No trireme escort this time.

One ship. Small, fast, the kind built for distance rather than impression. It came into the harbor on a Tuesday morning and docked without ceremony and the man who came off it walked to the palace gate alone.

Fylon brought word at the second hour.

"Mycenaean vessel. One passenger. He is asking for the diplomatic channel."

"His rank."

"He presented credentials as a court secretary. Below Pelonides. Above a commercial representative."

"A message carrier," Lysander said.

"Yes."

’No escort,’ Lysander thought. ’No protocol. A court secretary rather than a senior official. He is not here to negotiate or assess. He is here to deliver something and leave.’

"Bring him to the formal receiving room. Tell Ampelos. Tell Hector."

________________________________________

The man’s name was not important. He gave it correctly, with the correct deference, and Lysander forgot it before he had finished saying it. He was perhaps thirty-five, with the contained efficiency of someone who had been trusted with a task and intended to complete it and return.

Priam received him in the formal room. Hector to his right. Ampelos and Lysander along the wall.

The man said: "Agamemnon’s court sends greetings to Priam of Troy and affirms its respect for the long relationship between our peoples."

The opening formula. Correct. Then:

"Agamemnon wishes to convey, in the spirit of that relationship, that the regional situation continues to develop rapidly. He is aware that Troy has been managing significant challenges on its coast. He wishes Priam to know that the window for the kind of arrangement discussed during Lord Pelonides’s visit is not unlimited. Agamemnon hopes that Troy will find it timely to reconsider before circumstances make reconsideration more difficult."

He stopped.

He looked at Priam and waited.

Priam said: "Troy is grateful for Agamemnon’s continued interest in our relationship. We will consider his message."

"Agamemnon thanks Priam for receiving this communication."

The man bowed correctly. He left.

The door closed.

________________________________________

Four of them in the room.

Hector said: "He came to say: decide before we decide for you."

"Yes," Ampelos said.

"How long did the first envoy’s visit give us."

"Four months. Approximately."

"And this visit."

"Less. The absence of protocol is its own message. He is not offering terms anymore. He is offering time."

Priam looked at the door through which the man had left.

"How much time," he said.

No one answered immediately.

"An honest estimate," Priam said.

Ampelos said: "Six months. Perhaps eight. Before something that cannot be called anything other than what it is."

Priam stood.

He said: "Come back to me with Hector’s military assessment. Before the end of the week."

He went out.

________________________________________

Lysander walked with Ampelos.

In the corridor, away from the formal room, Ampelos said: "The manufactured information."

"Tell me."

"It worked. For approximately six weeks. The intelligence Rethon sent south created a picture of a fleet construction program significantly delayed. Agamemnon adjusted his planning accordingly." He looked at the corridor wall. "Then his commercial network in the Carian region reported the third timber contact and the smaller vessel adaptation program. He recalculated."

"Six weeks."

"Yes."

"Was it worth it."

Ampelos was quiet for a moment.

"Six weeks is six weeks," he said. "Whether it was worth what it cost is a different question."

"What did it cost."

"Ask yourself in a year."

He turned toward his office.

Lysander stood in the corridor.

’Six weeks,’ he thought. ’We bought six weeks. I sat in a room and said true things in front of a man I was using without his knowledge. And we got six weeks. And now the second envoy has arrived and the six weeks are spent and Agamemnon arrived at the correct estimate anyway.’

’Time is not a fixed currency.’

’I knew that.’

’Knowing it before does not make the arithmetic more comfortable.’

He went to find Hector.

________________________________________

Hector was at the northern gate.

He had been there — Lysander could tell by the position, the stance — since before the envoy’s ship arrived. Watching the buffer zone. The specific attention of someone tracking a variable that had been changing and was continuing to change.

Lysander came and stood beside him.

The buffer zone below was doing its morning — the organized density of a community that had learned its rhythms, the sounds of four thousand people existing in a confined space with more competence than they had three months ago.

