The walk from Philandros' house to the inn was very short, since the building was only on the next block south...but the journey seemed far longer to Giton. He looked several times at his tall companion, and received each time a smile and nod in return...but not much in the way of conversation. The greek was beginning to regret his meeting with this blond giant however much he wanted to be close to him--there was something unsettling in those blue eyes, something which seemed to look into your inmost self.

They entered the large main room of the inn, to find many of the tables already taken by people who wanted a good meal--people dressed in fashions from many parts of the Empire, and a small number of locals. Giton saw at least one Syrian merchant, and several dark-hued Egyptians...even a yellowish, dark-haired man from some place the greek didn't know, but who was excitedly talking with one of the Syrians. From the main room, there were several curtained alcoves which probably held dinner parties for richer guests.

Olaf looked to Giton as they found a seat at a table near one wall. "I not know what to get--you order for both?" When the young man nodded, Olaf went on: "I hear of good grilled fish...."

Giton laughed and signalled for the serving girl to come over. "Grilled fish for my friend, I'll have the roast lamb...a pitcher of good wine, and I think quince pudding for dessert." When she quoted the price, Olaf produced the necessary coins and she returned quickly with the wine and two cups.

The greek answered a few questions about himself, trying to edit his answers to hide that he had been acquainted with Philandros in the past...and Olaf nodded, moving on to another question without really offering any information about his own past. At last, Giton asked a direct question about how the german had become a slave, and the blond waved his hand to show it wasn't important.

When the food arrived, the conversation had nearly dried up, and Olaf began to eat his fish, but without the enjoyment Giton had expected to see. For his own part, the greek merely toyed with his lamb...skewering only a few pieces and chewing them as if they were tasteless. Several times their eyes would meet over the rims of their wine cups...Giton would venture a smile, but it wasn't returned.

Something was wrong...Giton now had no doubt of it...and he was fairly certain he knew what it was: "You know--don't you?" His voice was low and full of sadness for lost chances.

"Yes...I know." There was very little warmth in the german's tone as he said those three words. Giton saw the eyes cloud over before the boy looked once more at his nearly-full plate.

Giton put his knife down and was about to leave--how could this boy want to be near him after nearly getting his ex-master killed? He started to murmur an apology when he was cut short by the blond's next words.

"I know you lie to me--you once friends with my...friend...Philandros..." the large hand gripped the greek's firmly. "Why you not friends anymore, I not care--why you lie to me--that I care about!"

So this boy didn't know about the events earlier in the year?--there was still a chance for them?...