Both lay still, almost stunned by an explosively pleasurable physical reaction that had brought no pleasure at all and left no joy, no contentment. Eurydice still clung to Orpheus, but she knew he would soon pull away, disgusted.
“That was not me,” she whispered, her eyes full of tears. “I fought it as long as I could, but my own pleasure got all mixed up with it, and…”
“Let me go.” Orpheus rolled off her, but he did not turn away, as she had feared. He slid an arm under her neck and drew her close again. “It caught me, too.” He sighed. “It was something separate inside me, like a madman who loves pain driving me to wring pleasure from you at any cost. I had this terrible desire to bite your nipple off, to throw you on the floor and kick you, and most of all to use you like a boy. What was it?” He looked over his shoulder at the lamp-lit room.
“I am not sure. I do not think it was a spell. My amulet did not warm or cool. Besides, who would bother bespelling us to make love, which we would do anyway?”
“Medea?” Orpheus asked. “To make us angry and distrustful of each other when the fit was over?”
It was plain he did not care if Medea was “listening.” He wanted her to know they were aware of her intrusion and that it had not succeeded in its purpose. Eurydice did not care either. Despite the fact that she had made her plea to the Maiden, and what she and Orpheus had done accorded to no rite of Hers, Eurydice felt the Power of the Goddess stir within her. Likely, she could have warded off the lust that had nearly conquered her, but it was so mixed with her own need—and then she became aware that the fluttering in her belly was gone as was the prickling of her skin and the quivering inside her head.
“You may be right,” she said slowly, “but if you are, I do not think it was a deliberate spell cast at us. I suspect it was more a—a spilling over of what she was thinking? desiring? experiencing? Herself.” She went on to tell him of the odd sensations that had made her take the amulets to the temple and that had fastened on her when she entered the palace again. Then she said that they had stopped. “Is that because Medea is asleep? Is it possible that I am becoming attuned to the magic they use?”
Orpheus held her even closer. “I am glad we are coming to the end of this adventure,” he said. “Much longer and I will be raving against sorcery as rabidly as any peasant in Greece.”
Eurydice jerked away out of his arms. “You say that, and yet you desire that I come with you to Greece?”
Orpheus rubbed her cheek gently with his knuckles. “Oh, Eurydice, I might as well have said the peasants raved against learning or anything else. It is only a saying meaning the peasants are ignorant and has nothing to do with you anyway. You will be doing no sorcery. What sorcery is there to do in a small village? And the people of my village will know you and trust you.”
“Are you telling me that no Gifted person born and bred in a Greek village was ever sacrificed by those villagers to Hades?”
“Not in my village,” Orpheus said, his voice flat.
“You will destroy me,” Eurydice whispered.
“I will protect you,” Orpheus assured her, gathering her into his arms again.
Had it been any other night, Eurydice assured herself, she would have wrenched herself free and gone to sleep elsewhere. This night she could not leave him. There was the practical problem that she needed to go with him to pass out the amulets and speak to the crew who would try to follow Jason, Medea, and Aietes. And there was the need to be with him. Surely he would be safe, safer than Jason because he would be farther from the serpent and because she would be there, ready to protect him. If the serpent could be affected by her magic…if… Her own arms came up and hugged him as his hugged her. Eurydice closed her eyes savoring their closeness.
* * *
She woke alone, jerking upright in the bed when she realized that Orpheus had not simply turned away from her but was gone. Having reached out to him and found emptiness, she also discovered that the place hollowed by his weight was cool. He had been gone some time. It was black as pitch in the room. Orpheus must have put out the lamp, hoping she would sleep until wakened by the full light of day. Cursing him, she got out of the bed too, stumbling around in the dark to find the door to the outer chamber.
The fool! How would she find the crewmen to give them the amulets? Or had he taken them? A worse fool if he had The men must be warned that they must wear the things against their skin, that a warming or cooling of the trinket was a sign of magic directed against them, and that they must endure without snatching the amulets away if they grew very hot or very cold.
