The Maze of Minos

by Tammie Painter

  "What would be one of them?" I call with taunting curiosity.

  "Business. As in minding his own," he yells over his shoulder.

  I give a small laugh at his quip, but then cut the sound short. Hermes and I are alone. It’s the first time since his betr—

  Oh, stop calling it betrayal. He was only obeying Zeus's orders and nearly died trying to do so.

  I shift my eyes in his direction without moving my head. I can’t get up and leave, that would be like running away. But neither do I have any notion where to start a conversation with Hermes even though every time I hear a bit of news lately, it’s him I think of hurrying to to share it with only to stop and remind myself we are not on speaking terms. I sift through my head searching for a topic I could lead in with.

  "Thank you," Hermes says. I twitch a little from the surprise of hearing him address me. The sincerity in these two words tightens my throat. I cannot let him see how much hearing his voice again means to me. No, I will forgive, but I will not appear weak. I clear the emotion and give him my haughtiest look, even raising my chin a little to look down my nose as I turn to him.

  "I wouldn't want you having to waste time repairing your helmet. I know how you care—" Here my voice breaks and all pretense of disinterest falls away as hot tears fill my eyes.

  Hermes swoops down in front of me and grips my hands before I can wipe the stupid tears away.

  "Oh, Hera, I'm so sorry. I should have never gone for Io. I should have—"

  "Nonsense. You would have had to face the wrath of Zeus if you hadn't. I'm the one who should have realized that sooner."

  "Yes, you should have." He releases my hands and produces a piece of cloth. I dry my eyes and wipe my nose. "It’s been so boring with no one to chat with. Did you know that Demeter and Dionysus—"

  I cut him off. "What were you arguing about Poseidon? The minotaur?"

  "Yes." His voice grates with irritation. He plunks down on the bench next to me. "I think he should help, that he should intervene, but when I bring it up, he refuses to listen."

  "He's just angry because he's after someone who hasn't flopped over on her back yet."

  "Who?" Hermes asks enthusiastically and my heart swells at the eager look in his eyes. I have missed him.

  "Some priestess of Athena's. I'd be worried if Athena didn’t keep a tight rein on her ladies, but as it is, it's entertaining to see Poseidon not getting what he wants and moping like a teenager over it."

  "Yes, but time can drag on forever when you can’t have what you want," Hermes says thoughtfully and I wonder who he means. Certainly not Ares; Hermes made it very clear he no longer pines for my cruel son, but I don’t yet feel we’ve mended our friendship well enough to ask him to reveal his heart.

  "Time dragging or not, you’re absolutely right. Poseidon does need to do something about this son of his. Portaceae could be next and I would hate to have done all this hard work to strengthen my polis only to see its people killed by a monster."

  Hermes stands and walks to the gazing pool. When I angle my head to fix a pin in my hair before going to join him, I notice a couple faces peeking out from the common room. Probably yearning to witness another verbal fight between me and Hermes. They will be sadly disappointed.

  "I believe I taught you better than to lurk in doorways. Join us if you’re going to; if not, go find some seeds to count." As Demeter and Dionysus sheepishly enter the garden, I remind myself to ask Hermes what gossip he was on the verge of telling me about them.

  With my hair back in order and my cheeks wiped of any moisture from my silly outburst, I walk over to see what Hermes is looking at. A jolt of fear strikes my heart.

  "What are they doing there?" I ask, pointing to Iolalus and Odysseus striding through Minoa with the young Athenian Theseus and a tall woman in red robes. "It’s not Portaceae’s turn, is it? Iolalus should be home managing his polis."

  "Perhaps he feels you're managing it well enough. I’d like to know why Odysseus is there," Hermes says incredulously. "He’s supposed to be hunting down Medea. Why he would be halfway across Osteria when she was last seen near Athenos? Do you know why he would be in Minoa?" he asks Dionysus, the patron god of Illamos Valley, Odysseus’s home polis. Although really, Hermes should know better than to ask Dionysus anything that doesn’t pertain to wine or winemaking. Besides, Hermes, as Odysseus and Jason’s great-grandfather, always knows more about his descendants than Dionysus could ever dream of.

