Ba’an was in a much cheerier mood as they left the taverna.

A full belly was part of it, but it had not hurt to spend the time speaking with Lukios, who seemed determined to amuse her; he had flattered and flirted, and Ba’an was mildly embarrassed to admit she had…giggled. At least once.

…No, it had been more than once. Much more.

“Are we returning now? Or do you have other business?” It would be a shame to part so soon, but she did not wish to impede him. The Dolkoi’ri loved their lists and their papers, so perhaps there was more he had to do now, while all the civil offices were still open?

The lineups were often very long. Ba’an had seen men queue outside the door before there as well, complaining about slow service and lippy slaves.

Lukios only grinned at her. “We’re still on a date, Ba’an. You’re going to have so much fun you forget how to frown.”

Oh.

She covered her mouth. Yes, this kind of date was much sweeter than the fruit kind. Lukios was watching her, eyes bright with merriment.

“Oh, you like it.”

Ba’an looked away to the side and coughed very delicately.

“You do! You like it.”

“I do not wish to...get in the way. Your situation is serious, Lukios.”

He laughed, and she saw some passersby give him some very odd looks.

“Sweetheart. Seriously. Forget about it. We’re on a date.” He leaned in and whispered, very conspiratorially, “Also? New rule. Everytime you say something serious, you have to give me a kiss. A real one. In public.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I will not. It is rude to kiss in public.” And embarrassing. Who kissed anyone in public? Well, perhaps a mother or father would kiss their child, but otherwise?

He was chortling again. “Then I guess you better not say anything serious, right?” He gave her a knowing little look. “You still owe me one for last night.”

“Last…?”

His smile only grew. “For complicating. Though I guess you could give me a drachma instead.” Breezily, he added in a lofty, generous tone, “I’d take the kiss over coin, though.”

She sighed at him. “You are very silly, Lukios.”

“And you love it.”

She tugged the rim of her shawl lower over her head, knowing her cheeks had gone red once more.

“Very silly,” she muttered, but there was no heat to it. Lukios stepped closer, and for a moment she thought he really would kiss her, but he only smiled softly and tucked an errant strand of hair back beneath her shawl.

“You have no idea at all, huh?” He touched her lower lip with his finger, but withdrew. “I’ll behave. Since you look like you’re gonna pop, ha. It’s real cute, though.”

Silly and strange. That’s what he was. Her silly and strange outlander, too handsome and charming for his own good.

Ba’an reached over and pretended to pluck something from his shoulder. Lukios only smiled knowingly, which she ignored. She wriggled her fingers as though dispensing with a piece of lint, but of course, there had been nothing; she used the moment to run her hand over his chest, pretending to smooth out wrinkles.

Lukios’ smile only grew wider.

“I think you missed a spot. Several spots.”

“Lukios.” She gave a very delicate sniff. “We are standing in everyone’s way.”

It was true. The stoa was full of people, and though everyone was stepping around them, no one looked particularly enthused at doing so.

“Oh no. How horrible. Surely they can’t step around us, the way they’ve been doing ‘til now.” He put his arm around her again and they began walking the length of the building.

“What will we do next?”

If he smiled any harder, his face would crack. “Remember that time I promised to buy you some honey?”

Ah.

There was a truly dizzying array of honey. The colours ranged from a deep, golden brown to a lighter, softer yellow-gold. Best of all were the jars. They were glass. They were selling honey in glass jars. Glass! It was all ludicrously expensive.

Ba’an had not known such a store existed; she had nearly always avoided the stoa, seeing no reason to walk under the awning. When Lukios had promised her honey, she had thought of the street vendor in the open market who occasionally had a pot or two with a honeycomb.

But this–this–was something else entirely. The shop had a sitting area which was built so the sunlight streamed in. The honey was kept on shelves that had been built into the walls, where the sunlight did not touch. It was cool and dry, and Ba’an could feel a breeze circulating the room.

Oddly, some of the shelves were empty. Ba’an would not be so rude as to ask, but she suspected that perhaps the bandits were a problem for everyone.

