Ithacles snapped the book closed in one hand, adding final punctuation to his brother's entry. His stomach felt like water and his knees were getting close to the same. Reading a dead man's journal felt wrong, and what it said felt worse.
"Even if Pathacles was some sort of...How? How could a man long dead hold this sort of sway? It obviously cannot be him behind any plans--especially not the kind of plans that fail."
He tucked the journal under his arm and waited for a response to what he thought was the most obvious question. A man dead long enough to become no more than bones and memories couldn't possibly organize any sort of coup.