The dim light of a night lamp showed her the amulets were still in the pouch she had laid on the table—all except Orpheus’, which he had taken. Now rage flowed up Eurydice’s breast. So this was why he had not argued with her or extracted any promise from her to remain in Colchis! He thought he could just slip away.
The anger cleared away the panic, and she almost laughed. She would have no trouble finding the men—her feeling of desertion had made her forget her own skill—and Orpheus was ten times a fool if he thought he could escape a Finder of her ability and one who knew him so well. To reassure herself she cast out a Seeking and Found in a little wood to the west, not far outside the palace walls. Orpheus and Mopsus were together, talking. Around them were others.
Keeping her inner eye on her lover, Eurydice took the lighted lamp from the central chamber and went back to the bedchamber to dress herself and to gather their few items of clothing and other possessions. She and Orpheus would not be returning to the palace, although she knew that Aietes expected Jason to bring the fleece back there. She shook her head as the thought came into it. Jason had said he thought Aietes’ suggestion a wise idea—but he had never actually agreed that he would bring the fleece to Colchis.
As she folded her finest undertunic and thrust it into the leather bag that held her red dress, Eurydice wondered how much Medea knew—whether she had been able to penetrate the surface thoughts Jason wanted her to read, through the self-deception Jason himself did not know he practiced, to his real purposes. She obliterated the last two thoughts hastily, knowing she should not take the chance that such notions would be picked up by a seeking mind, and fixed her mind on the harmless idea that Aietes might be less welcoming to them once Jason obtained the fleece and the inn would be a safer lodging. Actually she was not much concerned; she felt none of the alarming tingles and quivers that had troubled her the day before and there was a kind of absence around her that hinted no one was “listening.”
Inside her head, she was aware that Orpheus had left Mopsus soon after she began packing. While she rolled his tunics and an extra pair of sandals into a large drying cloth, she had an image of him walking out of the wood and along its edge toward the wild lands north of the palace. Eurydice fastened everything together with two girdles—it did not make a large bundle—and slung it on her shoulder. She left the bedchamber, pausing to tie to her belt the pouch that lay on the table of the outer room. Orpheus was still walking but more slowly now, peering around through the gradually lessening dark as if looking for something. Eurydice hoped he would find it soon and settle down because she would have to leave her watch on him to Find Mopsus. She should be able to do that at any time, but what if the curtain of deceptions set on the path interfered with her Finding? She leapt toward the outer door needing to be near Orpheus physically—and the door opened, and Mopsus was there.
He was breathing heavily, as if he had been running, and he seemed very disconcerted to see her awake and dressed. “I came to wake you,” he said uneasily. “Orpheus had to—”
“Let us go,” Eurydice said. “You can take me to the men.”
Mopsus’ mouth opened, closed. He took the bundle from Eurydice’s shoulder and said hurriedly, “Yes, yes, the men. You are right. We must go out.”
He had remembered that Medea might be “listening” to their thoughts, and he babbled away about how much the crew had enjoyed staying in so civilized
and luxurious a city as Colchis, how reluctant they would be to leave it, how they were looking forward to the feasting and celebrations when Jason brought the fleece to the city. Eurydice could not help wondering what he was trying so desperately to hide, if it was not simply that he and his men would try to follow Jason to the serpent.
They had walked down the corridor nearly to the turn to the outer door when a psychic shriek of indescribable torment rang through Eurydice’s mind. Mopsus cried out just as Eurydice screamed and uselessly clapped her hands to her ears. Distant and dim a physical cry seemed to echo down the stairwell but it was nothing compared to the screaming that went on and on and on in her head, tearing at her. She stopped, shuddering and moaning, only to be jerked into motion by Mopsus who had seized her wrist and began to run.
