Seeing that Theseus’s strike has made an impact on the minotaur, Pasiphae seems unable to keep still and jerks up from her seat. As she does, the beast opens his mouth—in surprise? in pain?—releases Theseus’s shoulder, and staggers away. After a few clumsy dance steps, Theseus attacks again. He looks as if he’s barely holding himself up, but it’s the minotaur who crumples to the floor. We all stare. Silent. Disbelieving. Then, as I’m trying to figure out where in Hades’s name my dagger has gone to, Ariadne gives a shout of victory.
"He’s won!" cheers Minos, who has finally looked up from his lap. His cheeks and eyes warm with joy as he hugs Ariadne and then nearly bowls Iolalus over with hearty claps on the back. I keep my eyes on the screen, my blood pounding with my inability to rush in and help Theseus. He’s not out of danger yet and watching him now is even more painful than watching the minotaur’s teeth piercing his flesh.
"Only if he can get out and that looks unlikely," Pasiphae says, sitting primly upright in her seat and indicating the screen.
Until her pointing it out the others hadn’t seen it. At first they don’t understand, but my heart has already fallen to my feet. I had been watching to make sure Theseus retrieved my dagger, but something is wrong. Not only is his dagger hand empty, but so is the one that had been gripping the chain. Theseus has dropped his end of the guideline. The others notice the panic on their hero’s face as he scrambles around in the dark, swaying drunkenly as he looks for the delicate thing. Minos’s skin, so briefly brought to life with hope, returns to its former sickly pallor and I see tears wetting Ariadne’s cheeks. Theseus gropes on the maze’s stone floor. Several times his hand is within inches of the metal strand. Pasiphae laughs when his hand passes right by the slim lifeline.
"Grab it you idiot," I yell. I know it's only an image on the screen but I want to reach in and push the cord into Theseus's hand. Frustratingly, I can only watch and wait as the sun rushes toward the horizon.
"He's dead," Pasiphae says. "He'll never be able to find his way out in time."
"I can’t take any more of this," I say, passing the councilwoman a scowling look before I snatch the satchel from under my seat. "I’ll be in my room."
Iolalus gets up to join me, but I give a slight shake of my head and he settles back into his chair. I want him here to keep an eye on Pasiphae, and to be there for Ariadne if the worst should come.
Without bothering to turn to face me, Pasiphae says over her shoulder, "I’ll be sure to fill you in on all the details of your friend’s death."
I stomp toward the door and slam it behind me.
Once out of the room, I run to the palace entrance of the maze. Theseus has lost so much blood I wonder if anything I do will help. By the time I get there, the sun is already touching the walls of Minoa. Thankfully the guards have moved away from this end of the maze. And why wouldn’t they? There’s no point in guarding the dead, or the soon-to-be dead. I peer through the iron bars. The cool dampness of the cavernous passage brushes across my sweaty face. I can see nothing, but I can hear sobbing. I think for a moment. What would I have done if I had a group like this? Theseus has trained as a vigile and has already advanced from just a common solider to lieutenant. He would know not to leave a group without a leader. But who to call for? I don't know any of their names. I shrug. No one ever learned anything without asking.
"Who did Theseus leave in charge?" I call through the bars.
"Me," a woman's voice says. "My name is Agata."
"Theseus needs your help. I need you to use that chain he gave you as a guide and bring him back here."
"He said not to leave," she says simply. "He said that I'm in charge here." There's no worry in her voice, no derision, only a hint of obedient authority. She would've made a good vigile.
"I’m Odysseus, commander of the Illamos Valley vigiles," I say sternly. "I outrank Theseus and I’m telling you to go. Hand someone your end of the cord and go get him before it’s too late."
There is only silence in response.
"Can you hear me, Agata?"
"Yes," she says hesitantly. "It’s just I that don't trust anyone else."
"Then bring the guideline up to me," I say irritably. I would probably have felt the same in her situation, but this woman’s hesitation and overthinking is liable to kill Theseus and eleven others, herself included.
