enemies were to find you….”
“Who is going to find me?” Markos asked. “This close to the capital?”
“An agent of the Flower Empire,” Patros said, and Markos made a disbelieving noise.
“Or one of your enemies at court. I would not put it past some of those young commanders to send someone for you in the hopes that the Emperor would promote them to fill your post.”
“That’s why I have you,” Markos said, and Patros snorted and rolled his eyes, but his expression was still wary.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you talk to Xêgodis Aetia before we left?” Markos asked, and Patros nodded.
“Yes.”
“And did he say the house was still being watched? Because I thought we took care of that problem already.”
“No sir. According to Xêgodis, no one’s been watching the house,” Patros answered. “But one of the guards at the gate could have recognized you, or we could have been followed from some point in the city.”
“I think we need to be watchful and prudent,” Markos said, “but I don’t feel like the danger is imminent.” He turned and saw Vasilios watching them.
Vasilios’s gaze dropped away quickly, embarrassed to be caught listening in to a conversation that had obviously not been meant to include him. He heard Markos sigh, and then boots came into his view.
Markos knelt down, and Vasilios looked up at him slowly, trying to gauge how angry he was.
“I owe you an apology,” Markos said. “I’m sorry for not talking to you about this before we left, but you see, I have many enemies, some of them at court, and Patros thinks there might be a very small chance that they would have found out about this trip, and be planning to attack me while I am relatively unprotected. Now, I do not think this likelihood is particularly great or I would not have brought you along, but the chance does exist, and I should have explained that to you before now.”
Vasilios took a minute to think about that, then reached out and lightly touched the back of Markos’s hand. “I trust you. If you think the risk is not great, then I trust that you know what you are doing. Also I am willing to do whatever is in my capability to make sure more children do not die.”
Markos’s hand turned slowly under his until their palms pressed together. Markos curled his fingers around Vasilios’s in a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.”
Behind them, Patros cleared his throat, and when Vasilios looked over at him, Patros grinned back at him. With a regretful sigh, Markos let go of Vasilios’s hand and stood.
“Why doesn’t Vasilios ride with you for a little while, sir?” Patros asked, a smile still turning up the corners of his mouth.
Both Markos and Vasilios froze, and then Vasilios turned to look up at Markos. “I… wouldn’t mind,” Vasilios said, and for a moment Markos seemed on the verge of saying no. Then he shrugged and swung up into the saddle. He held out his hand to Vasilios, who struggled to swing up as well.
Getting back in the saddle after his brief respite was torture, and his back, legs, and buttocks complained bitterly. He ignored them and wrapped his arms around Markos’s waist, feeling the solidness of him, the way the muscles in his back moved where it pressed against Vasilios’s front.
They headed back to the road, and once there, rode steadily toward the hills that loomed ever closer.
“There should be a stream up there in those foothills,” Markos said, pointing. “We can camp there for the night, bathe, and restock our supply of water for tomorrow.”
“Do you know where to go once you reach the desert?” Vasilios asked
“Yes. I’ve talked with Theofilos, and had him tell me everything he knew of this woman. Aritê of the Desert she’s called, and the route he took to get to her hut.”
Vasilios nodded, tightening his grip on Markos’s waist as they went over a particularly rough patch of road.
“I must admit, I have a vague idea of the geography of this part of the
“Who is going to find me?” Markos asked. “This close to the capital?”
“An agent of the Flower Empire,” Patros said, and Markos made a disbelieving noise.
“Or one of your enemies at court. I would not put it past some of those young commanders to send someone for you in the hopes that the Emperor would promote them to fill your post.”
“That’s why I have you,” Markos said, and Patros snorted and rolled his eyes, but his expression was still wary.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you talk to Xêgodis Aetia before we left?” Markos asked, and Patros nodded.
“Yes.”
“And did he say the house was still being watched? Because I thought we took care of that problem already.”
“No sir. According to Xêgodis, no one’s been watching the house,” Patros answered. “But one of the guards at the gate could have recognized you, or we could have been followed from some point in the city.”
“I think we need to be watchful and prudent,” Markos said, “but I don’t feel like the danger is imminent.” He turned and saw Vasilios watching them.
Vasilios’s gaze dropped away quickly, embarrassed to be caught listening in to a conversation that had obviously not been meant to include him. He heard Markos sigh, and then boots came into his view.
Markos knelt down, and Vasilios looked up at him slowly, trying to gauge how angry he was.
“I owe you an apology,” Markos said. “I’m sorry for not talking to you about this before we left, but you see, I have many enemies, some of them at court, and Patros thinks there might be a very small chance that they would have found out about this trip, and be planning to attack me while I am relatively unprotected. Now, I do not think this likelihood is particularly great or I would not have brought you along, but the chance does exist, and I should have explained that to you before now.”
Vasilios took a minute to think about that, then reached out and lightly touched the back of Markos’s hand. “I trust you. If you think the risk is not great, then I trust that you know what you are doing. Also I am willing to do whatever is in my capability to make sure more children do not die.”
Markos’s hand turned slowly under his until their palms pressed together. Markos curled his fingers around Vasilios’s in a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.”
Behind them, Patros cleared his throat, and when Vasilios looked over at him, Patros grinned back at him. With a regretful sigh, Markos let go of Vasilios’s hand and stood.
“Why doesn’t Vasilios ride with you for a little while, sir?” Patros asked, a smile still turning up the corners of his mouth.
Both Markos and Vasilios froze, and then Vasilios turned to look up at Markos. “I… wouldn’t mind,” Vasilios said, and for a moment Markos seemed on the verge of saying no. Then he shrugged and swung up into the saddle. He held out his hand to Vasilios, who struggled to swing up as well.
Getting back in the saddle after his brief respite was torture, and his back, legs, and buttocks complained bitterly. He ignored them and wrapped his arms around Markos’s waist, feeling the solidness of him, the way the muscles in his back moved where it pressed against Vasilios’s front.
They headed back to the road, and once there, rode steadily toward the hills that loomed ever closer.
“There should be a stream up there in those foothills,” Markos said, pointing. “We can camp there for the night, bathe, and restock our supply of water for tomorrow.”
“Do you know where to go once you reach the desert?” Vasilios asked
“Yes. I’ve talked with Theofilos, and had him tell me everything he knew of this woman. Aritê of the Desert she’s called, and the route he took to get to her hut.”
Vasilios nodded, tightening his grip on Markos’s waist as they went over a particularly rough patch of road.
“I must admit, I have a vague idea of the geography of this part of the
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