He had built a number of statues—we called them colossi, because they were so immense. They combined hyperrealism—you could see all the hairs up Sokrates’s nose in his Last Debate—with strange outbreaks of fantasy—in that same statue, one of Sokrates’s eyes is already a fly’s multifaceted eye. Parts of them were painted and parts of them were plain marble or other stone. He had decided to make a sculpture of Mother, but he hadn’t decided where. We went together to look at various places in the city he thought might be appropriate. I know he tried to talk to Father about this too. But Father was too sunk in grief to give an opinion—though he did sensibly agree with me that having a colossus of Mother in the garden at Thessaly would be a bad idea.

One day when it was my turn to help cook dinner in Florentia, I came out to eat late and saw Maia and Aeschines sitting with Father and Phaedrus. I took my plate over to join them. Father wasn’t crying at that moment, but his face still had that devastated look. Maia looked firm. Aeschines was looking troubled. He was one of the Children, and father of my friend Baukis. He had been a good friend of Mother’s, though not especially of Father’s. Father found him slow. He was a member of the Chamber, and on a number of important committees.

“Nobody is going to agree to a voyage of vengeance,” Maia was saying as I put my plate down.

Father looked up. “Arete. Joy to you.”

“Joy,” I echoed, though joy was the furthest thing from either of our voices.

“Joy to you, Arete,” Aeschines said. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. You must come and eat with me and Baukis in Ithaka one of these days.”

“Joy, and thank you,” I said. There was a fresco at Ithaka that Mother had painted when she’d been young. When Aeschines invited me, I was suddenly filled with a need to see it. She had painted it so long ago, and she had done better work since, as she always said. But I liked it, especially the way she had shown Odysseus in the harbor that was our own harbor. “I’ll come one day soon,” I promised.

“Baukis will be glad.” He smiled at me in a friendly way, as if he genuinely liked me.

Meanwhile Father had turned back to Maia. “Maybe nobody wants a voyage of vengeance. But how about a voyage of exploration? It’s ridiculous when you think about it, nonsensical for us to be here and know so little about what’s out there right now. Finding Kebes would be an advantage, if we could, whether or not he’s responsible for … for killing Simmea.” His face crumpled up.