The Gryphon's Skull

“No, as a matter of fact, I hadn't heard that,” Menedemos answered, watching Thrasyllos much more closely than he seemed to. The news hit the merchant skipper like a twenty-mina rock flung from a catapult.

“How do you know it's true?” Sostratos asked Moiragenes. Menedemos wished his cousin hadn't chosen that moment to play the historian.

“Fellow who brought the news is called Euxenides of Phaselis,” Moiragenes answered. “He got out of his home town two jumps ahead of Ptolemaios, got out of Xanthos one jump ahead of him, and he didn't want to try his luck at Kaunos, so he came here instead.” He waved and went on down the pier to pass the news to someone else.

“Well, well,” Menedemos said to Thrasyllos. “Isn't that interesting?”

“Ptolemaios won't come here,” Thrasyllos said.

“Of course not,” Menedemos said in soothing tones. “Gods be praised, Rhodes really is a free and autonomous polis. But sooner or later, you're going to have to sail away. Do you want to deal with traders whose grandfathers were in the business of buying and selling things, or will you take a chance on getting a little more from somebody who might cut your throat or might just blab instead?”

“To the crows with you,” Thrasyllos whispered. “You're not a man. You're an evil spirit.”

“All right. If you don't want to dicker . . .” Menedemos took a few steps toward the gangplank. Sostratos followed him.

He hadn't left the Aura's deck before he heard the word he'd been hoping for: “Wait!” Thrasyllos croaked.

For dramatic effect, Menedemos did take a couple of steps up the gangplank before pausing. Even then, he asked Sostratos, “Do you think it's worth our while?”

“No,” Sostratos said, and Menedemos could have kissed him. In lieu of that, he spent a little while taking his cousin around so he could stay and haggle with Thrasyllos. Sostratos did such a good job of acting reluctant, Menedemos wondered if he really was. No matter. Menedemos got his own way, as he was accustomed to doing.

“Well, if you won't pay a mina apiece, what will you pay?” Thrasyllos demanded when Menedemos and Sostratos finally came back to him.

“How many of those emeralds have you got to sell?” Menedemos asked in turn.

“Fourteen,” Thrasyllos said. “How big an arsehole do you think my nephew has?”

“You'd know that better than I, O best one,” Menedemos murmured. Sostratos almost succeeded in turning a guffaw into a cough. The joke, fortunately, went right by Thrasyllos. Menedemos said, “I haven't seen all fourteen of these stones yet, you know. I'm sure the ones I have seen are the best you've got, so the others are going to be worth less.”

“No such thing,” Thrasyllos said, but his show of indignation couldn't have sounded convincing even to himself, for he didn't push it.

“I'll give you . . oh, two minai for the lot of 'em,” Menedemos said. “Two pounds of silver free and clear for you—or one for you, one for your nephew, if you're in a generous mood.”

“Two minai?” the captain of the Aura echoed. This time, his anger was altogether unfeigned. “You time-wasting, whipworthy bastard, get off my ship, and take your kinsman with you. If I had a dog, I'd set him on you both.”

“Well, what do you think they're worth?”

“I already told you: a mina apiece. Fourteen minai all told.”

“And I already told you, I'm not going to pay that much. What would you take? I'm gambling, remember. These stones are new, so I don't know what I can resell them for.”

“To the crows with you, pal—that's not my worry.” Thrasyllos hesitated, then went on, “I wouldn't take a khalkos, not a single copper, less than twelve minai for the lot of them.”

“Still too much. Still far too much,” Menedemos said. He'd been afraid the round-ship captain wouldn't come down at all. That would have meant he'd have to go up first, and would have shown weakness, for he would have gone up—he wanted those stones. Now he could say, “I might give you three,” and not worry: Thrasyllos had weakened first.

He got the emeralds for five minai, fifty drakhmai. “Thief,” Thrasyllos ground out even as he clasped Menedemos' hand to seal the bargain.

“By no means,” Menedemos said, though he was sure he would turn a handsome profit on the deal. “Ptolemaios won't hear about this even if he brings his whole fleet into the harbor here.” That made Thrasyllos nervous all over again, as Menedemos had hoped it would. He turned to Sostratos. “Would you be so kind as to get the gentleman his silver while I wait here with him?” I'll make sure he doesn't change his mind, was what he meant.

Sostratos knew as much. He knew more than that, for as he dipped his head, he said, “If I get it, your father won't hear about it quite so soon,”

“Maybe.” Menedemos waved him away. Sostratos went, a grin on his face. Menedemos didn't like yielding him the last word, but liked squabbling with him in front of a stranger even less.