Spartans at the Gates by Noble Smith

Phoenician girl on a boy’s body. “I’ll look forward to hearing about your dream,” he said at length, trying not to betray his unease. “And maybe you can use your skills to see if the treasure exists.”
    â€œOh, it is there,” said Barka, nodding his head confidently. “I’ve already seen it. Enough gold to buy a fleet of ships.”
    Zana sat up straight and her eyes shone in the firelight. Chusor could tell she was already standing on the deck of a new ship, sailing into the unknown.
    â€œNow!” said Barka, setting aside the map and clapping his hands together. “Since Chusor-the-Cunning has already revealed that my darling Diokles is still with him, may we know what happened to our other friend who ran away with you?” The eunuch snickered. “I don’t need the sooth-sight to see what Ezekiel is doing right now: drinking himself into a stupor. But I dreamt that he’d set up the sign of his skull in…” He closed his eyes, shifted his head back and forth, then popped open his lids. “Athens? Am I right? Ezekiel the Babylonian is living in Athens now?”
    Chusor did not need to answer, for Barka was smiling confidently. The eunuch knew that his guess was right.
    â€œEzekiel will meet your young friend,” said Barka in an offhand manner. “Whether good or ill will come of the meeting, I cannot say.”

 
    NINE
    Konon drove Nikias to Athens in a mule cart. The young farmer had jumped at the chance to help the Plataean, telling Nikias that he was happy to get away from the farm for a few hours.
    Konon was nearly eight years older than Nikias but had yet to serve in a military expedition, and he never would. He’d lost his left arm in a childhood accident—it had gotten caught in the mechanism of an olive press. Without the ability to hold shield and sword at the same time, or to pull an oar, he was useless as either a hoplite or sailor. He devoured Nikias’s stories of battle with a combination of wonder and unconcealed jealousy.
    Nikias felt sorry for Konon. He would rather be dead than share a similar fate. Even this injury to his shoulder—an injury he knew would eventually heal—gave Nikias a feeling of impotence. He couldn’t even put a tunic on without an old woman’s help! He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose his shield arm.
    He told Konon about the Battle of the Gates and his fight with Eurymakus, the Theban assassin who’d led the sneak attack on the city and who’d burned down Nikias’s farmhouse. Eurymakus had tried to kill Nikias with a poisoned blade, but the Plataean had used the invader’s own weapon against him, slicing his hand with the knife. Eurymakus had instantly drawn his sword and chopped off his own arm at the elbow to keep the poison from coursing upward through his veins.
    Nikias would never forget the sight of that evil man fleeing the battlefield, blood spurting from his severed limb. He had tried to chase down the Theban, but he’d been thrown from a horse and been knocked out.
    â€œWell, it makes me feel a little better,” said Konon, “to think a Theban now shares my fate.”
    â€œDo you know how to use a leather sling?” asked Nikias.
    â€œOf course,” replied Konon, indignant. “I can kill a hare at a hundred paces.” He paused and smiled. “Well, maybe fifty paces. But I’ve got a good eye.”
    â€œThen you could be a peltast,” said Nikias. “Kill Spartans from the walls of Athens.” He gestured at the mighty western walls of Athens looming a mile down the road.
    â€œI tried to enlist with the Guards,” said Konon and sighed morosely. “But they wouldn’t take me. And you can’t be a knight unless you’re stinking rich and can afford your own mounts.”
    â€œCome to Plataea,” said Nikias, half joking. “We’d welcome a man with one arm.