Page 53 of The House of the Red Balconies

Mutari had news, and surprisingly, it had to do with the aqueduct, which Hylas had almost forgotten about.

“Supposedly the new envoy from Glif is on the island already,” she told him, “incognito.”

“Really?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t sound credible, but I heard it from a reliable source in Tetum. I don’t know what he’s doing. Perhaps he doesn’t trust Loukianos, or perhaps he just wanted to enjoy the tea houses at his leisure before taking up his post.”

“Do you think Loukianos knows?”

“Well. That’s a question. Are you going to tell him, if he doesn’t?”

“No. He doesn’t need to get his gossip from me.”

Mutari laughed. “That’s true. He has many other sources. I daresay he knows all about it already—it may be that the envoy went straight to him and is only ‘incognito’ to the rest of us.”

“Well, then, he doesn’t know how business should be done on Tykanos,” said Hylas loyally. “You’ve got to introduce yourself at the tea houses first. Don’t you?”

“Absolutely. Hylas, you’re so much more at home here than you were when I first met you.”

“I can’t imagine leaving,” Hylas said, and it was true.

Yet if they couldn’t build the aqueduct, how long could he afford to stay? There was work to do, work that made use of his skills, but nobody was paying him to do it.

And Zo needed a patron. That fact had taken on an entirely different colour since last night.

He realized he’d missed something Mutari had said as he grappled with his thoughts.

“Yes, I think so,” he answered more or less at random. “Mutari, this garland that the companions talk about … ”

She accepted the change of topic easily. “For patronage, you mean?”

“Yes, that. What is it, exactly?”

“A crown of greenery. Flowers sometimes—there’s symbolism to the different plants, but of course it also depends on the time of year you want to offer it. Are you thinking of making it official with someone?”

He looked at her. By now he thought he knew her well enough that he could tell she didn’t really believe he was. She would have been more excited about it if she had.

He smiled. “No, of course not. I was just wondering.”

“So did you have amnesia?” was the first thing Chrestos asked when he met Zo coming out of the men’s bath that morning. “And did it all come flooding back when the governor recognized you? What does that feel like?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t have amnesia.”

“Oh.” Chrestos looked disappointed. “So you mean you’ve known you were a prince this whole time?”

“All my life.”

“Why didn’t you tell us? Did you think we wouldn’t believe you? I would have. Are you going to go back and inherit the throne or whatever now?”

“No. I’m not that kind of prince. And I’m in exile.”

It was a line he had decided on before leaving his room, knowing he’d need it. The best part about it was that it was sort of true. He didn’t need to explain that he had exiled himself.

He was looking forward to telling Hylas the clever solution he’d come up with when he saw him again. Would he come and burn incense that evening? Zo would like to think that he would, that he wouldn’t be able to wait until tomorrow morning.

“Well, I don’t know exactly what that means,” Chrestos was saying, spoiling the effect somewhat, “but Mistress is going to want to know why you haven’t been telling all the guests about being a prince. She’s going to think she can start a bidding war between Timon of Kos and Governor Loukianos over who gets to offer you a garland.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Actually I guess I can see why you haven’t been telling people.”

That was how Zo spent the rest of his morning, telling bits of the truth about his past. The women companions, who were better read in Zashian literature than Chrestos, had little difficulty filling in the gaps that he left vague.