Thrice Bound

by Roberta Gellis

  For a very long time, Hekate continued to search but she could discover no trace of Eurydice. She began to believe as the mages of Lysamachia did that Baltaseros had imagined a powerful witch to cover his own evil or ineptitude. And still Perses did nothing that could drive her to confrontation. Over the years, rulers changed in Byblos, but he held his power. Perhaps, Hekate thought, power was all he wanted. If that was so, all she need do was watch and wait; Perses was showing signs of ageing. A small hope flickered to life. She had not aged at all, but perhaps Perses could die.

  Then she was distracted by a crisis in Dionysos' life. Temples had been founded to him in Crete and in one of those temples was a priestess who could interpret the Visions, which still came to him from time to time, and could give him peace in other ways. Then she was gone.

  For a time, while Dionysos believed she had deliberately abandoned him, he ran berserk and fructified his precious vineyards with rampant lust and wanton spilling of blood. Hekate, Kabeiros, Aphrodite, Eros, and Hermes did what they could to assuage his hurt and grief. Sometimes one traveled with him and tried to control the madness of lust and fury that he induced in his followers because that only hurt him more—he feared he was going mad.

  None of them thought to go to Crete; Hermes, Aphrodite, and Eros because they didn't care about the native people and getting to the island would be a lot of trouble. Hekate didn't go because she was so angry she knew she would have killed the priestess and destroyed the temple. However, when Dionysos' suffering made that punishment seem reasonable, Hekate did go. There she discovered that the priestess had not abandoned her god for another one or for a native man. She was old; she had died.

  Dionysos was almost as outraged by the priestess' death as by her imagined defection, but he understood that native people had much shorter lives than Olympians and the violence of his "blessings" diminished. He was changed, however. The rage and panic he could loose upon others was much nearer the surface and he seemed to have less control over them. The Olympians grew wary of him; they made haste to accede to any request he made so long as he would go and leave them in peace.

  Hekate could do nothing about that. She offered what comfort Dionysos would accept, but her inability to understand and interpret his Visions, which were growing more and more complex and disturbing and plagued him unmercifully, made her sympathy virtually useless. However, in those years a great joy came to Olympus. Eros, who had lost his soul through the evil he had done in the reign of Kronos, regained it in the love of a native woman called Psyche. And even Zeus, who had decreed the punishment, rejoiced at the reunion of beauty and the soul.

  In the general aura of good feeling that enriched Hekate's circle of more-than-acquaintances if not quite friends, the loosening of her bond to Dionysos was hardly apparent. Until, as the years slid by, a new priestess named Ariadne was consecrated in Crete. She, like the first Ariadne, could interpret Dionysos' Visions and bring him peace.

  Joyfully Dionysos reported that the Mother had taken pity on him and returned to him all that he had lost and more, that this Ariadne was Mother-blessed and could draw the Mother down with her dancing. Unnoticed, Hekate's bond to Dionysos thinned to nothing and fell away.

  Partly she didn't notice that she had been freed of her first binding because the situation in Ka'anan dominated her attention. Perses was old now, but no weaker, and Hekate knew it was blood magic that was sustaining him. More and more people were disappearing in Byblos, and not only the criminals and others who would not be missed. As his need grew, Perses was even taking daughters and sons of well-to-do established merchants, sometimes even scions of the lower nobility.

  The second binding was tightening around Hekate's heart. She knew that she would have to act against Perses, but every time she tried to think of what to do she became faint with fear. Kabeiros repeatedly offered to kill Perses for her, claiming that he was invulnerable to magic; however, Hekate remembered that Medea had pierced that invulnerability and knew Perses had been attacked many times even by otherplanar beings and it was always the attacker who died . . . if worse did not befall him. Dionysos also offered his Gifts in whatever way Hekate thought they would work best, but not only would Dionysos be vulnerable to Perses' magic, all she could envision was the rage and panic causing her father to let loose all his most destructive spells at once.

