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(he claimed) all the way from the land where he was born. Opotatos are poisonous. The green part of the plant, even when carefully prepared, makes some people very sick. At Dicty’s we served the roots soaked, sliced and fried, with salt and sharp wine,and the High Town swells loved it. They got a kick out of the risk—and the staggering price.
    “I have no idea what your strange vegetables are,” Aten was saying as I joined them. “I am
not
an Egyptian. I am Peruvian. They’re the wrong color, so I expect the flavor is poor. Carrots are supposed to be greenish yellow, Dicty.”
    “Our
carrots are greenish yellow,” agreed Dicty patiently. “I just told you, these red fellows are from Egypt. When you meet a new foodstuff, it’s like welcoming a guest: you have to get acquainted with the thing’s spirit, treat it as it wants to be treated. They’re very sweet. Perhaps they should only be used for desserts. Go on, try one.”
    “Hmm. That is actually
tasty
. What are the growing conditions?”
    At last the High Place party left. Palikari and Anthe kicked out the drunken sailors, and we stopped talking about vegetables.
    Papa Dicty had told Anthe his kitchen was not a theater show, but sometimes we were like actors, changing masks as the drama unfolded. Aten and his wife were our allies. As resident foreigners they had less to fear from the king, and Aten’s wife, Moni the Naxian, was a woman who believed fiercely in the old ways, the way of life Papa Dicty was fighting to preserve. Aten was in town to consult with Papa Dicty about the state of affairs inland, in the villages, and to hear the news Moumi and I hadpicked up on Naxos. When we went across to the Big Island, we met other Serifiotes, secretly: people who would not dare to talk to us at home….
    There wasn’t much to report this time, only more of the bad tidings we knew already. The truce was wearing thin; Polydectes was plotting something. But there was an unexpected new factor: a mysterious and wealthy young lady, somehow connected with the earthquake victims, who was traveling under a false name, and clearly looking for a place to hide. Could we afford to give her our protection?
    “She gave Taki gold. I wonder what else she has hidden in that bundle of hers,” mused Dicty. “A queen’s diadem?”
    “But the refugees didn’t show any sign of knowing her,” protested Anthe. “None at all,” agreed my mother.
    “So she can’t be
their
queen. Maybe she’s just noble and generous. She saw those earthquake victims, her heart opened and she couldn’t help it. Gold might be common as clay where she comes from. Aten says there are places like that in Africa.”
    “True,” admitted our Egyptian. “But, Anthe, she may be everything you say, and still have powerful enemies who may descend upon us. My lord”—he turned to Papa Dicty—“if you protect her, the king could use that against you.”
    “If she’s of high enough rank,” put in my mother reluctantly, “her people might never have seen her face. How many Achaean princesses run around in the street? But on Naxos, when she had to risk being discovered, or else abandon them, she didn’t hesitate.”
    “What about you, Perseus?” asked Palikari. “The women are on Kore’s side. You’re being unusually quiet.
    What do you think?”
    “Dunno,” I muttered, glowering at my best friend for no reason at all.
    “Hmm …” The boss was making up his mind. “She’s a young woman of few words, and proud deeds, and I watched her in my kitchen this afternoon. She’s well trained; she can hold her tongue.” Dicty passed a hand over his bald head, a habit of his when puzzled. “I see the danger, Aten, and it should be discussed, but I won’t call a Town Meeting. I’ll take advice, quietly: see what our matriarchs think.”
    We didn’t hold Town Meetings often. People hadn’t much heart for discussing minor problems when the real problem was the king, and we’d all agreed there