I looked with admiration at Kallikles. Without him we might have lost the ship and everyone aboard. My own powers weren’t anything like as useful.

Neleus and Nikias came aboard, dry, from the fishing boat that had been acting as a ferry. Nikias came over to Maecenas at once. “I want to go back to Kallisti with my son,” he said. “Will you give me passage?”

Maecenas looked from Nikias to Neleus, and then to Father, who nodded. “Well, of course I will, but this could be a problem if there were a lot of people who wanted to leave Lucia and go with us.”

“We promised to take Aristomache and the others back to Marissa,” Phaedrus pointed out.

“That’s easy. The problem is that without the Goodness these people aren’t going to be able to keep on doing as they have been doing,” Father said. “Timon was starting to say that when I dived into the sea. They want the Excellence.”

“So they can keep on rescuing people and founding cities,” Kallikles said.

“That’s a matter for Chamber,” Maecenas said. “Did they offer compensation for Caerellia and Ficino and the others they killed?”

“They think we took it out of Kebes’s hide,” Neleus said. This remark was followed by an awkward silence, broken after a moment when Klymene came on deck.

“Pytheas,” she said, by way of greeting.

“No thanks to you,” Neleus said.

“If Klymene prefers the Myxolydian mode, that’s no disgrace,” Father said, quite sharply.

Klymene blushed. “I did prefer it. And I thought you were cheating by turning your lyre over. I had no idea what Kebes was planning.”

“Of course not,” Father said. “No hard feelings. I don’t know how it is, but you always manage to see me at my worst moments.”

I looked at him in complete incomprehension. She had voted for his death by torture, and he must now understand what that meant. However little he minded being dead and returned to his proper divine self, he had said he didn’t want to be skinned. How could he not have hard feelings?

Kallikles looked at his mother incredulously. “You voted for Kebes?”

“You didn’t hear him play,” Father said. “He had a syrinx. He was very good.”

“But it wasn’t just a musical contest!” sputtered Kallikles. “It was your life.”

“Kebes was Klymene’s friend,” Father said. “And three of the Lucians preferred the Phrygian mode, as it turned out.”

Kallikles shook his head.

“Son—” Klymene said, putting her hand on his arm.

“Don’t talk to me,” he said, shaking her off. “You voted for my father’s death.”