Thankfully, she obeys me and emerges from the darkness as she climbs to the top of the steps. Squinting even in the low light of sunset, she shields her eyes, examines me, then nods as if as if in approval. I wonder what she would have done if she hadn't approved.
"Hand it over now. Follow the line to its end. Don’t tug on it as you walk or you’ll pull it away from wherever he is. Call for him as you go. He's badly wounded but he'll be able to walk. Now hurry. The minotaur’s dead, but you don’t have much time to complete this stupid game."
The string bobs as she jogs down the steps and I hear her order the others to stay exactly where they are. Her voice is assured and confident, and surprisingly they don’t argue. Personally, I’d have been at the top of the steps shouting for my life, not playing the part of victim Pasiphae cast these people in. I loop the thin chain through my sandal, then sit cross-legged by the entrance so my feet are hidden under the crook of my knees. Although the Arean guards are dimwitted as the sheep they molest, if they return they can’t fail to notice the gleaming metal chain feeding up from the maze. It may take them a bit, but they’ll eventually figure out the end is attached to me. Only a few moments may pass while they sort this out, but those few moments could spell the difference between life and death for those in the maze.
The people at the bottom of the stairs call for someone to release them. I hiss at them to shut up and stay put before they draw a guard’s attention. Down there, in the dark, they can have no idea of the time but they must sense it's been nearly too long. Once they stop pleading, worried murmurs, conciliatory phrases, and sobs work their way up the steps.
The shadows cast by the setting sun grow longer as I wait. Apollo, moving too efficiently for my taste, pulls the sun behind the walls casting the city in a warm glow. Thankfully, the rules state full sunset, not simply the dip of the sun below the walls. I try to jest with myself that if Theseus doesn’t have my dagger with him when he climbs these steps, I’ll send him back down to retrieve it, but as the city grows darker so does my mood. With those injuries and his loss of blood, doubts that Theseus can stagger his way to safety latch hold of me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Ariadne
ALTHOUGH I SHOULD want to scream for joy that the minotaur is dead, that the monster will never devour another Osterian, the thrill just won’t come. Theseus is still in there. Theseus needs to get out or who knows what torment Pasiphae will come up with next. But Theseus has dropped the belt, the lifeline I was certain would be his—our—salvation. A sudden flash of indignation burns through me like wildfire through dry grass. It was a gift from the gods, damn it. Surely they wouldn’t put success so close and then rip it away. No wonder Minos’s forbearers gave up on the Twelve all those years ago. Even Odysseus, whose bravery I’ve heard of, can’t stand the tension and has left the room.
Seeing how close the belt is, it’s painful and frustrating to watch Theseus clamber around for it. Despite the blinding dark, his hands pat the ground only a finger’s width from the twinkling metal. My own fingers grip at a phantom object as if I can control his hands. He is so close. My hope mounts again. One more tap to the left and he will feel it, he’ll sense the cool material and follow it out to safety. Perhaps I was too hasty; the gods may not be so bad after all. He raises his hand. It hovers just over the belt. Which god do I thank for this? Hephaestus as the patron god of Theseus’s home polis, or Athena as the patron goddess of the polis Theseus is representing?
My mind flitters with all these excited thoughts as I watch Theseus’s hand move downward, just over the chain. A few inches more and he’ll have it, he’ll be able to find
his way out. Just as his hand is about to touch it, the belt jerks several feet out of Theseus’s reach. Curse the gods! I want to scream. I want to sob. I want to shout at the idiot who’s holding the other end of that belt. But nothing comes out of my throat. I’m dumb with despair.
Minos. In my anger, I nearly forgot him. How is he taking this? He had cheered and laughed just like his old self when the minotaur fell. The hope of being through with this ordeal had bolstered him. Had Theseus’s luck continued, no doubt we would be sending a messenger to Yerni to warn him of Minos’s arrival. But Minos has seen what has happened and understands he has just lost any chance of saving his kingdom from the Osteria Council or from Aryana or from whomever is truly behind this. The realization has leeched away any vigor he had left. Minos now sits once more in a trancelike state, his eyes staring at the screen in a way that makes me wonder if he is seeing any of this or if he has mentally checked out and gone elsewhere. I reach out to touch him on the forearm to see if he’s with us. Just as my fingers reach out to console him, Minos belts out a barking laugh. I jump back, nearly toppling my seat, startled by this return to life. Minos is pointing at the screen with a triumphant smile filling his face and tears of joy spilling from his eyes.
