“Go forward. Do not be afraid. Plutos is a good place to be. It is dark and cold, but the people are light of heart and warm.”
He took her hand to help her out, and it came to her that his hand was warm, strong, callused with hard work. There was nothing of the thin, cold wraith about him. The air was cold, cave cold, and clammy with the river’s exhalation, but the torches ahead were bright and cheerful. Everyone to whom she spoke, comforted her, telling her not to be afraid. Was it possible that she had Seen the truth and she would find all she sought here? She took a breath and then held it as a pang seared her throat and breast. But not Orpheus! She would not find Orpheus here.
She started to turn, and a woman’s voice called, “Stop! There is nothing behind you—nothing! One does not look back in Plutos. One never looks back. There is only today and tomorrow, no yesterday. Come now. Come forward.”
Eurydice started at the command and then obeyed, walking slowly toward the speaker. She had caught a bare glimpse of what was now behind her, a gray mist; but she knew it was an illusion. She could break it… She stumbled as surprise made her miss her footing. She was full of Power! Should not the dead be empty? She was utterly confused.
“You are a sacrifice to Hades?” the woman asked when Eurydice reached her.
Eurydice just stared at her. Was this some elaborate trick? Could this really be death? Everything was so…ordinary. The woman was the most ordinary creature anyone could imagine. She was seated on a most ordinary stool, leaning forward on a table that was also ordinary—except that it was made of stone, not wood—with a most ordinary stylus in hand poised over an ordinary wax-filled stone tablet.
“No one will hurt you here,” the woman said reassuringly and smiled. “Had you come later, you would have had more time, but King Hades and Queen Persephone are seated to give audience just now, and you must see them at once.”
“Like this?” Eurydice said faintly, becoming aware—now that she knew she must confront the king and queen—of her soiled clothing, tangled hair, and generally dirty condition.
“No one will blame you. A sacrifice is not responsible for her condition. Just go through the passage. A guide will be at the end to take you to the thrones.”
She must see the king and queen at once? Why? Surely Hades and Persephone did not personally greet every soul who had died. Hundreds, even thousands, must die every moment. Could even two gods accomplish such a feat? And if so, where were the other souls? She saw no throngs of dead, not in the judgement room, not at the river, not at the tunnel mouth…
Even more numb and confused, Eurydice followed the directing finger into another passage. This was not lit by torches but glittered and glowed from shining fragments in the wall, floor, and roof. She hesitated to look at the wonder around her, and a big man came to the far end and called for her to come forth at once. He grasped her arm when she came up to him, firmly enough so she knew she could not pull away, but not so hard he that hurt her—though he could have. He was thewed like Heracles and his face and shoulder were terribly scarred, as if torn by dogs or wolves.
Emerging from the tunnel, Eurydice saw a cavern, enormous in width and length but not terribly lofty, lit by torches supported around large white pillars. Here there was a throng, some sitting, some standing, but all heads turned in the same direction, toward the far end of the cavern. The first thing Eurydice saw there were gleaming gates, brass she thought, because gold was too soft and easily bent Meanwhile she and her guide were drawing closer. The people standing parted before them and Eurydice saw a dais, and upon it, two golden thrones.
One throne held the original of the bearded man on the coin, the other a woman far more beautiful than the rendering Eurydice had thought superb. No one could show that beauty, Eurydice thought, quickening her steps because she was drawn as a piece of iron to a lodestone, because it was not so much of feature as of Power. An incandescent aura surrounded the queen and her gold eyes were flecked with red. Her long golden hair moved slightly, perhaps in response to fluctuations in the aura, as if it had a life of its own. Eurydice sank down into a deep curtsy. The queen leaned forward. The king put a hand on her arm.
“You are a mage of rare strength,” King Hades said. “How did you come to be taken and sacrificed?”
Eurydice turned her head toward him, and he gestured for her to rise to her feet. His face was as still as the marble from which it seemed to be carved; his eyes were as black as an unlighted cave. Oddly, Eurydice felt more impatient than afraid. She wished to look again at the golden queen.