“Would you like to try some?” The shopkeeper was already bringing out a tray, which was good. Ba’an wanted to try all of them.

Lukios was grinning, watching her sample the honey in little finger pots. They had brought out some kind of bread to dip into them. It was delicious.

“What is this one?”

“That is what we call chestnut-milk. The bees are kept in a chestnut orchard. This is from a private garden in Acitos. The keeper grows exotic flowers from very far south. See? The colour is different. The taste is lighter, more flowery.”

It was. The honey itself was more watery, and flowed with ease. She was not sure about the taste being flowery, but Ba’an did not know what exotic flowers tasted like. Then again, it was foolish to believe vendors whenever they said something. It was their job to sell.

“Lukios! Try this one. What do you think?”

He looked at her with a combination of amusement and adoration. Obediently, he opened his mouth so she could pop the piece of bread into it and chewed. “It tastes sweet? I wish I was a bit more useful, Ba’an, but it all just tastes like honey to me. But I think the thicker stuff is a bit heartier, isn’t it? You can probably just spread it on some bread and make a meal of it.”

That was true. Ba’an narrowed her eyes at the jars.

“We could just get all of it, Ba’an. I did promise to get you as many pots as you wanted.” The merchant’s eyes lit up. There was no other way to describe it.

“Of course, if you buy them in sets we can give you a bulk discount.” He was talking to Lukios, nearly vibrating with excitement.

“Lukios. I will not be able to take all the jars with me.”

“Well, I was going to get you a goat, Ba’an.”

A goat. He was going to get her a goat. “Lukios. Why are you getting me a goat?”

“You know you already have too much to carry back, right? You need something. We can get you a mule if you don’t like goats, but they eat more.”

“Lukios. I do not think I can raise a goat. Or a mule.” She could scarcely feed herself.

“You have plenty of space, Ba’an. And these ones eat anything. You can just let her loose in the akaikai grove and she’ll be set.”

Ba’an looked at him and sighed.

“Oh come on, Ba’an. You know you want a goat. I’ll find you a really cute one. You can name her something ridiculous. It’ll be fun.”

“And if I cannot feed her, Lukios?”

He shrugged. "You can eat her. That’s a lot of meat. It’ll last you a long time if you smoke it all.”

Hm. This was true. She would not have to worry about meat for a long time if she turned it into jerky. Trapping and fishing would not be so concerning, then; without Lukios, Ba’an would have to expend more effort into getting meat. The goat would make her life much easier.

One of the shop boys wouldn’t stop looking at them. Ba’an was sure he was looking at Lukios; he would do some cleaning, pause, look at Lukios, then go back to cleaning, pause, and look at Lukios again. He seemed to recognize Lukios, though Lukios clearly did not recognize him. In fact, Lukios seemed to be ignoring the obvious wide-eyed looks the boy had been throwing him the entire time.

Well, Lukios did not appear concerned, so perhaps it was nothing.

“Lukios.” Ba’an frowned. It would not do to discuss this in a shop. “We will speak on this later. For now…” She pointed. She wanted two jars, which would last her a good long while. She used honey very sparingly.

“Just those?”

“Yes. It is enough.” The shopkeeper looked crestfallen. Too bad.

To his credit, the man did not try to convince her otherwise. Instead, he turned to his shop-boy. “Brilos! Wrap these.” The boy jumped, and hastened to do as he was bid.

Ba’an pointed to a third jar, the chestnut honey. “I will buy this one myself.”

“What? Oh come on.” Lukios turned to the shopkeeper. “I’ll pay for that one too.”

Ba’an frowned. “Lukios, it is for Merida. You do not have to pay for my gifts.” Thu’rin had always given her things, that was true. The tribe always provided whatever was needed, but Thu’rin had often brought her little trinkets or curiosities when he left with the traders as their guard. He had even brought her back a mirror once, one made of glass; Ba’an had left it in the shi-vuti for Vaa’ti.

