Somewhat regretfully, for she hated to forgo the intense pleasure she had felt, Eurydice erected barriers against spells of seduction—and was amazed, when the musician began to sing and play again, at how very little effect her barriers had. The beauty of voice and music was unchanged. No spell had created the power of that song, only skill and artistry.
Nonetheless, there was a change. Ravished as she still was, Eurydice could think through her pleasure now. So the musician did have Power. He was not using it purposely; some had just leaked through and had caught her, probably because she too was Gifted. She was almost sure it would not have touched an ungifted person.
During another long break, while the musician muttered and scored with a sharp stick on a tablet he held on his knee, Eurydice began to wonder whether his shipmates knew he was Gifted? Did he know himself? If the other men knew, there was some hope they would not try to hurt her or sacrifice her, although what might be acceptable in a male might be forbidden in a female. Still, a Gifted male might be more sympathetic than an ungifted one. And if he did not know, could she use that as a weapon to secure his protection?
He began to sing again, and she listened more to the words this time than to the simple beauty of the sound. He was putting into song the tale of the women of Lemnos. Ah, yes, the seer, Idmon, had said they had spent nearly a year with the women of Lemnos, who had—great Goddess—murdered all the men on the island! Later they had realized their mistake in being so thorough, so when the Argo came ashore, they had greeted the shipload of men with open arms. A tale of men away sufficed at first, and before it occurred to anyone to wonder why there were not even male babies, the women had made them drunk, taken their weapons, made them prisoner, and demanded that they father children.
Eurydice blinked, common sense breaking through her charmed acceptance of the song when the musician stopped to record or change some new phrases. How did one make prisoner a giant like Heracles? Or a man with the strength of will of Jason? Drugs perhaps? More likely simple blandishment and the swift offer of sexual favors would have sufficed if the men did not at first know why the island was without males. But men were frequently self-deceived about women. How the women of Lemnos had accomplished their purposes was less important than the realization that the singer, although he did not condone what they had done, still managed to convey some sympathy for the women themselves, asking what heinous thing the men had done to drive their women to such desperate violation of all natural law.
This time when the singer paused, Eurydice’s decision had been made, and she pushed boldly through the brush. The sound drew his attention, but he did not seem at all surprised or discomfited, until he actually saw Eurydice. In the moments before she came into view, he turned his head toward the noise she was making and looked mildly inquiring, which made Eurydice reasonably sure that he had not been hiding himself from the other men to conceal his Gift but had merely withdrawn to practice so he would not interfere with his companions’ work. He was accepted, then. It was that which decided her to tell no tale, only the truth—if perhaps not all the truth.
“Singer,” she said, as she came out of the brush, stopping out of reach, “why did you draw me from my purpose?”
The expression of surprise on his face became mingled with a trace of chagrin. “I did not mean to,” he said. “I thought I was alone, and—” He stopped, stared. “How did you know I could draw you? I was not singing magic.”
That the musician so freely admitted to knowing he could use Power was a confirmation of Eurydice’s decision to tell this man the truth. If she were fortunate, he would be willing to be her protector, which would keep her safe from the other men. If he was not what he seemed, she would be able to run off into the woods and have time to consider a new approach or to decide if she must chance finding a less dangerous way to escape.
“Because Gift answers Gift,” Eurydice said. “I, too, have some small Power, which is why I am here in rags and starving.” There was no need to tell him about Baltaseros, she thought; the knowledge of how strong she was could only make him uneasy. “I was blamed for what I had not done, as the Gifted often are, and driven out. Others, not satisfied with my banishment, determined on my death and pursued me, so I fled into the forest. Now I am trapped here.”
“I am sorry,” he said. “Some of my people are even less kind to the Gifted, so I understand. I do not see how I can help you—”
“You can,” she interrupted. “You can save my life by taking me with you on your ship. This is only a spit of land, perhaps a few leagues wide, and not inhabited. If they wish, the villages to the north can combine their men and sweep the forest until they find me. I have been to the end of the land and there is no way off except by sea.”
