“Are you responsible for this disgraceful behavior?” Auge asked Kebes.

“For the fixed contest?” Kebes answered, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “No. For my friends who weren’t ready to watch me murdered? No.” He was lying.

“Yes he was,” called the man who had resheathed his sword before Auge’s anger. “He told us to be ready to fight if he shouted fix.”

“And he had us ready to attack the judges,” the man on the ground confirmed.

Timon looked at Aristomache. “Death is the penalty for attacking guests,” he said. She nodded. “Those who surrendered or thought better of it are condemned to iron for ten years,” he went on. The man near me collapsed in sobs. “As for Matthias—”

“Don’t I get to speak?” Kebes asked.

“Ficino is dead,” Aristomache said, as if that were sufficient to convict him, as indeed it was in my eyes too.

“Good,” Kebes said. “I hated him, hated all the Masters, you included. I hate Kallisti and everyone who stayed on it. I wanted to be ready in case Pytheas cheated, that’s all, and as you can see, he did. For us, seizing the ship and killing the sailors was the best way. Now we can sail to Kallisti, where they’re weak and divided, and conquer them all.”

He wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at the crowd, at his people, who had loved him. Some of them looked at him with agreement, but too few.

“This isn’t what Yayzu would have done,” Auge said.

“It’s what the Knights of St. John would have done,” Kebes replied.

“I won the contest,” Father said. “And even leaving aside guest friendship and inciting riot, he broke his oath to abide by the decision of the judges.”

“I did not break my oath!” Kebes shouted. “We attacked because you cheated. I told them to be ready if I shouted fix. I kept my oath, and would have accepted a fair verdict against me, but not this!”

“Kill him, Pytheas,” King Timon said. “This is a civilized city. Do to him what he was going to do to you.” The crowd cheered loudly.

Father looked to the tools, spilled on the grass now, then at Kebes where he writhed on the pole, and lastly at the crowd in the stands. “If this is your justice,” he said. He looked over toward me, and then past me. “Neleus? Help me please.”

Neleus went over to him and gathered up the knives. Then he knelt beside him holding them as Father began to cut.

Erinna and I stayed where we were, crouched on the bloodstained sand beside Ficino’s hat.