  Dionysus, fixated on the scene in the gazing pool, appears not to have heard the question. After several moments, Demeter nudges Dionysus. He looks at her, his face somewhere between confusion and awe. Demeter nods her head toward Hermes. "Who?" Dionysus asks, proving my point about his concern for one of his highest-ranking Illamosians.

  "Odysseus. Nephew to Aeetes and cousin to your polis’s current ruler. Perhaps you've heard of him?" Hermes points to Odysseus who is now seated at a table with a large bowl of something that looks entirely inedible before him.

  Dionysus turns his attention back to the scene in the water, but doesn’t answer. When I follow his gaze, I am certain it’s locked on the tall woman in red.

  "Who is that?" he asks distractedly, practically caressing the image as he indicates who he means.

  "Ariadne," Demeter answers. "Priestess of Minoa and about the only wise head in the kingdom lately."

  During the meal, Ariadne and Theseus, probably thinking each is being discreet, sneak glances at one another. At least the Athenian may find some pleasure tonight before he loses his life in the maze.

  "And who is that?" Dionysus asks, pointing to Theseus. The tone in his voice is that of someone who has found a dog turd on their doorstep.

  "Theseus," Demeter says.

  "Are you completely unaware of anything going on in Osteria?" Hermes snaps, asking the same question that was on the tip of my tongue.

  Dionysus doesn't respond but continues to watch the interaction between Ariadne and Theseus with his lips pinched tight enough to crush marble.

  Hermes looks at me, rolls his eyes at Dionysus’s sudden infatuation, and winks. I smile back, glad to have my partner in crime back by my side.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Aphrodite

  COMPLETELY IRRITABLE OVER Ares’s fascination for this mortal woman, Pasiphae, I find myself unable to concentrate on anything but sulking in my rooms and watching the skinny woman arrive yet again in Minoa. What is it that he sees in her? It had taken every bit of self-control not to let him kiss me when I gave him the dove statuette, but I had hoped leaving him wanting would have had him rushing into my room with desire by now. Just as I think this, I hear someone behind me and warm breath slips over my neck. My heart leaps. Ares! I tame my excitement and put on a mask of coy disinterest before I turn around.

  "Oh, it’s you," I say, my face falling with disappointment. I turn back to my gazing pool. My brother peers over my shoulder to see who I’m watching.

  "I thought you said she couldn't win," Apollo taunts, disrupting me from watching Pasiphae striding around the palace of Minos as if she owns the place.

  "The poli haven't revolted. That can’t be a point in her favor." It's a thin branch, but it’s the only one I can grasp at the moment. Yes, Pasiphae’s monster is making short work of dozens of Osterians and the poli are getting restless, but so far Ares does not have the war Pasiphae promised. This skinny Arean woman may be on the brink of success, but I know Ares. I know how impatient he can be to get what he wants. "In that regard, she is failing," I say with more confidence than I feel. "Surely that monster can't win every time."

  "The last I heard the poli were at a breaking point." Apollo snaps his fingers and a glass of sparkling wine appears in his hand. He raises the glass to me and lifts his eyebrows—his way of asking if I want one too. I shake my head to decline. Sparkling wine is too celebratory for my bad mood. Apollo shrugs and takes a sip. "If the minotaur wins once more there will be war."

  "Then I’ll just ha
ve to make sure the monster doesn’t win," I say as if this is an obvious and easy thing to make happen.

  Apollo laughs and stretches out on my couch. "Even if it’s killed, how can the victims get out? They don’t call it a maze for nothing. I'm sorry, dear sister, but I think you have lost. You may even have to return to Hephaestus."

  "I'd take you as a lover before going back to that bore."

  Apollo's eyes brighten and in a heartbeat he’s by my side, his arm around my waist. I push him away and flop in a very un-goddess-like manner into the chair.

  "Do you not have someone besides me to fawn over?" The moment I ask the question my stomach gives a little jump. Possessively, I hope he says no.

  "No. You frighten them all away," he says and leans down to kiss my cheek. "Come on, shift the view." He waves his fingers at the scene in my gazing pool; the action does nothing since only the god who brought up the scene can control it. "I really don’t want to watch that scrawny female."

