Jesh was sitting next to a handsome guy with a well-groomed beard (probably the groom) and a girl with a white cloth over her face (clearly the bride). But the one who really got my attention was the woman sitting right beside my old acquaintance — the way she scanned the crowd, she might as well have had unique eyes.
That's her… that's The mother of that Rabbi guy from… somewhere. Well… those eyes, huh?
Outta nowhere, that same dude reappeared right next to me and started running his mouth again.
Man, you're like a walking tour guide or somethin'. Know everyone around here, huh? — I said, and he flashed a proud-ass grin: Damn straight! I know everybody. Folks call me Bacchus, by the And you are?
Greek, huh? — I ignored his question and threw one back at
That's me! Just got here I, uh… I sample booze in different cities and countries. And lemme tell ya — this place? Fuckin' sewer water.
We chuckled, and he punched me in the shoulder.
You ain't bad, I'll give you Listen, if you're ever in Greece, come to one of our festivals for Demeter and Persephone. Shit's wild. They call it the Eleusinian Mysteries. Total banger. Everyone gets high on brain-fogging grains and fucks their brains out.
Productive use of time! — I You bet your ass! It's all in honor of the fertility goddesses, after all. Anyway, who else you curious about? That big guy over there with the gut — that's Folks call him "the Bull," but only behind his back. Dude packs a punch, you feel me? Fair warning.
And why the hell should I care? — I squinted and took a good hard look at this chatty little
His hair was curled and probably soaked in every kind of oil in the market, screaming "I'm no
peasant," but his nose… that poor thing had been kicked halfway off his face — broken in two spots at least. So who was he?
Well, I saw you starin' at them, didn't I? So, Figured you were curious. Let's keep going: see that bouncy dude on the bench? That's Bartholomew. Happy little bastard, always grinning.
Folks call him Parti — and he loves it. Couple seats down there's Philip — silk cap, eatin' with little sticks.
Whoa! Where's he from?
No Definitely not local. How 'bout you? Where you from?
Bit too many questions from a so-called "random passerby." I turned to tell him off — but nope, he didn't vanish in a puff of smoke like in the old stories. Just stood there, grinning like an idiot. So I gave him a polite nod, thanked him for the info, and moved toward where I actually needed to be.
Just don't go overboard with the wine! Shit'll lay you out hard! — he yelled after
Yeah,
I wouldn't say the loggia blew me away. I'd seen more luxurious setups back when I was working for my old boss. But I did like the embroidered wall hangings — all these ritual scenes and weird- ass legendary beasts. Classy. Real conversation starters for the high-society crowd. Still, what really got my attention was the very real smell of roast goat — fuckin' delicious. Not even the heavy incense smoke curling out of every damn corner could cover it up.
The long table was packed with folks stuffing their faces — everyone except a select few, including (you guessed it) Jesh. He was sitting there, staring into a copper bowl of water like it was gonna show him something — the past? A vision of joy he's clearly never experienced? Hard to say, but his face looked like it lost a bet with happiness a long time ago.
And I wasn't the only outsider around. Under the table — where dogs usually sit, waiting for scraps
some poor guy was sprawled out, sighing dramatically:
Just a few slices of meat… that's all I Just a few…
One of the rich dudes — clearly from the low-budget nobility branch — belched like a bullfrog and waved a finger at him:
You squeal again, I'll have you dragged outta here for good! Actually, y'know what — get this trash outta my sight, now! And where the fuck is my drink?! Why the hell are all the cups empty?! Hey! Servants!
He shook an empty goblet and smacked it down on the table with a satisfying thwack.
That thwack seemed to rattle more than just the table — the poor little servant boy flinched like he'd been shot. Kid was wearing some kind of Franken-jacket stitched together from two completely different blankets. He started nervously gnawing at his fingernails, then dove headfirst into a massive stone jar, nearly toppling into it.
Balancing like a champ, he popped back up and stammered:
Uh… s-sorry, sirs, there's… uh… nothing left! It's all gone! I swear! The chubby nobleman flared up again: What's this nonsense?! I won't have empty cups on my table!
Before he could say more, a woman's voice spoke up nearby — I hadn't noticed her before. She'd kept her face hidden under a greenish hood, but now she threw it back and revealed a sharp, high- cheekboned face with piercing dark eyes, the kind that had crow's feet not from laughter, but from staring into the abyss for too long. Her hair was braided into two thick ropes, draped down over each shoulder.
And I gotta say — I hated her voice instantly. It was flat, hollow, like it wasn't even a living person talking, but maybe the Delphic Oracle herself phoning it in:
The Mori (the Teacher) will lift this burden from In return, all he asks is that this new wine be shared not only among the rich, but also with the people of the city. And that anyone who hungers — truly hungers — be given food.
The noble belched again and wiped meat-grease from his lips:
Fine! If he conjures up some damn wine, let the rabble
Jesh got up. Quietly. Without fanfare. And walked alone toward the vessels. Uh-oh.
Something clenched inside me and did a couple backflips. Here we go again. Another trick from this sneaky miracle worker?
Yep. Predictable, but still impressive as hell — and effective.
He touched the first amphora the same way he'd slapped my forehead that one time: with the back of his hand, like he was about to karate-chop it in half. Then he did the same to the others. And just like that, he turned and walked calmly back to his seat.
The boy-servant — and a few curious drunks — scrambled after him.