Page 28 of Phoenix Chosen 3

“Yes, of course. Three sons. Nikolaos and Tasos left for Athenos when they came of age. Makar was killed trying to hunt the harpyia.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“The allure of the city has grown stronger in these recent years,” he tells me. “And our village has grown smaller. Many of our children heard stories of glory to be made in the great cityand beyond. I don’t know exactly when these whispers began, or where they came from. The world is changing, it seems, and not for the better. Monsters, bandits, darkness… I can feel it.”

“What can you tell us about the bandits in the forest?” Kalistratos asks. “Numbers, their strength. Anything that will help us.”

Markos looks uncertain. “Well… we’ve only ever seen the sorcerer’s face.”

“There’s only one of them?” Kalistratos says in disbelief.

“In truth, I don’t know how many there are. They watch from the forest, shadowy figures, cloaked and obscured. Then, the sorcerer halts our carts, rendering even the horses unable to move them. We have no choice but to surrender our goods. Resist, and he uses his magic. He knocked down Kristos with a single bolt of lightning. I’m sorry I cannot give you more. Were I a younger man…”

“It’s alright, grandfather,” Kalistratos says with a curt nod. “We’ll figure it out.”

Markos leaves. Kalistratos sets his weapons beside the worn old bed, and I take our egg and make a nest out of some sheets inside a woven basket I find in the kitchen.

“Airos is right, there’s something odd about this,” Kalistratos says.

“What, these people? They seem pretty honest. You think they’re lying?”

“No, no. They’re not lying about someone robbing them. But a sorcerer?”

I crawl onto the bed and come to his side. I drag my fingers along the rumpled fabric of the front of his robe where it covers his chest. “There’s this saying on Earth: the simplest explanation is usually the right one. But I guess that all goes out the window here. Based on everything I’ve experienced, maybe the simplest explanationissorcery.”

“Perhaps. But every thief knows the best way to make money is through clever deception.”

Kalistratos turns to face me on his elbow, and with a flourish of his hand, he makes a small stone and three shells appear between his fingers. With a single fluid motion, he slips the stone into one of the shells and arranges them in a line on his open palm before shuffling them around.

“Oh, look at you,” I say. “I used to give guys the boot for running this scam in front of my gas station.”

Kalistratos’s voice takes on a polished, almost theatrical quality. “It’s easy,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes. “One stone under one shell. Choose the right one, and you can double your drachmae.” His little routine is dripping with all the charm and confidence of a practiced street showman.

“Is this what you used to do to people?” I ask, laughing. “Little Fast Hands Kalistratos?”

“Pick a shell,” he says, shuffling them around more.

I hover my finger above the shells, then grab his wrist and turn his hand over. There’s nothing in his palm.

“Hey!” I grab the middle shell and find nothing, then the other two. All are empty.

Kalistratos grins at me, then blows the stone out of his mouth like he’s shooting a watermelon seed. It bounces off my chest.

“You son of a bitch,” I laugh. I grab his other wrist and wrestle him onto his back. “You know what we do to scammers like you?” I reach down and run my palm over his bulge. “Beat them the fuck up.”

The playful glint in his eyes becomes a look of unexpected excitement. He welcomes my touch by pushing his hips up against my hand. His cock quickly stiffens against the fabric.

“Let’s see you try,” he says, throwing his arm around my waist and pulling me down.

His lips smash mine and I roll my tongue against his tongue as his cock continues to grow even bigger in my hand until the loose loincloth is barely able to keep its impressive length covered. I tease him with my fingers, stroking the fabric around his cockhead. I’m already wet as fuck, and my cock is making a damn folded umbrella out of the front of my robe. I turn and push against his leg, rubbing my length against his thick, muscled thigh.

“God, I’ve been thinking about sucking your cock all day,” I say.

I finally pull back the loincloth. The warm glow of the nearby oil lamp illuminates the gorgeous shape of his dick with all of those pleasure-giving ridges. It sways slightly with his pulse, like a thick meat metronome. I snort at the thought of him keeping time with that thing.

“Then go ahead and do it,” he tells me.

“Uh-uh. Not yet.”

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