"Six months," Lysander said. "Ampelos’s estimate."

"I know."

"Priam wants the military assessment before the end of the week."

"Yes." Hector kept looking at the buffer zone. "The assessment is not comfortable."

"I know."

"Priam will receive it without blinking. The uncomfortable part is what comes after."

"What comes after."

Hector looked at him.

"The decisions that follow from the assessment. Those are the uncomfortable part."

He walked back toward the palace.

Lysander stood at the gate alone.

The buffer zone. Four thousand people. Maea’s community integrated in one section, the eastern dialect groups in another, the cluster organizations that had built themselves over three months into something that functioned.

He thought about six months.

’Six months,’ he thought. ’Agamemnon will move in six months. Or eight. Ampelos said perhaps eight. Hector will say something closer to six.’

’And the fleet is not where it needs to be. And the wall is defensible but the siege question remains. And the buffer zone is at capacity. And the three Carian timber contacts are still being tested.’

’Six months.’

’Keep going.’

________________________________________

He was at the training ground in the late afternoon.

Not the full sequence — the advanced form Hector had shown him, working through the footwork at the second position. The weight forward before the sword. He had it now on most repetitions. On the eighth he lost it and found it on the ninth.

Arsini appeared at the gate.

She came in and stood near the wall. She was carrying three tablets and had the look of someone who had come to the training ground specifically — not passing through.

He finished the ninth repetition and lowered the sword.

"The knowledge catalogue," she said. "Deia’s first session with the water women. She came to me afterward."

"How was it."

"She said: they knew I was serious because I wrote down everything they said. Not just the conclusions. The reasoning."

"She recorded the reasoning."

"Everything. Including when two of the women disagreed with each other. She wrote the disagreement as part of the record." Arsini looked at her tablet. "She said: the disagreement is where the knowledge is most alive."

’The disagreement is where the knowledge is most alive,’ Lysander thought.

He set the sword against the wall.

"The Mycenaean envoy," Arsini said. "He left this morning."

"Yes."

"The session enrollment. The observation families. Two more re-enrollments this week." She made a note. "I thought you should know. Given the day."

He looked at her.

’Given the day,’ he thought. ’A day when the second envoy arrived and the comfortable time ended and the six-month clock became visible. She is telling me: the schools are still building. The re-enrollments are still happening. The other current runs alongside this one.’

"Thank you," he said.

She held the tablet.

"The advanced form," she said. "The footwork at the second position. You have it on most repetitions."

"Eight of ten today."

"It was five of ten last week."

"Yes."

She looked at him for a moment — the quiet look, the one past recalibration.

"Eight of ten," she said. "On a day like today."

She went out.

He stood in the training ground.

’Eight of ten,’ he thought. ’She came to the training ground to tell me two things. One was about Deia. One was about eight of ten.’

’And neither of those was what she came to say.’

’The thing she came to say was: I know what today was. I see you anyway.’

He picked up his shard.

Hector came to the briefing room at the third hour.

He had the assessment in his head, not on clay. Lysander had learned this about Hector over two years — he did not commit military calculations to tablets. He ran them, checked them, ran them again, and then spoke them from memory. The tablets were for administration. The calculations were his.

Priam was already seated. Lysander along the wall.

Hector stood.

He said: "Troy’s current defensive capacity is sufficient to repel an initial assault on the walls. That is the best part of this assessment. Everything else is more complicated."

He paused. Priam did not move.

"The combined force — Troy, Lycia, Caria, using the military commitments we have discussed — can hold the walls against a Mycenaean coalition assault for an extended period. The walls are sound. The harbor barrier limits approach from the sea. The coastal watch network gives us early warning. These advantages are real."

"But," Priam said.

"A sustained siege is a different problem. Agamemnon does not need to breach the walls. He needs to wait. If he controls the sea approaches — which his naval capacity currently allows — he interrupts our supply lines. The fleet we are building would change that equation. The fleet we currently have does not."