  Hekate worked desperately to make her shields impervious and studied spells of destruction. She hoped she still had a little time. Perses did not seem ready to act; he had taken an apprentice—something utterly unprecedented—and it would take him some time to teach the young man. Only Hekate soon discovered that Perses wasn't attempting to teach his apprentice anything, that the apprentice had very little Talent, only enough to make him particularly open and vulnerable to a stronger mage. She was bewildered until another piece of the puzzle suddenly fell into place.

  The king of Byblos was slowly dying, whether of natural causes or not Hekate didn't know and didn't much care; the present king of Byblos, corrupted almost from birth by Perses, would be no loss to humanity. Hekate paid little attention until she learned of the plans for the king's funeral. Perses intended to replace with real people the hundreds of terra cotta figurines of attendants and servants that were customarily buried with the dead to serve them in the afterlife those people who would be sacrificed, ostensibly to honor the king, but in reality so that Perses could drink their life-force to perform some great act of magic.

  Careful spying—the whole court was utterly corrupt and it was easy to buy information—informed Hekate that Perses' apprentice would play a large role in the funeral rites. Little by little that role became clear. At first Hekate could not believe the implications, but in the end she was unable to deny what Perses intended. He was planning to steal the young man's body, transferring his mind and will to it while sending the apprentice's mind and soul into his outworn husk, which would immediately die of the strain.

  Then Hekate knew she would have to confront Perses alone. Caution bade her take him right after the transfer, but she couldn't bear to see so many die just for the hope of catching Perses in a weakened condition. Besides, who knew whether he would be weakened. Perhaps enough of that blood-force would have been generated to make him stronger than ever. And perhaps he would be weaker as an old man; perhaps he had waited too long to start his evil procedure.

  Even so, Hekate did not really expect to survive. She now regretted the wasted years while she sought Eurydice. She should have been trying to free Kabeiros from his curse because if she died or was enslaved, his future was bleak. There was only one strong hope—one to which she had, deliberately, she feared, turned a blind eye in the past.

  Had she not always managed to be elsewhere in the spring when Persephone came to Olympus to help her mother Demeter fructify the fields? In the caves of the dead, Kabeiros was a man. Hades' power negated the draining spell that afflicted the dog. Might not Hades have the answer to Kabeiros' problem? She should have spoken to Persephone, asked her help.

  Now she couldn't wait for spring. If the king of Byblos died sooner than she expected she would need to try her strength against Perses before then. She would have to ask for an audience with Hades directly. She went to Zeus, lashed by guilt but still hoping he would say what she wanted was impossible. The hope was vain. It was much easier than Hekate expected to be invited to visit the underworld. As soon as she mentioned the effect of the caves of the dead in Ka'anan on Kabeiros, Zeus said he would arrange a visit. However, when she said she hoped Hades would be able to help Kabeiros regain his shifting power, Zeus shook his head.

  "Hades doesn't know magic at all, as far as I know. His Gifts are working with rock and stone, but he uses no spells. Persephone . . . you need to meet Persephone to believe her. She has unlimited power, but no Talent for magic. However, I'll gladly tell Hades you are coming, and I'm sure Hermes will take you."

  Hermes was not at home that afternoon, but they went the next day at a time when Hermes k
new that Hades and Persephone held court. Hermes gripped Hekate firmly around the waist with one arm and fixed his other hand onto the loose skin between Kabeiros' shoulders. One moment they were in Hermes' reception room, the next Hermes was crying out in surprise as his hand slipped away from the man Kabeiros' shoulders, and Kabeiros, naked as the day he was born, dropped face forward to the ground.

  "Gracious Mother!" Hades exclaimed mildly, rising and holding out his hand. "Cloak," he said over his shoulder, and a handsome cloak was dropped into his hand.

  He went down the step of the low dais and tried to give the cloak to Kabeiros, but Kabeiros could not take it because he was struggling not to fall flat. When they leapt to the caves of the dead in Ka'anan, he was prepared for the change. This one had taken him unaware, leaving him dizzied and nauseated, unable for the moment to get his balance.

