Another man called out to him: “Hail, Sostratos! How are you?”

“Hail, Khremes.” Sostratos had known the carpenter for years and liked him. He wouldn’t have to play games with him, as he had with the lounger. “I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Khremes told him. “Your cousin, he’s a pretty clever chap, isn’t he?”

“Menedemos? I’m sure he’d be the first to agree with you,” Sostratos said, a little more sharply than he’d intended.

A good-natured soul, Khremes missed the edge to Sostratos’ voice. He was also in the grip of enthusiasm: “That notion he had for the war galley made special to be a pirate hunter-that was wonderful,” he burbled. “A trihemiolia-a ship that can fight like an ordinary trireme and stay up with a pirate crew’s hemiolia. Fabulous! Why didn’t somebody think of it years ago?”

Sostratos had hated pirates with a clear, cold loathing even before they attacked the Aphrodite and stole the gryphon’s skull. Now.. Now he wanted to see every sea robber ever born nailed to a cross and dying slowly and horribly. If someone praised Menedemos for coming up with a ship type that would make life harder for those whoresons, he wouldn’t complain.

He said, “When something matters to my cousin, he goes after it.” As often as not, Menedemos’ ingenuity was aimed at other men’s wives. But he did hate pirates as much as Sostratos said. Sostratos had never heard of an honest sailor who didn’t hate them.

“Good for him,” said Khremes, who didn’t have to worry about the results of some of Menedemos’ escapades.

“Well, yes,” said Sostratos, who did. He went on, “We’re really going to start building trihemioliai, are we?”

The carpenter dipped his head. “We sure are. The admirals spent all winter talking about it”-he opened and closed his thumb against his four bunched fingers to simulate a gabbling mouth-”and now it’s really going to happen. They’ll make three to begin with, and more if they turn out to be as good as everybody hopes.”