assembled refugees, who began to groan and turn their faces away. He squared his narrow shoulders and spoke even more loudly and forcefully. “So I, for one, have no intention of going west to live among barbarian tribesmen, who chase down their food like a pack of wolves! Then let us hear nothing more about that foolish idea. As for Kep’túr, it is tainted by the blood of my kinsmen, or I would stay here and claim the throne that my father held before me.”
Askán rose and grasped the stick. “ Ai , we are sick to death of hearing how your father ruled this miserable island. His people drove him out for being such a terrible king, and they would do the same to you if you tried to retake the throne.”
“I do not yield the speaker’s staff to you, you arrogant puppy!” Peirít’owo raged at the younger boy, struggling with Askán over the wooden shaft. “You are just a child and have no right to speak to an assembly of men!”
St’énelo came between the two, taking the staff himself with his knobby fingers. “Sit down, both of you,” he snapped. The two teenagers continued to glare at each other, but they obeyed the aging charioteer, for behind him Ainyáh crossed his arms on his chest with an icy glare at both young men, signaling his support for the speaker. “There is no point in discussing what might have been,” St’énelo admonished Peirít’owo. “But neither is there anything to be gained by quarreling and delivering insults, Askán.” Raising his emaciated arms to the cloudless sky, the Lakedaimóniyan’s voice took on the sing-song intonation of a seer. “The Tróyan god of gates and pestilence has traveled to all the shores of the Inner Sea, these past years. Apúluno has shot his invisible arrows of disease into people of every land. But the Divine Archer has poisoned this island with the deadliest venom of all. If we stay here, we will soon be settling in the darkest corner of Préswa’s netherworld. We have no choice but to leave Kep’túr, whether we wish it or not. There can be no question of that. Nor is there any need to discuss the time of our departure. Now that we have celebrated the summer solstice, we have no more reason to delay. The only question before us now is where we will sail. To that, I have no answer.”
T’érsite clapped his hands to his thighs. “Ai gar , by all the gods, St’énelo! All those words to say nothing!” The Argive rose, shaking his head in disgust, and took the speaker’s rod with such vehemence that the watchers thought for a moment that he would break it over his knee. “As everyone here knows, I advise leaving the Inner Sea behind us completely and heading west. We know what lies to the north, south, and east and there is nothing in any of those directions but more of the same bad news that we have already heard. The west is the only direction left. Now, the ítalo country is not like T’ráki, where even the wealthy live in shepherds’ cabins, if that is what you are afraid of. No, no, it is a civilized land. Dáuniya has told me all about it, many times. There is a great island there, far beyond Ak’áiwiya’s western isles, a place that is very rich in copper, called the Island of Fire. Beyond that, three days’ sail or so, there is another, the Footprint in the Sea. Dáuniya was taken from there by Ainyáh’s Tróyan kinsmen when she was just a child. We have only to restore her to her people, and we will be given a hero’s welcome there, a kinsmen’s welcome…”
As Peirít’owo opened his mouth to object, Ainyáh quickly interrupted. “We know you are against this, Peirít’owo, so do not bother with your usual arguments.”
But the younger man would not be so easily dismissed. “I have not yet said where I do want to go!” he cried, reaching for the walking stick.
The Kanaqániyan narrowed his eyes so that they all but disappeared in his heavily lined face. “It is my turn to take the speaker’s staff, boy,” he
Askán rose and grasped the stick. “ Ai , we are sick to death of hearing how your father ruled this miserable island. His people drove him out for being such a terrible king, and they would do the same to you if you tried to retake the throne.”
“I do not yield the speaker’s staff to you, you arrogant puppy!” Peirít’owo raged at the younger boy, struggling with Askán over the wooden shaft. “You are just a child and have no right to speak to an assembly of men!”
St’énelo came between the two, taking the staff himself with his knobby fingers. “Sit down, both of you,” he snapped. The two teenagers continued to glare at each other, but they obeyed the aging charioteer, for behind him Ainyáh crossed his arms on his chest with an icy glare at both young men, signaling his support for the speaker. “There is no point in discussing what might have been,” St’énelo admonished Peirít’owo. “But neither is there anything to be gained by quarreling and delivering insults, Askán.” Raising his emaciated arms to the cloudless sky, the Lakedaimóniyan’s voice took on the sing-song intonation of a seer. “The Tróyan god of gates and pestilence has traveled to all the shores of the Inner Sea, these past years. Apúluno has shot his invisible arrows of disease into people of every land. But the Divine Archer has poisoned this island with the deadliest venom of all. If we stay here, we will soon be settling in the darkest corner of Préswa’s netherworld. We have no choice but to leave Kep’túr, whether we wish it or not. There can be no question of that. Nor is there any need to discuss the time of our departure. Now that we have celebrated the summer solstice, we have no more reason to delay. The only question before us now is where we will sail. To that, I have no answer.”
T’érsite clapped his hands to his thighs. “Ai gar , by all the gods, St’énelo! All those words to say nothing!” The Argive rose, shaking his head in disgust, and took the speaker’s rod with such vehemence that the watchers thought for a moment that he would break it over his knee. “As everyone here knows, I advise leaving the Inner Sea behind us completely and heading west. We know what lies to the north, south, and east and there is nothing in any of those directions but more of the same bad news that we have already heard. The west is the only direction left. Now, the ítalo country is not like T’ráki, where even the wealthy live in shepherds’ cabins, if that is what you are afraid of. No, no, it is a civilized land. Dáuniya has told me all about it, many times. There is a great island there, far beyond Ak’áiwiya’s western isles, a place that is very rich in copper, called the Island of Fire. Beyond that, three days’ sail or so, there is another, the Footprint in the Sea. Dáuniya was taken from there by Ainyáh’s Tróyan kinsmen when she was just a child. We have only to restore her to her people, and we will be given a hero’s welcome there, a kinsmen’s welcome…”
As Peirít’owo opened his mouth to object, Ainyáh quickly interrupted. “We know you are against this, Peirít’owo, so do not bother with your usual arguments.”
But the younger man would not be so easily dismissed. “I have not yet said where I do want to go!” he cried, reaching for the walking stick.
The Kanaqániyan narrowed his eyes so that they all but disappeared in his heavily lined face. “It is my turn to take the speaker’s staff, boy,” he
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