“I suppose partly because I had escaped so often and partly because I did not believe the people wished to harm me.” Tears filled her eyes. “I was married to their most famous and valuable resident. I was not a native, and they wished to be rid of me—I knew that, but I thought they only wished to make me leave my husband. Then they said they would burn me. They called me witch and bade me come forth. I intended to freeze them and flee, but when I opened the door…the world went black. I suppose someone struck me.”
“Freeze them,” Hades repeated flatly. “With you fled, who would free them?”
Eurydice shrugged. “Time would free them. Depending on how many were there, a few moments to half a candle-mark. I know only one spell, and it releases its power evenly among any I include in my gesture or glance. It will hold one person for about a candlemark, a crowd for only a few heartbeats. I did not think many came for me. I thought I would have time to get away and that, fearing me, none would follow since I had done what they desired and—” she swallowed “—left my husband.”
“But your husband did not try to protect you, why should you wish to stay with him?” Persephone’s voice was dry.
“He was not there.” Eurydice paused to steady her lips and voice. “He is a bard, a great and Gifted bard. We needed metal or other goods to buy food for the winter—we had only come to the village about two moons earlier—so he went to sing and earn.”
“He did not know that you had Power?” Hades asked.
“Yes, he knew.”
“But he left you alone in a Greek village?”
Eurydice closed her eyes. “He loves the place. He was sure, so sure, that they would keep me and protect me because I was his wife, because he said I would do no harm.”
“Did you?” Hades asked.
She shook her head wearily. “I Healed and I Found, which are my Gifts. The only harm I can think of was to chill the headman’s son when I drew Power suddenly.” She told them of the chase, the bite of the adder, and herself Healing.
Persephone leaned forward again, shaking her head sharply when Hades would have spoken. “Sister,” she said, “you can take directly from the Mother. You do not need to drain what is around you. That is dangerous.”
“I know. I used to find a temple, but there is none to my Goddess in the village. They worship Zeus and some other gods whose names I do not remember. Usually I am careful to take only a little here and there so that none suffer, but I was frightened by the snake. I thought I would die—” She stopped abruptly and laughed, choked on a sob.
“Come stand beside me, sister,” Persephone said. “My husband and I have other work to do. When my part is done, I will show you a chamber where you may rest.”
“And eat and drink?” Eurydice asked timidly.
Hades laughed. “That you may do now.”
He called and gave an order, and in moments a man brought a small table and stool to set beside and a little behind Persephone’s chair. A woman, hard on his heels, put upon it a goblet and a round of bread with a slice of smoked pork on top. Eurydice curtsied briefly again and hurried to the place provided. At first she was too busy satisfying her hunger and thirst, which had become acute or she could never have found the courage to ask, to pay attention to the business of the king and queen. After the worst of the pangs were satisfied, however, she began to listen and could hardly believe her ears.
The problems brought before the King and Quee
n of Death sounded exactly like those settled by any village headman: Hektor tripped and spilled the contents of his basket of burning rock. While Myron was helping him pick up the pieces, Paris came along and fell over Myron’s basket, spilling his rock and Myron’s. What began in amity ended in enmity and a refusal to accept any division of the spoils. Hades settled that. Then a wife complaining of her husband’s gambling away their livelihood, which Persephone dealt with. Then a big man with pale eyes, who spoke of a problem in “deep mines.” That took some time and Eurydice, who scarcely understood what was being said, let her mind wander to why the dead needed burning rock, bothered to work mines, or had husbands who gambled. If she was dead, why was she hungry? And why did ordinary food satisfy that hunger? It was all very strange.
She was musing wearily on the absurdity of being dead and having all the problems of the living, when a woman’s terrified wailing came faintly and then louder, as if she were running along a passage into the cavern. As the sound grew louder, Eurydice felt the pulling of a need to Heal. She stood and looked toward the woman stumbling along with a blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. No, not a bundle, a child—it was wailing, too. Eurydice took a step. A hand caught her arm.