But Thu’rin had been her man. It was a natural thing but…

Was Lukios her man now? He did not have another woman, and he wished to marry her. So…

Did that not make him hers now?

But this was Illos. So…that meant…?

Ba’an paused, confused.

What did it mean when a Dolkoi’ri man gave a woman many gifts? Ba’an had heard that Dolkoi’ri women were bought when they were married. What was it called? A dou-ree?

Surely Lukios was not…purchasing her?

No, no, he had already made his feelings on such customs very clear. And…the dou-ree went to…did it not go to her family? Or…was it…?

Ugh.

But he wished to buy her a goat. An outlander goat was not a strifa, but surely it was a courtship gift?

She felt her brow crease.

If she accepted his gifts, did that mean she accepted his proposal? Or…was that a separate thing?

Ba’an was not sure if Lukios would laugh or cry if she asked, but she did not wish him to misunderstand her again. Yet, she was hesitant to speak of such a personal matter in front of strangers. Perhaps if she spoke K’Avaari?

But what if the shopkeeper became offended? Many of the Dolkoi’ri thought K’Avaari was barbaric. What if he changed his prices, or even refused to sell?

Lukios was still speaking, perhaps taking her silence for acceptance. “Hey, how about those over there too?”

Oh no. Was Lukios going to buy the entire shop?

“No. Lukios, this is…it is enough honey. I will give Merida this pot, and I will take these two here. That is all.”

“But you liked that one too.” He pointed to the jar of light yellow honey that was exactly the colour of sunlight on the sand. “You did the happy scrunchy thing with your eyes.”

…Happy scrunchy thing?

Ba’an suppressed the urge to sigh. She was either thinking too much or thinking too little. She had not thought it would become so complicated when she had allowed him into her bed.

“Besides, Merida’s sensible. I like her. I’ll buy it. And I like the colour on those too, so I’ll take them.”

The shopkeeper hastened to do his bidding, clearly worried she would convince Lukios otherwise.

Lukios grinned and tapped her on the nose. “It will get stuck that way, Ba’an.”

The look she gave him in return was deeply unimpressed, but he only chuckled–as usual.

Lukios put money on the counter and the shopkeeper seemed content to ignore her; she sighed. A sudden thought occurred to her.

“Lukios. In K’Avaari tribes we give a gift when we arrive and are given a gift when we leave. Was I meant to give Gaios a gift when I arrived, or do Dolkoi’ri give a gift when they leave?” Not within the same tribe, of course, but when visiting a different tribe, it was considered good manners to bring something the host did not produce.

He looked at her. “Oh. Well, I guess I would be the one getting him something since you’re with me. But normally we just invite them over later and stuff ‘em full of food. I don’t think you really have to get him anything, Ba’an.”

“Is it rude if I do?” She was not comfortable with the thought of giving nothing. It felt ill-mannered.

“Not really. I mean, everyone likes gifts, right? He’ll definitely think it’s a K’Avaari thing, so he’ll probably just roll with it, honestly.”

“What should I get him?” Gaios was already wealthy. She did not think he would be impressed by anything from the market.

“He likes hard liquor. He has a weapons collection too. Hm, I think his wife likes those Eirian rugs–the ones with the block patterns. Anything would be fine, honestly. As long as it’s good quality. Poor quality stuff would be an insult.”

Ba’an wasn’t sure she and Gaios had the same definition of ‘quality’. She sighed again. “Lukios, I think I will need help.”

He grinned and opened his mouth to reply when the shop boy interrupted.

“Your purchases, sir.” The boy had packed them into a crate that had been lined with straw.

“Thanks. Hey, can you have them sent up? I’ll write you the address.”

This was sensible. There were many jars, and it would be very taxing to carry the entire crate anywhere.

“Of course, sir.” The boy reached beneath the counter and produced a tablet and a stylus.

Lukios was scribbling the address down when the boy glanced surreptitiously at the shopkeeper, who had turned away to speak with another customer, then blurted in an excited whisper, “Are you the Lion?” He flushed, looking simultaneously horrified and excited.

