“Joy to you, Matthias,” Aristomache said, seeming delighted to see him. “I’ve been doing my best to explain to everyone what we’ve been doing, but you’ll be able to do it so much better.”

“And what have you been doing?” Kebes said, mostly to Father.

“Walking in the steps of Sokrates,” Father said, calmly and evenly, and, typically, speaking perfect truth even if it wasn’t very helpful information.

I took a step forward again, so I was next to Maia, who hadn’t said anything at all. She glanced down at me, looking worried, and that drew Kebes’s attention to me for the first time. He looked at me, and then quickly at Father, and then he laughed. “Not so much with the agape, then, Pytheas?”

I didn’t see Father move, but suddenly Kebes was on his back on the ground with his cap in the dust. He had a shaved circle on the top of his head.

Maia grabbed Father, and the crowd that had been moving to and fro across the agora crystallized around us, and other people also grabbed Father. Aristomache bent over Kebes as he was starting to get up. “Simmea was killed by pirates recently,” she said to Kebes, directly into his face. She was about half his size and more than twice his age, but she clearly wasn’t afraid of him.

Kebes froze as he was, up on one elbow, clearly shocked. “Killed?”

“Also,” Father said, calmly, as if continuing a debate, standing quite still and ignoring the people holding onto him, “What did you imagine you were doing calling your city after my wife?”

Kebes face immediately closed up again.

“What?” Maia asked, puzzled.

“Lucia was Mother’s childhood name,” I said. Maia looked down at Kebes and let go of her grip on Father.

“I had no idea she was dead,” Kebes said, getting up. He was a head taller than Father, but I hadn’t noticed it until now. He dusted himself off, then picked up his hat. He looked at me again, and didn’t laugh this time. His expression mingled grief and anger.

“So why did you call the city after my mother?” I asked, while I had his attention.

“We all wanted light,” Kebes said, looking truculent. “It’s a coincidence.”

Aristomache and most of the strangers in the little crowd around us looked satisfied. Father looked as if his face was carved from marble and couldn’t change expression. I didn’t believe Kebes. Moreover, even though I didn’t know him and couldn’t possibly tell, I knew he was lying. It was certain knowledge—another divine power unfolding itself in me.

“Look, no hard—” Kebes stopped, looking at Father. “I suppose there are hard feelings on both sides. But she’s dead. Let’s agree to leave each other alone.”