This is it then. He’s gone mad.
I turn to the screen. Minos isn’t crazed, after all. A woman is in the lair with Theseus. A sudden and stupid wave of jealousy pulses through me. I want to be there with him. I want to be the one rescuing him. The two exchange a few words. Theseus appears trapped between annoyance and relief as he takes a few tentative steps toward her, his head angled as if he’s trying to pinpoint the direction of her voice. With one hand clutching the belt, she keeps talking as he staggers toward her. Even in the strange green glow the camera creates, I can see Theseus’s cheeks are wet with tears once he reaches her. She slips an arm around his waist for support—my brain delivers another dose of jealousy to my overloaded system—and they slowly walk from the lair using the belt as a guide.
"No," Pasiphae says, her voice hoarse.
"I think we should go greet him," I say with a mocking levity to my voice.
"An excellent idea," says Minos, who already looks stronger, and I swear bigger, than he did a few moments ago. He ignores the helping hand Iolalus offers and stands tall on his own, wiping the moisture from his cheeks. I glance out the window that looks over the walls and I think how horrible it would be to come this close only to fail by a few minutes. The sun still hasn’t gone below the horizon, but its lower edge is touching the far hills and Theseus still has a long trek back to the entrance. Despite his injuries, I have to hope that following the chain and making no wrong turns will let him walk out far faster than he walked in. I put on a happy, confident face to keep Pasiphae from seeing my worry, but in my heart I’m afraid of celebrating this victory too soon.
"Councilwoman, care to go with us?" Minos offers in a tone that makes it clear he hopes she won’t, that she will just go straight to her room and pack and leave and never come back.
"He won't make it," she says, but gets up and joins us anyway. "Besides, he cheated. His victory will not count."
"He followed your rules, the very rules you read out today. So, unless you have another minotaur up your sleeve," Minos says. "Theseus and these Athenians have won. Osteria has won."
She makes no response. A chill invades my warm mood as I wonder what other monsters she might indeed have up her sleeve to set upon Minoa if Theseus doesn’t make it out alive or if she pulls some trick and declares his triumph invalid. I glance at her and am surprised to see she doesn’t have the look of someone plotting her next move; she looks worried.
Pasiphae’s guards join our group when we exit the palace. The sun’s orb is half covered by the distant hills. I tell myself Theseus still has plenty of time, but my gut tightens at the sight of the sun racing behind those hills. As we near the maze’s entrance, I want more than anything to see my heroic Athenian standing at the iron gate, but as we round the corner I see only Odysseus sitting at the entrance. So that’s where he went to. I chastise myself for thinking he was too weak to stay and watch, when it appears he’s the one who may have saved Theseus’s life. His gaze flicks to his sandals and I see the belt tied to it. Unfortunately, Pasiphae notices his gesture. Her eyes flare with anger.
"Cut it. Cut that chain. Cut off his foot if you have to."
Faster than I would have thought him capable of only an hour ago, Minos steps forward, whipping out a dagger from his sleeve as Iolalus and I flank him. Iolalus has drawn a beautiful Helenian sword with a hilt in the shape of an owl. I have no weapons, but when the guards look at me, they step back a pace. If it comes down to it, I will claw them with my fingernails to protect Minos and to ensure Theseus gets out of the maze.
A crowd has gathered. No doubt some people still linger at the agora end of the maze, but many, having noticed Pasiphae and her guards, have followed them knowing that wherever these guards go, that’s where the action is likely to be. I look toward the west to see the sun’s position. I can’t help but groan. How can the sun hang still for so long then, just as time becomes most precious, hurry on its way as if the horses drawing Apollo’s chariot have picked up a sudden burst of speed?
"You will not touch him," Minos says, his voice like the low rumble of a bull about to charge.
