Page 23 of The House of the Red Balconies

Hylas rolled his eyes. “I’ll add that to my list of things I’m looking for in a patron for you. I’ll find you somebody who won’t care.”

CHAPTER 8

“Are you Loukianos’s new man, then?”

“I … I beg your pardon?”

Hylas looked at the companion who had sat down beside him. They were at the Bower of Suos that evening, Loukianos was on the other side of the room deep in conversation with some other guests, and Hylas had been sitting by himself. The young man who had taken the cushion beside him was strikingly handsome, with bronze skin and crisply curling black hair. His expression was politely unfriendly.

“I heard the two of you went for a walk on the Eastern Beach,” he said, “and a refreshing dip in the sea. He’s been talking about it. I suppose, odd as it seems, you must be his new man.”

It took Hylas another moment of staring stupidly to grasp what the companion meant. He thought Hylas and Loukianos were lovers.

“Did—did he say that I was?” That would be a bizarre twist.

“No, of course not. I can put two and two together.”

“I—I daresay you can. But, um … ” He tried to think what Zo would say, under these circumstances. He’d had a week’s worth of conversations with Zo over breakfast by this time to gather examples. “You seem to have arrived at three?” he managed.

The companion blinked at him, then gave a bright, surprised laugh. “Oh! I do beg your pardon, then. And I can’t say I’m sorry to hear it,” he added, becoming much more friendly. “One has always hoped to catch the governor’s eye, you know. It’s only natural.”

Hylas guessed it would be, if you were one of only a small number of male companions in town, and knew—as apparently everyone did—that the governor liked men.

The governor liked men. Hylas hadn’t realized that, but he should have. Loukianos’s favourite tea house was the one that was half male companions.

“Does he … need a new man? Not that I’m, er, in the running, but … ” He was thinking along different lines entirely.

The companion shrugged. “If he hasn’t told you about Hippolytos, I probably shouldn’t gossip, though I think it was quite common knowledge. He had a lover, there was a tragic death.” He waved a hand as if talking about such things was beneath him, or maybe just didn’t suit the image he cultivated as one of the Bower’s companions. “But that was well over a year ago now.”

Could it really be this easy? Had he already found the perfect patron for Zo? They could even talk about gardening together.

And Loukianos was a decent man. He would treat Zo well, be careful with him if they … when they …

And maybe they would be so happy together that they would both think fondly of Hylas ever afterward, as the man who brought them together. That was a kind of happiness that someone like him could be worthy of.

“What are you doing over here by yourself?”

The governor’s friend Timon appeared in front of Hylas apparently from nowhere. Hylas realized he was by himself, because the companion he had been talking to had melted away, as they sometimes did when you sat stupidly lost in your own thoughts for too long.

“This place is dead tonight,” Timon complained. “None of the good-looking girls are even here. Where’s Loukianos? We should go somewhere else.”

“We could go to the Red Balconies,” said Hylas eagerly.

Timon gave him a quizzical look. “Really? What’s there that’s worth seeing these days? I’ve heard it’s dull. Whatsisname used to have a mistress there, but even he admitted the place had gone downhill.”

“I-it’s a nice place, I think. They have very good musicians, and they serve delicious food.”

“Mm. They ought to be a restaurant, not a tea house.”

Hylas surprised himself by laughing. “If that would stop you enjoying yourself, I suppose you’d better not go.”

The look Timon was giving him became even more quizzical. But Loukianos reappeared at that point, and the conversation was mercifully dropped. The party agreed to leave for the Amber Lily, and Hylas produced a very convincing yawn and said it was time for him to head home.

On the walk, his thoughts returned to his conversation with that companion at the Bower of Suos and the possibility of Loukianos becoming Zo’s patron. It shouldn’t be too hard to get the governor himself to go to the Red Balconies. His friends might turn up their noses, but Loukianos had promised to show Hylas around all the tea houses, and so long as Hylas didn’t let on that he was actually living at the House of the Red Balconies, they should be able to get there eventually.

But something else occurred to Hylas. That companion had thought he was Loukianos’s lover. Did that mean that the last man Loukianos had been with had been someone like him—older than Zo, closer to Loukianos’s own age? Would he even be drawn to Zo? Just because he liked men …

But that was absurd. No one who liked men could fail to be drawn to Zo. He was young, but he was not a boy; he was erudite and eloquent, like all the companions. And even before you got to know him, you couldn’t fail to be captivated. He was so lovely: all that tumbled dark hair, the quick grace of his hands, that deep, dark voice, like water running underground.