The singer wrinkled his brow. “I wish I could help, but I do not think Jason would be willing to take a woman… Wait, you said I had drawn you from a purpose. What purpose?”
Eurydice smiled. “The purpose of getting aboard the ship. Actually, I was gathering mushrooms while I tried to think of a way to go among all those men and tell them I had something to sell—”
“We do not need or want that!” the singer said sharply.
Eurydice stared at him for a moment, her luminous eyes suddenly without light, flat as polished stones. Then she raised her brows and asked sweetly, “You do not want to know how to reach Colchis?”
“Colchis!” the singer echoed, rising to his feet. “You know the way to Colchis?”
Slowly Eurydice shook her head. On sufferance, as she would be if they took her at all, she had better not be caught in any lie. “I do not, but I do know the name and dwelling place of a man who has directed others to Colchis.”
“Who is it?
This time Eurydice’s headshake was fast and firm. “Oh, no, the name and place is all I have with which to pay my passage. The reason I know the name is that I have long sought it in case I should—as I have done—fall into trouble and need a haven. I wish to go to Colchis myself. Aietes, the king, has a daughter named Medea, who is a great witch. It is in my mind that if he suffers her to practice her art so that rumors of it fly abroad, he will not be so quick to condemn a practitioner of small Power. I am not so heavy a burden, nor do I eat and drink so much, that you cannot take me aboard on the promise of information. If I have lied, you can toss me overboard or abandon me anywhere, so I will not have gained anything from my lie, and you will have lost little.”
The singer frowned, clearly not pleased with her answer, but at last he shrugged and said, “I suppose what you say is reasonable. My name is Orpheus. I will take you to Jason, who is the captain of the Argo. What is your name?”
“Eurydice.”
Chapter Two
Although Eurydice felt some trepidation when Orpheus slid the cithara into its case and came toward her—she hated to be touched—he did not, in fact, reach out to seize her. Instead, he offered his cloak to her at arm’s length, explaining that he preferred that none of the men see who and what she was before he had a chance to talk to Jason. He gestured toward the other side of the clearing and said he would take her to the ship.
“Jason is not there,” she told him. “He is with the men at the river who are filling the water casks.”
“How do you know that?” he asked suspiciously.
Eurydice laughed. “Not from practicing witchcraft. I heard voices when I was going to the river to drink. I thought it was those pursuing me, so I hid and listened. That was how I learned that you wished to go to Colchis.”
Orpheus nodded, although his expression was still wary. “If you know where they are, lead the way.”
To Eurydice’s surprise, they were even closer to the party collecting water than she had believed. The music, she thought as she cast a wondering glance at the singer beside her, must have overcome all other sounds. Nor had she needed to disturb him with her knowledge of where Jason was. Apparently, they would have had as good a chance of finding Jason at the ship as here, since he
and another man were just putting down the empty cask they had carried between them to the riverbank. But somehow she had not expected Jason to share the common tasks with the other men and she had not thought of him carrying casks back and forth.
Orpheus touched her shoulder. “Stay here,” he said softly. Then he went forward through the trees and called, “Jason.”
The blond man turned and smiled. “Have you the song perfect then? Will we hear it tonight?”
The singer returned the smile. “No song is ever perfect, but you will hear it when you wish.” Then he came close enough to speak in a voice that would not be heard by the other men, who were still laughing and joking while they worked. “I have a different thing to present to you now, however. I have found a person who claims to know another who can direct us to Colchis.”
“Found? In these woods? There has not been a sign of life other than animals. Is there a village farther inland?”
“About a village I do not know, but I do not think so. The person I have found is a fugitive—a Gifted one.”
Orpheus frowned as he spoke. That was the second time he had said person instead of woman. He knew why, of course, Jason was particularly soured on females, having had to flee Lemnos without even full water casks. If he admitted Eurydice was a woman, Jason might not be willing even to ask what she knew. What surprised Orpheus was his desire to protect the girl.