Lukios didn’t pause in his writing. He only looked up once he finished with his usual charming smile. “That’s real nice to hear. Sorry to disappoint you, though. It’s the hair and eyes, I know.”

The boy’s face was full of doubt. He took the tablet, but did not leave immediately, hunching his shoulders and speaking to his toes. “Oh. But you look exactly like him. I used to live in Heliopolis and…” He was peeking upwards now, trying to stare at Lukios without being obvious.

This ‘Brilos’ was not very good at pretending.

“You look exactly like him, sir. He gave me a leaf from his wreath. I still have it.”

Lukios’ smile froze on his face.

If he had not recognized the boy before, he recognized him now. Of this, Ba’an had no doubt.

The boy swallowed, glancing quickly at the back of the shopkeeper again, before adding, “He’s a hero. Heroes don’t die. Not like that.” The boy shook his head so hard his curls whipped across his forehead. “Not like that.” The boy was peering up at him with earnestness, as if he could compel Lukios to confess through force of will alone.

Lukios had recovered himself. Still smiling, he opened his mouth to speak, but the shopkeeper beat him to it.

“Brilos! Don’t bother the good sir and his lady.”

The boy jumped. “I’m not! I mean…I’m going!”

The merchant’s eyes narrowed. “What did I tell you about backtalk?”

Lukios waved his hand. “It’s fine. I’m not bothered.”

The shop-boy looked relieved as he scuttled away.

They left the shop shortly after that, Lukios exchanging pleasantries with the shopkeeper before leaving. Ba’an thought that he did not want the boy to be beaten on his behalf, because Lukios was very pointed about praising Brilos’ hard work and earnestness; he even bought an extra jar of honey to take with them.

“Guess we’re getting something for Gaios after all,” he said, laughing a little.

“Yes.” What else could she say?

Lukios coughed quietly. “Uh. Well. Ha. Sorry about the…uh…” His voice died away into silence as they stood together in the stoa, people rushing past them as they attended to their own cares and worries.

“It is well.” Ba’an paused, wondering if it was wiser to ask or to remain silent.

A hero.

It did not take much to guess what made a man a hero in Illos, especially now.

Ba’an looked at Lukios. Lukios looked back, and she could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the nervousness held tightly in his shoulders; it was just like that time in the desert when he had told her he had been a slave.

Ba’an put her hand in his and tugged. “Where are we going next, Lukios?”

“Oh.” It was a gusty sound, the breath expelled sharply with the force of relief. He rallied quickly, grinning at her widely. “You ever seen a puppet show?”

“I have not.” Ba’an knew what they were; there were many such shows put on everywhere, from the open markets themselves to convenient street corners. Ba’an had never bothered to stop and watch one because it cost coin–or at least, it was good manners to leave some. Ba’an had never had any coin to spare, and she had never had the inclination to pause anywhere for entertainment.

His grin widened. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna love it.”

Ba’an covered her mouth to stifle her laugh; letting it out would be very undignified.

Lukios, on the other hand, had no such reservations.

“Hahaha! Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Ba’an leaned into him, feeling it safe to do so. Everyone’s eyes were on the puppet show; no one would notice that she and Lukios were sitting very close together with his arm around her shoulders.

Lukios tilted his head toward her. “I bet that’s exactly how it happened. Crasilo was a dick.”

Crasilo, as far as Ba’an could tell, had been the former chief of Kyros; Lukios had called him an archon. The puppets were very crude little things–chaotically stitched with a hodgepodge of brightly covered fabrics, then likely stuffed with rags before being mounted on sticks–but the men hidden beneath the ledge of the wooden stage performed with gusto, pitching their voices just right for every character. People sat on mats or little stools, and many simply stood. Lukios had paid a pair for their seats, and now the two men were standing behind them, chattering to each other good-naturedly.

Oddly, no one mentioned Nikias. Or at least, there was no character who could be Nikias, though…

Was he not a very important man?

