The room was arranged for debate, with rows of benches facing the rostrum. It was packed, with all the envoys and all the Chamber members who wanted to participate. There must have been nearly five hundred people present. The envoys sat at the front, and it was agreed that they had precedence in speaking.

The conference began with a simple direct prayer to far-seeing Apollo for clarity. It was given by Manlius, whose turn it was. There had been some argument about this, with Ikaros and Aristomache both wanting prayers of their own, either as replacements or additions. In the end this was a compromise—it didn’t mention Athene. Yet it was impossible, in this room, not to think of her, not to remember her standing in front of us, nine feet tall, with the owl on her arm turning its head to watch us all.

Then we elected a judge—a chair, a moderator, to control the flow of debate. It had been agreed in advance that the voting for this would be by simple majority of all present. Pytheas stood. “I’d be a terrible judge,” he began. There was a ripple of laughter. “The person I’d like to propose, our chair here since Atticus died, was killed in the fighting in Lucia. I’d like a moment of silence for Ficino, missed now and always.” Tears came to my eyes. After the silence he went on. “I think our judge should be someone who has experience of more than one city, who went on the voyage, and has direct experience of the Lucian cities. I propose Maia.”

He hadn’t warned me. Axiothea shoved me to my feet. “If elected I will serve, and strive to be fair,” I said. “It’s an honor, but also it will be very difficult.”

To my astonishment, Ikaros seconded the proposal. (His hair was entirely silver now, and shaggy like a lion’s mane.) Somebody proposed old Salutius, from Psyche; and Patroklus, from Sokratea, proposed Neleus, on the grounds that he had been on the voyage and was a Young One. Neleus declined, saying he had no experience and he thought I’d do a better job. I was elected, and made my way up to the front.