"Nice?" Aristagoras said. "Nice?" He donned indignation as readily as he'd put on friendship. "My dear fellow, that is the authentic Ariousian, the best wine on Khios - which is to say, the best wine in the world."
"I said it was good." Sostratos sipped again, determined to be as moderate as he could. It wasn't easy. The wine was so splendid, he wanted to guzzle like a Skythian. "But whether I can afford it is apt to be a different question. How much for a jar would you ask?"
"For one of the usual size, of a little more than half a metretes?" Aristagoras asked. Sostratos dipped his head. The wine merchant plucked at his beard, which had a couple of reddish streaks that were going gray. At last, voice elaborately casual, he answered, "Oh, twenty drakhmai sounds about right."
Sostratos jerked as if stung by a wasp. "I know I'm young," he said, "but I hope you won't take me for a fool. When I was in Athens, I could get a khous of Khian for two drakhmai, and one of those jars won't hold above seven khoes. So you're asking more - half again as much - wholesale as an Athenian tavernkeeper charged at retail. If that's not robbery, what is?"
"There's Khian, and then there's fine Khian, and then there's Ariousian," Aristagoras said. "Any Khian is worth three times as much as the cheap slop they make most places. I say nothing about Thasos or Lesbos, mind: they turn out pretty good wine, too. But most places?" He wrinkled his nose and tossed his head before continuing, "And Ariousian is to regular Khian what Khian is to regular wine."
"At twenty drakhmai the jar, the gods on Olympos couldn't afford to drink it, let alone mere mortals," Sostratos said.
"You're bound for Italy, you said." Aristagoras looked sly. " 'Ow much can you charge for it there?"
"That's not the point," Sostratos answered. "The point is, how much would you charge for it if I weren't going to Italy?"
"Not an obolos less," Aristagoras insisted. He looked so very sincere, Sostratos didn't believe him for even a moment.
"Are you going to tell me that a tavernkeeper here in Khios city pays you twenty drakhmai for a jar of Ariousian?" Sostratos rolled his eyes to show how likely he thought that was.
"No, I can't tell you that," Aristagoras said, but he held up a hand before Sostratos could pounce on him. "The reason I can't tell you that is, not many tavernkeepers will 'ave anything so fancy around, because there isn't much call for it from the sort of men who drink in taverns. But I've got twenty drakhmai the jar a good many times from people who wanted to put on a proper symposion and make their friends 'appy."
People who wanted to put on an expensive symposion and make their friends jealous, Sostratos thought. But Aristagoras didn't sound as if he were lying this time. A few rich Khians - and, very likely, some of Antigonos' officers here, too - wouldn't count the cost when they bought wine. Still . . . "If you've got twenty drakhmai a good many times," Sostratos said slowly, "that must mean there are times when you've got less, too."
Aristagoras bared his teeth in what only looked like a smile. "Aren't you a clever young chap?" he murmured, making it sound more like accusation than praise.
"And," Sostratos pressed, "they would be buying only a few amphorai at a time. You're bound to have a discount for quantity. Even twelve drakhmai a jar is outrageous, but I'm willing to talk about it for the sake of argument, provided we're talking about enough jars."
"Such generosity," Aristagoras said, and his expression didn't even resemble a smile any more. "Kindly remember who owns the wine you're generous enough to talk of buying."
Oh, a pestilence, Sostratos thought. Now I've gone and put his back up. He couldn't so much as look as if he knew he'd made a mistake: that would only give Aristagoras a greater edge. He wondered how to go about repairing the error.
Before he could say anything, Alyattes the slave came in and announced, "Master, the other trader, the one called Menedemos, is here."
"Bring 'im in. Maybe 'e'll be more reasonable," Aristagoras said. "And if not . . ." The wine seller shrugged. "Many good-byes to them both. They can do business somewhere else."
"Hail," Menedemos said when the Lydian slave led him back to the room where Sostratos and Aristagoras were dickering.
"Hail," Sostratos answered in a distinctly hollow voice.
If Menedemos noticed that, he didn't let it show. He clasped hands with Aristagoras, then slapped Sostratos on the back almost hard enough to knock him off the stool Alyattes had given him. "By the dog of Egypt, cousin, you're the lucky one. I went down to Poseidon's temple and made my offering, and here you've been guzzling away at the nectar of the gods."
