Enchanted Fire

by Roberta Gellis

  Phrontes urged them toward the north bank, then east a way, to a pier that was empty. He and his brothers leapt ashore as soon as the ship came to rest, Kytissoros and Melas taking the ropes that Jason’s men threw them to tie up the boat, and Phrontes and Argos walking to meet several men who were hurrying toward them. Fortunately, the time aboard had restored Phrixos’ sons to their normal weight and strength, and the crew had contributed a fund for them to buy decent clothing so they were recognized immediately. From the enthusiasm with which they were greeted, they were considerable favorites. This did not surprise Eurydice, whose Gift had insisted they were nice and likeable young men, but it was reassuring to have her Gifted sense of them affirmed.

  She was also glad that over the weeks they had traveled together the opinion of Phrixos’ sons about her had changed. At first they had been very wary of her, even after she had Healed the wounds the steel-winged birds of Aretias had inflicted on them, but little by little her easy relationship with the crew seemed to reassure them. Eurydice came to the opinion that it was not the Gifted in general that they feared and distrusted but some particular person, probably a woman, who was also a witch.

  Meanwhile Jason had been introduced to the proper harbor official, and a messenger had been sent off to the palace to inform Aietes that his grandsons had returned on a stranger’s ship. While the response to this message was awaited, Jason made arrangements for the docking of his ship and divided the crew into watches with a standard arrangement—one day on, one off, starting at sunset. Eurydice, Orpheus, and Mopsus were excluded from the rosters of the watches; if Aietes sent for Phrixos’ sons and their rescuers, the three selected would accompany Jason, Eurydice and Mopsus as his Seers and Orpheus as representative of the crew.

  So swift was the response to the message that the men had scarcely had time to scrape away half-grown beards, change their clothes into less sea-stained garments, and smooth their hair. Eurydice had no beard and could ignore her hair, which she had trimmed only a few days past, but she lingered so long about choosing what to wear that she was done no sooner than they. She settled at last, not on the red dress, but on one of a misty blue green, trimmed only with a thin line of gold leaves along the neckline, the edges of the sleeves, and the hem. It was made of a fine, almost gossamer fabric, but the climate was so warm that she had no need of a cloak. On the chance that they would be delayed in the palace until night, when it might turn cool, she cast over her shoulders a silky shawl of dark blue with an iridescent sheen, something that Orpheus had purchased for her in Salmydessus.

  She started toward Orpheus, who would lift her to the deck, then stopped, remembering the magic she could not feel. Better safe than sorry. From a little pouch in her clothing basket, she drew forth the two amulets she had purchased in Salmydessus. They had been recharged—but not with love spells. Eurydice’s eyes slid toward Orpheus, who was just setting an elaborate pin into a light cloak and she grinned. She felt no need for love spells. Knowing that Colchis was a land of magic, she had charged the amulets with the strongest spells of protection against ensorcellment that she could devise. As Orpheus turned to ask if she were ready, she looped the thong of one around her neck and brought the other to him. He raised an eyebrow but did not argue, slipping the amulet over his head and tucking it away under his tunic.

  When they reached the palace, which was actually above and beyond the city, the value of Phineus’ advice once more became apparent. Without the company of Phrixos’ sons, there was no saying how long it would have taken them to get in, or if they ever would have reached the king. The outer gate was open, and through it, they could see the enormous building, gleaming with polished marble, with gilded cornices and designs inset in contrasting stone. It made ridiculous the greatest palaces in Greece. There were a pair of guards at the open gate. Farther along the wall were other entrances, every one guarded, and each, she soon learned, for one purpose only. The guards took this literally and forced those without certain “keys” to obey the conventions.

  Eurydice thought if they had been alone they would have been sent from one gate to another, none being the “right gate” for them, until they gave up. As it was, when the guard at the nearest gate pointed his spear at them and told them they had not right of entry there, Kytissoros merely laughed, made a gesture and spoke a single harsh word (Eurydice thought it was in the same language that Melas had used to chant them through the rock and fog illusion). The guard pulled back the spear, but held it athwart the entrance while his head turned to examine those with Kytissoros. When Eurydice saw his eyes her breath drew in. The eyes were not human. They were bright, faceted stones.

