David Wishart - The Lydian Baker

He didn't look convinced. That made two of us.

We left the harbour precinct and headed off in the direction of Zea Theatre. Tiny kept a pace or two in front, looking back over his shoulder to make sure I was still following. Then he took a left towards the high ground of Acte. We hit the lower slopes and Tiny suddenly veered east towards the coast. Uh-huh, so we weren't headed for Smaragdus's backup cave after all, which would've been one possibility; he was taking me to the beach hut. It still had to be the Baker, though, because there wasn't anything else out this way, and I began to feel the first prickles of excitement as we left the road and crossed the broken ground leading to the shore.

The Alcyone was still beached in the cove: Jupiter knew why it hadn't been stolen, but maybe no one had noticed it yet. Tiny didn't even break stride. He hauled it down to the water easy as a kid launching a toy yacht, got aboard and sat down.

Journey's end, evidently. Or the first part of the journey, at least. I stopped, and swallowed. Hell’s teeth; I'd been afraid this might happen. The trip across the gulf with Smaragdus had been bad enough, but taking to the open sea alone with a mad gorilla who'd just popped a guy's ribs for him was the stuff bad dreams are made of.

'Uh…can you handle one of these things, pal?' I said. 'Only I'm telling you now that I don't know a lee shore from a hawser, and I swim like a ton of concrete. These may be problems.'

Tiny gibbered and beckoned. Yeah, well, there went the excuse. I gritted my teeth and started to wade through the shallows…

'Corvinus! Valerius Corvinus! Sir!'

I spun round. A figure had just breasted the skyline, holding its side like it had a stitch. Oh, good sweet Jupiter, I didn't believe it!

The little guy in the emerald-green tunic waved and came closer.

'Felix!' I only hoped I didn't sound as glad to see him as I felt. A swelled ego in that direction I could do without. 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'I followed you, naturally.' He was gasping. 'All the way from Zea.'

'You were at the boat shed?'

'Since last night.' His hand kneaded a spot just left of his liver. 'A moment…please…to catch my breath. I'm not used to running, and your friend sets quite a pace.'

'So choke, you bastard.' Nerves or not, I couldn't help grinning. Not just out of relief, either: for the first time since I'd met Felix I could be sure that what I was getting was the plain unvarnished truth. The guy was unquestionably, undeniably knackered. My grin widened. 'You spent the night at the harbour?'

He coughed and straightened. 'Yes, sir. It was most…uncomfortable. But after my colleague reported that you had paid an abortive visit to one of the trireme sheds I put two and two together and decided my personal presence was necessary.' Gasp.

Jupiter on a tightrope! Forget just one tail, it seemed we'd been heading a procession. Maybe I should've hired a trumpeter and thrown nuts to the crowds.

'You had my house staked?' I said.

'Only slightly, sir. And in your own best interests.'

'Which, oddly enough, happened to coincide exactly with yours.' Ah, well, it was done and I had to admit I was glad of it. I looked across at Tiny. He hadn't moved; hadn't so much as acknowledged Felix's presence. 'Okay, Felix, we're going for the Baker. As if you didn't know. Since you're here you can tag along if the big guy agrees. But we have a deal, remember?'

'The statue sold at open auction with the money going to the widow,' Felix said primly. I grinned again: the degree of concern for the maintenance of fundamental principles like honesty, openness and fair play that shone through every word could've powered a major political campaign. I'd have voted for the oily little fraud myself. 'Yes, of course I remember, sir. The agreement stands, naturally.'

'Fine.' I turned to Tiny. 'Hey, Tiny! This is Smaragdus's other customer and an old friend of mine. He'd like to see the statue as well. You have any objection?'

The pear head swung towards Felix. I waited, and prayed to every god in the pantheon I knew. The guy might have his faults, and despite what I'd said he wasn't exactly a friend, but at least he'd be human company.

Finally, the head nodded.

'Great.' I let out the breath I'd been holding. 'So. Let's go for it.'

We waded across to the boat

Tiny set the sail and we were off. No, I didn't throw up. Maybe it was the excitement, but I felt great. Not so Felix: forget human company, the little guy began to change colour as soon as the first wave hit us. Then we were out in the gulf proper where we hit a smacker of a wind that had him half over the side losing his breakfast in earnest. I watched benignly. That would teach the sod to tail me.

We were headed for the same stretch of coast Smaragdus had taken me to last time, but Tiny was bearing further right, closer to Eetioneia. Yeah. That fitted. The signs I'd seen on the path showed that the statue had been carried down to the beach, so Smaragdus and Tiny must have ferried it round to another cove. Sensible: sure, there would've been places nearer by where they could've taken it instead, but in the process they'd have left tracks a blind man could follow. This way it could be anywhere.

While Felix was doing his best to turn himself inside out I looked ahead; and what I saw made me wish I hadn't. We were making for the dead centre of a line of cliffs; no beaches, no inlets, and from the looks of the cliffs themselves only a mountain goat tired of life on the hoof would risk climbing them. Added to which the chain of rocks stretching a good hundred yards out from the shore would gut us before you could say Ulysses. I swallowed and glanced up at Tiny. He was holding the steering oar firm as Plato's famous helmsman.

'You sure you know what you're doing here, pal?' I said. Philosophical metaphors are okay in their place, but I'd bet one look at Tiny would've had Plato reaching for his pumice stone.

No answer: the guy might as well have been deaf. We got closer. Tiny turned a fraction out of the wind and the boat lost speed. We were coming in at a slant now, but the rocks were so close I could've reached out and picked off the clams. Hell; Baker or not, I must have been mad to agree to this. I should've made a dash for freedom back on the beach while I had the chance.

And then I saw it: a hollow at the base of the cliffs with a scrap of pebbly beach that looked just about big enough to spread a mantle over. If the mantle happened to belong to a midget. I looked back at Tiny.

'That's it?' I said. 'That's where we're going?'

He grinned and gibbered, nodding his head. When the first rock scraped the side I closed my eyes and offered up a prayer to Neptune and the anonymous god who protects pointy-skulled gorillas and non-swimming Roman smartasses…

Two minutes later, incredibly, I was still breathing air. I opened my eyes. We were past the rocks and into deep water, and Tiny was grinning like he'd performed a minor miracle. Maybe he had.

'Nice work,' I said. I meant it, and it was the understatement of the year: mad gorilla or not, the guy could handle a boat. Maybe Plato wasn't so far out after all.

We nosed into the cove. Tiny lowered the sail, beached us gently on the pebbles, and threw out the anchor-stone. Then he jumped out and waded ashore.

Felix was still slumped against the side with his eyes closed, like he'd been the whole trip. Shame. All that excitement and he'd missed it. Well, some people have all the luck.

'Hey.' I dug him in the ribs. 'Show a leg, pal. We're there.'

The eyelids didn't flicker.

'I think, sir,' he said, 'I'll just die here quietly, if you don't mind.'

'Death isn't an option.' I grinned: the bastard was human after all. 'By the way, you know your face is the exact colour of a slice of Rhaetian cheese?'