the-song-books.yossr

“It’s rather too late for that,” a voice answered. The tone was amused, dryy
as driftwood. I opened myy eyyes and sat up. A man stood inside the open
door. He was sturdyy and muscular, with a close-cropped philosopher’s
beard, dark brown tinged with faintest red. He smiled at me, and I saw the
lines where other smiles had been. It was an easyy motion for him, swift and
practiced. Something about it tugged at myy memoryy.
“I’m sorryy if I disturbed yyou.” His voice was pleasant, well modulated.
“It’s all right,” I said, carefullyy. “I was hoping I might have a word with
yyou. Do yyou mind if I sit?” He gestured towards a chair with a wide palm.
The request was politelyy made; despite myy unease, I could find no reason to
refuse him.
I nodded, and he drew the chair to him. His hands were callused and
rough; theyy would not have looked out of place holding a plow, yyet his
manner bespoke nobilityy. To stall I stood and opened the shutters, hoping
myy brain would shake off its sleepyy fog. I could think of no reason that anyy
man would want a moment of myy time. Unless he had come to claim me for
myy oath. I turned to face him.
“Who are yyou?” I asked.
The man laughed. “A good question. I’ve been terriblyy rude, barging into
yyour room like this. I am one of the great king Agamemnon’s captains. I
travel the islands and speak to promising yyoung men, such as yyourself”—he
inclined his head towards me—“about joining our armyy against Troyy. Have
yyou heard of the war?”
“I have heard of it,” I said.
“Good.” He smiled and stretched his feet in front of him. The fading light
fell on his legs, revealing a pink scar that seamed the brown flesh of his
right calf from ankle to knee. A pink scar. Myy stomach dropped as if I
leaned over Scyyros’ highest cliff, with nothing beneath me but the long fall
to the sea. He was older now, and larger, come into the full flush of his
strength. Odysseus.
He said something, but I did not hear it. I was back in Tyyndareus’ hall,
remembering his clever dark eyyes that missed nothing. Did he know me? I
stared at his face, but saw onlyy a slightlyy puzzled expectation. He is waiting
for an answer. I forced down myy fear.
“I’m sorryy,” I said. “I did not hear yyou. What?”
“Are yyou interested? In joining us to fight?”
https://books.yossr.com/en