Page 58 of The House of the Red Balconies

Hylas, who had been sitting on the edge of a couch without removing his sandals, stood up now.

“I heard a rumour this morning that the archons might recall you to Pheme.”

“Ah.” Loukianos nodded, not looking surprised. “Well. Yes. I heard the same rumour. I’m going to resign. I was going to send for you to tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought you should know.”

“No, why are you going to resign?”

“Oh. Before I can be recalled, you know. It will look better.” He shrugged. “Maybe. A little. Here, let’s sit. I’ll—I’ll tell you about it.”

Loukianos toed off his sandals and flopped onto a couch, tossing his gloves at the table and missing. The slave who was present stooped to pick them up, and Loukianos sent him to bring them wine. Hylas resumed his seat on the edge of the couch opposite.

“I hadn’t told you,” Loukianos said, “but … the aqueduct project has been—it was communicated to me fairly clearly—my last chance to do something right on this island before the Phemian government decided I’d fucked up enough and appointed a new governor. There was an outbreak of dysentery at the fort last winter because of the water situation. They were drinking water meant for their bath house—I don’t even know where that stuff comes from.”

“The Eastern stream, heavily contaminated with runoff from the town fountains,” said Hylas mechanically.

“Right. No wonder they got sick. No one died—it was all strong, young fellows who were affected, and they pulled through—luckily it didn’t affect the town. But that was when I promised the aqueduct, and if I can’t get it built, I’m finished. And it seems very much like I can’t get it built.”

“Why did you not tell me any of this sooner? Not about the dysentery—I found out about that my first week here. I assumed you didn’t know.”

“Of course I knew. It’s my job. Which—I don’t do very well, so fair point. No, I knew about that. Pheme knows about that—I figured you probably knew about it before you came here. I thought you probably knew my career was hanging by a thread. Because apparently when soldiers don’t have enough sense not to drink their fucking bath water, it’s the governor’s fault. That was—partly—why I tried so hard to show you a good time when you first got here. I thought I needed to win you over.”

Hylas stared at the mosaic beneath the table for a moment. He was marshalling his thoughts, but before he could speak, one of Loukianos’s slaves came in, followed by a couple of guests Hylas knew only vaguely, and the moment to speak had passed. Not that he thought anything he could have said would be likely to help, anyway.

He sat listening to Loukianos’s guests chat about the tea houses and some gossip from Pheme, and the governor laughing and replying as if he hadn’t just been telling Hylas that he was about to abandon the whole life he had built here without even a pretence of a fight.

Mistress Aula returned to the house that morning, and Zo made sure not to be there to hear the others tell her the news about him. The mistress had been subdued since Pani and Menthe revealed their frescoes, and Zo wasn’t sure how he expected her to react. He also wasn’t sure just how much about him she would hear. Would Chrestos mention what he had seen on the stairs? She came to his room after breakfast.

“Everyone is telling me that you’re a prince. I’d think it was another of your pretences, but the governor recognized you from somewhere? And Chrestos tells me you haven’t had amnesia or anything like that. So … ”

Chrestos had not told her anything about him and Hylas, it would seem.

“So I have known all along who I am, and I concealed my identity on purpose. Yes.”

“You must have a reason.”

“I do. It’s much as you might imagine.”

She frowned at him.

He shrugged. “I have enemies. I am in exile, nobody knows where I am, and I’d like to keep it that way. But I wasn’t—I’m not—a very important prince. Nobody is waiting for me to return in triumph and claim a throne. If that’s what you were wondering.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m wondering how I can turn this to the advantage of the house.”

“You’d like to advertise the fact that one of your companions is foreign royalty.”

“Of course. You must know you could have attracted more guests all these years if you hadn’t kept it a secret.”

He gritted his teeth. “But you also don’t want me to leave.”

She looked genuinely startled. “What? Who said anything about leaving? No one wants you to leave. You can’t, anyway. Where would you go?”

She probably didn’t even think she was saying anything sinister. These things just popped out of her mouth.

“I will have to find somewhere, won’t I,” he said coldly, “if you begin telling all the guests who I am.”