She crossed her arms. “You mean I have my first job. I don’t see you running head first into these jobs of yours.”

“Ah, but you do it so well.” She couldn’t really argue with that. “And this is a simple job for a lot of drachmae.” He raised his eyebrows knowing he’d said the magic word.

Drachmae. With enough of it she would be free. To do what she wanted, go where she wanted. But no one on Kephallonia had drachmae to spare. And what little she earned she had to use for food. There was only so long she could survive on nothing but bread and water.

“Fine.” She finally succumbed. “What is it?”

“It’s a job so simple you could do it in your sleep.”

Ikaros, perched on the roof above them, squawked in disapproval. “See, even Ikaros knows you’re not telling the truth.”

He gasped putting his hand on his heart. “You wound me! Thaddeus and Lysandra’s nieces are visiting from Athens but with the newborn they can’t meet them at the harbour. All you need to do is make sure they get to Thaddeus and Lysandra untouched.”

Kassandra narrowed her eyes. Escorting two sisters? For drachmae. It almost sounded too easy. “How much?”

“Two hundred drachmae.”

Two hundred? That was a lot of drachmae for a simple walk from the harbour to the other side of Kephallonia.

“Think about it Kassandra, two hundred drachmae for us!”

“You mean for me?”

“Well, yes, but I need to be paid for the loan of my equipement.” Markos explained.

“What equipment?”

“Well…” Markos said slowly and scratched the back of his head. “Well, you’re going to need a better weapon than that butter knife you carry around.” He nodded towards the knife strapped to her hip. Markos had given it to her when she first started ‘helping’ him with his errands. It had served her well so far.

“What’s wrong with this one?”

“That one?” His voice went up a few notes, the way it always did when he was about to convince her about something. “What are you going to do with that one? Cut bread?” He shook his head.

“It killed a most ferocious goat the other week…”

“Kassandra, you’re eighteen now. And adult. A little old for a measly knife, don’t you think?”

Perhaps he did have a point. But how much would Markos charge for a new, improved weapon? “What do you have for me instead?”