“Gifted?” Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Dangerous?”
“No harm was done to me, and the great ones seldom need to run away and get ragged and dirty hiding in caves and bushes, so I think not.” He gestured with his head to where he had left Eurydice. “Over there.”
Jason started off at once with Orpheus on his heels. He blinked at the diminutive figure totally swallowed up in Orpheus’ cloak. “Orpheus says you know the way to Colchis,” he said.
Under the hood a head was shaken. “No, I never said that. I said I knew the name and dwelling place of a man who could give directions to Colchis.”
“That is not so good, but if your price is not too high, I will pay for the information.”
“My price is very low. No more than passage on your ship and food and water to sustain me until we reach our goal. I wish to go to Colchis too.”
“Why? Because you heard me speak of the place and thus pretended to know the way so we would take you away from what, for all I know, is a deserved punishment?”
“I am not that stupid. Could you not drop me overboard as soon as you discovered that I had lied? I can prove I know more of Colchis than what I heard from you. It is a country strong in magic, ruled by King Aietes, who has at least one Gift, that of being able to harness to the plow the brazen-hoofed, fire-breathing oxen that ensure the fertility of his fields. It is said that land plowed by those oxen will grow anything planted in the furrows, bringing oak trees from acorns overnight. He may have other Gifts also, but even stronger than Aietes is his daughter Medea—and that is why I desire to go to Colchis. She who has both power and Power might well be willing to protect others who are also Gifted.”
“You seem to know more of Colchis than I,” Jason said less aggressively. “Of course, some of that you might have made up, but I know I did not name the king, and Aietes is king of Colchis. Well, tell me where we are to find the man who knows the way, and I will give you passage, boy.”
“Boy?” Eurydice threw back the cloak, exposing her well-developed body. “I am no boy and no fool either. It will cost you little to take me, so you have almost nothing to lose. If I tell you all I know now, why should you take me at all?”
“Because I said I would,” Jason snapped. “We are men of honor.”
Eurydice shrugged. “That may well be true, but how can I know it? I do not know you. I have only my two names—that of the man who knows the way to Colchis and that of his homeland—to bargain with. If I give them away, I have nothing. You are many and strong. You can punish me if you find that I have lied—”
“Can we?” Jason cut in. “Orpheus says you are Gifted How do I know what you could do to me, or my men, if I invited you aboard my ship?”
Eurydice burst out laughing. “Look at me! If I had great Power, do you think I would be dressed in rags, starving, and begging for your help? Would I not have bound you to obey me before you even knew I was watching from the forest? Yes, I have a Gift. I can find lost sheep. I can Heal—a little, not fatal wounds. I cannot draw back the dying from the shores of the Styx. And I often know when trouble will come if a certain path is taken—but not always.”
“We have two Seers with us already,” Jason said.
“I know that. Idmon almost found me. But I was not offering my skills to buy passage—not that I would withhold any art or knowledge I had if it could be of use. However, I am sure my Gifts are not so great that others in your crew cannot fulfill the same purposes. I offer only the two names as the price of a small space on the deck of your ship, a little water to drink and a little food to sustain me. I am not so large as to be a costly passenger.”
“What she says is true enough,” Orpheus said. “Do not let the fact that she is a woman blind you to the advantage of what she offers.”
“I could wring those names out of her—”
Eurydice gasped and leapt back as Orpheus cried, “No!” and put his body between her and Jason. But even as he did, it was plain that Jason had made no move to seize her and that what he said was no more than an expression of a momentary pique.
“Do not be such fools,” Jason growled. “If I intended to use force, would I not have agreed to anything she asked so I could seize her before I frightened her away?”
“That is not enough,” Orpheus said. “It was my decision to bring Eurydice to you, so it is my responsibility to see that she is safe from any harm that decision might cause. I will hear you swear you will use no means beyond allowing her passage on the Argo as far as Colchis to find out what she knows.”