“No,” she whimpered, “no. Someone’s soul is being twisted all awry. Let me—”
But Mopsus only ran faster, tightening his grip on her wrist until the pain of the bones grinding together brought some rationality to her. There was nothing she could do. She was blind and deaf to the magic of this place, although the anguish inflicted had been so enormous that it had, a little, broken through the barrier. It was fading already, the psychic shrieks of hate and agony dying out of her mind, and then Eurydice discovered that it must have been Aietes who had been attacked and cried out in his torment. The inhuman guard lay across the threshold, his faceted eyes black, as if they had been burnt out, the spell that bound him to such life as he had, broken.
“Holy Hera,” Mopsus breathed, “will the door be sealed? Will we be locked inside?” But when he flung himself at the portal, it opened and he dragged Eurydice through.
Not that Eurydice needed dragging any longer. She was now as eager as he to be out of the palace. They ran quickly across the black-paved space between the palace and the outer wall, only to find another guard dead—if one that had never been alive could be dead—athwart the great gate. Mopsus bent to try to move the large dead weight while Eurydice tried to lift the bar that shut the gate. But the guard had no weight; it rolled halfway across to the portico steps under Mopsus’ first push. The Seer shuddered and wiped his hands convulsively on his tunic. That creature was now no more than an empty husk, like those locusts left behind when they came out of the earth.
Turning his back on the thing, Mopsus went to help Eurydice raise the bar and pull open one of the gates. Two other guards, fallen beside their spears, lay on the other side. Mopsus and Eurydice drew together to be as far from the bodies as possible but something, perhaps the faint tremor of the earth as they passed, shook one into dust. Before either had taken another step, a single tooth lay there, gleaming silver in the starlight. Eurydice uttered a choked sob and, ignoring the danger of tripping in the dark, began to run. Having hesitated long enough to take a good look behind them, Mopsus caught up and loped along beside her, assuring her that they were not being followed.
“No, I know,” Eurydice gasped, slowing as panic receded. “But if one enchantment is broken, others might be also. I was afraid the whole palace would come down.”
“I never thought of that,” Mopsus said, then shook his head. “No, that palace is far older than Aietes. He admitted the bulls were god-gifts. I think that palace was built by a god, and I doubt the little lives and troubles of those who live in it, even if they are what we think of as mighty sorcerers, would have much effect on it.”
They were walking by then, Mopsus now and again glancing up at the line of trees, black against the star-silvered grey of the sky, to steer Eurydice by some landmark to where the crewmen of the Argo waited. She nodded agreement to his guess. Aietes had spoken of his ancestors living in the place—poor Aietes. Eurydice allowed herself that one brief sympathetic thought and then firmly put out of her mind the question of whether Medea had killed her father. It did not matter. Whether he was dead or bound in some way, Aietes would not be with them when they confronted the serpent and that was all to the good. Aietes wanted the serpent dead and might have insisted Jason fight it even if he could get the fleece in an easier way. Jason only wanted the fleece; Medea wanted Jason and would probably arrange for him to get the fleece by the safest path.
Eurydice was glad to see that the men seemed prepared for anything. Not only were they fully armed, but they carried coils of rope, hooks, spikes for climbing, and other devices looped over their shoulders and attached to their belts. She drew the amulets from her pouch, explained what they were and how they must be used.
“I am not certain they will work or whether those led by the amulet wearers will be affected. I can only tell you that if the amulet grows hot or cold, it is warding you from a spell and the hotter or colder it grows the stronger is the spell. You must not lift it from your skin—” She told them how Aietes had frozen them the previous day and how she had been caught by the spell because she had pulled the amulet away from her flesh. Then she shrugged. “If the pain is too much, you will just have to give up your pursuit.”
“Can we change the amulet from one man to another?” Castor asked.
