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faces red with rage, fell sullenly silent as they approached. The guard spoke to them in their language, they complained, but then one of them led a second elephant over, one with a howdah still girthed onto its broad back. Agios studied it and the broken pieces of the one that had been shattered. It looked beyond repair.
    Agios squatted to examine the splintered ruin and then stood and looked again at the intact howdah. “Could they take that one off so I can see it better?”
    Again the guard spoke, again the men complained, but they had the elephant kneel. Agios put out his chained hands to feel the hot, leathery skin, wondering at the bulk of the animal. He realized that the damage looked much worse than it actually was and said slowly, “I think I can repair this.”
    One of the elephant drivers snorted and said in Agios’s language, “This uncouth being is insolent. Is he a man? Does he have a name?”
    â€œAgios,” he said, standing over the broken howdah and noting what would be needed.
    â€œAgios,” said the guard, pronouncing it AH-gee-ohs .
    â€œ Ah-GEE-ohs ,” Agios corrected. “It’s my name. At least say it right.”
    The guard laughed. “Agios,” he said, struggling with the word but coming close. “Lord Agios of the Frankincense. Tell these men what you can do.”
    â€œWell, to begin with I will have to find some good hard wood. And then I’ll need tools—you probably have what I need.” Agios knelt and pointed, explaining what he would do to repair the howdah. The men grew interested.
    When Agios finished, one of the men said eagerly to the guard, “Let him do this. I will pay you if he can repair it. Without it, I’ll lose a third of my profit! What is he, a slave?”
    â€œCaptive,” the guard said. He turned to Agios. “My master said to let you do what you could. Tell these men what tools you need.”
    Agios recited the list: saw, auger, a hammer, an awl for the leather, a knife. The elephant’s owner sent a man running to fetch them. Agios held up his wrists, the chain jangling. “Remove these.”
    The guard shook his head. “You can work with them on.”
    â€œI can’t,” Agios said. “Leave on the leg shackles, but I need both hands.”
    â€œI’d like to see what he can do,” a voice said from behind them. Agios saw it was the man in the red robe. “Release him from his bonds, Gamos. You have complained about his hitting you. You may guard him and use what force you like to prevent him from escaping.”
    Gamos bowed and unbolted the wristlets. “I will have to find wood,” Agios told the man in the robe.
    â€œIf I swear to you that you will not be harmed by any of us, will you in turn swear to return here after finding what you need?”
    â€œI swear it.”
    â€œGo with him, Gamos. If he does anything he shouldn’t, hurt him.” The man smiled without real humor. “I don’t distrust your oath, Agios, but I’m no fool, either.”
    Agios did not respond, but noticed the man at least pronounced his name correctly.
    He and Gamos left the trail together and walked a few miles to a forest standing in the foothills. Gamos carried his spear, but Agios wouldn’t have tried to run even without the threat of being impaled. He had always been like that when a job lay before him: he did what had to be done, and then moved on to the next thing.
    They didn’t speak much, but at one point Gamos said, “You’re a strong man. And quick. I didn’t expect that blow.”
    â€œYou thought I was drunk,” Agios said. “That gave me an advantage.”
    â€œNot much of one,” Gamos said.
    â€œNo,” Agios admitted. “I was pretty drunk.”
    They reached the trees, stunted ones in this arid countryside, and although Agios did not recognize them, he found some that reminded him of white