  “I am Kytissoros, son of Chalkiope. I have entry to King Aietes at any time and all times, and so do my brothers, Argos, Phrontes, and Melas.”

  “True,” the guard said, “but you have strangers with you.”

  “Mark them,” Kytissoros said, and added another word in the harsh, unknown tongue. “They are Jason.” He drew Jason forward, and each of the others in turn as he said their names. “These folk are with the sons of Phrixos,” he added, “who guarantee their behavior in the palace of Aietes.”

  Mopsus had shuddered when the faceted eyes fell on him and whispered, “That is not a man.”

  If the guard heard, he gave no sign of it, but Phrontes nodded. “They are perfect guardians,” he explained, as he urged them through the gate past the now quiescent guard. “They are impervious to bribery or sympathy, they cannot be distracted, and it is almost impossible to kill them. Moreover, what is done to one is felt by all, so if a guard is attacked, others rush to his assistance. In the same way, what is told to one is told to all. They are not clever, but their memories are faultless, and they recognize people not by their appearance, but by some inner seeing of their own.”

  “But what are they?” Mopsus insisted. “I said they were not men. I do not believe they even live, as we and the beasts of this earth know life.”

  Phrontes shrugged. “Ask Aietes—or his daughter,” he said.

  Whatever shock the guards had given to Jason and his companions was utterly overlaid by their closer view of the palace. A large area paved with well-set black slabs seemed to extend all the way around the enormous building. Within this area, servants hurried along, some carrying bundles of various kinds, others drawing small carts, which moved with little noise. Beyond the paved area was a wide portico of white marble, which also seemed to go all around the building, to which white marble steps ascended. The palace itself was of darker stone, beautifully veined and polished so that it reflected the white of the portico and steps. The entrance was closed by brazen doors, three men high.

  People stood talking on the portico, a few sitting on the steps well out of the way of the doors. Those paid no attention to others who approached the doors. They did not open, but the people who came near them seemed to disappear. Eurydice “felt” for magic but sensed none, remembering with a faint chill that she had felt none until she saw the beam of light when Melas had broken the illusion. Seemingly, these people used a kind of magic that was invisible to her. That was rather frightening, but then she began to wonder whether her magic would be as invisible to them. There could be great advantage in that, and yet, if it was invisible, would that make her an outcast here, as she was elsewhere?

  As their party approached the portico, several people broke off their conversations or sprang up to greet Phrixos’ sons. A few showed sufficient relief—and one woman commented so fervently on how glad she was to see them alive and well—that new doubts about Aietes good will to them leapt into Eurydice’s mind. She said nothing, being certain that Jason would be as aware of the implications and as suspicious as she. There was also the fact that Aietes (or was it someone else?) had entrusted Phrixos’ sons with the spell to dispel the illusion along the coast. Moreover, the guards clearly had been ordered to give them entry and even to trust them freely to bring in others.

  Meanwhile, Phrixos’ sons had wasted li
ttle time on their greetings, telling everyone that their grandfather awaited them and urging Jason and the others up the portico stairs. Eurydice, who had been bracing herself for some kind of magical transport, almost laughed when she saw the answer to those who disappeared as they approached the great doors. To either side of them, were small, human-sized entrances that went completely unnoticed because of the overwhelming majesty of the central doors. This time it was Argos who spoke the single harsh word that made the door open. Eurydice listened intently, lowered her eyes to the floor to shut out distractions, and repeated the word over and over in her mind as the others filed in ahead of her. She did not know whether the command word would work the spell from the inside, or even if the spell would respond to anyone, but she felt the need to learn it, in case their party wished to leave without an escort.