Though his spirit has returned in full force, Minos’s body is withered from his recent turmoil. The lead guard isn't threatened and puts the point of his sword to Minos's throat.
"Step aside, Minos," Pasiphae says coolly, "or you will die."
For a moment I think Minos will refuse to move, that he’ll say something trite like his life is over anyway, but instead he lowers his dagger and steps aside. Odysseus has already gotten to his feet, but he’s backed up against the wall with nowhere to go. The guard swings the sword down and it clangs against the stone landing. To his credit, even though the blade lands only a finger’s width from his toes, Odysseus makes no move; he doesn’t even flinch. We all look down. The sword hasn’t cut the belt.
"I have a bad habit of not sharpening my weapons as well," Odysseus says, finding this similarity utterly amusing as he laughs so hard tears come to his eyes.
"Pull it up," Pasiphae says. The guard arcs his sword up to point it at Odysseus's throat. This stops his laughter, although he’s biting his lip to control it. "It may not be honed enough to slice metal, but I’m sure it’s sharp enough to pierce your windpipe. Now, pull up that chain."
Odysseus looks to Minos who gives one solemn nod. "The sun’s almost gone. They're dead anyway. No sense in you dying as well."
Odysseus pushes the blade aside with the back of his hand and crouches down. I imagine, if he tried, he could simply snap the chain with a tug, but he takes his time untying the knot. I have to pinch back a smile at his attempt to give Theseus just a few more moments. There is only a hint left of the sun’s light, but right now every second counts.
Once the knot is undone, he yanks on the belt. There's a brief resistance as the chain becomes taut. An image flickers through my mind of Theseus and the others being yanked up the steps like hooked fish, but the line slackens. Iolalus puts an arm around me. I want to cry, but I can only stare at the glinting metal as Odysseus pulls it up foot by foot.
"What in Zeus's name are you doing?" a voice yells from the bottom of the steps.
"Testing you," Odysseus says. "Now get your donkey ass of a face up here before the sun sets."
Squinting and bleeding, Theseus climbs the steps. I can't imagine the utter darkness of the maze if even this tiny bit of early evening light is forcing him to shield his eyes. I glance to the horizon. The tiniest sliver of sun still shows. Finally the tears come as sheer joy and relief overwhelm me.
"Seize them," Minos orders. From out of nowhere, huge Minoan guards rush forward. The command from our weakened leader is so sudden and so unexpected that the Areans don’t have time to react and are in cuffs and chains before they c
an even think to struggle. Pasiphae tenses as if ready to run. A surge of energy fills my body. I’m ready to chase her down if she dares to flee. "Now," Minos growls, "unlock the gate." Pasiphae flinches and fumbles with the keys. Once the gate to the maze swings open, Minos orders her to face him. She does, as meek as a beaten puppy. "Get out of my kingdom."
"But there’s no train tonight," she says, her voice pleading and I wonder if she has the guts to ask to stay in the palace another night.
"Then walk back to Aryana," Minos says. "You are not welcome within these walls ever again."
Pasiphae, looking as if she wants to beg, fights back her words. It will take her days to walk to the closest city. She will have to brave the roads and run the risk of a bandit attack, but she will not grovel in front of all these Minoans. When she turns to leave, the people cheer. After basking in his triumph for a few moments, Minos instructs a guard to let Pasiphae sleep in the carriage of the train that will depart in the morning, adding, "But be sure it’s in third class. She deserves no comforts."
Having held himself up only long enough to spite Pasiphae, Theseus collapses into my arms. His tunic is coated in blood. "We need to get him to the medics," I say. Odysseus and Iolalus help me carry him. They offer to remain with me, but from the music and cheers coming from the windows of the hospital, I can tell this will be a night they shouldn’t miss. They step back just in time as a flurry of women in white tunics swarm in to assess Theseus’s wounds. The medics practically ignore me at first as if I’m just an extension of their patient’s body, but I wonder at the sense in my staying with him when they start to tend to the damage. I’m not a squeamish woman, but the moment the cleansing solution reveals the extent and depth of the bite marks across his shoulder, my stomach turns.
The Maze of Minos Page 21