  Hermes was staring with open mouth. He had never seen Kabeiros in man form. Hekate, somewhat stunned by Hades' appearance—for he looked as she had imagined the Titans would, huge and hard and black-bearded—and by Persephone's beauty, was also a trifle slow to respond. It was Hades who lifted Kabeiros upright, swirled the cloak around him, and steadied him on his feet.

  "Kabeiros," Hermes breathed.

  "Ah," Hades said. "The black dog. There are many of your ilk among us. Will it help you to sit down, Kabeiros, or do you need to stand and walk?"

  Hekate had hurried to Kabeiros' side. "I didn't know," she said. "I thought it was only the caves of the dead in Ka'anan that could free him—"

  "Free him?"

  The voice was soft, pleasant. Hekate turned to look at Persephone and gasped. Under the skin of an exquisitely beautiful Olympian woman was a well of power that Hekate suspected could no more be drained than could the Mother's power. Hekate bowed.

  "You are a true avatar of the Mother, Queen," she said. "I beg you both to help Kabeiros."

  "Help him how?" Hades asked.

  As Kabeiros could now speak for himself, he did, starting with the simple fact that he was frozen into the form of the dog everywhere except the caves of the dead. In answering startled and sympathetic questions, he described when and as much as he knew about how the power to shift at will had been lost to him. Listening, with the knowledge of what Perses intended to do with the mass immolation at the king of Byblos' funeral in her mind, Hekate became aware that the scene Kabeiros described—the young and old sorcerers handfast together, the old one dying, the young one rising to punish Kabeiros—had also probably been an exchange of bodies.

  Perses. It had been Perses who had renewed his youth in that disgusting way. It was Perses who had tried to drain Kabeiros, failed because he was too much weakened by the dreadful magic he had performed, and condemned Kabeiros to years of suffering. And Perses would change bodies again and again. Likely each change would require more power and more would have to die to provide it. If she didn't stop him, hundreds, perhaps thousands, would die so that Perses' evil life could continue.

  His tale told, Kabeiros offered all he had or was if Hades could free him from his curse. Tears rose to Hekate's eyes. The passion with which Kabeiros spoke seemed like a knell of doom to her, a confirmation of his desire to be free. Nonetheless, she added her pleas to those of Kabeiros, pledging anything she had or could devise if Hades would free Kabeiros from the spell that was eating his power.

  "I wish I could." The face that had at first looked as if it were carven of granite, twisted in dismay. "I have my Gifts and those can perform magic, but I can't even see what you say Hephaestos perceives in Kabeiros. I can light this cavern. I can walk through stone and mold it in my hands, but I know no spell that could free Kabeiros."

  "Then why is he free in the caves of the dead?" Hekate whispered.

  "I can't tell you that either," Hades admitted with a sigh. "All I can tell you is that in the distant past, in the time of my father Kronos, another people, the Titans, lived in Olympus. They were very skilled in magic and grew more so as time passed."

  Hekate nodded. "I am living in the house of one of the Titans. It's as firm and fresh as in those ancient days. There was a stasis spell on it, as good a spell as I have ever seen."

  "Yes, they could devise all sorts of spells and never seemed to lack power. This wasn't pleasing to Kronos, who feared they would grow so strong they would dominate or cast out his people. He was wrong. The Titans had no such plans, but Kronos began to torment and oppress the most powerful among them. Some stayed and resisted him—to their destruction—but others slipped away. And some must have come to the caves of the dead."

  "Why?" That was Hermes, his eyes alight with curiosity.

  "I think because they didn't wish to go far from Olympus. Some leaders, my poor Koios and others, felt they could come to an understanding with Kronos. I suppose those who took to the caves hoped they could return if Koios made peace."

  "A triumph of hope over good sense," Hermes said, shaking his head, "considering what I've heard about Kronos. Surely they should have taken the measure of Kronos by then. Hadn't they traveled with him from the north?"

  "Perhaps that was why. He was a hero to them, having stood against Uranos, and he had married a Titan."