  I move the scene to the gates of Minoa. Theseus enters the city with Iolalus and Odysseus at his side.

  "Theseus is representing Athenos," Apollo tells me. "Pretty bold for a Helenian, I have to admit. Still can’t figure out why those other two are with him, though. According to the rules, they can’t go into the maze. Not that they’d want to."

  Seeing Odysseus reminds me of Jason, Hera’s most recent favorite, and his quest for some silly pelt she was all in a tizzy about. Apollo’s fingers snap again. I glance up to see his glass has refilled, but my attention quickly returns to the pool. Like the bubbles in my brother’s glass, an idea drifts its way to the surface of my mind. It took one of my spells to help Jason succeed. Could love be the answer this time as well? I don't miss the irony that I'm considering using love to prevent one war with the hope of starting another.

  As if answering my question, the group has been joined by a woman. She’s pretty in her own way, not gorgeous, but she’ll do. Certainly I could have made a love match between Theseus and a Minoan man, but I remember from his eagerness in Lemnos that his preference is for females. As the group sits in some dirty diner eating what looks like bowls of worms—humans will put the most revolting things in their mouths—I draw a line from Ariadne to Theseus. At first I think that will be enough, she’ll now do anything to see him survive. Then I consider how the last love spell I cast turned out when I made only Medea love Jason. One-sided love is never a happy thing and that situation truly ended up being a disaster. How was I to know her love drew out such murderous tendencies? To ensure matters will fall together more harmoniously this time, I turn the love line into a loop as I trace back from Theseus to Ariadne.

  "And how will that help?" Apollo asks.

  "He’s brave and she's clever. Make them love one another and she won't want to see him die. She may even break a few rules to prevent it, and he will think whatever she suggests is pure genius."

  "But how can she help? She can’t go into the maze and tie up the minotaur so Theseus and the other Athenians can kill him."

  "She will help," I say, but in truth I have no idea how and I feel Ares slip from my fingers a little more until I see the big woman holding the string of a stick-thin man’s apron. "Tying up," I mutter.

  "I’m game if you are," Apollo says, setting down his glass and producing a silk scarf with a clap of his hands.

  I roll my eyes at his hopefully lusty expression and point to the scene. "Not you." Apollo looks at me as if I’ve gone mad.

  "A dirty apron? Will the smell of it kill the minotaur, do you think?"

  "No. Theseus needs to get in and kill the minotaur and then find his way back out. He’s a good fighter, but ten steps into the darkness and he’ll be lost." I pull off the belt that my husband made me for our wedding. It’s a lovely thing and very delicate, so delicate it wouldn’t be noticed by any guard if it was worn under a tunic. I wave my hands over it then tell Apollo to hold one end as I walk to the other side of my room, quite a distance as Zeus has given me the second largest room on Olympus. The belt stretches without weakening. Closing my eyes and clasping the belt to use it as a guide, I follow it to Apollo and kiss him on the nose. When I hold it up to show him, the belt has returned to its original size.

  I bend down and scoop up Apollo’s glass, raise it to him in a toast then take a swallow, enjoying the tingle of the bubbles on my throat. I pull the scarf from his grasp and give him a teasing look. When he starts to reach for me though, I tie the scarf around my waist to replace the belt. Letting out an exasperated huff, he drops back onto the couch.

  "Okay, but how are you going to get him to understand how the belt works? He’s not going to instinctively know what you want him to do with it. And even if he did work it out, he knows the guards will take the belt away if they find him wearing it, so I doubt he’s willingly going to put on that piece of artwork before heading to his death."

  I set the belt down next to Apollo and walk back over to the gazing pool. Ariadne is looking at Theseus and he her, the love spell already blooming inside them. "I think Ariadne is going to have a very vivid dream tonight. In the morning she’ll realize it wasn’t a dream, but a vision from the gods," I say these last four words so dramatically that Apollo laughs. "Especially when she finds the very belt she dreamt of right there in her room." I stride over to where Apollo is sitting and pick up the belt making exaggerated gestures of surprise and awe. Apollo laughs so hard, wine comes out his nose. He cries in pain and giggles at the same time. "I will make sure she knows what it can do and that she gets him to wear it." In a grand move I drop to one knee and present Apollo the belt. He takes it with mocking, wide-eyed glee. "After all, what hero could refuse a gift from his love?"

