I BLIND TRUST THE HARSH CRIES OF his mother’s birth pains were too heartrending for Telemakos to bear, and he had fled the house. He spent the morning in the lion pit at the New Palace with Solomon and Sheba. Telemakos had caught the emperor’s lions himself, as cubs, six years ago. He had no responsibility for them; Nezana, the royal lion keeper, saw to that. But they knew Telemakos better than anyone, and he loved them. Today the great gold-and-black-pelted male, Solomon, was restless too, which was unlike him. Telemakos thought the lion must have picked up his mood. Usually Solomon never did anything but sleep, though on a good day he would indulge Telemakos like a cub; he would let Telemakos sit astride his back and cling to his mane as he loped gently around the pit’s perimeter, or would chase colored wooden balls through the sand, retrieving them and dropping them at Telemakos’s feet like a dog. Today Solomon would not stay still from one half minute to the next. This was frustrating, because Telemakos wanted comfort. Sheba was always an aloof and independent creature and would tolerate attention only a little at a time, but Telemakos counted on lazy, doggish Solomon to return his affection. Telemakos wandered away from his disloyal friend, unconsoled. He leaped lightly onto the first of the stepping-stones that wound across the lions’ trout pool.