My brows drew together. Milo’s words made sense, but they buzzed strangely in my ears. His face looked odd as well, dark as a dried fig, his eyes two smears of wet clay that began to trickle down his cheeks as I watched. What was wrong? I closed my eyes and shook my head vigorously, fighting to banish the illusion.
“I agree.” I spoke loudly, as if noise would scare off the weird vision. “There’s a secret at work among the Argo’s crew, but finding it out can wait until we’ve had some food and drink. I’m so famished my head’s spinning.” I pulled a fistful of ornaments from the pouch at my belt. “It shouldn’t be too hard to find a tavern in a city like this.” I started back toward the water, jingling my riches boldly in my hand.
Milo grabbed me and hauled me back so fast I almost scattered the gold bits like grains of barley. “Are you crazy?” he demanded. “What do you think you’re doing, showing off that kind of wealth?”
“I think I’m about to get us a decent meal,” I snapped. I wanted him to be quiet. His voice had taken on a thunderous echo that made my head throb. I was sure he was doing it on purpose, to annoy me. I squirmed out of his arms and chinked my gold under his nose. “Am I the only one who’s hungry and thirsty?”
His hand closed over mine, muffling the high, sweet ringing sound. “If you go into any wineshop and put even one of these on the table, it’ll be the same as slitting our throats,” Milo hissed. “We’re supposed to be servants. Servants don’t have gold, especially not a pair of boys.”
“You worry too much,” I told him, tossing my head. “Any tavern keeper will be happy to take this as payment, no questions asked. Let me go.”
I jerked my hand away so hard that I lost my grip. The ornaments made a golden rainbow that arced out of the alley and across the path of a pair of thickset men. The smaller of the pair dropped to his knees and began scooping up handfuls of dust and dirt, rubbing them through his fingers to sieve out the gold. His companion turned his attention to Milo and me.
“This yours, lads?” he drawled, gesturing at my fallen fortune.
Milo said “No” and I said “Yes” loudly, quickly, and at exactly the same instant. That made him laugh.
“Well, one of you’s lying. You, boy.” He nodded at me. “How’d a little donkey-turd like you get your hands on such riches?”
“The same way I got my hands on this,” I replied, drawing my sword. My words came out slurred. The buzzing in my head was growing louder, and my sight painted four ugly men where there were only two.
Our confrontation began to draw attention along the busy waterfront. Faces and bodies blurred into a murmuring cloud of people just outside the mouth of the alley. The stench of sweat and rotten fish stabbed up my nose so painfully that I had to grit my teeth or scream. My ankles wobbled, but I forced myself to stand fast.
“You!” I jabbed my sword in the direction of the man who was still harvesting the fallen gold bits. “Give back what’s mine and I’ll let you keep a couple of pieces for your trouble.”
The two men exchanged looks of disbelief. The one still standing laughed, though it sounded more like a bull’s bellow. “You hear that? The prince has spoken! Obey him and he’ll let you keep your own gold. Sounds like that outlander Jason’s not the only one to come swaggering into Iolkos, laying claim to honest men’s property!” He glanced down at my feet and sneered. “Hunh. Two sandals. I was expecting only one. Seems like that’s the fashion for all great liars, these days.”
The crowd laughed at that. Why? It sounded like nonsense to me, but it won them over. Some of them shouted insults at me, calling me thief, liar, fraud. Only one voice was raised in my defense.
“Who do you think you are, calling my friend a liar?” Milo yelled. “And Prince Jason, too? Say that to his face, you coward!”
The man ground his teeth together. “Think I wouldn’t? It’s only because Lord Pelias is such a pious man that he didn’t have that so-called Prince Jason put to death as soon as he claimed to be our king’s nephew. Everyone knows the real Jason’s dead. The boy’s own mother said so!”
A shrill, cracked voice rose from the back of the crowd. “The boy’s own mother lied to save her child, and you know it!” The people stood aside to let a gray-haired old woman come forward, bent double by the weight of a basket on her shoulder. “And I know you, you good-for-nothing ruffian! Take your worthless crony and leave the boy alone.” She glowered.
For an answer, the bully knocked the old woman’s basket away with one blow of his fist. Fish scattered in the dirt. “Mind your own business, hag,” he snarled. “Next time I won’t hit the basket.”
“Next time you’ll hit nothing.” I darted forward and brought the flat of my blade down on the man’s forearm, making him yelp. “Pick up what you spilled.”
“Or what? You’ll cut my throat in front of all these people?” His mouth stretched out in a rotten-toothed leer. He rubbed the arm I’d smacked and added: “Curse it, that hurts. Where’d you steal that sword, you lousy little—? Ow!” A rock flew through the air and bounced off the side of the man’s skull. It was too small to do damage, but it got his attention. He whirled around, cursing, just as a second rock whizzed past his ear.
“Pick up my fish, you ox!” the old woman yelled, shaking her fist. It already held a third rock, ready to fly. “Pick them up or I’ll lay you out on top of them; see if I won’t!”