Lysis
No sooner had Demaratus left,
disappearing into the encampment and quickly becoming one of thousands of
waving torches, than another light morphed from the darkness, trailed by a
cluster of hovering sycophants, a few soldiers, and the block-like form of
Phraortes. It was almost as if he had
been poised on the edge of sight like a clever fly always on the periphery of
awareness. He came up to me now
directly, dismissed his entourage, and waved my guards aside. Surprisingly, they obeyed with alacrity,
bowing as he passed by. I was cautious,
despite his being friendly enough on our first meeting. I was beginning to trust Demaratus, though
how one could trust a traitor was beyond me.
It just was.
"Good evening, Lysis," he
said. "You've had quite a day, from what
I've heard."
"I'm getting the feeling you hear
about nearly everything," I replied.
"Yes, just so," he said, looking me
over carefully. "No injuries, I see."
"No, I got lucky. You were right about Medarnes. He really believes my father killed his, and
would not listen to reason."
"Of course he does. It is the king's wish that he believe this."
"What?" I asked, startled. "What do you mean, ‘the king's wish'?"
"Just what I said. It is of no account
now. The king has his reasons, and I am
his humble servant. I am having Medarnes
closely watched, as is the king. He will
not attempt to harm you again."
Phraortes came closer, the
torchlight glowing luridly off his twin scars.
For the first time, I noticed the simplicity of his dress: a dark wool robe, knotted around the waist with
a braided rope belt. From his neck glinted
a silver amulet, in the middle of which was the deeply etched Greek letter
"Alpha." The pattern and design seemed
oddly familiar to me, and an image flashed in my mind but then faded. The amulet swung from his throat as he leaned
toward me.
"I have come to warn you on a
different matter," Phraortes said. "A matter that can definitely get you
killed, if you do not listen."
I was all ears. At this point, the number of ways I could get
killed was increasing beyond my capacity to track.
"You must be careful of this
Demaratus," he said. "He is a traitor,
and not to be trusted."
"I am aware he is a traitor to his
people," I said. "But he has given me no reason not to trust him."
"A traitor once is a traitor
always," he answered smoothly. "I know of
what I speak." His demeanor remained
cold and impassive, but still, I could detect a flicker of emotion in his
eyes. "Besides," he continued, "I am not
concerned with what he has done in the past.
It is what he intends to do in the near future that has my attention."
"I don't know what you're talking
about," I said. "I am not privy to his
councils, but it seems to me he has served your king well."
"Suffice it to say this: if you are
asked to do anything even remotely suspicious by this person, you will let me
know immediately."
"And by ‘remotely suspicious,' you
mean?" I asked.
"Why," he said slowly, "I mean
communicating with the enemy."
He looked at me closely then,
seeming to see my nervous reaction and reading it for what it was.
"You know something of this
already?" he inquired.
"I know nothing of this," I
replied, regaining my composure. "But I
will obviously inform you if I find out about anything."
"Good!" he smiled then, or gave what could pass for a smile on his ravaged
face. "I knew I did not misread
you."
Startling me, he put his hand on my
shoulder, squeezed tightly, and fixed me with a firm gaze. "You will survive this war," he said, "and
unlike many of us, you will go home to a peaceful life. I will make sure of this." He released his grip and turned to go, waving
his attendants forward.
"Please, Phraortes!" I cried. "Where does this come from?"
"It is a promise I made to your
father," he said. "A promise I intend to
keep."
"Wait! What do you know of my father? Please, tell me."
He half turned, his eyes finding
mine.
"Your father is alive," he said,
and hesitated. "He would want you to
live."
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