“Where do you go?”
“The child is sick,” Eurydice said. “I will Heal it.”
“No one can heal it,” Hades said. “The mother says her son is marked with chrusos thanatos.” He swallowed and Eurydice saw his dark eyes were full of misery as he drew a long knife from his belt.
“It is the golden death,” Persephone explained—explaining nothing.
Eurydice was totally bewildered. She guessed that Persephone had translated what the woman was screaming, but it made no sense to her.
The crowd had not so much parted before the woman as scattered, leaving a wide space around the dais. Into this she came and laid down the swaddled child.
“Is he old enough to show us where he has been?” Hades asked the mother.
“Nowhere,” the mother sobbed. “Nowhere. Only in the corridor outside our chambers. One of the hunters or miners must have brought it back on his shoes.”
“Aktaion,” Hades called, “send out a warning for any who have left the home cave the last three days to examine shoes, clothes, and self with care. The corridor where she lives is closed for now.” Then he turned to the weeping woman. “It is on his feet?” he asked. “We could—”
“On his belly.” She rocked back and forth, sobbing. “I saw it when he came in. A tiny spot. Only a tiny spot.”
Eurydice, watching in amazement, saw Hades’ face harden to stone as he stepped down from the dais. The mother cried harder, covering her face with her hands, but she made no move and voiced no protest when Hades knelt beside the wailing bundle and lifted his knife.
“Stop!” Eurydice shrieked, leaping down after him and catching his wrist. “What are you doing?”
When he looked up, she saw his eyes were full of tears, although his face had no more expression than a marble mask. “I am about to give the little one the grace of an easy death. You do not know the agony and horror of a death by chrusos thanatos. Go away and let me do my duty.”
“But I can Heal him,” Eurydice cried. “Will you not even let me try?”
“No one has ever healed chrusos thanatos,” Hades said.
“That does not mean no one ever will,” Persephone said, also coming down.
“Go back, Persephone,” Hades shouted, jumping up. “Do not come so near.”
She shook her head and stopped beside him. “My love,” she murmured, “do you think I would survive you, if that curse touched you. Where you go, I go. But perhaps no one need go. I do not believe we have a Healer as strong as Eurydice. Let her try—so long as you do not need to touch the child?” That last was addressed to Eurydice.
“I need to see the hurt,” Eurydice said.
Hades’ lips thinned, but after a moment he said to the mother, “Unfold the blanket.”
With shaking care she did so, touching the blanket only on the outer surface, warning the child as she did that he must lie still, very still, not move at all, and exposing a little tow-headed boy of about three, who most fortunately, was paralyzed with terror. Eurydice saw the trouble at once, a slimy looking, golden green spot about the size of her fingernail just to the right of the child’s navel. But she realized instantly that was not all! She drew a sharp breath, sensing the ill beneath the skin—long tendrils stretching out from the spot, growing even as she felt for them. She could never… And then she thought of Hades’ long knife and looked at the wide, tear-drenched blue eyes of the terrified child—and she sent Power down at that filthy yellow-green smear and coursing along those threads, twisting the foul substance, changing it, forcing it back to the pattern of healthy flesh.
Power poured from her as water pours from a pitcher’s mouth, faster and faster to catch and change the threads as if she tipped the vessel farther and farther. As her fingers traced those growing threads, her hands grew cold and then her arms, but she remembered Hades’ knife and forced the Power out. And then a hand fell on her shoulder and strength flooded into her as fast as she poured it out. And the threads thinned and faded and were gone.
“He is clean,” she said to Hades.
“You are sure?”
Eurydice shuddered. “I know now what you fear. I am very sure. The child is clean.”
“Look at the mother,” Hades said, as he reached down to grab the child’s head and leg and lift him straight up off the blanket so he would not touch any part of it.
