When Philodamus returned to the dining room, he introduced his son Agathon and his daughter Olympia. The girl, in her late teens, had hair dark as her eyes, which glistened black as olives. She looked at the floor while she spoke, thanking them for their intervention with Verres. Was this shyness, Tim wondered.
“Don’t mention it,” Marcus said. “When we heard what he planned…well, we had to do something.”
“Besides,” Livia added, “it was fun.”
“I imagine there will be reprisals,” Agathon said with a scowl.
“Since no one was killed, I doubt it will come to much,” Tim, having the benefit of historical perspective, reassured him. “Marcus and I are in trouble since we are escaped slaves. And we’ve lost our only connection to Uncle Josiah.”
“Not necessarily,” Livia said. “Verres doesn’t know I was involved. He will probably continue dealing with me. By the way, have you all noticed anything strange happenings around here? Animals, or manimals, covered with red scales, for instance?”
“Can’t say I have. Although Olympia’s boyfriend says he’s having some trouble with his sheep.”
“He is not my boyfriend,” Olympia said, her eyes blazing at her brother. All traces of shyness gone in an instant.
“Oh, yes he is. Though what you see in a simple sheep-herder is beyond me.”
“What trouble is he having with his sheep?” Marcus said.
“He says they are being eaten by a strange beast. Which has red scales, like you said. He is armed, as all our shepherds are, but he is in some danger. No great loss though…”
Philodamus interrupted his son with a wave of his hand and said, “Let us gather in the courtyard and look upon the sky. It is a remarkably clear night. The stars should be bright and cheery.”
The courtyard was not exactly spacious, but everyone managed to squeeze in for the evening stargazing. It was the same room in which Livia had found Philodamus reading on the cistern. They stood upon sandy earth. The walls were painted with rustic scenes, one of which merged with a real vine reaching up to and over the roof.
“Perhaps we should stay here in Asia Minor for a while,” Tim said. “You too Livia. It can’t hurt to let things cool off a bit. We could stay here for at least a couple of days. If we found someplace to lay low.”
“We have guest rooms here,” Philodemus offered, “and I would be honored to have you with us. As long as you like.”
“If we stay, we should help this shepherd. Even with a sword, he won’t stand a chance against a Tortured One,” Marcus said.
“Neither would we,” from Tim, remembering horrible the sounds the T-wolf made, its glowing yellow eyes, its unreasoning and merciless stare.
“If Livia could take out five of Verres’s best men with that magic machine the three of us could defeat a single creature.”
“You’re suggesting,” Livia said, “we risk our lives for this guy’s stupid sheep? What if it eats us instead?”
“Naturally you don’t want to go. He’s not rich. He’s nothing but a shepherd and there’s nothing in it for you.”
“What do you know about me, Marcus? Less than nothing. Besides, you talk big but we’ve allowed all those poor slaves on Verres’s ship end up on someone’s dinner table. Seems a wee bit hypocritical to me.”
Tim, Marcus, and Livia looked down at the floor as though a beloved organism had just crawled into the room, lay down before them, and died. Olympia broke the silence, saying, “if you decide to help Nikias, he should be returning to town tomorrow morning. I could take you to him.”
“I’m going too,” said Agathon.
“Sorry, Olympia,” Tim said. “We can’t help your, er, friend. Anyway, thank you Philodamus for dinner and your kind offer of lodging.”
“Least I could do for such extraordinary young people. Nothing will be denied you in my home. Please consider yourselves members of our family.”
Later that night, in their guest quarters, after two hours of heated debate (during which Tim spat so voluminously that Livia several times yelled out “say it, don’t spray it!” and threw a cloth at his head) it was agreed that they should help the shepherd. Marcus was as usual threatening to go AWOL, then Livia decided she would join him (she changed her mind, she said, because she thought it would be “less boring than sitting around”). Tim was starting to wish they would just shut up and do it. Although he did admit maybe they should attempt to communicate with the Tortured Ones. Who knew where diplomacy might lead? Especially if it had a mental link to the King Urizen. Could they reason with the head honcho through his henchthings? Still, Tim resented the tactics used by his companions.
“You know, this is exactly what I want from my relationships—threats, blackmail, and object-throwing. Thanks for the awesomesauce.”
This was not one of Tim’s proudest moments. And he knew what was behind it: his fear of the Tortured One.