No, instead, the hero was a man named Iokras, who was the current archon of Kyros. Very amusingly, the much smaller puppet was now chasing the larger one around with a scroll that was as large as he was. Crasilo, who was depicted as being hefty around the belly, had tripped over his own two feet, rolling over and over until he cracked himself open. Amusingly, his head had been replaced with an egg, so when the puppet fell, it really did crack open.

The children in the front row squealed and clapped as the yolk splattered into the dirt. Iokras stood at the top of the stairs, surrounded by guards. Now they were saying something about divine justice, but Ba'an turned her face toward Lukios to ask a question.

“Did he really fall down the steps and crack his head?”

Lukios shrugged. “No idea. Wasn’t here, remember? But that would’ve been the kindest ending.”

She blinked. Truly?

“Why?”

Lukios looked at her, then dropped his voice a whisper. “You know how he kept getting fatter and fatter each act? That’s to show he was skimming off the city funds. Where’d most of the funds come from? Taxes. Taxes that belonged to…well, technically the emperor, but practically to House Astros.” He shook his head. “You don’t cheat House Astros out of their share of taxes. They’ll be on you faster than ants on honey. And dungeons are…well, they’re not very nice, let’s say.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Fast is better than slow.”

“And the scroll?”

“Laws. Crasilo was probably breaking at least a few. I mean, have you seen his estate? Archonship doesn’t pay that well. It’s considered a civic duty, so you get paid in uh, honour, mostly.”

Ba’an dropped her voice lower. “But I thought Nikias was…?” Ba’an had meant to say ‘important,’ but Lukios seemed to believe she was saying something else, something specific; he shushed her.

“That shouldn’t be common knowledge.” His voice was a whisper, and he spoke into the shell of her ear, so close that her hair stirred against her skin.

“Why?”

Lukios was silent for a beat too long. “‘Cause of who his ma was.”

Ba’an felt her jaw tighten reflexively. Yes, Tii’ka the traitor. Ba’an remained silent, letting Lukios continue.

“No one would ever believe Nik got picked if he ran, though–obviously–Nik picked Iokras for the seat.” Lukios shrugged and leaned away again.

“Ran? Why would he run?” Was it a contest of athleticism? That seemed a very silly way to pick a new chief.

“Why would he–? Oh. For office. I mean, we vote. You know. Voting?”

“No.”

“Oh. Right.” Lukios scratched his head. “It’s, uh…well, for archonships it’s once every five years now. Used to be shorter or longer, but…well, times change. We choose who leads the city for five years at a time by…uh…okay, there are these guys who are candidates for office, and they have some time to go around and tell people why they’d be good leaders. Then there’s one day when everyone goes to the assembly hall and they write down on a piece of paper who should be archon.”

“Oh. Everyone?” If Ba’an was still in Illos in five years’ time, she wished to see how this was done. This ‘voting’ sounded…well, she did not know what to make of it.

“Well…citizens. Men who are citizens.”

“Oh. Not women?”

“Uh…no.”

“Why?”

“Uh…” Lukios’ eyes flicked around him, as if he was seeking some kind of escape. Was he nervous again?

“Lukios?”

“Um…” He cleared his throat. Then he did it again. Finally, he said, “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”

“Hm. Yes, this is Illos.” Why had this surprised her? The Dolkoi’ri were very strange and backwards, though the founding houses perhaps showed some sense. With a pang, she realized that perhaps there was more similarity between these Dolkoi'ri houses and the shi-vuti than she had known.

“In a saa-vuti vur, it is the high-vuti that selects the new chief.” As far as the low-vuti knew, at least. What they did not know did not hurt them, and Ba'an knew the shi-vuti would never allow those of the low-vuti to rule in any way. The low-folk simply did not have the wisdom.

“Um…sure?”

“It works very well.”

“Uh…” Lukios very wisely said nothing.

Ba’an went silent as well, pondering on what he had said. She was not certain she wished to be a Dolkoi’ri woman; if she married Lukios, then she would be subject to their laws. Ba’an remembered what had happened with Terutus very clearly, and she knew exactly what went on in the brothels and gambling dens of the city. The women here were subjected to indignities no K’Avaari woman would have ever dreamed of, never mind experienced.