“It depends on what type of confusion spells have been set. I do not know them all and certainly do not know the kind they have here. If it is only to make the path look impassable or confuse direction so that you go around in circles, you should be able to exchange them, if you all stand still and close your eyes. If the spells are directed toward your minds, so that those who are unprotected do not know each other or remember what it is they are supposed to be doing, I would not move the amulet for any reason. The moment you free yourself from its influence, you will be in the same state as your unprotected fellows and either not know them or forget you were supposed to be giving one the amulet.”
Polydeuces, who had taken the image of a clenched fist and hung it around his neck, smiled at his brother. “Do not worry about me, brother. Another mark or two on my hide will not dim my beauty.”
Eurydice shook her head. “I do not know whether the pain the amulet causes will actually mark the flesh. It did not mark mine. It is the spells that seize the mind, I think, that will cause the most pain. Those are bad spells. I hope those who are protected can keep control of the others.” She sighed. “Lady help me and all forgive me, I know so little. I can only hope and pray the amulets work at all.”
“You have done your best and we will do ours,” Mopsus said. “Now Lynkeus will take you back to the inn.”
“I thought I would go with you—” she began, but Mopsus was shaking his head firmly.
“No, not one step. Orpheus forbade it and warned us you would try to accompany us. He warned us, too, that there might be physical traps set along the road to the golden fleece. Please, Eurydice. It is for your own safety.”
“Oh, very well,” she said, pretending to be more annoyed than she was. She had never wished to accompany the men, who might become lost or contused. She had always intended to follow Orpheus.
“Here is your bundle,” Mopsus said, handing it to her. “Be patient. Orpheus will be furious if you run off by yourself after we are gone.”
Better furious, Eurydice thought, than dead, but all she said was, “There is no need for Lynkeus to trouble himself to come with me. I can get to the inn myself.”
“It is no trouble,” Lynkeus said. “I must go back to the ship anyway. I only came to tell Orpheus what we planned, so he could tell Jason.”
He came up beside her, took her bundle, and put a hand on her arm to turn her toward the open land. Eurydice was now more annoyed than she looked. She did not wish to walk all the way to the inn, then back to the palace. There might be time enough—she cast out along the thin line of Finding she had bound to Orpheus and Saw him curled against a large tree—but she would be tired to death. For one moment, she wished sensation could travel across that thread of Finding. She would have sent a kick where it would hurt along to Orpheus, sleeping peacefully, while she was assaulted by psychic blows and had to run back and forth…
Her angry thought was
interrupted by Lynkeus, who said, “We will sail along the coast and turn up the first navigable river. Medea told Jason that the stream in which the fleece lies is too wide and strong to attack the serpent from the back. If so, likely as it flows to the coast it widens into a river. Since the fleece is in walking distance of the palace, Ankaios and Mopsus and I felt there was a good chance it was the closest river mouth.”
“That was good reasoning,” Eurydice said, nodding.
“Well, there is some chance we will be able to come near to the serpent along a path Aietes does not have guarded.”
“Aietes’ spells,” Eurydice breathed, hesitating in her stride as an idea came to her and then hurrying forward. “I did not think of the ship. I should have made more amulets. I did try, but one burst.”
She glanced behind but could not see anyone watching. The men had probably settled down to rest or possibly moved closer to where Orpheus was waiting for Jason. They would not see her. She stopped abruptly.
“Wait,” she said. “I have just thought. For you on the ship there is no need for the amulet to look like an ornament. I can bespell three pebbles, which you could hold in your hand or tie somehow so the stone would touch your flesh but still hang around your neck.”
“Can you?” He smiled at her trustingly.
Eurydice felt a little guilty but what she intended would do no harm. “Let us find three pebbles, smooth as possible,” she said, murmuring under her breath the freezing spell as he turned away.
She found one suitable one immediately and squatted down to clean it thoroughly by scrubbing it with her tunic. Lynkeus was almost as quick, coming down on his heels opposite her and holding out his hand. She reached toward him as if to take what he offered, but only touched his hand as she murmured, “Epikaloumai.”
Enchanted Fire Page 37
