burned and died while Eugenides had not.

After countless empty heartbeats, Eugenides spoke again from a distance. “His wife died in the winter. His three children live with their aunt in Eia.”

When I dared to lower my arm, he was gone. I slept again, and when I woke, I was more clearheaded. Leaving Sophos and the magus to certain death wouldn’t do anything for my conscience, even if I died myself soon after. And there was fame and fortune to consider. I dragged myself out of bed and started to look around the room.

The bolts in the door of the cell turned over and the door swung open. The lamps in the hallway weren’t burning, and neither the magus nor Sophos could see who stood in the doorway.

“It’s me,” I hissed, before they could make a noise that might carry to the guardroom. I heard them moving toward my voice and backed away so that they wouldn’t bump into me. Once they were in the passage, I asked Sophos if he still had his overshirt on.

“Why?”

“I want you to give it to me.”

“Why?”

“Because all I’m wearing is bandages. They took my clothes.” Sophos pulled the shirt off and held it out in my direction, nearly poking me in the eye.

“Do you want my shoes, too?” he offered.

“No, I’m better off barefoot.”

“Gen,” said the magus, “you shouldn’t do this.”

“Get dressed?”

“You know what I mean.” At least he had the sense to whisper. “I thank you for opening the door, but the best thing you can do now is forget all about us. Climb back up where you came from and pretend you never left your bed.”

“And how will you get yourselves the rest of the way out of here? Through the front door?”