Page 14 of The House of the Red Balconies

“Of course. I’d be very grateful.”

And yet there was a whole houseful of people he might have asked, if he had wanted to. Was it absurd of Hylas to feel honoured that he was allowed to help?

“I do know how to build walls,” he said. Better than this Milo, he didn’t add.

“I suppose you would.”

They sat and ate buns and sipped tea in silence for a few minutes. The time stretched out without feeling awkward, more like being quiet with an old friend than with a stranger. Not that Zo could have qualified as an “old” friend to anyone Hylas’s age. In a different life, Hylas might have had a son or daughter who could have been Zo’s contemporary.

“Do you get out into the town much?” Hylas asked. “When you’re, when you’re feeling up to it?”

Zo shook his head. “It’s troublesome to go out, so I generally don’t. Mind you, the girls don’t go out much either. We’re not really supposed to be available to meet in the streets, you know? You have to come to one of the houses to see us. We can’t be too free with our company.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Hylas allowed.

“And I’m not supposed to walk around much, even in the house.”

“Not supposed to—you mean your physician has told you not to?” Hylas asked with concern.

Zo gave a short laugh. “No, Mistress Aula has told me not to. ‘It’s all very well to pretend to be ill, but you’ve got to do it prettily.’ Which means lying in bed or letting myself be carried if I insist on going anywhere.”

“Is that—is that what you quarrelled about?” Hylas blurted, remembering what Taris had told him in that outpouring of unsolicited gossip a few days ago. He should have phrased it differently; Zo would wonder how he knew they had quarrelled.

But Zo simply nodded. “I gave in, in the end. I don’t go out or insist on hobbling around with my crutch. I let Ahmos carry me.” He shrugged. “It is easier that way.”

“I don’t think you like it, though,” Hylas guessed. “You’d prefer to do things for yourself when you can. As anyone would.”

Zo looked at him. “Do you think so? I sometimes feel it’s unduly troublesome of me.”

“I think … ” Hylas spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. “I think it is good to be able to accept help when you need it. Not everyone can. But when you don’t need it—it’s not troublesome to want to do things for yourself. Especially things that other people take for granted.”

“Mm. Perhaps you’re right. Is there more tea?”

“Oh—yes. I beg your pardon, I should notice when your cup is empty and fill it, shouldn’t I? As I’m, er, sort of the host here.”

Zo laughed. “It’s all right. If I don’t have to be charming, I can just ask for more tea.”

Hylas refilled his bowl and passed it up to him.

“So tell me what else needs to be done in the garden, besides finishing that wall.”

“Did you know he’s a hero?” Pani said at lunch.

“Who?” asked Zo.

“He saved a whole village from a flood,” said Menthe.

“Koilas, on Pheme,” said Chrestos, who was fastidiously picking individual seeds out of a halved pomegranate. “It’s a town, not a village.”

“Who?” Zo repeated.

“It’s a village,” said Menthe.

“The aqueduct man,” said Pani to Zo finally. “What’s his name?”

“Hylas. How did he save a village?” Zo demanded. Images of that soft-spoken man standing alone against an invading army or running with armloads of children ahead of a roaring fire jostled absurdly in his mind.

“With engineering,” said Taris.