Eurydice looked at every place skin was exposed on the woman, but there was no taint of the disease and she said so. Hades had handed the child to a tall, gaunt woman who had come running at the sound of the wailing. He bade the mother stand perfectly still and took her gown and tunic by the back of the neck and slit them to the hem. The woman seized the torn edges and pulled her clothing off, dropping it on the blanket that had covered the child. Eurydice scanned her body, but that too was clean and healthy, and in a moment smiled and nodded. A roar of acclamation went up that seemed to shake the solid stone of the cavern.
Horrified, Eurydice shrank back against Persephone. “No,” she whispered. “Do not let the people believe I can Heal this thing. It was only because it was so tiny, so new, and even then I needed more Power, much more than I had.” She looked at Persephone with widened eyes. “You fed me, Queen Persephone.”
“Yes. The Mother feeds me and I feed others. It is my only Gift.”
“But even with your help…” Eurydice’s eyes were full of tears. “The king was right. I almost could not Heal that foulness. Another half candlemark and I could have done nothing. Perhaps I should not have tried, not have proffered a hope which must be unfulfilled. What I have done is worse than nothing.”
“No, not that,” Persephone said. “Even if you cannot Heal those on whom the chrusos thanatos has a hold, you can sense the disorder even where it does not show. Then those who have come near the thing would not have to wait in terror for the signs to show. That itself would be a great service. And if you sensed the ill before the signs showed, perhaps those could be Healed?”
“I would try,” Eurydice sighed. “Goddess knows, I would try. That is a terrible disease!”
Meanwhile someone had handed the mother a tunic, which she pulled on. Her face was radiant as she held out her hands for her son. And Hades looked at the gown and blanket and said, “Burn!”
The cloth did not, as Eurydice expected, catch fire. Instead the rock below it began to glow, first red and then an incandescent yellow, at which point the cloth flamed briefly and then fell away to ash. Eurydice stared at the glowing rock. She could not imagine the expenditure of Power needed to do such a thing. Human as they looked and acted, Hades and Persephone must, indeed, be gods. Staring at the rock, she did not notice Hades glance significantly at her and then at his wife. Persephone smiled and nodded.
* * *
Days passed
into weeks and the weeks into a moon. Actually Eurydice was not certain exactly how long she had lived in the underworld because she had been too confused in the beginning to keep count. It took her awhile, too, to become accustomed to rising and going to sleep when there was no rising and setting sun to set the times. But Persephone assigned a dark-haired little maid—one who said, inexplicably, that she had been born in the underworld (did the dead conceive and bear children?)—to tell her when it was time to go to bed and to wake her when it was time to rise. It only took her a few “days” to adjust.
Everything else was just as easy. She had a luxurious chamber—with a wide, cushioned bed, carved and cushioned chairs, a marble table, a curtained dressing room—opening into the long passage walled off from the giant cavern by the brass gates, her room, because those who Healed and Found might be called upon at any hour, was only two doors down from the wide corridor leading to the private quarters of the king and queen. Other high servants lived left and right along that passage: closest to the corridor, the chamber at the corner, was Koios’, the horribly crippled, much-beloved steward of the king; Arachne, whose private chamber led to a much larger cavern where she and her maidens spun thread and wove fabrics even mote exquisite than those Eurydice had seen in Colchis, was two doors down from Eurydice’s chamber; and across the mouth of the corridor, were Aktaion and Sysiphus, special servants to Hades. Eurydice ate with the royal servants, and found that in addition to lodging in great comfort and dining on excellent dishes in interesting company, several handsome undertunics and gowns were her “pay” for saving the child and, several days later, for Finding a man who had been lost behind a fall of rock.
She had protested that, saying that she had been told Gifts were common in the underworld and that she could not have saved the child without the Power Persephone had lent her. Persephone replied that the Gifted miner had already failed to Find his comrade and that the Mother’s Power was free to all Her priestesses. But when Eurydice shrank away and whispered she did not wish to be consecrated to the temple, Persephone only cocked an eyebrow at her and said consecration was not necessary to be Her priestess.
Enchanted Fire Page 44
