Creusus's Arc

Chapter 21 of 21

Creusus was halfway down the main path when he heard the footsteps behind him. Quick steps on stone, not the tread of a guard. He did not stop. The pastel beds blurred past on either side, pink and blue and pale yellow flowers in low tidy rows. He told himself the post was two gates and a road away. He told himself he did not need to turn. The steps caught up. "You walk fast for a man who was leaving nowhere," she said. She came around his shoulder and stopped in the path in front of him. The grapes were still in her hand. Up close he saw the gold band in her hair and the plain sandals on her feet. "Kallista," she said. "Since you did not ask." She held out the cluster. "I have more than I can eat. Sit with me while I finish them and I will call it fair trade." He looked at the grapes. He looked at her face. He thought of the post and the sound of wood. He thought of the warm thing under his knuckles that had woken up the last time she spoke to him. He opened his mouth to refuse. What came out was, "I do not have anything to trade back." She shrugged. "Company. I have been walking these paths alone since morning." He stood there a long moment. Then he sat down on the low stone edge of the nearest bed. She sat beside him, close enough that he could see the small chip in one of her bracelets. She pulled a grape free and held it out. He took it between two bandaged fingers and ate it. It was cold and sweet. She did not ask about his hands. She asked about the statue in the grove, and when he said he did not know the story, she told it to him in a few short sentences, plain, without flourish. He listened. He ate another grape. The warmth under his skin stayed low and quiet, like a dog that had lain down. They sat until the grapes were gone. She dropped the stem in the dirt beside the flowers and stood and brushed her dress. "Tomorrow," she said. "Same path. Bring something this time." She did not wait for an answer. She walked back the way she had come. Creusus stayed on the stone a while longer. His hands rested open on his knees. He counted the flower beds across from him because he had nothing else to count. Six. He would come back tomorrow. He knew it before he stood up. The post could wait one more day. He walked out of the gardens toward the town, and for the first time in a week his shoulders were down and stayed down.