  It was just as well that she had a quick and retentive memory, Eurydice thought, when she raised her eyes to look down the short corridor that led from the door. Had she not, that spell word would have been lost to her in the amazement she felt. Wonderful outside, the palace was more marvelous within. A wide hallway stretched left and right. Again, Eurydice suspected, although she could not see the ends from where she stood, that it wrapped all the way around the palace. Facing them were another pair of bronze doors, but these were not so large and were open into an enormous chamber, floored and pillared with a pale green-veined marble.

  Little as she could see of the great hall, Eurydice was so fascinated that she jumped when she heard a harsh challenge. Orpheus, beside her, jumped, too. Neither of them had realized that the end of the corridor opened on the right into a guard room within which was one of the inhuman guards.

  Kytissoros answered the challenge in the same words he had used at the outer gate. Again Eurydice tried to commit the command words to memory, although she was less hopeful this time, not of recalling the command, but of whether the guards would allow them to pass without some approved escort. She put the worry aside as they followed the sons of Phrixos across the hallway and into the great chamber.

  Although it was lit by myriad witch-lights—softly glowing balls that hung from the ceiling—the chamber was rather dim. Together with the green veining in the marble of the floor and the many pillars, Eurydice felt as if she had entered an old forest. She stared around, thinking of the way the doors had opened, of the guards, and of the many, many lights in the chamber. Clearly this was a place in which magic was not feared and suppressed. It was used as casually as a knife or a cup. The expended Power was enormous; it must almost equal that of divine Olympus, she thought, and shuddered—because she could sense none of it.

  Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard. In unconscious reaction to her fear, she reached for her own Power. Relief flooded her in combination with the accustomed warm flow. She had been terrified that she would not find her own Goddess’s power in Colchis, would feel the same emptiness she found when she tried to sense the spells of Colchian magic. With a much lighter heart, Eurydice followed the others along an avenue of pillars toward a central dais.

  The dais sat in an area empty of pillars which was much more brightly lit than the rest of the room. Looking upward, Eurydice stopped dead for a moment. The central area was covered by a high dome of clear crystal! It was impossible, but it was there. Orpheus, who had also looked up, bumped into her. The collision brought their eyes to one another and they stared at each other for a moment. Jason was about to challenge the man who ruled this. With a conscious effort, both began to walk forward again, but now they went hand in hand for comfort.

  Nothing was familiar. Even the dais was not placed as was common in a megaron. It did not face down the length of the chamber but across the width toward the long wall to their left. The reason for this became apparent as soon as they entered the open space. Beyond it was another avenue, like the one they had walked along, but coming from a second set of doors at the other end of the room. No danger would threaten those on the dais from the rear, however. In the space between the dais and the right-hand wall was a phalanx of the inhuman guards.

  Those on the dais—Eurydice’s gaze flicked from the guards to the more important, dominating figures. One sat in a tall chair, almost certainly King Aietes, a big man with a wealth of brown hair and beard flecked with gray. To his left she saw a tall woman in a gown of shimmering white. The whole group had continued walking while Eurydice took in the sight. As they came closer, Aietes got to his feet and hurried down the two steps of the dais to hold out his arms.

  “Argos! Phrontes! Kytissoros! And my dear, dear Melas! How glad I am to see you safe and whole, home again.”

  He embraced the young men one after the other, and Mopsus touched Jason’s arm, murmuring, “He means it—or he has such command of sorcery that he can paint false feeling on his soul.”

  Eurydice nodded in agreement, but even as she did, she felt a faint cold. Her eyes flashed up, back to the dais where the woman still stood beside the chair. And there her gaze stopped, riveted by a rich, sultry beauty that she had never seen equalled. A wealth of hair, blue-black but interspersed with hair-thin gold and silver chains holding myriad jewels, curled softly about a perfectly heart-shaped face, poured over milk-white shoulders and down a rod-straight back. The nose was fine and straight, the mouth very full and very red, the lips parted just a little to show white teeth—Eurydice blinked. Those teeth were the one fault in the woman, just a little too small and with sharp points, as if they had been filed… And then Eurydice could no longer resist looking at the woman’s eyes, which she had previously avoided. They were, as she had known they would be, gorgeous, spellbinding—and terrifying: they were large, almond-shaped, tilted up a little at the outer corners, and almost colorless, except for the black pupil and a clear ring of black around the pale iris.