For a long moment Jason stared into Orpheus’ eyes. There were few who did not wilt under that bright glare, but the singer’s face remained calmly indifferent. There was not the smallest indication in his expression that he knew or cared that Jason might be angry. One would think him an idiot, except that no one who sang and played as he did could be a fool. He was, Eurydice thought, a man of formidable courage. Jason shrugged and smiled. He had seen that courage already in other circumstances. It only surprised him when it opposed him personally.
“Very well,” he said, smiling again. “I swear.”
“What do you swear, my lord?” Eurydice asked from well back in the trees. “I want to get to Colchis unbruised and unused, in no worse state of heart and mind than when I came aboard your ship. If you will swear to that, I will come back. If you will not… I do not think you will be able to catch me.”
Jason laughed. “Oh you fools both! Is not a forced answer more often a lie than the truth? Yes, I swear that if Eurydice comes aboard the Argo she will arrive in Colchis unbruised and used in no way against her will, no worse in heart and mind from any cause I could prevent than when I first saw her. What I cannot promise is that she will be welcomed by the rest of the crew. Some are more bitter than I against women.”
“That is as it will be.” Orpheus agreed. “If the crew prefers to wander at large without a guide rather than take a woman aboard, that is acceptable to me. So long as the girl can go as freely as she came, whatever the rest decide I will be content.”
For a moment Eurydice stood staring at them, as surprised by Orpheus’ stated indifference to whether or not she would be accepted as she had been by his swift move to protect her. She shook her head slightly; this was not the moment to try to puzzle out his intentions. Then, without a second glance at her, Jason turned away and began to walk to where the men were still at work. After another momentary hesitation, one just long enough to pull Orpheus’ cloak around her again and murmur the look-past-me spell, except for the one word that would invoke it, she followed the two men. She did n
ot think she would need the spell. She had seen the crew’s response to Jason’s authority and did not doubt—if he kept his word—that she would be allowed to leave in peace if they would not take her. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry, and she kept a good distance between Jason and herself when she stepped out from under the trees.
He nodded when he saw her and gestured to the men in the water to come out, saying to Heracles, who was preparing to lift a full cask, “Leave it, Heracles. I have a problem to put to the crew. Orpheus has charmed a bird out of the forest, a bird that can sing a song of Colchis.” And then went on to tell them what Eurydice had promised and the price she had asked.
“It’s only a foreign boy,” Hylas’ whine protested. “Wring it out of him. I do not want another boy aboard.”
“I am not a boy,” Eurydice said, but this time she did not open the cloak to show her body.
“Then why is your hair cut short?” one of the men who had been in the water asked. “Dishonest whores are shaved.”
“I am not a whore,” she snapped. “I am selling information, not my body. You can judge my honesty for yourselves. As I said to Lord Jason, if you find me dishonest, you can drop me overboard. As to why my hair is short, it is to save me from being snatched at by such ‘honorable men’ as you, who pass judgment before you hear whether there has been a crime.”
“Why are we even talking about this?” Heracles’ deep voice asked. “If the girl desires passage away from this land, where she says she is in danger, we must take her.”
“Heracles!” Hylas cried. “Do you not care what I feel?”
“There is nothing for you to feel, sweet boy,” Heracles said, smiling at him. “She has nothing to do with you.”
Despite her tension and concern, Eurydice could not help noticing that the boy was again wearing his chiton and that it was quite dry. Apparently he had not, after all, been forced to help fill the casks. Then the little flicker of amusement was quenched by a light touch, not on her body but within it—a Seeking. She barely prevented herself from gathering her strength and thrusting it forth. It was a gentle, tentative touch, either designed not to force its way against resistance or lacking the Power to do so. In either case, it could not harm her and to thrust it out would imply she had something to hide and, worse, would expose her strength.
Enchanted Fire Page 2