  "Your mother Rhea was a Titan?" Hermes seemed amazed. "Zeus never mentioned that."

  Hades shrugged. "I'm sure he wasn't hiding it deliberately. He loved her. She was with him the longest, and in the end she died to protect him. But she had no Talent, I believe, or very little. I suspect it was the greatly Talented that took refuge in the caves, daring to remain close to Olympus in the hope they could regain their homes. But because they feared Kronos, I think they cast spells that negated magic."

  "Not all magic," Persephone remarked.

  "Perhaps only evil magic, although how a spell could determine what is evil, I have no idea. I know that when I fled Kronos, even before I discovered my Gifts, I was safe here. Mostly he could not find me, and once when he did his Gift seemed weak and I was able to slip away from him before he could draw out my warmth."

  "That must be true," Persephone said, her eyes lighting as something that had puzzled her suddenly made sense. "You know that not all of those sacrificed to you are innocent of wrongdoing. There must be some who have spell-cast death or destruction. Yet no one—not one as far as I know—has cast an evil spell in our caves."

  Hermes' brows lifted. "You say the dead are all good?"

  Hades and Persephone laughed in chorus. "Not at all. There are many, many among us that pray at your shrines, O maker of mischief," Persephone said.

  "And rape and murder and adultery . . . alas, I have meted out punishments enough for those." Hades shook his head. "But that is a fascinating idea, a spell with a conscience. Too bad we have no truly great mages among us who could probe this wonder."

  "Perhaps Eurydice?" Persephone asked.

  "Eurydice?" Hekate echoed. "Do you have a witch called Eurydice among the dead? Oh please, please, may I speak to her?"

  "Of course!" Hades exclaimed. "What a fool I was not to think of her at once. Perhaps Eurydice could heal Kabeiros. She is a healer and finder of great power and excellence." He looked over his shoulder. "Acteon, do you know where Lady Eurydice is?"

  A horribly scarred man stepped forward. He looked as if half his face had been torn away, and deep bite marks showed on his shoulder and down one arm. Hekate shivered slightly as she took in how many of those in Hades' Court were scarred or broken and twisted. She had a flash of memory of Kabeiros wanting to be invisible so he could protect those being sacrificed to the king of the dead.

  "Likely with Orpheus in the cave of the children," Acteon replied. "I'll fetch her out."

  While they waited, Hades, Persephone, and Hermes discussed the fascinating possibility of a spell that could determine evil intent, or, if not, how the spell of the ancient Titans worked and why it had not faded. Hekate knew the answer to the last; the caves of the dead were awash with earth-blood power and doubtless the spell was bound to that power, but she
said nothing. She was watching for the coming of Eurydice, wondering what kind of woman she was and how to approach her to ask for a spell that must be considered evil.

  In following Acteon's path, she had become aware of the immense cavern to which Hermes' leap had brought them. It was so high, she could see nothing but darkness above, but they were not in the dark. The cavern was supported by rows of immense white stone columns, and each of those columms was circled by quite ordinary torches, burning a bright, cheerful yellow that was reflected from the smoothly polished stone and gave a warm sunlit glow to the chamber. Behind them the cavern went back and back until, Hekate thought, there was a stone stair leading upward. There were people, too. Those close to them were listening to the talk, but farther away they seemed to be moving about on their own affairs or talking in groups.

  Acteon still had not returned and Hekate felt a sudden qualm. Had the witch detected what she wanted and refused to come? No, that was foolish. More likely, considering the size of this cavern, Acteon had a long way to go. Hekate looked toward her guide and hosts, noticing for the first time the immense chair . . . throne . . . in which Hades sat. Beside it was another, obviously Persephone's, very slightly smaller but even more decorated with carving and jewels.

  Behind the thrones were a pair of enormous bronze gates, one side of which was standing open and showing beyond a wide, square corridor in which Hekate could barely make out doorways. That corridor also opened on the side she could see into a passageway with a number of closed doors. One was open; light streamed from it and, faintly, the sound of women's voices.