Her neck throbbed with a dull pain; her back felt stiff. One arm tingled from loss of feeling where her head rested on it. She opened her eyes slowly ... to gaze directly into Onokratos's eyes. She didn't flinch or look away. She'd had time to think; sleep had calmed her. Eyes are windows to the soul, her mother had taught her. She peered long and deeply, seeking for his soul, if he had one, searching for some insight into this strange old man, unable to ignore the expression of almost fatherly tenderness as he leaned over her. What she saw brought only confusion. “I don't believe what you said about Kimon,” she said. “I spoke out of anger last night,” he answered. “It's not important.” He turned to the table; he must have set it upright while she'd slept. There was a bottle of wine and two earthen cups. He poured careful measures. “That chair wasn't very comfortable, was it?” He smiled, passed her one of the vessels. “I should apologize for the lack of luxuries. I've never entertained guests here before." She rose slowly from the hard chair and stretched, feeling joints pop, cramped muscles ease, sensation return gradually to her limbs.
