He didn’t know how much of this exchange would be audible in the factory, and he could only pray that Varazda wouldn’t show himself. No one could be confused about whose side he was on.
“Who are you, anyway?” one of the students asked with a doubtful frown. “Are you from the Marble Porches? Whose student?”
“I was at the Marble Porches,” another one spoke up. “I’ve never seen him.”
“I’m not a student,” Damiskos answered while Eurydemos struggled uselessly in his grip, making affronted noises. “I’m a soldier. I’m here to talk to Helenos about the documents he stole from the Sasian embassy.”
He felt rather clever as he was saying this, but when the words were met by stunned silence, he realized he’d made a tactical error. They hadn’t known about the theft.
“Are you calling Helenos Kontia