  “My daughter, Medea,” King Aietes said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eurydice started. She had been so fascinated by Medea’s beauty—and the faint, faint coldness that emanated from her—that she had not realized the mutual greetings were over and one of Phrixos’ sons had introduced Jason to King Aietes. The king, in turn, had named the woman on the dais. Medea’s eyes, which had been fixed on Aietes and the sons of Phrixos, who were standing in a close group now facing Jason and his party, suddenly shifted.

  Feeling a surge of panic, Eurydice touched the amulet she had revitalized with a strong protective spell. In the next moment, she felt foolish. First of all, there was no reason at all to feel threatened. Second, the woman’s eyes touched her and passed, fixing on Jason, beside whom Eurydice happened to be standing. To Jason, Medea nodded graciously. Jason nodded also, blue eyes bright as a sunlit sky, smiling his most winning smile. For one heartbeat there was no response. Then, slowly, Medea’s full, red lips curved into an answering smile. Color mantled into Eurydice’s cheeks. That was some smile! Medea might just as soon have invited Jason into her bed aloud.

  Anxiously, Eurydice looked at Aietes, but either he could not read his daughter’s invitation or he did not care. That was possible. There were places in Thrace where a husband would beg a visiting “hero” to lie with his daughters and sometimes even with his wife, to make them pregnant. Meanwhile, Argos had been explaining that he and his brothers had never reached Thebes and would never have lived to return to Colchis, either, had Jason not rescued them from Aretias. The king promptly turned to Jason, who dragged his eyes away from Medea with some effort, to thank him and offer him a reward for saving his grandsons and for going who knew how far out of his way to bring them home.

  Jason shook his head. “We are quits already,” he said. “I did not go out of my way to bring them home. I was seeking Colchis and the sons of Phrixos found it for me. That is reward enough for the little I and my crew did.” He smiled very slightly. “After all, we had to fight the birds to preserve our own lives, and more harm might have come to us had not your grandsons shouted a warning.”

  “Nonetheless,” Aietes said, “t
o me it is a great thing that they are home safe and worth a reward to those who brought them.”

  “And there are many kinds of rewards.”

  The voice was like heavy silk, smooth and warm, slipping softly and gently into the ear as sch cloth slipped through the hands. Jason turned his head and seemed transfixed at finding Medea, who had come soundlessly down from the dais, beside him. Eurydice had stepped back out of Medea’s way and caught only a glimpse of his profile, but even so she could not miss the fulling of his lips and the sidelong glance that betrayed his hunger.

  Then he shook his head again. “I cannot take any reward.” His voice was thick. “I am pledged to my uncle, Pelias, who is king of Yolcos, to bring back from Colchis the golden fleece that belonged to Phrixos and was sacrificed in exchange for sanctuary here.”

  Eurydice could feel Orpheus stiffen beside her and heard Mopsus’ indrawn breath. Jason had chosen the least offensive words he could, not accusing Aietes of theft or murder, but he had said very clearly that he came to take a treasure of Colchis. Aietes did not look angry, however; he looked astonished and then began to laugh.

  “I do not know what tale you heard of Phrixos’ coming to Cholchis, but it seems the truth has become sadly garbled over the years and the distance. The fleece itself, for example, wasn’t gold when Phrixos brought it here. Well, it was sort of yellow, but not gold the way you mean it. It was on the beast he was riding—the strangest creature I’ve ever seen. It was big as an ox and with horns like an ox, but with this wonderful fleece that was finer than that on any sheep in the world. And long—as long as my arm. And we didn’t sacrifice the beast. We would have been fools to sacrifice an animal with fleece like that. Phrixos knew of no such command, or if he did, he did not tell me.”

  Jason frowned. “Phrixos gave you the beast?”