  Apollo applauds. I stand and take a bow then sit down leaning against him. He snaps his fingers and a full bottle of Illamos Valley’s finest sparkling wine appears. This time, full of excitement and with reason to celebrate, I don’t refuse when he offers me a glass. As the wine dances through me, joy and triumph fill my face with a broad smile. Theseus is going to succeed, the poli won’t go to war (not yet anyway, not until I’m ready for them to). Pasiphae is going to fail, and when she does, I will be at Ares’s side ready to provide him the war he wants.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Theseus

  A SERVANT WITH a long face and drooping eyes brings in my breakfast of eggs and toast. Despite my nerves, the smell of the melting butter on the thick bread makes my mouth water. But my appetite is lost in a rising storm of bile when my eyes catch sight of the long-sleeved tunic draped over his arm. The tunic I’m meant to wear in the maze. The tunic that could be my death shroud. I greet him as calmly as I can and indicate for him to place the food and the garment on the table across from my bed. Once he leaves, I ignore the food he’s just delivered. How am I expected to eat at a time like this?

  To distract myself, I brush my hand along Owl’s blade. Will I ever see my father again? What kind of fool am I to have thought I could go in blind, find a monster before it hunts me down, and—without any weapons—kill it when so many others have already paid the highest price to prove how impossible the minotaur is to defeat? I slide the sword back in its scabbard with a sense of resolve; I have committed to this task and I will see it to its end even if it means my own end as well. I’m ready as I’ll ever be to face this day.

  I steel myself and turn the doorknob to head down to my fate. When I pull open the door, Ariadne is there, her hand held high as if about to knock. My heart jumps at the sight of her and suddenly I don’t want anything to do with the maze. I want to guide her over to my bed and not come out of this room for at least a week.

  "This is for you." Her beautiful face blooms with excitement as she holds out what looks like a thin belt of delicate silver links. "To wear. You have to wear it," she says excitedly, her words spilling out and making no sense.

  I can’t help but look at her as if she’s gone mad. Has seeing too many Osterians go to their deaths affected her mind?
r />   "I have a belt," I say cautiously.

  "Not one like this. May I?" she asks. Even if it’s only for a little while, I feel compelled to be with her. I gesture for her to come in.

  "How can that possibly help?"

  "You’ll think I’m crazy, but little fragments of an idea kept popping in my head yesterday, you know, after you said your biggest worry was finding your way back out." I nod encouragingly although my fear of getting eaten alive is far greater than my worries of navigating the maze. "Then last night I had a dream of you following a guide rope through the passages. I saw you removing a belt—this very belt!—and handing an end to someone. You held the other end as you walked deeper and deeper into the maze, then turned around and followed the guideline back out. When I woke up this," she holds up the belt, "was on my dressing table. It has to be a gift from the gods."

  "I thought the kingdoms didn't believe in the gods," I say mockingly even though a hopeful excitement bubbles in me.

  "We believe they exist; we just don't bow to them."

  "I don’t see how it can work," I say, letting the chain slip over my fingers. It feels like liquid moving over my skin. "It’s too delicate and too short."

  "Watch."

  She hands me one end of the belt, tells me to stay put, then walks across the room. As she walks, the belt stretches. "I already tugged on it a bit this morning. It was only half this length, but once it stretches it doesn’t immediately rebound back to its original size." She lets go of her end and I flinch, expecting the cord to snap back, but it remains about as long as a man is tall. I run my fingers along its length as I pull it in. The stretching has created no weak spots. It won’t be of any use to strangle the monster, but it will give me some guidance in the dark.

  "If I can kill the beast, I can get back out." I feel stupid stating the obvious, but this object could save my life. Dear gods, if I manage to kill the minotaur (and now I suddenly feel like that’s in the realm of possibility) this length of links could save all of Osteria.