But they would not live in a city. Lukios had said so himself. They would simply live together on an olive farm, away from others. So perhaps it would not matter at all; perhaps she worried over nothing.

Lukios had started speaking again, and Ba’an lost her line of thought. “Anyway, there are exceptions, sometimes. Like poor Crasilo, for example. He had to go real quick.”

Everyone was clapping now. Some people even stood up. Ba’an could see this ‘Crasilo’ had been very unpopular with absolutely everyone, which made it very difficult to pity him.

Ah. Yes. There were other questions she wished to ask.

“But Stephanos is the emperor.”

“Yeah. And?”

“Did you…’vote’ for Stephanos?”

Lukios laughed. “No. It was a fair bit bloodier than that.” He shook his head. “This is for cities and towns. So that people have a voice.” He leaned in again, dropping his voice even lower.

“It’s all horseshit, though. The candidates who win are backed by the founding houses. There’s no way around it. You want happy, honest Alexandros to be an archon? He better suck–uh, I mean, he better buddy up to a founding house first, or he’ll end up dying in the most embarrassing way possible.” His voice had gone flat. “And by the time they’re done with him, he won’t be so happy and honest anymore. Get it?”

Hm. “So those in power know it is Nikias they must deal with.”

“You bet. Iokras signs whatever Nik tells him to sign, and everything goes through Nik’s office first, anyway. Mostly, Iokras is here to look pretty and take the blame if things go sideways.”

“And if things go well?”

“Then things go well. Nik’s not going to stay here, sweetheart. He wouldn’t have come at all if Crasilo had actually…you know. Governed.” Lukios shook his head. “Nik’ll stay on as assistant to Iokras for the next year or so, but I’ll wager he’ll have a cousin come and take his seat or marry Iokras off to a relative.”

So Nikias had only come to restore the proper order of things. This was becoming unnervingly familiar.

“But Iokras has the love of the people. What if he wishes to…no longer listen to House Astros?” Getting rid of an unpopular man was much, much easier than getting rid of a popular one.

Lukios only shrugged. “If Iokras gets uppity, he’ll die of bad fish.”

She blinked. Ah. Of course. Like slipping nau’tha and sambi-sahi into a chief’s food if he led the tribe astray. Some chiefs were too popular to topple publicly, but death came for everyone eventually. A period of mourning and a hand-selected successor was often enough to regain the proper course.

“I see.”

His smile had become very jaded. “It’s like I said: if you go sticking your head out, someone’ll come along and cut it off. Iokras’ll behave better than Crasilo, or he’ll be the one with an egg for a head next.”

Very quietly, Lukios added, “The founding houses don’t fuck around, sweetheart. Better to just stay clear of ‘em entirely. Let them have their cities.” His smile softened as he put his hand on her cheek. “We can just go. Soon. No stinky, nasty outlander cities, but plenty of food and water. Trees. You can have a nice, big garden, as big as you want. Sounds good, right?”

It did. Ba’an enjoyed the smells of the desert over nearly anything else, but the thought of living alone again, now that she had spent five months with Lukios…

She swallowed, and tilted her head down.

Perhaps he did not have to know. Even now she could hear the souls of the people laughing and clapping around her; she could withstand it. If she focused on the bright, warm music of Lukios’ soul beside her, she could block them out.

Surely it would not be so bad, outside of a city?

Just once a week. She could fly out and…

She bit her lip.

Lukios touched her mouth gently. “Sweetheart! Sorry, sorry. Not trying to rush you or anything. Big decision, and you’ve got lots of time.”

“Yes,” she murmured to the ground, “I will need some time.”

He grinned. “Take all the time you want. And I owe you one.”

“One?”

“Kiss,” he said, very cheerfully, pushing his face so close to hers that their noses touched. “‘Cause I got serious. About politics.”

Rolling her eyes, she put her hand over his face and pushed him away; naturally, he only laughed.

Strangely, she had the sudden urge to cry.