‘I meant to tell you,’ he said. ‘I finally met your Glaucos last night. I have never seen such a buffoon.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘I hope you will choose better ahead. You have always trusted too easily.’ I looked at him leaning in my doorway with his long robes and bright, wolfish eyes. My heart had leapt to see him as it always did. But he was like that column of water he had told me of once, cold and straight, sufficient to himself.
