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.

“Yes, Nigella, and Noxe, and Omerga, and Omerxa, which you understand was easy to confuse with Omerga, and—”

“And so on,” said Sounis.

“And so on,” said Eddis. “Hundreds of goats, a new one every day, and poor Polystrictes was forever running around, calling, ‘Nigella! Nogasta! Come down from the roof!’ ‘Poppy! Promiseteus! Pausanius! Stop eating the lettuce at once!’ ‘Zenia, Zeta, and Zara, come to be milked!’ While the goats ran wild and ate through all the flowers in the courtyard and the vegetables in the garden and a great deal of the family’s laundry besides. The god brought a new goat every day, and poor Polystrictes couldn’t say no. One does not refuse the gifts of the god without a certain amount of peril. So Polystrictes stayed up all night, every night, reciting their names over so he wouldn’t forget them. Finally Ocrassus came and found him, surrounded by goats, all of them chewing through the shrubbery and some even chewing the sleeves on Polystrictes’s tunic as he sat at the edge of his fountain fast asleep.”

“And then what happened?” Sounis asked. Eddis had stopped when she realized they had reached the outer limits of the garden. Above them, Attolia’s guard passed on the palace’s outer walls. She looked over a shoulder at the tracks they had made in the long shell-covered path behind them, but Sounis, not yet ready to go back, turned to follow the wall around the garden instead.

“Ocrassus gave him a dog,” Eddis replied. “It was the first dog, and Polystrictes thought it was a wolf and ran to hide. The god had to search for him to ask, ‘Polystrictes, why are you in the well?’ Polystrictes said, ‘It’s a wolf.’ And Ocrassus said, ‘It’s a dog.’

“‘Wolf.’

“‘Dog.’

“‘Wolf.’

“‘Polystrictes,’ said Ocrassus, looking down the well, ‘which one of us is a god?’ And Polystrictes had to bite his tongue and climb out. The god showed him how the dog would follow his commands and keep his goats out of the laundry. So Polystrictes didn’t have to remember all those names anymore. He had to remember only one, the dog’s.”

“Alas,” said Sounis. “My problem is barons, not goats, and I have no dog.”

“True, but staying up all night, reciting over your difficulties, won’t help you any more than it did Polystrictes.” Eddis turned him around, and they started back toward the palace. “We will be missed,” she said. “And you will not want people who think we are deep in a discussion of the rights of the Neutral Islands to learn that we were instead talking about goats.”

“I cannot crush a rebellion with so few men,” Sounis protested.